Letting Go

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The sun was shining in brilliant rays – as if God’s fingers were touching the water in disjointed bursts of light and color and heat. The water was frothing as it assaulted the rocks on the edge of the shore. From the car it looked tropical and inviting, but the moment I opened the door, I was hit with a full burst of cold air and sand. * Breathe Stacey, you can do this.

 
Armed with an empty coke light bottle, and a note to Jesus, I marched up the empty beach to the edge of the water. It was a striking blue, probably because it was so cold nothing can live in it (I mean, the next continent is Antarctica). The shells were tumbling in the surf, being slowly etched into submission. And there were seals. Poetic, much?

 
OK God. I can do this. I can do this.

 
It’s been 6 months since I came home from the World Race, but really it has been almost 2 full years of involvement with AIM. Whether it was fundraising or interviewing or being in the nations, the time has seemed to fly by in record speed. I honestly don’t know how I’ve ended up almost 26 years old and with gray hair. It’s been amazing. But the alluring voice of God is calling me into something deeper. Something different.

 
I fingered the necklace in my hands. Rolling the stones and pieces of metal that I’ve come to know so well. When I got home from the race, I took various bits and bobs I had picked up in the nations and made a wearable memory. I desperately wanted something to hold onto so that I wouldn’t forget where I’d been. What I had seen. The miracles I had witnessed.

 
But yesterday it broke. As I reached up to whisper goodbye to a very dear friend, the chain broke. And it hit the ground with a thunk. And suddenly, as God likes to do, he started talking.

 
“Stacey?”

 
Yes God.

 
“It’s time to let it go.”

 
My heart sank, and the tears started to well up in my eyes.

Sometimes in order to accept what God is bringing you into, you have to let go of what is in your hands.   I knew that it was time for my World Race to end. Six months later, I was still wearing the same clothes from my trip. Still walking and living life in permanent homelessness. So I went home that evening, and gave everything I had left from the last two years away. Every single t-shirt and pair of pants, every last earring and book.   If God wants to give me newness, let’s start with the basics.

So this morning I took a long walk on the beach with God. And I put what little I had left into the bottle. My necklace. My beautiful, miraculous, remnant necklace. And in one huge sweep of my arm, I wailed it as far as I could into the wind and surf.

 
Thank you, God. For Africa. For the Race. For the things you’ve shown and taught me. I accept that it’s time for something new. Even though I have no idea what the something is.

 
And I walked with Him back up to the car. And crawled into the heated shelter from the wind.

 
I’m coming back to America. Not the same woman, but changed from the inside out.