[January 1st, 2023] Location: Knoxville, Tennessee, USA
Let me give you some insight.
I had been thinking about entitling a blog “Loaves” since June of 2022 (Happy New Year, by the way!), and the precise words were not making themselves known to me. The intent of the blog was to share with you all just what I had learned on the Race (seeing as the first blog before the Race was entitled “Bread Crumbs,” I thought it appropriate to share what all of those nibbles had grown into), but the more I thought about it, I learned I couldn’t quite nail what I was trying to say. As much as I would like what I shared to give you a vivid glimpse into my year, it wasn’t working. So, instead of telling you all of the great adventures and scary battles and life-long lessons, I’m going to give you my journaling: the year of 2022 through my eyes, heart, mind, body and soul.
I should inform you that there is a tradition I have with myself every 30th of December. This will provide context to the rest of the blog.
As we know, I’m a huge writer. On and off the blog, I write and write and write. I’ve been keeping a journal since the age of 12, and a few years into it, I began noticing that I had consistently written on the day of December 30th. I, therefore, began a habit: Every 30th of December, I would take the day and debrief my year. I would wake up, gather my pens, journals, gift card, and water bottle, and drive to my favorite coffee shop. I’d order a latte, spy a comfy chair that I know will remain comfy even after seven hours of sitting in it, and take a seat and begin my thinking. This takes all day. (A lovely habit/discipline/tradition, I do recommend it.)
This year, I gathered my six journals (Geez, dude), tossed them in a bag, drove to my favorite spot, popped a squat in an armchair, and began writing. This journal entry, the 818th of the series I kept since age 12, is my testimony: my Loaves. It could be considered a ballsy move to post the heart of, well, me, but I cannot think of any better way to illustrate the way that this year has changed me in such a beautiful way. Note: I’ve changed/removed names for privacy purposes, and have added notes for you, the reader, for clarification purposes ((can be distinguished with double parenthesis)).
Without further ado: Me.
December 30th, 2022. Friday, Entry #818 (47)
Today’s the day– it’s December 30th: RECAP DAY!! I’ve been thinking about what to write today for a while, but we know I never remember what I want to keep, so… here it goes.
I feel like I’ve had to explain to so many people already my mindset & heart before the Race– like the entire month of December has been living out this entry. And it doesn’t take long if you read my entry from last year to understand that I was not in a good place. A year ago, I was sitting in the front of *coffee shop name*, scribbling angrily as my phone blew up thanks to *ex boyfriend’s* text messages. I drove to Cedar Springs ((my church)) and sat in the parking lot and finished the entry, trying my best to tear myself out of this mold I had set myself in. *they* were turning me into a monster, and I had nothing to cling to in order to keep me standing on solid ground, so I sank with them.
In turn, I hurt them, we damaged each other and left on, for lack of a better word, bad terms.
Ready to be free from them, I ran towards the Race, desperate for the new faces, new friends and no more contact. I got Covid, started late, but the day I was so wildly embraced by Ericka, Zachary, and Josh ((my cohort, people on my squad whom I had met prior to training camp)), safety became present. Seeing that Naomi ((squadmate)) had made it to Launch ((who had broken her leg three months prior and was unsure if she would be able to launch with us)), my worries eased and I was reminded that I am wanted. Landing in Honduras, life became blissful. I never wanted to leave (and I’m going back in a few days!!). Honduras was the turning point for my Race, so thank goodness it was the first 2 months. Actually, reading this journal, I didn’t realize how well I kept track of my emotions in January. For example, entry 7 ((numbers restart with new journals)):
“I realize now more than ever that I’m terrified to a) return home and b) to experience any type of love […]. I know that while my dislike [is justifiable], my fear is not, so that is something I’ll have to randomly find how to reconcile. How? Hopefully just by experiencing God’s real Love. I don’t want a picture of it. I want God’s Love, and no one else’s.”
Also the entirety of Entry 10. Funny how the next day, the Race changed. That was the turning point. Laying on the wooden floor of the church, suddenly aware that I had been doing this whole relationship with the Lord all wrong. And from that day, everything seemed to change. There’s not a single journal entry referencing 2021 in the shame it brought after February 9th. I’m sure there are a few between the 6 1/2 journals I completed this year, but here? No mas. The Race became looking forward, learning how to shake off the rags and put on the robe. It went from shame and abuse to learning what Love really is, and because of that, my year was something incredible. Comparing the Burn in Honduras and the Burn in Peru, ((a burn is a time dedicated to 24/7 prayer and worship. In Honduras, it was 12 hours. In Peru, it was a whole week.)) there was so much faith. So much joy. So much change.
“Doubt. Dread. Skepticism. Has this been what caused this forsakenness? Where are You, O Lord? Your hands gentle guide is gone, the whisper of the trees has committed silence […]. I am one voice, singing the harmony to the great, unknown Melody. My faith hums your promises, its song the same as David’s. ‘Where can I go from your presence ‘– I cannot, yet somehow, You are not here.”
That was Honduras, February 9th. A 12 hour burn. A whole two pages of a beautiful lament. But this was August 27th:
“ Father, I rejoice in You! you saved me from a forever of separation and brought me into an eternity of newness. teach my heart to sing your praise. My heart rejoices, may my actions do the same. I desire to worship you, to understand glimpses of your greatness and to fall to my knees in gratitude. […] To praise with my voice, […] To join my brothers and sisters, to uplift Your name higher. ‘Glory, Hallelujah!’ I desire to sing.”
Nearness. Celebration. Faith.
My illustrations of trust. March 10th vs August 27th: alone on a tightrope, feeble lines, loose rope. Grey, Desperate to touch the sun rise on the other side… And then, Proverbs 3 5-6. Color. Security. Peace. Sitting next to Him, watching dawn. Trusting that He has me.
My drawings of lions. January 30th vs August 29th. The first one: crazed, teeth bared against a snake, fighting. Violent, wild, scratchy. Peru: Mighty. Powerful, but without any bared teeth. Revering, safe, vivid. (oh my gosh, am I actually doing art analysis on myself? Nerd.)
That’s what 2022 was: Cleansing. Burning. Fighting. Crying. Cleansing. Salvation. Redemption. Saturation. Renewal. Remembering what it’s like to taste the sweet water rather than drowning in the salt, like Reepicheep tasting the water in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Satiating. Sweet. Light.
2022 was the year of tasting Light.
And my goodness, how I hope I get to have even more this year.
Outside of the obvious changes internally, this year was quite the adventure. I made so many friends, American, English-speaking, Spanish-speaking, African, Russian, Swiss, British… The list goes on in all its incoherent manner. Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, Panama, Colombia, Peru, Mexico, Switzerland, South Africa, Lesotho, Eswatini, London
… How cool.
Tarzaning through the jungle, island walks, kayaking, beach trips, volcano hikes. Visiting San Jose and street witnessing, harvesting cacao, 27 waterfalls, more beach visits to the Caribbean, white water rafting and busting my knee open while others fell out. watching ATL unfold, shopping in Boquete, wing and fry nights, hiking mountains (lots of mountains), watching the sunset in Switzerland, seeing rhinos, climbing cliffs, “adopting” Oska, swimming with wild dolphins ((best day of my life)), seeing Cape Town, trading clothes with strangers turned best friends [forever?]…
All of it was something I hope I retain memories of, not just lessons. I hope my friendships with N Squad, and everyone else I befriended, really, continue to grow and flourish. The future, I pray, holds N Squad closer than I’m expecting.
“So here’s to 2022.”
((My hopes for this year from last year:))
“No bad ideas acted upon. No tolerating *toxic/abusive behavior* ((from others or yourself)). No leaving God out of the equation. No mis-prioritizing. 2022 may very well be the year we need. Maybe we won’t want it sometimes, but we need it. Stay self-aware, learn what it means to open your heart up… to the right people. Go experience what having a sister is like. Have brotherly and uplifting conversations. Take your inner child by the hands and let her learn. Don’t forget the people at home that value and care for you.
“You are ready, Sarah. I’m taking you by the shoulders. You want to be free– now is the moment to do so. Don’t you dare stop being a badass, but don’t you dare stop listening to the Holy Spirit. He, He is your Lover. he will care for you. He will listen to your logic and feel your tears. There’s no manipulation from Him. You are free. Go. Fly. For you. And for Him. Discover what it means to Rise From the Ashes and be more beautiful than ever. Go. I’ll be right here with you. <3” ((written December 30th, 2021.))
I now take this time to address Sarah of 2021:
“Dear Sarah…
“I’ve currently migrated from *coffee shop* to our favorite spot: *lake overlook*. Last time we were here, we ran away from *ex-boyfriend’s* house, a day or two before we left the Race. ashamed to return home, we came here, screaming for tears to come, and if it wasn’t for having to pack for the Race, I ponder if perhaps we would have run away. I think back, I hear the songs. I feel the winter and it sinks me into memories I care not to remember. I’m scared to run into *ex boyfriend*, I’m learning every day why I didn’t like it here. Knoxville feels like it’ll never move past 2021, and although I have yet to see *those close to me before the Race that I no longer remain in contact with ((for the best))*, sometimes I can feel you a little bit closer to me than I would like.
“I cannot leave you behind. What we did, who we hurt, how we coped… It all happened, I’m sad to say. But there was something there that never left, the thing that told us why we were ashamed: God. His Holy Spirit.
We knew we didn’t belong.
“I want you to know that I did make it. I did fly. We’re on the other side of it now. But it wasn’t our wings that carried us. We rode on the backs of eagles. Ran towards the safety of the Lion’s mane, created a home for the dove. We didn’t do the flying. We did the riding. The sight-seeing. The resting. The wrestling. It wasn’t us who healed us. It wasn’t me who made me look different than you. Oh, sweet dear, if I could show you! But I believe you knew someday, somehow, we would make it here. I’m thrilled to report we ran straight from those evil clutches and into the forest, lost, but searching for the palace we knew we belonged in.
Thank you for the send-off. You were right. He is our Lover. Dear Sarah, we learned that! We learned what it meant to be Loved ((see my old blog “Loved? Really?”)). And there’s still so much to discover. You knew He was ours. I know because He holds me. 🙂 We have Him, girl. The best groom we could ever possibly hold side by side. You’re safe, little one. No one can hurt you now. You got us here, so thank you for saying ‘yes’ to that WR rep on the phone in February. I promise to love you well by allowing your story to be one of redemption. We’ll give Him praise for that. We’re gonna let Him hold us forever, okay? Hm. 🙂 Okay.
So where are we now?
I’m kinda glad I am back in the States to write this recap, because I’ve gotten a taste of what has changed for me.
“Right now, we’re wishing that our sober friends were smarter and our smarter friends were sober, our younger friends were older and our older friends were younger, and that our “Christian” friends weren’t cold ((spiritually)), our non-Christian friends were curious, and our actual friends lived closer. We wished we were better with our time– choosing family, quiet time and healthy, good food over legitimately wasting time and brain cells.
Trying to figure out how to make life look different before we get wrapped up in a lifestyle similar to last year, we want to get our life aligned with Christ’s. We’re still the gotta-try-every-hobby-RIGHT-NOW person, still hard-working and still trying to get *my gym partner* to push to failure in the gym, but now, there’s so much more. Instead of a boyfriend’s house and heavy friends, time in the Word and passionate community is what we seek. There’s the heart that everything we do is for His glory, and the desire to watch it happen. Spiritual warfare is real, distractions are destructive, and words are important.
Faith + action is radical.
That’s what I want for 2023: I want it to be radical. Slow: To develop a sense of God’s timing and to be okay with it. Intentional: to make everything worthwhile. Serious: to not ignore the little things. Anything can change everything.”
I’ve always believed that 23 has the makings of a good year. Sure, I meant it as an age, but in order to make being 23 such a great year, we’ve gotta plan ahead. So 2023 it is.
To 2022:
Thank you. You are everything I needed you to be. You held opportunities I’ll never have again. You set me up for success. You allowed the space to learn so many things about myself, to dig in so deeply, to allow His claws to dig into the flesh beneath my scales ((another Voyage of the Dawn Treader reference)). You allowed room for new friendships, all across the globe, unforgettable experiences. You allowed me to dig into the nasty parts of my heart and I’m cleaning the mouth. 2022 gave me the launch pad into a new life. Real life.
I’ll never get to live my Race out ever again, And maybe there are things that I’ve already forgotten. But I hope, I think, and pray that life shall continue to become all the more vivid. You loved me well, 2022. I pray I look back on you with such fondness and keep you close. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Thank you, 2022. Thank you, Jesus.
I must face the music: The Race is over.
Involvement with AIM? Not necessarily. I look forward to future opportunities. But alas, this begins a new era. ‘22 was a launchpad full of unique experiences. I’d like to wish ‘23 had the same abrupt start– getting launched into the jungles of Honduras (I mean, kinda, actually)– but we return to Knoxville. Who knows what this year will hold (I guess we’re back to saying that again)? Perhaps more exploration into new hobbies, learning about big kid stuff like money and jobs, networking and conflict management.
And while I’m still thrilled to be me– lover of discovery, obsessed with any new art, sport or experience, dogs galore and trying to get my whistle range back– I know that life is so much more than running Spartan races and making five jobs work.
It’s about Him.
All my life has ever had to do with is Christ, and that’s what I want to honor this year. I’ll have a bucket list telling me what to work towards pasted in here eventually, but I want to shift the perspective. 2023, I blissfully hope, will be full of seeing the Lord in ways I would have never seen Him before. I hope I get to be so surrounded by a group of people whose love for the Lord overflows and pours out onto me.
I hope in 2023, I learn how to dance. Completely. Unashamedly. I hope I’m known for my hard work and big heart. I hope for forgiveness. I hope there’s more security, more healing, open communication, transparency and grace. I hope that I learn how to be a light friend. I hope that I start praying, interceding, worshiping, healing, all for the genuine glory of the Lord. I hope I learn humility, patience, understanding and wisdom. I hope my fear is towards nothing but the Lord. I hope that instead of hoping, I pray and act upon these things that by the strength of the Lord they happen– AMEN! I hope I discover more music that uplifts Him and correct values.
I hope 2023 is the Light Water ((seriously, you gotta go read the Chronicles of Narnia))– sweet, filling, clear, pure. I hope all who see me see past me and meet Jesus face-to-face. I hope I’m a vessel, fit for use. Honorable use. I pray whoever I know knows I love them because He loves us both. I pray for a clear mind and a sharp sword, for intuition, revelation and faith. I hope I get to be a part of something amazing. I hope and pray I value my words enough that I make sure the stuff comes true. I pray that swimming in the lake is only the beginning. 2023 is the year of Light. I know things won’t change overnight– but what I do know is that my God is shining bright and into the Marvelous Light I’m running. Amen.
Here’s to 2 0 2 3. Shine bright.
-princesa
(now you see why it takes me legitimately all day to write this.)
Bread Crumbs 
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