Training Camp Recap

This particular blog goes out to my WORLD RACE ALUMNI. Just a little bit of life for me post race, and you need to read it. Okay, so maybe NEED is too strong of a word.


A couple of weeks back, I loaded up all my WR gear again (what was left of it) and jumped in my car for a long drive into the woods of Tennessee to help out at the most recent training camp. It wasn’t necessarily something I had planned on attending, but after exhausting all forms of entertainment at home, I figured at least it would be a nice change of pace. I mean, it had been a whole month... isn’t this when I am supposed to pack up my bags and move somewhere new?


I don’t know exactly what my expectations were. I went ready to cook, to clean, to set up, to tear down, do whatever needed to be done. I knew I would be surrounded by my community, get some hard truth from Michael Hindes, and be able to experience some crazy, spirit filled jam sessions with the Helser band... that was enough for me.


What I quickly found out was that I actually needed that training camp, maybe just as much as the new squads who had yet to embark on this crazy whirlwind journey. I needed to be reminded of my purpose, of my calling, of my freedom, of the fact that being home from the race doesn’t mean that the lifestyle I adopted and fought hard for over the last 11 months has to end. I needed to be able to share my experiences with my generation, to be able to be on the return side of things and assure those eager, scared, anxious faces that this crazy journey would absolutely be worth it.


There’s definitely a beautiful thing about being on the other side of a training camp. To see the process, to rejoice in the huge changes in life, and to be able to fall facedown and admit that I still don’t even slightly have things figured out! And to be able to experience that while surrounded by a community of people that can fuel that process and love me fiercely while doing so. A community so much bigger than just my squad. An extended family like no other; an extended family of some of the most amazing, prophetic, life speaking, world changers you will ever meet.


Returning for a training camp turned out to not only be a phenomenal experience, but also vital part of the whole re-entry process for me. I’ve decided that the world race community is kind of like chocolate (hang in there with me, this gets good). You know that chocolate is great. Chocolate definitely adds some flavor to life. But it’s not until you go spend 11 months overseas that you realize chocolate is not only really great, but it is absolutely a vital part of daily survival!!  This community, this truth, this freedom is vital, and it doesn’t have to end just because we are back in the US. We now have the experience, the opportunity and the responsibility to be a part of this process for other people, don’t miss out!

Current State: Uncertain

oh, july.  you are proving to be quite an interesting month.

in the past two weeks, i’ve spent around 22 hours on the road, been in 5 different states and slept in 6 different beds.  sadly enough,  life almost feels normal again.

last week i met up with my world race family in the woods of tennessee to shake up another group of world changers as they got a small taste of the kingdom journey they are about to embark on.  we sang, we danced, we cried, we laughed... and, just as promised, the Holy Spirit showed up in a mighty big way.  i ran around like a mad woman all week long; loving, serving, praying, and enjoying the ridiculously amazing community that is my world race family.  very little sleep was had, but it was absolutely worth every minute of being there.  those are my people, hands down.

after saying another round of “see ya when I see ya” I headed even farther south to alabama for a week on the beach with the family.  RELAXATION.  finally.  or so i thought.

day one of vacation, i crack my tooth.  awesome.  shouldn’t be too bad, right?  i’ll get it taken care of when i get back home.  wrong... by day two my whole upper jaw is throbbing.  i try to tough it out, thinking a nap out on the beach should do the trick.  45 minutes later i was literally crawling back to the room and dialing the phone number of the first dentist i could find.  so much for relaxation.  to add to that, the next open appointment they have is the following morning.  a whole night of intense throbbing pain.  excellent.  this news may have warranted me to extend the normal dosage for ibuprofen that evening, but did in fact make it through the night.

day three of my relaxing beach vacation and i find myself sitting in the local dentist office.  two x-rays, a poking around, and $87 later they send me off with two prescriptions and advice to see my dentist when i get home.  yup.  that just happened.  the only upside, one prescription is for a strong dosage of hydrocodone.  hollar!  maybe i will get some rest after all.  or at least be able to forget about the fact that when i get home, i will have an expensive dental appointment to schedule.  did i mention that i have no dental insurance?  more drugs, please?

day four turned out quite well.  that of it which i managed to stay awake.  day five was even proving to be off to a good start, made it all the way though dinner before the next catastrophe; dropping my two week old iPhone on the pavement and cracking the entire screen.  shattered.  completely.  definitely wishing i had found the otter box a more important investment.  oops.

another expense to add to the list, so it seems.  and as i all but banged my head against my car door, i couldn't help but wonder how in the world i was going to pay for all of this.  the term “poor missionary” was now becoming much more of a reality, and before i knew it i sat there questioning my future.  is money going to be a constant battle?  am i ridiculous for thinking that all the things i will ever need will just be provided?  is this sort of life actually do-able?

in that moment, i was reminded of the words of prophecy spoken over me throughout the year.  words from my teammates, words from friends back home, words from women in south africa, words from a korean women in malaysia.  all confirming God’s call on my life.  that i am called to something greater.  something bigger.  something that doesn’t make sense in the mind of man.

so, despite the unrelaxing state of my vacation, despite the nagging pain in my upper left jaw, despite the disabling of my connection to the outside world... i choose not to be discouraged.  i choose not to be overwhelmed.  i choose rest.  i choose peace.  i choose to trust in the provision of my Papa.  

i am well aware that this promise of provision may not look anything like i think that it should, but i also know that it’s a promise He intends to keep.

“and my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4.19)

Stories to Share

as i sit here typing on my big comfy couch, wrapped up in a blanket, sitting in front of a television too big for my own good, with the smell of home cooked food in the air, i can't help but feel on edge.  so little has changed.  and yet this time around i feel so out of place.

as i looked into my closet yesterday, the abundance made me utterly nauseous.  the fact that i happened to have 7 different bottles of shampoo in my shower didn't help.  in just a few hours after getting home, i quickly found my big, red, beaten up backpack looking luxurious again.  part of me desperately wanted to just throw my three outfits and two pairs of shoes in the bag and call it a day.

but, this is reality.  this is my home.  these are my people.

and while i find it overwhelming to try to figure out how the person i now am fits into the world of who i once was, i know that i'm here right now for a reason.  i now have a story to tell.  i now have words that can't go unspoken.  and there are so many people that deserve to hear it.  more, even so, that need to hear it.

so, after spending the whole day sorting through and downsizing my entire wardrobe, i think i have regained a small bit of my sanity... for the time being anyway.  i'm not quite ready to face the world (or go shopping in walmart), but hopefully i'll get there eventually.  

because this story is BIG, and my world needs to hear it.

The Cat Lady

Sometimes I wish you all could meet the interesting characters we run into on this adventure around the world. I can confidently say that in this year alone I have seen, done and experienced some of the most random things ever possible. One thing is for sure, every day has the possibility of being highly entertaining. 

For instance, let me introduce you to one of my newest friends, Iing. I like to refer to her simply as the cat lady of Penang. Please, note that this is not just a cat lady... this is THE cat lady. You see, Iing loves the cats. All the cats. But, especially stray, street cats. Actually to say that she loves them might even be an understatement. Iing spends her days browsing the streets for cans and other recyclable items in which she can cash in to buy cat food. Then in the evening, she sets up camp on a local sidewalk, lays out food... and voile, instant cat lady. 

Last night, myself, my friend Jon Bunford, and a couple other volunteers made a visit to Iing's part of the neighborhood. As we approached her street, Iing was pacing up and down the sidewalk, bantering under her breath in rapid Mandarin. She was clearly worried about something. After some interpretation, we found out that the nervous pacing was due to the cats. This night in particular, there were about 5 or 6 cats in the area. Iing begins pointing at the cats one by one, still speaking rapidly in her local tongue. Worried about Iing, we inquire as to what we can do for her. After a couple of seconds, with a small grin on her face, our translator looks up at us shyly and says "she says she wants you to pray for the cats. All the cats need prayer, but especially the small black one over there. That one needs prayer the most." 

Pray for the cats, huh? That's definitely a new one. 

I quickly look over at my friend Jon trying desperately to figure out how we are going to go about doing this all while keeping a straight face. In being culturally appropriate to the gender rules in Malaysia, he simply smiles and says "so, should we check underneath and see which one of us has to do this?" 

 Just about this time, one of the cats lets out a deep hiss. "More importantly," he adds "have you had your rabies shot?" 

Trying to hold it together, I take one glance back at my friend Iing, give her a slight head nod and walk towards the cats. Then and there, myself, Jon, and another volunteer stretch out our arms and begin to pray.

"So, God, I never thought I would be standing on a street corner praying for cats. Especially ones that are hissing, possibly diseased, and that could attack me at any moment. But, here I am. Father, I know your probably more of a dog person, like me, but considering you made the cats you probably still love them too. So, bless the cats. Bless the yellow cat, and the gray cat, and the spotted cat, and the black cat. Especially the black cat.

Apparently he needs your help a little more than the others. Amen." 

And that was that. 

We then finished up our conversation with Iing, who had calmed down considerably since the cats had been prayed over, and I just stood there and grinned as I thought about all the ridiculous things I have experienced this past year. And yet, every bit of it has revealed small pieces of God's character. A bit of God's character exists within the crazy cat lady on that street corner. A bit of his character exists within the exuberant woman who sings at the top of her lungs from the alleyway. A bit of his character exists within the highly animated tricycle driver who claps along to a tune only he can hear. 

God is much more exciting than we sometimes give him credit for. And more importantly His sense of humor never ceases me make me laugh.

Follow Me

Follow Me.

Apparently God is trying to tell me something.  In the past week, I have seen those two words plastered literally everywhere I look.  In huge block letters on the front gate of a random business, across a blatantly large banner hanging at the bus station, on the label of a whole row of shampoo bottles.  All repeating the same phrase...

Follow Me.

Okay, God, I get it.  But, where is the rest of the sentence?  I feel like you have forgotten a couple of terribly important details.  Do you mind to expound on that just a little?

I can't help but feel a bit like I've been given a beautiful invitation to the event of a lifetime only to find that the host left the inside of the card completely blank.  

Follow me.  That's all I've got.

All this to say to myself, and to all of you... I don't know what's next.  I don't have any of the details.  There is no timeline.  There is no absolute direction.  

All I have is "follow me"... and for now, that's going to have to be enough.

Beauty Defined

I'm trying out this new thing.  I know when I blog that I tend to write about what is going on around me as opposed to the journey and the struggles going on inside my own life.  In sharing with a friend the other day I was challenged to be real not only with the outside journey but also the things going on inside my head... so, here we go.  :)

A couple days back we arrived into Penang, Malaysia, which just so happens to be a pretty bustling city.  Malls, restaurants, movie theaters... you name it.  Being a girl, one of the first thing I explored was, of course, the shopping.  It's been a while since I've been in a big mall and this time as we walked through surrounded by stores and stores of ridiculousness, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.  There was such an shocking array of sparkling, colorful merchandise, this overwhelming abundance of things that society defines as beauty.  Stores and stores of manmade things, claiming to add to your beauty, to speak into your identity.  

Don't get me wrong, I've been in malls time and time again.  But, this time, something about it all just didn't sit well with me.  It was if all I could see was a facade of what really existed.  Nothing about that spoke beauty to me, and yet I couldn't help but feel compelled to feel like it should.

As I tried different accessories on, I would take a glance into the mirror in front on me.  Mirror after mirror, I found myself looking at each one, trying to decide if I did in fact, actually like what I saw.  Each time, my thoughts soon turned from the merchandise to the image behind it.  "Maybe if I had put on make-up, maybe if I had fixed my hair, maybe if I wasn't wearing miss matched, worn out clothing... maybe then I would be more pleased with what I saw." 

It was funny to sit here and have all these thoughts.  You see, beauty and self-image are not things I have typically struggled with.  Sure, I have those moments, as every woman does, where I wish I was a few inches taller, a few pounds lighter, and a few shades darker.  But, I was fortunate enough to grow up in a home with a mother and a father who spoke so graciously over my identity.  Parents who never asked me to be anything different than what I was.  Parents that never opposed my tomboy stage of wearing gym shorts and a pony tail.  Parents who loved without criticizing my identity.

Yet, here I was, letting the lies of Satan slowly creep in.  Lies of my self worth, of my beauty, of my importance.

It was in that moment that I also realized that in just a few short weeks, that beast is exactly what I am going back to.  It wasn't until walking back from that mall that I realized just how much freedom I have been walking in this year.  I had almost forgotten what that bondage felt like.   Bondage that exists so heavily back home.  The idea that self worth can be purchased.  That beauty is defined so strongly by materialistic things.  I have spent a year walking in a new freedom of beauty, so much that I almost forgot how heavy, how fierce it was.  And, here I was, four weeks away from returning... completely and utterly overwhelmed by it all.

As I stood on the street with my friend Stacey, praying, and just letting tears fall down my face, I realized that the struggle here was that my idea of beauty no longer coincides with the rest of the worlds.  I was finally realizing how much my perspective has changed; how much my definition of beauty has changed.  Back in the store, as my eyes tried to take in all of the glitz and glamour around me, I had realized that nothing in that store was beautiful.  Beauty is no longer an accessory, or a piece of jewelry, or an article of clothing.  Beauty is an African woman with her shaved head and handmade clothing; beauty is the smile on the face of a child running barefoot and filthy through the slums of a third world country; beauty is the prostitute wiping the makeup off her face, packing her bags, and reclaiming her self worth.  

Now, this is not to say that I won't ever again wear girly accessories (in fact I have some pretty great earrings on today!)  But, never again will those "things" define my identity, my beauty, my self worth.  This year, I've seen the beauty of God, the beauty of his rawest creation.  And I am part of that creation.  You are part of that creation.    We, in our simplest form, completely encompass the definition of true and absolute beauty, with or without any added glamour.  It's time, my loves, to reclaim that beauty!

Your Love Never Fails

i'm at a loss for words. 

my thoughts are jumbled. 

i sit here staring at my computer knowing that i need to write a blog, but doing it more out of necessity than desire.  it's just that i am finding it really difficult to put into words the things i have experienced in the last month and a half...

i've seen and felt some really dark stuff.  i've experienced the bondage of a country void of religious freedom.  i've lived in a country so dark that even the stars can't find the light to shine; a country marked by a wall that screams of slavery.

i've walked through the busy streets of thailand. i've seen faces of utter brokenness.  i've looked into the eyes of darkness, felt it's fury, and almost crumbled at its overwhelming presence. 

it's one of those times where words wont do justice to what i have seen.  where words most definitely can't describe what i have felt.  my words fail me.

but my failure, my inadequacy, is what brings me back to my first love.  everything within my own strength will never be enough to heal these nations.  never be enough to heal my own soul.  but, luckily i have arms to run into.  arms of a father, arms of a savior, arms of a healer, arms of a lover.  arms strong enough break down walls.  arms big enough to wrap around brokenness.  arms powerful enough to conquer all evil.  

thankfully, even when my words fail me... His love never fails.