Road to Colorado

July 7, 2017 – I threw my backpack, loaded up with clothes and a handful of snacks, into the backseat of my car, and pushed the door shut. I looked out over the hills lining my front yard, and took a deep breath of warm summer air in. I looked up into the night sky, and it hit me just how small I was in this universe, and how little of my life I had figured out. The next morning I would wake up with the sun and pull out onto the open highway with no destination in mind. I had a general direction, but no spot on a map, no hotel reservations, and less than $200 to my name. I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea who I was. I had no idea what was going to happen in the days to follow..but what I did know, is I had an overwhelming feeling to just “Go.” So I got in my car, and just went. Feeling half crazy, and half filled with a desperation so deep for a life far different than the one I was living, that I didn’t care. Soon, I found myself in Goodard, Kansas, at a place that would change the course of my life forever. It had been six and a half hours. My back hurt from sitting in the car in the same spot for so many hours and doubts were begin to creep into my head. What was I even doing? Did I REALLY hear God, or was I just running from the things I didn’t want to face back home? And even if it was His voice telling me to go, how was I supposed to even know what to do when I got there? I switched on a podcast to drown out my thoughts, which backfired quickly when my head was flooded with even MORE questions. I had downloaded this series I knew nothing about because I knew I was going to hit a spot on the road where I would lose all service and radio connections. To my surprise, the topic was evangelism, and the extent of the podcast was a series of stories of people radically changed because one man chose to listen to the still small voice of God. “Man, wouldn’t that be neat?” I thought. “To have such a huge impact on so many people, to lead so many people back to the cross. To have such a deep confidence and relationship with Christ to be able to live a life so beautifully whole and wildly different. But that’s not for me. I don’t know anything about talking to people. I’m far too shy. I don’t know nearly enough. My life is not nearly put together enough to be able to talk to others about theirs.” The lies flowed like a tidal wave through my mind. I pushed them away, switched off the podcast, and turned my mind back towards the road. The sign ahead read “last rest stop for (x amount) of miles.” Something in me told me maybe I should stop, but I quickly pushed that thought away as well. I’ve made drives way farther than this, I’ll be fine, I told myself. I just want to get to wherever He’s taking me. I just want out of this car. Suddenly my lower back began to ache unbearably. Driving any farther was no longer an option, as I could barely see through the tears welling up in my eyes. I quickly swerved over to the pull off point and jumped out of my car. Immediately upon stepping out the door, the pain stopped. “Alright God, I see you. What do you have for me here?” My eyes scanned my new surroundings. Nobody in sight. Nothing but a concrete building containing a few toilet stalls and a pavillion with a few picnic tables in neat rows. Once again, I had no idea what I was doing, but I decided to take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere to read and stretch my stiff limbs. I had been there roughly an hour when I noticed the orange hues of sunset hour beginning to creep into the sky, signaling that it would soon be getting dark. I finished up my chapter and began packing up my things. Just as I turned around I noticed a guy roughly in his early sixties making his way towards me. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know how far it is to Estes Park from here?” the man, who we’ll call John for the sake of the story, said as he approached the table I was sitting at. “I’ve made the drive several times before, so I know the way, but it’s been a few years so I can’t remember how many more hours I have from this point, and I’m trying to decide if I should go ahead and get a hotel now or try to drive it all the way through.” “Uhm, I actually do not, but I’d be happy to look it up for you before I head out,” I nervously replied. John cleared his throat and spoke up as I waited for my sketchy internet connection to load the google maps page, “so what are you doing out here all by yourself anyways?” A million CSI episodes began to flash through my head as I desperately tried to think of what I could say to convince him I wasn’t alone and so obviously a prime target for an easy kidnapping plot. “What AM I doing out here??” I frantically prayed. “I’m on a mission for Jesus.” I blurted out. Wait..WHAT?! The words spewed from my mouth quicker than I could even try to catch them and shove them back in? What does that even MEAN??!? I felt like I was at a party, and Jesus was the unsocialized friend you have to pull aside to have a discussion with after they cause a particularly awkward scene. “What was that?! We can’t just sayyy things like that to people?! Yeah, maybe he doesn’t want to kidnap me anymore, but only because he now thinks I’m a crazy person. And He’s DEFINITELY not going to want to talk to me about the gospel now either.” “Really? So am I.” I’m sure in the moment my jaw might have actually hit the floor. “Really?!” I muttered in confusion. Over the next half hour, I learned several major details pertaining to John’s story. I learned that he was on his way to Estes Park to scatter his mom’s ashes at one of her favorite spots. I learned that he had a friend that lived in the area who had offered him a job and a place to stay since he had lost almost everything he owned following his mother’s death. I also learned that when John was 5 years old, his parents got divorced, and his priest told him that God would never love him because “the sins of the father are the sins of the son.” (This is far from true if you are wondering) My heart broke for him deeply, and I simultaneously felt so unqualified to be sitting before him. I couldn’t take away the pain of all he had encountered in his life. I didn’t have any encouraging Bible verses to rattle off, because to be entirely honest, I had barely opened it up myself. I had no answer for John. In fact, I was beginning to realize, I had even less than I thought I did, of my own. All I had was an ear to listen, and a few truths God had shown me on my own journey to share – and turns out, that’s all God asked me to have in that moment. As our conversation came to a close and we began to say our goodbyes and part ways, John looked up with a grin spread from cheek to cheek and said something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. “You know, ever since I was a kid, I felt like I’ve been so far from God. I haven’t stepped foot in a church in decades and I’ve struggled my whole life with my faith. You could’ve never known this, but I told God when I left my house for this cross country drive, that if He really desired a relationship with me, that if He could still love me after all I had done and how far from Him I had lived my life, that I needed to know. I needed Him to send me a sign. And Hannah, I think you’re my sign.” I didn’t understand. I hadn’t DONE anything. But that was the point. God hadn’t asked me to DO anything, but stop at that pitstop and be willing to listen. And here in Thailand, all He often asks, is just the same, that I listen, and have a “yes” in my heart for wherever He asks me to stop. Here on the race, we call that ATL, or “Ask the Lord.” Every day we wake up every morning and pray as a team over where He wants us to go, and who He wants us to see. Sometimes we here things, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes it leads us to big projects and sometimes it leads us to just hang out and talk with locals at the park. I struggled with this a lot at the beginning. After all, I came on this trip to “do” all the things – to work in schools, and churches, and orphanages, and help people. But how was us just hanging out at the park helping anyone? When we didn’t have any clear direction for our day I found myself once again frantically praying “what am I DOING here?” Until one day I was praying, and I saw myself sitting back at the table in Kansas with John. I realised in that moment that God had shown me exactly what He expected of me, exactly what ATL looked like in everyday life, far before I had even considered coming on the race. So here I am, for the next three months, patiently waiting every day in eager anticipation for what He has in store for us next. So far this has looked like being led to to an orphanage, an adoption storytelling project, a refugee school, a bakery with the sweetest owner, dinner with the most amazing refugee family, and countless friendships along the way. I can’t even begin to count the stories we could tell. And turns out, my favorite days are now those that are the least scheduled, because that leaves the most room for God to move and to blow our minds with encounters more beautiful than we ever could’ve planned. And my favorite part of all? Knowing that even after the Race is done, I get to take this new found way of doing life back home, because I learned that that “still small voice” has big plans in store, for me too.