Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 11/5/2011
In case you're interested in my post-race life:
http://rachinthetree.blogspot.com/
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 5/5/2011
Okay. One week to go. It's not over yet, but it's winding down and I have a few closing thoughts, ya know, a few things I've learned this year:
To sum it all up:
-I circumnavigated the world, traveling over 40,000 miles. I took 14 planes (Bangkok to Nicaragua taking over 80 hours total travel time), 6 trains, 17 buses (the longest bus ride being 60 hours straight in Africa), 19 vans or taxis, and 4 flatbed truck rides to travel said 40,000 miles.
-I slept in exactly 52 different "beds" this year.
-Internet access is more readily available than running water.
-Most of the world really does live on less than a dollar a day.
-There is almost nothing more heartbreaking than seeing a child dip a bucket in a muddy puddle to get water for his family to use that night.
-Most ATMs in the world are air conditioned. Often the only place in the whole town that will have AC.
-Europeans, Africans, and Asians almost always take tea in the afternoon, almost always with milk. Latin Americans mostly drink coffee in the evenings rather than the mornings.
-You really can only help one person at a time. Apparently saving the world will take a really long time.
-One learns very quickly to always carry a roll of toilet paper with them everywhere they go. Also, I have become a professional squatter.
-Bananas are available everywhere in the world. Africa has the best ones.
-Rice is more ubiquitous than air.
-Eating a whole jar of Nutella is a very bad idea indeed.
-Never leave home without a bottle opener or ear plugs.
-Mosquitoes buzzing in the ear quickly makes one suicidal.
-My two favorite foods from this year are: 1. Chapati (the African oily tortilla) with mango and raw brown sugar sprinkled on top. 2. Pad Thai.
-The music of Africa is breathtaking. Those sounds really can heal the soul.
-It is the dream of people from every country to visit or move to America. It is seen as the oasis of hope in a desert-like, suffering world.
-The Holy Spirit is legit.
-Cipro is my new best friend.
-I had hundreds of near death experiences this year, half of which occurred while rafting the Nile, the other half in traffic.
-I haven't seen a baby or child ride in a car seat since Ireland. Seat belts are almost entirely disregarded. Upon my count, Africans can squeeze 27 people into one minivan, Latin Americans can squeeze over 30 into the bed of a pickup truck.
-I am more selfish, more wretched, and more loved than I possibly could have ever imagined.
-How to bring Kingdom (heaven to earth) to all the lonely, hungry, thirsty, lost, blind, diseased, and broken people of the world should replace comfort as the aim of our lives. We just need Jesus to come back to set order to the chaos called Earth.
-The best part of the race: the people. The hardest part about the race: the very same people.
It's been a great year. Full of the highest highs and the lowest lows.
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 4/30/2011
Wow...
12 DAYS TO GO!
That's right. This thing is almost over. I can't believe it.
We couldn't be finishing up in a better place. Right now we are in Antigua, Guatemala, the Paris of Central America. It's beautiful here! The mountains, the cool weather, Semana Santa celebrations, the coffee shops and bistros. In fact, dare I say, this may be the one place I've done ministry on the race that I'd ever be seriously tempted to move back to. There are unlimited ways to serve here:
This month we are working with Nueva Generacion, or New Generation. We go to schools every day, and teach 5 or 6 different classes on values and morals, wrapping the gospel message in there. Our contact Luis Castillo is absolutely incredible, and not to mention hilarious.He is brilliant at connecting with youth from all walks of life, discipling them, and getting them to believe that they are capable of so much more than what their environment has taught them.
We've also been going to a long term care hospital for children and adults with cerebral palsy... holding babies, feeding them, changing diapers, doing range of motion exercises with them. A few times we have also been able to work with an organization called "God's Child", a multifaceted ministry with a holistic approach to solving the problems of poverty, domestic violence, education, lack of health care, and human trafficking in this region.
Other activities I've undertaken this month: visiting a nut farm (which made me want to be come a farmer myself), running up this mountain with Kyle every other day, watching NBA playoff games with the guys and Steph at MonoLoco, and emailing all of you to make plans for when I get home!
I can honestly say this might shake out to be my favorite month on the race! I'm sure the fact that I'm a stone's throw from home doesn't hurt! America, drip coffee, driving, and here I come!
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 4/23/2011
It was my 25th birthday.
 (note the fabulous El Salvadorian handmade boots)
I woke up that morning feeling a shift of some sort. It
wasn't one of those birthdays that I'd wake up and feel the exact same as the
day before. I felt different. The difference wasn't really visceral or material...it
felt like it was crawling all over my skin almost.
I walked down the stairs of our hostel here in Antigua,
Guatemala, ready to face the mirror. This was the morning I was supposed to
take out my stitches. I grabbed my scissors and tweezers and alcohol swabs.
Here I go. Get ready to look at what you'll look at for the rest of your life.
8 days earlier I had been at an elementary/ jr.high playing
softball with the school's best players. El Salvadorians vs. Americans. I had
been feeling bad all week due to a parasite that was causing a mysterious rash
all over my body. Tons of Benadryl. Steroid shots. Lots of grogginess. The
World Race takes a toll on your body. Rashes. Amoebas. Malaria. Gaining ten pounds. Weird pains in
your chest that won't seem to go away. You never know what you might wake up
and find on your body. But on this particular morning, I was just sort of over
the whole thing. My rash. Finding myself in yet another awkward situation.
Playing softball like I was some sort of pro in front of, no joke, several
hundreds of students. They were even charging for admission at the gate! We
were celebrities! But I was tired. Exhausted even. Itchy and wanting to get
back in bed. I had tried to hide in the pastor's van and take a nap, but pastor
slowly kept creeping up the volume on the radio until it was deafening so I
would get out and join the group. There I sat, at second base. Glove in hand.
Sun beating down on me. The fifth inning rolled around. The score was 12 to 11,
us. Steph pitched once. Foul ball. Twice. Strike. Three times, a swing and the
ball hit the ground and struck my chin hard. I instantly fell to the ground,
heard a ringing in my ears, and saw blood everywhere. I was balling. Hundreds
of children were crowding around me. "Get me out of here!" I cried.
I spent the whole day in hospitals, being skipped to the
front of every hospital line by our very connected pastor. Thank the Lord for free
El Salvadorian health care and the maxillo-facial specialist who happened to be
in that day.
But on my 25th birthday, I saw for the first
time, the scar that I'll carry for the rest of my life. Maybe I got this scar
to remind me that my attitude, like the terrible attitude that I had that
morning, always has consequences. That I always need to be looking up. Paying
attention to the game at hand, rather than wallowing in the pain of my current
skin disorder. Or maybe it was just an unfortunate event, as there are many of
those in life. Crap happens. Deal with it. No lesson involved. Just-pay-attention
kind of thing. Not everything is cosmically spiritual all the time (all my
blogs might lead you to believe I think otherwise, I might guess : ) Physical
laws are physical laws. One must mind them.
I watched the "Passion of the Christ" again tonight. I'd
seen it before in the movie theaters when it first came out. But tonight, with my body aching in all sorts
of old lady ways I would have never expected at this point in life, I paid very
close attention to the torture and wounds of Christ. His skin was torn to pieces.
He was wounded, had his ribs exposed, had nails go from one side of his flesh
to the other.
He knows pain like nobody else. Skin pain, to be specific.
And so I look at my scar each morning, hoping it will go
away soon, but knowing that it might not. That's okay though. (Granted I've got
nothing on people with leprosy or burn victims. I just didn't expect the race
to do such a visible number on my body). I hope that it reminds me daily about
my attitude. That I need to love more intensely. About my constant need for
grace. About how my suffering is not only completely related to by my Savior,
but immensely surpassed by His. He empathizes and conquers. He feels it when we
feel it, because He was left to feel everything, in its full amount.
I think I thought at the beginning of the race that I would
have a ton of stuff figured out by the end of it. Here, three weeks from the
end of it, I find that I am merely more aware of my wretched state, and how
much I actually need Jesus.
Here is the progression of my scar. I'm a nurse so I like these sorts of things. Proceed with caution! (I put it in sepia and black and white so as to not completely disgust you).
 After the initial impact.
 Day 3 of stitches
 My scar today, Good Friday
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 4/5/2011
Oh no. Did they just ask me to do what I think they just asked me to do?
"Lo siento. Repete por favor." (I'm sorry. Repeat that please.)
"Diga la escuela un testimonio o una estoria en Espanol, porfa." (Please tell the school kids your testimony or a story in Spanish.)
Uhhh. You want me to what?
It's possible I've told the parable of the Lost Sheep on every continent we've been to this year. But now in another language? With no translator? Oh dear?
Sometimes it's a train wreck. Sometimes it's awesome. Rarely do I get out of it all together. (Except this one time when I was about to have to translate in front of 200 people, and an actual bilingual angel stood up from the crowd and offered his translating services....Whew!)
Sadly this scenario has played out MULTIPLE times in the last two weeks. My incredible teammate Justin and I are the only two on our team that know a decent amount of Spanish. Here in San Raphael Cedro, we have mainly been doing house visits to be people, ministering with the gospel and with reconciliation. Praying for the sick. Believing for wholeness, physically, financially, mentally, spiritually. But, Justin and I have to, I mean, get to talk a lot.
(Side note: We are living with an incredible pastor in his family (12 people, one bathroom, eek). He is super solid theologically and has probably been the best example of what a "pastor" actually should be like to me. He visits people regularly, loves on them, speaks truth into their lives. Not just a Sunday morning kind of guy...he's an all week, there the second you need him kind of guy. Except, nada ingles.) Reminds me of my Dad, kinda.
It is certainly a privilege to minister the good news alongside him. But doing so in a whole other language. Well that's not a butterflies in the stomach scenario. There's bats in there. Big, mean bats. I consider myself a fairly confident person and never really mind public speaking, but I guess when it comes to talking about something as eternal as salvation, the situation just gets heavy to me. What if I say something wrong? What if they speak too fast and I can't answer their questions?
This week I have been reflecting a bit on how much the Lord has done in me this year. There's way too much to list in this blog, but one thing in particular has stuck out here in El Salvador.
Trust.
I will trust the Lord, in all things. He will provide a way through every single situation He puts me in. I have nothing to fear. Because my Papa lives inside of me. I can do anything He asks me to, because it's Him dwelling inside of me moving and breathing and speaking.
I heard a poem on TedTalks recently, where this girl said the first step to anything is to say
1. I can do this.
AND
2. I will do this.
I had a moment last week where I just got very afraid and frustrated because my brain was fried from all the Spanish and several mistranslations that led to awkward situations. I said to the Lord, I can't do this. It's too hard.
(Yes you can, Love.)
Christ says that we can do all things through Him, but the question becomes, will we?? I guess one first has to believe that they can do it. Enter trust. When we trust Him, we have to relinquish all excuses, justifications, fears, and laziness. If we'd just let him, He replaces the bats in our tummies with warm, satisfying cocoa.
So when you get put on the spot to preach in a foreign tongue and haven't got a clue...
When you receive a phone call of a tragedy and have no idea what's next...
When you get a mysterious rash from eating a pork pupusa and don't think it will ever go away...
When a loved one gets a brain tumor and fighting it seems impossible...
When you're trying to figure out what the heck to with your life after the race, achheww37daystogocough...
When life throws you what you least expect, I mean, for those of us whose plans tend to frequently fall apart...
Know that you have just been put in the fortuitous position to trust the Lord, to see Him show up, to act on your behalf. To enable you and fight for you at the same time.
L i f e l i v e d b y t h e S p i r i t i s a l i f e o f w i n g i n g i t.
Jump off. You'll find you can fly more often than you'll crash.
This post is already long, once again, but I want to close with a song I'm way into lately by Will Regan and the United Pursuit Band:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15puyOWiqfc
"I lean not on my own understanding. My life is in the hands of the maker of heaven. I give it all to you God, trusting that you'll make something beautiful out of me. I will climb this mountain with my hands wide open. There's nothing I hold on to."
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 3/15/2011
When one becomes a vagabond, he must submit to the fact that change is the only real constant.
On the world race, transition becomes a dear friend. Teams rearrange. The countries of the world become boxes on hopscotch board. Ministries- dipped into and swung out of. Flexibility is a mandate. Flying by the seat of your pants is the norm.
I suppose this is no different from the rest of my life. I've never stayed in one place longer than three years. I've gotten used to digging in deep, but then bowing out due to circumstance or boredom. I'm an explorer, with an unquenchable itch for adventure. It's possible that all the moves I've made were genius chess plays by the Lord on my behalf. It's also possible that my wanderlust and care-free spirit have morphed me into a rootless tumbleweed.
But here in Nicaragua,at the end of month 10 (out of now 12), on my fourth continent this year...all I seem to be craving is some stability. For the ground underneath me to quit feeling like a rushing river. I want some rocks to stand on. I've had a growing desire to be somewhere...and to be there for a while. Instead of stepping into people's lives to minister for a few weeks, I want to disciple. I want to be discipled. I wanna invest without the knowledge of, well, yeah, I'll be jetting soon. I (for the first time maybe ever) want commitment. I want long term. Not long distance. Up close. Personal. Every day. For quite some time.
Because all of the transition has worn on me. At times it can create a sense of loneliness even. Of detachment. Of things not really mattering because, hey, I won't be here that long anyways. Expose and move on.
The other day in prayer, in desperation, I asked God: Please just give me something stable. Someone. Somewhere. Anything to feel secure.
He answered my spirit clearly: "Well what do you think I am?"
Rock of ages. Jesus is mine. I suppose that's who...
With less than two months to go on the race, it seems we are all trying to figure out what to do with ourselves afterward. Right now I am looking at two tracks in front of me. One being, another year of life in transition. Play around this summer, work in the fall. Possibly more race stuff in the spring. After that who knows where God will take me.
The other track is one where I'd pick a place I'm going to be, with the intention of being there...indefinitely. Until the Lord calls me elsewhere. Honestly, both have a lot of perks and things they would shape me into. Both would open a fruitful set of doors.
In the midst of all these feelings of homelessness and insecurity, my team had a feedback session that spoke a lot of truth in my heart. In unrelated discussion, someone spoke over me that I am a security to a lot of people, everywhere I go. That I create an atmosphere of stability, of- solutions will come, of- it's all gonna be all right. I offer consistency and safety in times of craziness and uncertainty.
Yet sometimes I get attacked with the thoughts that I have no security. That I'm lonely. That I'll always be a wandering soul.
Jonathan David Helser once said in a sermon that "The exact place where you're hit with the most fear is the exact place you're created for greatness."
The exact thing that God has gifted me with has been twisted into a fear and a weakness.
I took it all to the Lord again. He reminded me that He is a God that never changes. That He is always good. Always faithful. But who is also way too creative to do the same thing the same way twice. All over the bible, He does the opposite of what we think He'll do: pick the 12th son to become King of Israel, defeat entire cities with trumpets and marching, use the most doubtful disciple to become the rock of the church. He made thousands of species of strange birds... He even made them to where they can even morph and change themselves. Flowers take on all sorts of shapes and colors. Millions of stars were flung into the sky, populating galaxy after awe inspiring galaxy. So much variety! All things unique, but all things follow rules of structure and form. Physical and biological laws. Brilliance mixed with dependability. He is a tension of constancy and creativity. And in the middle of that, if we look close enough, we will see the wonders of His love for us.
I've seen this week, that I am an image bearer of God in this way.Always doing something new, but with a strong, secure undergirding.I am an oak of righteousness. I am an artistic vagabond.
"Come, my beloved, let us go out into the field and lodge in the villages.
Let us go out early into the vineyards and see whether the vines have budded,
whether the grape blossoms have opened and the pomegranates are in bloom.
There I will give you my love. The mandrakes give forth fragrance and beside our doors are all choice fruits,
new as well as old,
which I have laid up for you, O my beloved."
Song of Soloman 7: 11-13
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 3/14/2011
Since my other blogs from Nicaragua have been rather wordy, and well, this month has just been so random, I'm opting for a photo blog! Enjoy!
This is where we live. Yes. That is an actively smoking volcano.
This is our friend who lives in our bathroom.
We painted a church for three days. This is where Aly and I painted where weren't supposed to. And they've left it like that.
We dug a ditch with 'Amigos for Christ", bringing water to the community of El Chunko. Hands down, the hardest I've worked all year. Also. We got pretty dirty.
This is our ride for the month. Our driver Mario likes rap. He is a BA.
We passed out rice and beans to several villages.
I attempted to surf on 6-8 ft waves. Only to receive a serious beat down.
We got to hang out at a school for the disabled. This kid really liked to sing....
d  This guy really liked to dance.
We did two pinatas for the village we worked with a lot. This is what happens when it breaks.
We hiked up and then sled down the Cerro Negro Volcano...
This did not bode well for Stephanie's butt.
We really wanted some s'mores...
 We painted some more. After spending some time in the room with the oil paint fumes, he got pretty fascinated at the colors in the unmixed paint bucket.
Oh yes. Eskimo's ice cream. Regularly.
Home in less than two months! Off to El Salvador this weekend, and then two Guatemala after that!
Love you guys :)
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 3/5/2011
We walked through an elaborate graveyard to get there. At the front, there were the graves of the wealthy, elaborate concrete crosses heading up a cement box. Many of which were encased by prison bars to keep grave robbers out. Our contact said she wished she was kidding about the grave robbers. Except she sees them on a weekly basis, scavenging for anything of value, any piece of metal, any artifact that might prove profitable.
The graves got skimpier and less ornate, or rather, tackier in ornation, as we made it to the back of the cemetery. The dust kicked up a little, as did the stench. On the horizon my eyes met a massive landfill, littered with not just trash, but people swimming through it.
Welcome to Nicaragua. This is the Chinindega landfill.
People live here. A lot of people live here.
Well. They live right behind it.
They stay close so they can have good access to the trash. Or rather, the metal that the trash offers. Apparently, if one collects 100 pounds of metal in a bag, they can get money for it. Used to be that people could get 12 dollars for each bag. Since the global market crash in 2008, the price has dropped to somewhere around $2.50.
This area is known as the "Triangle of Death". It is bordered by a landfill, a graveyard, a sewage plant, and surrounded by the murky El Limonal "river."
Smack in the middle of such toxicity are the jalopied houses. Some made of old kiddie pool plastic and sticks, some with bricks. After Hurricane Mitch caused a massive mudslide in 1998, displacing thousands of people in the Chinidega area, the Nicaraguan government gave what was supposed to be temporary tent housing to people... right in this carcinogen epicenter.
This must have originally been a last resort. I mean, who moves into the heart of sewage and trash because they want to? They were displaced. Homeless. Desperate.
They had to set up shop somewhere, and this is where the government provided the quickest solution. So they moved in.
Except. It's 2011 and they haven't moved out. 13 years later.
This week we got to dig ditches on a water project with Amigos por Christo, an organization that has created a new housing community and business opportunities for these people to start a new life . We got hang out in this new community called Villa Catalina, about 10 miles from the dump, that has a school, a clinic, a playground, and houses with a big plots of land for gardening. Many have left the dump and embraced this hope and new life, but hundreds of other families choose to stay in the dump.
It's what they know. What used to be just be tents and temporary shelters for people have turned into bricks and flower pots and height markings on door frames. Though given multiple opportunities to get out, some people prefer to live in the dump. It's simple here. Or so they think. "If I don't live next to the dump, how will I find metal...and if I can't find metal, how can I feed my family?" They have no perspective that life can be any different, that there's another way to survive.
It might be easy to think that we are different from these poor souls. There's a desire to shake them and say, "Look! There's a better way! You weren't meant to live in a landfill and dig for trash for a living!"
But I've realized that, I too, have often set up house in the dump. In bad situations, in my sin, in my pain and sorrow. I've made what should have been a tent, a temporary visit, into a brick house. A mansion even. I've nested myself in lots of dangerous, toxic places thinking that I'd only be there for a season, but yet I stay for years.
(I've never read Beth Moore's book "Get out of that Pit!", but I assume it has the same concept).
This landfill scene showed me how easy it is to get used to things. To get locked in on a paradigm, on a view of life. No matter how distorted or disgusting it may be. We can even get used to living in a dump and learn to love it.
Except for the fact, that we're human beings .We're not made to live in trash, or snorkel through it, or have to dig through waste for hours a day just to put food on the table. We're not made to breathe in toxic fumes. We shouldn't have to walk through a graveyard just to go to the grocery store. But if you make a house with a nice enough inside, I guess it's easy to forget there's a landfill in your backyard.
Our physical beings weren't created for this, and neither were our souls. In our mess, we can sup up a pad for ourselves, hang up pictures on the wall, put on some lively music, light some candles. Yet the stench never really goes away. There's always a pit in our stomachs saying, this isn't how it's supposed to be. Just as our bodies are made for clean air, clean water, living water, and a healthy environment, so are our spirits. They crave opportunity and freedom and joy. Our souls know we're not supposed to wallow in sin and depression, but we do anyways. We ignore the truth because its comfortable to.
We can so easily throw a coat of paint on the walls of our pain and call it pleasure. We can so easily parade around in our sin, calling it fun, but really we know its a cancer eating us alive.
It is it time to move out? Are we willing to leave our mansions in the landfill?
You can check out what Amigos for Christ is doing at:
http://www.amigosforchrist.org/our-work-nicaragua.html
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 2/22/2011
8 months. That's how long I've been without what you people take for granted every day. Driving. Buying books. Diet Coke. Diet Dr. Pepper. Special K Vanilla Almond. Strolling through Target whenever you want.
Pretty much since the day I landed in Asia, recovering from Africa's hardships, I started dreaming of the possibility of a layover in America, where I could get my 10% Benzoyl Peroxide Clean and Clear facewash. And maybe Chik fil A. At almost every meal in Cambodia we talked about what we would do with a day in the States.
When we finally heard that we would in fact have a 12 hour layover in LA, I got serious about the issue. I had my whole day planned out. Drew a map in my journal of all the places I wanted to go. I made list after revised list and plotted out my course with no time to lose.
A day of independence and the comforts of America. Yes please.
After over 40 hours of travel and hanging out in airports, we landed in LA at 8 AM. (BTW, Chang Mai bus to Bangkok, wait 22 hours in the airport, 5 hour flight to Toyko, wait two hours, LA, see below, Miami, layover 6 hours, 3 hour flight to Managua, Nicaragua, 3 hour flatbed truck ride to Chichigalpa. ...whew). Got through customs and was ready to leave by 10 AM.
 (Side note: this is the contraption on the side of toilets in the Tokyo airport. You can play a recorded flushing sound just in case you are being too loud).
No time was to be wasted. I grabbed my bag on a smart cart, wheeled it right to the free shuttle to the rental car places. Got there, ready to embrace my freedom, bubbling with excitement, only to look down and realized I grabbed the WRONG bag. One of my teammates. Crap. Okay. No prob. I'll just get a car and swing back by the terminal before I head off on my day of adventure.
What? It's going to cost 178 bucks to rent a car??? Okay, fine. All-star game in town? Under 25 fee. Insurance. California taxes. Shoulda made a reservation, but didn't because I thought a friend was going to be there with a car. I almost paid it too. Anything to get behind the wheel on this one, very sacred day. The rental guy, after hearing that I was a world traveling missionary, talked my ear off for about 15 minutes about my time in Africa, and how next time I should visit his homeland of Ethiopia.
I had to interrupt him: "It's okay. Nevermind. Too much money."
I nervously boarded the shuttle back to the airport. Oh no. My day is going to get eaten up looking for my people and my bag! Which I absolutely needed so I could send home half my stuff. The shuttle took it's time dropping people off at their specific airline. I bit my nails and tapped my foot. I got to the terminal...only to find to my serious misfortune that the girl whose bag I accidentally took had already checked mine. Gone. Behind the iron curtain of airport security.
I won't try to pretend I didn't say the f and s word in excess at this point. Noooooooo!!!! I needed to mail half of that bag home! I can't carry it across Central America! So heavy! This can't be happening! A few of my squadmates looked at me with extreme pity and sat with me through the ensuing agony.
Exasperated, I watched my dream day over which I had lusted for NINE weeks now circling the drain. I sent up a desperate prayer. All I could get out was: "Lord. Help. Please. I just need you to help right now."
2 hours, an American Airlines angel, and a security debacle later, they sent my bag out on carousel one.
1 PM. Awesome. Half my day gone. I had to be back at the airport by 630 PM.
I took a shuttle to some random street, from where the bus driver pointed me towards the post office to be walked to about a mile away. Cold winds slapped me in the face. I passed FIVE rental car places along the way, cursing each and every one of them for being sold out and inaccessible to me. I walked through the gasoline/ car wash section of one that had an SUV running with the door open wide, no humans in sight. Grand theft auto....? They won't miss it just for a few hours, right?
Psssh. All I want is a new pack of white v-necks and a latte. Is that too much to ask on this one, lonely day I have in the land of free, home of the brave?
I got to the post office and psyched myself out for the worst: Possibly closed. Super long lines. Really slow workers with bad attitudes. No boxes and no tape for packing my stuff. I expected to be turned away...ya know...the typical USPS experience. I imagined myself digging in a dumpster for a box and using the scotch tape in my bag to wrap it up after which I'd have to hike 4 miles to the UPS store. Even as I was walking towards the post office door, ominous black clouds suddenly flooded the sky. Rain was imminent. Horray.
I opened the door. And to my surprise, there was a whole wall of beautiful white boxes, just waiting for me to pick the lucky one. As I tried to arrange it, a lady who looked like she might give me quite the attitude for holding up the line with my frazzled arranging of my box, very sweetly said..."Honey, you in line? Need some time? I'll hold your spot. Do what ya need to do."
Her voice melted me. I was nearly in tears. Yes. Yes I do need some time. And some help. And a car. I'm a mess here. But thank you, kind lady. Thank you for saving my spot. Her simple act of kindness completely changed the tone of the rest of my day.
I sent my packages off through a similarly very friendly postal worker, found a cab to Target-having yet another conversation with a native African eager to talk about his home country, and rode the peaceful, but cold wave of the rest of the day. Although it started raining...I was able to make it to American Apparel, dip my feet in the Pacific at Manhattan Beach, take a cab to REI and Barnes &Noble. I strolled through Target like I was walking the streets of gold. I stocked up on my favorite deodorant (apparently the only brand in the world that will keep these pits happy), white tees, and Cheeze-Its. After everything was said and done, I got to get every last thing I had on my list to get, on this very special one day I had to spend in my beloved homeland. The land of nice people who will help you out, fabulous coffee, and red big box stores that have everything you need and more.
As I was riding my last cab to the airport, simultaneously achingly grateful for my salvaged itinerary and smug at my acquisitions, I realized that God had completely answered my desperate 12 word prayer. He did help. But He went further. He saved me 178 bucks.
In Anne Lamott's book "Traveling Mercies" she write that the two very best prayers we can pray are "Help me, help me, help me" and "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
After circumnavigating the world and seeing countless miracles and praying big giant prayers, I was reminded that God still sees us in the simple things. In the daily grind of real life. And He cares about it all, not requiring us to be super spiritual about everything. It's okay to simply just say "help!" He's hears those prayers too. He wants in on every process, He wants us to want Him in, He wants us desperate for Him. Even if it is just to make it to help us make it to Target.
So Lord, thank you, thank you, thank you fort my v-necks and chai latte.
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Posted in General Posts by Rachel Ratz on 2/16/2011
Is it just me or does your computer constantly hound you with update notices?
I mean, on my macbook it wasn't so bad, but on the netbook I am using for the race, it's a constant nuisance.
Itunes. Microsoft Security. Picassa. PC software. Hardware. Everywhere. Mozilla Firefox 2.whatever.
On and on and on. Everyday it seems. The old is out. Please give us permission to let the new in.
Even Facebook can't stay the same for more than two days without wanting to change everything up.
Sometimes I think I can even get away with ignoring it. I click "not now" or "restart later" or "remind me some other time." I do anything and everything to avoid the update because, right now, right in this very moment, all I want to do is check my dang email. I'm not worried one bit about the health of my computer software. I want what I want. And that is to be connected, aware, and sure I'm not missing any good gossip on my Facebook feed.
But then it happened. It happens. Out of nowhere, after writing a blog and an application essay for two hours without saving...my computer just blanks out. Shuts down. Goes "see ya lata sucka!" All my work. Gonzo. Lost. Sianara.
I could just hear my computer chuckling at me underneath it's black silence.
"Shoulda taken care of me while you had the chance, Little Missy."
(Side note: I tend to believe that God's loudest megaphones with me are: #1- My car. and #2 Technology. When either of them go awry, I tend to start treading quite a bit lighter.)
That's how it goes though. We get busy. We want continued instant satisfaction. We push our oil changes back just another 1,000 miles. We lay on the couch rather than heading out for a run. We choose the burger over the salad. We pick gchat over reading our bibles.
Upkeep and maintenance aren't really on the top of anybody's fun list...(check out mine below :).Especially for us type B personalities. (Which,what type I am is arguably up for debate, but, anyhow...). When crap falls apart, aka when you're computer keeps blacking out for no reason, or you're jeans don't fit anymore, one starts to appreciate maintenance. Exercise. Prevention. In hindsight it's not hard to see that a little house cleaning can go along way.
Disasters are irritating. Storms...inefficient. So why do we put ourselves in these irresponsible positions again and again?
I can't help but feel like this is the way the Holy Spirit works. "Hey. You. There's a better way. A sweeter program. Don't stay in your old rut. Come into the fresh anointing. Come see what new places I want to take you. My way is easier. My updates prevents the burn out. The run aways. The shut downs. My installations will keep you alive and well." He's beckoning us to daily nourish our selves with His goodness. To stay healthy by practicing His presence. To abide in Him... so that we don't find ourselves facing a black screen, having lost everything, asking why O why did this happen to me?
All that being said...when asked whether to restart or check out who's on skype? The centuries old temptation remains the same. One day though, I hope maturity will set in and help me to make the responsible decision.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and
burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and
learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find
rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my
burden is light." - Matthew 11: 28 - 30
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