I laugh when I think about myself at the beginning of the World Race (August 2009) - that girl was such a different person. Yes, I had some stellar qualities that I still carry today, but I also had some junk. I was prideful and passive aggressive, I struggled with feelings of insecurity and worthlessness. Because I wasn't a leader I didn't show honor to the one on my team. I didn't pick my teammates and I held that against them. During the second month I stormed off because Colin made a joke I didn't like - I was easily offendable and quick to defend myself. Halfway through my race I was brokenhearted and a blubbering mess...

now I'm leading a World Race squad. Oh, the irony.

This season is a gift - it's one of the most beautiful, redemptive experiences the LORD has granted me. I get to do the World Race again - this time as the best version of myself.

Every day is the best day of my life. I feel fully myself and I like who I am. My heart is whole and healthy. I'm not too concerned about the past or the future - I'm at peace exactly where I am.

The people around me are sacred treasures - my appreciation for them grows daily. My co leaders (Macgregor and Caitlin) are my team, my friends, my family. We laugh and cry and pray together, we fall asleep talking to each other, we feedback each other, we buy each other treats, we have nicknames and inside jokes, we are for each other in every situation. It's not always easy, but it's always good. If marriage is anything like what I have with them, then I have nothing to fear.

And then there's my squad...

a group thick with creativity and humility. A group full of passion and service. When they worship corporately the Holy Spirit spills out like a waterfall. They are some of the nicest, coolest, most interesting people I've been blessed to know. My heart is whipped - they've won me over and there's no going back. They are so much farther along on this journey than I was when I started back in 2009 - and because of that they will far surpass the place I was in when I ended the race. I can't wait to see it happen.

And so, here I am now - two weeks into my second World Race - sitting on the floor in Guatemala, wearing the same shirt for the second day in a row. My hair is pulled up tight because it's so hot and the bottom of my feet are covered in a layer of dirt. My stomach is full of beans and tortilla, my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude and love.

Second chances are a gift indeed.

When people ask how I am these days I say "good" then then have nothing else to say. I truly have nothing else to say! Everything in my life is good, stable, consistent. I almost feel shallow because of it, but I like it. I'm happy. Thank you, God, for this time in my life. 

- diary entry from a few months ago.

I arrived in Gainesville the evening of June 11. My car was full of personal belongings and my heart full of fear. Who would be my friend? I was so tired of making new friends, of sharing the same stories over and over again. I just wanted someone to already know that I don't like coffee and need a lot of alone time. I was tired of starting over in life, of feeling like a stranger in a foreign land. All I wanted was a place to call home.

Moving to Gainesville was the scariest thing I've done in the last few years, and to my surprise it's turned into my biggest blessing. I didn't know I could be so happy - I didn't know life could be so sweet.

I couldn't have picked better roommates. We shared everything.  Food was a free for all - there were no labeled shelves or items. People were always welcome to stay with us - even if all we had to offer was the floor. We cooked and ate meals together, sitting on our mismatched chairs around the kitchen table. We prayed for our husbands - we prophesied over the kind of men they will be.  We talked to "Cindy" (the Internet connection we borrowed) like she was our friend. One night we danced silly to the hamster song, other nights we watched the sun set.

When I was having bad dreams Sydnee anointed my room with olive oil before I went to bed. After a particularly bad dream I woke Bethany up at 3 a.m. - she stood with me in the kitchen and listened, her eyes filling with tears.

We supported each other in every way. We believed the best about one another, being patient through each other's flaws and annoyances. We cried together and rejoiced together. We loved each other fully.

And those were just my roommates. I'm surrounded by a community of people who live more or less the same way. Whatever need I have is always met by someone. If my car were to break down I could call any number of people and they'd be there in moments to pick me up.  If ever I want to stop by the Lake House, I need only open the door. It's always unlocked and I'm always welcome.

Gainesville became my home more than I ever thought it would be.

And so, when the time came for me to decide whether or not to leave it all behind for World Race squad leading, I wrestled. I've wanted to squad lead since November 2009, but I didn't expect the opportunity to require such sacrifice. God and I have had many conversations about squad leading over the years - during December of 2010 I knew he was moving pieces around for me to do so this January. The plan seemed good to me that December, but after moving to Gainesville squad leading seemed less appealing because I had much to lose.

I went for a walk with God late in the summer and talked to him about everything. "I don't want to leave this life! I finally feel like I belong somewhere and now you're asking me to give it all up. What if I don't get it back?"

He said to me, "I won't give you back what you have now - I will give you even better. The best is yet to come - you're just going to have to trust me on this one."

I said, "Okay, fine."

I kept walking. And then I saw this sign:

Usually when I reflect on a year gone by, it feels to me like a year has gone by. A lot of other people I know talk about how fast or slow time goes for them, but for me time typically feels like what it is.

Not this year, however. I was in Africa and Asia for the first six months and America for the last six. My mind can't really comprehend that. I was in Tanzania in March? Really? And Thailand in June? C'mon now. Be serious.

This year has been one of the most formative years of my life - if not the most formative - because it's when I started following Jesus through good and bad (as opposed to just the good.) On January 1 I wrote, "I'm feeling incredibly burdened with what Jesus is asking me to do. I'm scared because I know I'm coming to a breaking point, where I'll actually commit."

I think it's no coincidence that I wrote that on January 1 - it's a beautiful contrast to the the way I'm ending this year. And I was right, I was approaching a breaking point that would literally break my body and spirit and result in my unwavering commitment to Jesus.

It's interesting when I read my diary entries leading up to my breaking point:

January 3: I'm completely exhausted. I'm hardly sleeping at night, my heart is hurting and I have nothing left in me to offer other people.

January 15: Again, I haven't liked the person I've been as of late. Immature, flirty, ignoring the call on my life...I'm weak and stuck and can't imagine any other way right now. I'm so scared to trust you.

January 16: Feeling so weird right now. Yesterday was hard because I was so tired. I don't feel I'm making the most of every opportunity, and that frustrates me. I'd like to throw myself at the disposal of the church, I'd like to sit outside with Pastor J's family every night, I'd like to better pursue my teammates, I'd like to read more, write more, learn more, converse more...I'm just too damn tired. I'm too tired to push myself. All I can do right now is pray. And pour my thoughts onto paper, listen to my iPod (Sufjan), hopefully go for for a tiring run later, get lost in a book; survive. Should I fast? Probably. Will I? Probably not. The last time I attempted to fast (yet failed miserably) really is a sign as to how I am as a person.

January 18: I woke up this morning after another dreadful night's sleep. I felt defeated. Frustrated. Weak. Like something is after me. I thought about getting some sleep aid today, but I knew that wouldn't solve the problem. Fasting flashed through my mind, and I knew it wasn't coincidental. So I'm fasting today. And maybe onward.

[Later that day]: I'm physically wiped out. Also, emotionally spent. I must trust trust trust GOD help me trust that you are good. I'm wondering if I'll even hear anything from God. Will my sleep be cured? Will I finally live out my calling? Will my focus be on you? Or will I fail. Again. Only time will tell.

I didn't fail, and that fast was one of the hardest things I've ever done. It broke my body down until I was writhing on the floor in pain. I didn't know it at the time, but as I suffered in my flesh something in the spiritual realms shifted. And I've never been the same since.

I cried more this year than I have in years, probably more than all the time I spent as a red-faced infant. I guess that's what happens when you allow God into all areas of your life. He killed me this year. If we allow him to, that's what he does - he kills our sinful selves until we are reborn as a beautiful creation. But damn, it hurts.

It's funny, in January I made a pact with some friends to keep what we called a "cry log." Basically, we kept a log of how often we cried, how hard we cried and for what reason. I'm pretty sure the idea was my own - I knew I didn't cry that much and I wanted to keep a record to know for sure. I thought it was so cool at the time, but now it sounds kind of weird, lol.

My cry log didn't last long. I stopped in February because my entries began to look like this:

February 10 - boy stuff
February 11 - God/boy stuff
February 12 - God/boy stuff
February 14 - God/boy stuff
February 17 - God/boy stuff

...so I stopped keeping track. It was depressing. And it was not at all an accurate portrayal of how often I usually cried.

Basically, I had made a boy an idol in my life and eventually God was like STOP THAT. Well, he had been saying that the whole time - I just choose to ignore him. But like I said, after my fast something changed in me. So this time when God said STOP THAT I said OKAY, FINE. And then I cried a lot.

I remember standing by those smelly, African squatty potties on Valentine's Day and sobbing over my broken heart (see cry log listed above.) Emily was there to comfort me, so I turned to her and said though my tears, "I'm absolutely terrified. Because I know from here on out I will obey whatever God asks me to do. And if it already hurts this much over something as silly as a boy, I can't imagine what else he will call me to do and how much more my heart will be broken."

I remember thinking about how I suffered physically when I deprived myself of food, and how much worse it felt to deprive myself of an unhealthy emotional attachment. I would've rather gone hungry.

In late spring I thought I had used up all my tears. There were times I wanted to cry to release all the emotion I was feeling, but I couldn't. Inspired by Cameron Diaz in The Holiday, I would pretend to cry to see if it would help me really cry. I ended up staring at my dry face in the mirror, convinced I didn't have any tears left in me.

How wrong I was.

This most recent season of life, meaning these past six months I've spent in the States, has produced a whole new crop of tears. In July I was able to cry again after getting into yet another fight with my mom, and I continued to cry all those times on the couch in the counselor's office and in the car on the way home. After one particularly intense session I ran to the park at dusk, lay on the grass and stared at the sky. Tears dripped off my cheeks and I asked God why it all had to be so hard.

I threw myself on my bed and cried when the YMCA rejected me and I soaked the floor with my tears when Teach for America rejected me. I sobbed when my parasite antibiotics made me depressed for a week. There were times in the last few months when I cried because I felt isolated and alone and like no one in the world understood me.

So yeah, I've cried a lot this year. It's been a hard year, but, as it so often goes, it's also been a good year. It's been good for many reasons, one of the main ones being that my journey led me to freedom. And now I'm addicted to God like a junkie.

I am loved and I am alive and I am happy for the most part. I'm ready for this year to end and I have high hopes for the one that is to come. I don't think there will be as many tears. The Bible tells us there is a time for weeping and a time for laughing - I believe my time of tears is over and I'm ready to spend the next year slapping my knee and snorting through my nose in laughter.

Bring it on.