[January 7th, 2022] Location: My bedroom, sick with Covid.

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Five days.

Stress. Lots of stress. Compiling lists of to-do’s before I go, frantically trying to book appointments that have been canceled, wanting to methodically pick out every article of clothing, and writing down three separate lists. My panic and impatience has me on edge.

Four days.

My day consists of driving across town, attending appointments and returning clothes and purchasing last-minute needs, relieved that I can finally begin to mark through this list. I come home, super tired. Kinda feverish.

Three days.

I have Covid. My to-do list is now incomplete and will remain that way for the near future. A low fever has me staring outside at the blue sky and snowy trees. My lungs do not appreciate me trying to sing my mood better. My eyes hurt from watching too many television episodes on my laptop. 

I can’t pinpoint what emotion I’m experiencing. My body feels stiff and slow. But my brain and heart feel more than that. Stress, frustration, anxiety, anger and impatience for my lack of action.  Sluggishness and unnecessary guilt over something I can’t control, while also experiencing a sense of peace since I have a bit more time to allow myself to pack and unpack, check and uncheck, reflect, and react.

Two days… (or, five days, again… I guess…)

Launch has officially been pushed back for me. I was supposed to see old friends today, but I still have work to do. I can’t leave my room. I’m feeling much better. I try to get some things done. I FaceTime some friends. Pack what I can. Paint. Finish up TV shows. I feel like the sick son from The Secret Garden: pale and needing some fresh air. I’m reminded that I could be celebrating my departure with friends and family. I miss my brother. The snow coming down is starting to stick. At least when I sleep I breathe well. I can feel a tug of bitterness in my mouth. I really want to go to the gym. 

One day (now maybe four days until I can launch).

I would be leaving tomorrow.

I acknowledge that these past five days would have been spent so much differently if I was well. I would be where my squad is: packed, planning departures, saying goodbyes. But I’m here: sitting in the pile of things I’ll live off of next year. Dirty dishes, paint-splattered sinks, gorgeous snowy sunshine and my habitual need for Instagram’s entertainment are all unavoidable. ‘I would be leaving tomorrow.’  I would have accomplished so much more by tomorrow if I wasn’t sick. 

Yet, I’m reminded of two things:

One, my line of efficiency is not how this Race is meant to be run.

Two, Satan will use whatever he can to throw us off and out of sight. 

I’m thinking back to training camp, where a wise man named Deon drew a line across a whiteboard, and then trapped it in a larger circle. “This is our life,” he said, pointing to the line. “At points in this year, things will happen to you that will not abide by your line. It will become disrupted. And you will hate it.”

He pointed to the circle. “This is God’s will. It surrounds the line. It’s something we struggle to see, because we’re so focused on this linear version of time. When you’re on the Race, know that your line will not be the goal. You must learn that what you’re doing is so much more than a line.” 

I sigh heavily when I think about that moment… and then proceed to start coughing, haha. But I know what he has to say is right: God’s timeline is so much bigger than mine. My selfishness calls that unfortunate but the Holy Spirit keeps trying to gently rap its knuckles on the frustrations I’m experiencing to inform me that it is indeed happening, with or without my consent.  

Secondly, I am reminded that Satan is given some reign over the world right now… and when he recognizes great things, he tries even harder to prevent them. Most everyone that I’ve talked to from my squad is undergoing some sort of difficulty during this time of Launch. And we’re personally experiencing Satan trying to keep us from doing something serious. If it wasn’t anything to worry about, chances are we wouldn’t be seeing so many roadblocks. 

It’s almost here.

And it’s making the devil nervous.

So while I feel a deep sadness, spikes of anxiety, streaks of excitement and a great need for lots of hugs from my people, I will push on. The Lord will guide me. My line of sight is short.

Pray that I keep His circle in mind.