The Great Adventure

The days all roll into one, the way the wheels of my borrowed bike roll over the endless miles of suburbia that I cover every day. My feet and hands hurt from the demanding daily schedule of biking and knocking, biking and knocking. Calluses are forming on the middle fingers of both hands. The sun and rain are my constant companions. As a result, I now have a beautiful farmer's tan, and believe that though rain may be cold it will pass.

When I signed up for the internship with Southwestern, I did not know what I was getting myself into. Yes, I had been over all the details with my manager and I knew how hard I was going to have to work. I committed to it before I arrived in Nashville for sales school. Still, nothing prepared me for the brutal honesty and challenges of the bookfield. Every day I take on the same task: to see and sit down with as many families as possible. I did not know that I would cry, but I do, and they are honest tears brought on by real experiences. I did not know that I would have 13 hours every day to be with God and watch Him work. I did not know that the bookfield can help a young girl want to become a woman. I did not know that God was this strong, yet every day I see Him prove Himself again and again in the midst of my weakness.

There are a lot of things I do to keep myself sane and positive on the bookfield. They are not kidding when they say that this job is all about mentality. My worst days are always when my attitude is bad. Every morning I read my Bible at breakfast to encourage my spirit. While I'm biking between houses I say verses to myself. I have funny and inspiring phrases that I mutter as I ride through the streets. A few of them are...
"The pandas are coming! The pandas are coming! Hide under your beds! Hide all the candy!"
"I am on my way, I can go the distance. I don't care how far, with God's help I'll be strong. I know every mile will be worth my while."
"The credit belongs to the man in the arena."
"I hold unswervingly to the hope that I profess. He who promised is faithful."
"I sell books and I love it."
"I love hills and hard things! I love challenges and chilly days! And I eat them for breakfast every single day! Yeah!"
"Rachel Palm is winning the Curb Surfing Olympics!"

There's so much that has happened it is hard to know how to describe it. My entire life is books now. Thinking about anything else distracts me. I have to fight to keep my mind on the job. That's why I was actually glad when my phone broke, erasing all of my old contacts, and why my Facebook account has been deactivated. I don't wear my watch to bed so that if I have any book dreams I will be able to rub my wrist to let myself know I am dreaming.

It is Sunday tomorrow, and my hair will hang loose and free. I will hug my entire org, call my parents, and make a bunch of sandwiches. Before bed I will wrap myself in my Masai blanket and sit by the lake to see my King's stars. We will talk, and He will help me prepare for the next Great Adventure.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Two Poems, & A Few Thoughts

The Swan Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air - An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned into the bondage of its wings: a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air with its black beak? Did you hear it, fluting and whistling A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall Knifing down the black ledges? And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds - A white cross Streaming across the skyt, its feet Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river? And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for? And have you changed your life? Explication of Mary Oliver’s poem “The Swan” This poem dramatizes the speaker’s memory of seeing swan and being struck by its beauty. Using metaphors and similes, the author recreat
Read more

Means Less

I hate Lyme disease. I hate that I will feel great for a few days and then have a day like today where all I want is to hold my head and make people stop asking speaking because it's just so confusing and I don't understand, or can't quite think of the words I want to say. I hate that I don't want to go up the stairs because it's tiring, and I am so fatigued after hours and hours of sleeping. I hate the sense of loss that holds on to me and reminds me of all the things I'm missing out on. I hate trying to build a community when every other week I feel sick and tired and grouchy. I hate how long distance my life has become, with all the people I love scattered across the world. I hate how careful I have to be about sleep. If I don't get enough sleep, my symptoms are worse. When my symptoms are worse, I don't really want to be social. I just want everyone to stop talking and drink tea. Not exactly conducive behavior for making friends. It's
Read more

Current

I grew up beside a river.  Every morning I woke up to its silent current running past my house. It was always there, shaping my days with its seasons and storms. Every year, it dropped during dry season, and tall, sharp, grass grew up along the banks in bright green swaths. Every year, the river rose again, and sometime during the winter break I might wake up to find that huge grass islands had been cut free by the current and were being gently carried past my house. It was silent, yes, but oh so powerful.  My favorite way to end the day was to dive off the dock at sunset and float until the stars came out. I knew how to lay in the calm backwater, where the current would not get me, but most of the time I let the current take me downriver. I enjoyed the letting go, the way nothing was required of me but to rest and let the current carry me.  My sister-in-law Hayden died on Tuesday. Writing this sentence does not feel real in any way. THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN, I keep saying t
Read more