I should be studying.

Finals are only a few days away and I really should be studying like a good girl.  But, I have realized that thoughts are only fleeting and when I don't write them down, they leave my mind as quickly as they enter.  So, before I hit the books, take a trip with me.

Let me set the stage.  The bus stop on 3rd and Pike is a microcosm of city life.  It is filled with such a diverse group of people: old and young, black and white, educated business owners and uneducated homeless people, drug dealers and students from private universities.  Most of the time, this particular bus stop is a scary place to be.  I have been offered drugs on multiple occasions and have found that the safest bet is to just put in my headphones and block out the world until bus 13 pulls up to the curb so I can scan my bus pass and ditch the terrifyingly diverse crowd of people.  Today, however, was different.  After minimal sleep and a couple too many "snoozes" of the alarm, I was running late to catch my bus.  I forgot my headphones.  This wasn't a problem on the early morning bus ride because there are less people out and about, and less people means less to worry about.  But after my internship, however, I realized I had to brave that bus stop for a whole 20 minutes without headphones.  It may sound silly, but I was legitimately worried.  After walking a few blocks from the building in which I work to the bus stop, I realized that I would have to try to blend in.  So, I slunk against the wall of the building behind me, along with a few other stragglers.  Pretending to be in my own little world, I heard and saw the most interesting things.

Scene 1.
A disgruntled man, probably in his 50's approaches me.  "Ayy miss, you got a smoke on ya?"  I kindly reply, "No, sorry, I don't smoke," all the while thinking to myself, "Seriously?  Do I look like I have a smoke in my purse that I am going to hand over to you?"  With sad eyes, he turned the other way.  Out of what seemed like nowhere, one of this man's old friends appeared (or at least it sure seemed like they had known eachother).  "Man, you got a smoke?" the first man asked.  The newcomer replied, "Nah, I don't do that anymore.  I got clean."  "You got clean?" a shocked voice inquired.  "Yeah.  I have a granddaughter now.  Did it for her."  "You got sponsors and all that?"  "Yeah.  Yeah I do."  "I'm proud of you man.  I'd love to meet your granddaughter some day."  Then, the conversation was done.
It seemed like something out of a movie; it just didn't seem real.  I couldn't stop thinking about their conversation all day.  On one hand, I felt so much sadness for that man's child who grew up with what seemed to be a very absent father.  On the other hand, though, I felt so much gladness that his grandchild will know a grandfather - a clean and sober grandfather.  And in the confusing array of emotions brewing inside me, there was hope.  Hope for the man, his child, and his grandchild; but, also hope for the first man, because you never know what it will take to spark a change.  Maybe seeing his old friend get clean is the spark he needed.  All I can do is hope and pray.

Scene 2.
An old man with a walking stick used by the blind was slowly walking down the sidewalk.  He was all alone.  Nobody was moving out of the way or offering assistance.  It was as if he was invisible.  He looked lost and was walking so very slowly as if he was hoping that someone would help him out.  But, nobody did.  I knew I should.  Inside, all I could think about was how unfair it was that I could see and he couldn't.  I did nothing to deserve sight, and he did nothing to deserve not having sight.  But yet, the reality was that I had vision and he didn't.  I knew I should help, but it was as if something deep down in me was paralyzed; all I could do was silently watch as tears welled up in my eyes.  Why was no one helping?  Why was I not helping?  And, as slowly as he had walked on to the block, he disappeared around the corner.  The minute he disappeared, I was stricken by an almost painful sensation of guilt.  Why did I just stand there and do nothing?  I realized then, that I had missed my opportunity and at that moment, all I could do was pray.  So, I prayed, choking back tears (I don't know why it moved me so much to see this blind man, but it did).  I prayed that he would be guided and that someone would offer this man help if that is what he needed.  A couple minutes later, the man rounded the corner that he had just disappeared behind with a woman that I would never have thought would think twice about a blind old man.  She was clearly homeless, probably in her high 20s or early 30s.  She was guiding the blind man.  Eventually, they walked past me and I there was no doubt in my mind that this homeless woman would help this blind man find the place he was looking for.  The whole thing was nothing short of beautiful; and yet again, I was filled with hope, because I had seen that even in a world with so much sadness, people do care.  And it shook my world to see that the person that cared this time was the person I had never expected.

Scene 3.
Finally, the bus pulled up.  It seemed as though I had waited eons in the cold and rainy dampness that is Seattle for that bus.  I waited in a line at the front door while the bus driver lowered the lift so that a woman in a wheelchair could exit at this stop while the rest of the passengers exited at the back door.  I saw a grungy looking woman sneak on the back of the bus while others were exiting, knowing that it was not allowed and that she was trying to skip out on her fare.  When the wheelchair lift retracted into the bus, the whole line realized that the bus driver had seen the woman sneak on too.  He would not let all of us who were lined up on the bus.  Instead, he began to yell at this woman, telling her that she needed to pay her fare or find another bus that would let her slide on unnoticed.  She pretended to ignore him for a while until his loud voice and obvious relentlessness moved her to come to the front of the bus.  She apologized for the confusion and pulled a couple of dollar bills out of her backpack and paid her fare.  She proceeded to sit in the front seat of the bus and ask the bus driver if he stopped on Mercer.  He ignored her for a while but she persisted.  As all of us in line finally found seats, he said that the bus did stop at Mercer and 1st.  She asked if that was close to Seattle Center.  He said that it was in the same general area.  The bus stopped at Mercer and 1st and the woman did not exit the bus.  She asked the driver if she could be informed where the closest stop to Seattle Center was.  A few stops later, he told her that it was the Seattle Center stop.  She chose not to get off and wanted to wait until the Key Arena stop.  The driver was getting frustrated and told the woman, while the bus was approaching the Key Arena stop, that this was the stop she should get off at.  At this point, the woman seemed very overwhelmed.  She said that she was looking for something that was by Seattle Center and Key Arena.  "I can't help you, but this is your stop," the driver said firmly.  A man from the back of the bus, quite a ways away, with a cane and some very large glasses stood up at the stop and told the woman that he was familiar with the area of town and would help her find what she was looking for.  The man with the cane and the woman with the backpack exited the bus and disappeared toward Key Arena.  I don't know what prompted the man with the cane to help this woman find what she was looking for, but there is no doubt in my mind that she was grateful he did.  Yet again, help for this woman came from the most unexpected place.

Finale.
I can't stop thinking about these three situations I encountered today.  I still am not sure what to make of them.  All I know is that when I finally got off of the bus, I felt an overwhelming sense of hope.  I saw that help comes when it is needed the most, and that, today at least, it came from the most unexpected people in the most unexpected places.  And, I know that there is beauty in this broken world and that God is at work.  If these kind of beautiful interactions can happen on this earth, just imagine the beauty that is yet to come.  

drip drop

Here I sit, in the science building in between classes, watching almost microscopic raindrops lay mist on all who come in their way, trying to decide if I really do want Starbucks bad enough to make the trek to my car and the 2-mile drive to the coffee shop.  Somehow, somewhere along the road, I have slunk back into comfort.  But as I watch the mist in the air, I can think of nothing but monsoon season in India.  The heavy raindrops that could flood streets in a matter of minutes have somehow managed to flood my mind.  There is something so beautiful about the monsoon: it is completely unpredictable.  You never know when the rains will hit, or for how long they will last.  The only thing you really can know is that they will affect your day.  You will be stuck and stranded.  But in that moment of the first monsoon rain that I ever experienced, I discovered that in the moment of finding out that the rains were coming down, you have the choice to be nothing but inconvenienced by the rain, and wait for the streets to become clear and accessible  or you can simply be thankful for the rain and embrace the spontaneity of the rain with open arms and a smile.  Because, who doesn't like dancing in the rain?  Life is so much like the rain.  There is always going to be rain, but getting lost in the beauty of the rain can make all the difference.   Its so easy to be comfortable; our culture has taught us that fighting for comfort is of utmost importance.  But when we are accustomed to comfort and the monsoon rains begin to fall, they throw us off track and keep us off of the roads.  So why not take time to rejoice in the rains as well as the sunshine?

"When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider:  God has made one as well as the other.  Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future." (Ecclesiases 7:14)

In the sun, and the rain, I will realize that I am blessed.  I choose joy.  

Dear Joshua,

You are impossible to forget, my dear boy.  You touched my life in a way that no one else has.  You were such a small child when I met you and had grown so much bigger when I saw you for the second time.  Now all I have of you are pictures, and I see that you are growing up so fast.  I wish I could see you and play games with you again.  I hope that you know that you are not and never will be forgotten.  You changed my life, my worldview, and my heart.  Jesus' love shined through your silly laugh and goofy jog.  I hope you know how special you are and how much you are loved.  I have faith that there is a family out there just waiting to adopt someone as special as you; so, keep waiting until that day.  It will take a special family to receive a special son like you.  You are always in my thoughts and my prayers, Joshua.  I hope to see you again, soon.  You are loved.  

they say that home is where the heart is...

Its a strange time of year when I prepare to pack up my possessions and leave home to go...to my other home?  I remember franticly putting what seemed to be my whole life into boxes before my freshman year of college prior to moving away from the place I was born and raised, the place where my family and friends were, the place I loved, and the place I called home.  As my parents and I drove away that day, I remember feeling numb - not happy, not sad, not excited, not scared (or maybe I was just too happy, sad, excited and scared that I couldn't feel any of them) - and my dad told me that in a few months, Bozeman wouldn't feel like home anymore and that in a few years, Seattle would feel like home.  It took less time than I anticipated for this to become true.  I was thrilled and overjoyed to be home for Thanksgiving and for Christmas, but nothing was the same.  It was wonderful to catch up with high school friends, but all the while, I missed my college friends.  Throughout the years, the pattern has continued.  Each time I return to Bozeman, a little piece of me is missing that can only be found in Seattle.  

The cities of Bozeman and Seattle are near and dear to my heart and they both hold a very special place.  Yes, its the landscape; its those quiet and peaceful mountains and rivers and spaces that Bozeman has to offer, and its the busy and bustling sounds of downtown Seattle and the aroma of salt water and the crisp west coast air.  But, its also the people; its my parents and brothers and the friends I grew up with (who feel more like sisters), its the friends I've met who come from places as different from my hometown as they come.  It seems almost as though the cliche saying, "home is where the heart is," is true.  In that saying is where I get lost in the mucky waters of confusion and perplexity.  My heart is in so many places.  It is, of course, with my family in MT, my friends in WA, and other friends and relatives located all over the country.  But, my heart is in other places around the world too.  It is in the Philippines with the beautiful orphans who have blessed and touched my life more than they will ever know.  It is in Vietnam with the friends I made amidst the language barrier, who taught me that laughing and loving need no spoken or written language, as they speak for themselves.  It is in India with the neglected and orphaned children, the friends, teachers, mentors and role models that have impacted who I am as a person in more ways than one.

So, I guess, as I sit here in my living room at home, trying to determine where home actually is, I have yet to find an answer.  Maybe home can be wherever I want it to be, where I can see the landscapes that make my heart smile, where I can feel the warm embrace of those whom I love, where my nostrils are filled with those familiar aromas that bring happiness, where I recognize the noises around me, and where I can fill my stomach with foods that bring flooding back memories.  Maybe home will be continually changing throughout my life.  Maybe home, to me, will always be in more places than one.  Or, maybe, I can't fully grasp "home," because someday, I truly will be home, in a home that is perfect, a home with a family that is forever and a Father who holds the world in His hands.  So maybe home isn't something to be fully understood until that day, when I finally get there.  And when I do, I believe, without a doubt, that I will truly be home, and there will be no doubt in my mind that I have found a place that is home.

[ r a w ]

I don't know about you, but the world and all of its brokenness have a way of getting me down.  Innocent people being massacred in a movie theater (a movie that I was watching at the time it all happened).  Young girls being sold into prostitution because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The ever growing gap between the rich and the poor.  Dozens dead from a bad rainstorm in Asia.  The real issues, the things that matter seem to be constantly slid under the carpet and ignored; after all, it is more fun and much easier to hear about the upcoming olympic athletes and all of the great things that the presidential candidates have to offer.  But it seems that whenever I'm not thinking about the world, I'm focused on my own loneliness, which shrivels in comparison to those around the world who may be truly alone.  But, I blame it on the devil.  I've been casually flipping through and re-reading parts of C.S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters and it is terrifying just how Screwtape tries to steal humanity away from Christ and His goodness.  The scary thing is that the devil is like that and I've seen his handiwork all over the world; this summer, it seems like making me feel completely alone is the task.  Scarily, it usually works.

For some reason, though (I suppose I don't really believe in coincidences, making it more of a God thing than anything else), today I thought it would be a good idea to flip through old sermon notes; there was no reason for it, I just wanted to.  As I was turning the pages of my journal, something that I had written down jumped out at me and I was reminded of one of Mark Driscoll's sermons that I had heard a while back in Seattle.  He said, in reference to fear and suffering, "They can take everything from you, but they cannot take your Jesus."  Things flew back into perspective. The world is going to continue to be broken - I can spend my life working for the Kingdom and making it a little bit of a better place, but things are going to continue to be terribly messed up until the beautiful day when Christ returns.  The devil can strip everything from me - my friends, my momentary happiness, all of it.  But you know what satan?  You can't take my Jesus.  And after all, He's really all that matters.  He is joy and peace and love and all that is good in life.  My Jesus can get me through, and no one can take my Heavenly Father from me.  How cool is that? 

being present.

Sometimes, my mind just swims.  Thoughts, ideas and feelings move about like particles caught up in a whirlwind.  My head and my heart find it so easy to be stuck in the past, stuck in what was.  Usually, my thoughts are caught up in India, the Philippines, and Vietnam. Reminiscing leaves me feeling as though I can smell the incense being burned for the gods throughout the country of India, masking the gut-wrenching smell of cities without sewer systems.  Its as if I can hear the orphaned children in the Philippines singing, "Be brave little one, someone is waiting for you..." I can almost taste the at-times overwhelming mint leaves in Vietnamese sandwiches.  Its as if I can see the bright colors all around me, feel the touch of those who left their mark forever on my heart.   I can't usually go a day without remembering the people and places that have changed my life, my outlook, my actions, and perspectives forever.  The people I have met, as well as those I have only seen from afar have impacted me and who I am and for that reason, its hard for me to not fixate on the past, spend hours looking through pictures, reading my journals and wishing more than anything I was back there, wherever "there" may be at any given point in time.  Because for some reason, those places felt like home.  Those places were hard, sad, and stretching.  But those places brought clarity.

This week, I've been thinking about how potentially detrimental such thought processes may be.  Philippians 3:13 says, "But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what lies ahead."  I've heard sermons and talks about this verse on New Years in regards to forgetting past sins, hardships, and wrongdoings.  To me, suddenly, there is new clarity.  I don't think that Paul meant so simply that on New Years, we should read Philippians 3:13 and set a new resolution - maybe that is part of it - but I think its much bigger than that.  Tom Hopkins said, "Look at your past.  Your past has determined where you are at this moment.  What you do today will determine where you are tomorrow.  Are you moving forward or standing still?"  Gandhi said, "The future depends on what we do in the present."  Living in the past, whether the good memories or the bad, are keeping me from making the future a better place.  The past - The Philippines, India, and Vietnam - has shaped me, but the importance is not living in those experiences, but rather integrating what I learned there into my future actions.

So right now, I'm trying to be present.  I'm trying to live in the here & now.  I'm trying to make every single day count, because each and every day is precious.  The past doesn't have to stay in the past because it can shape today and tomorrow, but the past cannot be the only thing defining today.

where is the joy?

It may be an understatement to say that I don't do very well with transitions.  It seems like during transition points, I hit a sort of funk.  The return from India funk has been the worst ever, but that is not to say there haven't been others.  This has been my first week at home for the summer and it has hit really hard.  Since its junior year summer, its the last real college summer.  While I feel like I should be soaking it up and making the most of it with my friends, the truth is that I've barely done anything.  At the end of high school, I thought that even though my friend group scattered, we would always be close - we were too good of friends to let anything tear us apart.  And while we are all still friends, its not the same, not even close.  It has become harder and harder for me to let that go.  Almost everyday I'm home I can't shake a sort of sadness and a wish that I could just go back to that summer after senior year, where things were so much easier and more simple.  The reality is, though, that it will never be like that again. As my mind clouds with memories that take over my thoughts, leaving me with nothing but fog and haze, I reach that dark place where I forget to see the sunlight and flowers, and forget to hear the birds chirping.

Tonight, as I was driving home from a friend's house, I was thinking about happiness and sadness and everything that falls in between. I thought to myself, "How can I just forget to be happy? How does something like that even happen? I'm driving home from one of my best friends since elementary school but wishing things were like they were before. How does that make any sense?"  The reality of the fact is that time isn't going to stop.  Its not going to stand still, and as much as I hate to admit it, it probably won't even slow down anytime soon.  So why have I been spending so much time wishing I was in the past?  Paul writes in Philippians 3:13, "But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead." I need to live in the here and now, not the past.  Living in the past isn't going to help anyone and it sure isn't going to help me.  I'm blessed to still even be friends with those from high school, middle school, elementary, and even before the school days.  I have college friends.  There is no reason to be stuck in a rut.

Joseph Campbell said, "Find a place where there's joy and the joy will burn out the pain."  Joy is here and now.  I was thinking about happiness and sadness and and all of the other emotions wrapped up inside of the two and I stumbled across joy.  This past quarter, in one of my classes, we were talking about suffering and the goodness of God, but because it was a philosophy class, we didn't really talk about what we were supposed to at all.  I remember one classmate saying something about finding happiness in the Lord, and another raising a hand saying that there is an important line to be drawn between happiness and joy.  The second classmate argued that joy is found in the Lord, rather than happiness.  As if straight out of a movie, class ended before either could argue further.  I remember going back to my apartment strangely dazed by the distinction that I had never considered before - is there a difference between joy and happiness?  I have slowly come to the conclusion that happiness is short and fleeting, it comes and goes based on circumstances that change from year to year, day to day, hour to hour, and even minute to minute.  Joy, I believe, is different.  Joy, I think is something that once you have it, is there to stay.  Joy, I would agree with my classmate, is found only in the Lord.  It must be pretty important to have since its even one of the fruits of the Spirit, given to all believers.  C.S. Lewis said, "Joy is the serious business of heaven," and David's Psalms are filled with joy and thanksgiving.

My aunt, and one of my biggest role models, passed away almost 3 years ago.  When I think about joy and happiness, I think of her.  She was the hardest fighter and the most trusting person I have ever met. Battling cancer for year after year after year would run most people into the ground, I would assume.  She was tired and as the fight got harder and harder for her, anyone could tell that her circumstances were far from happy.  But, even though at times she was far from happy and at times she was sad and at times she was just plain exhausted, she never lost her joy (at least not that I could tell).  Even when she was in the hospital for days and weeks, she could smile, even if it was faint.  Throughout her long and tiresome fight, she would tell stories and laugh and joke.  She had joy.  I can learn that from her.

Even when the times are hard, even when I feel sad, I need to remember to still be joyful.  Joy is a gift that shouldn't be accepted lightly.  Joy is from the King.  Joy sets us apart.  No matter how sad or stuck I may feel, my joy can be renewed and constantly is being renewed.  That is something to be thankful for, something to be happy for.  


On my drive home, I thought of a happy list, things that I'm thankful for and things that make me smile.
Today's happy list: sleeping in a bed (something many people don't have the luxury of), pita pit for lunch with the brother (and the best surprise - seeing our classy uncle strolling by), helping Dad at his office and laughing with Mom before she left, a haircut from a dear family friend, endless laughing with  one of the best friends a girl could ask for, a sky full of stars, (even though it wasn't today) theological discussions with the brother until the early morning and the list goes on...

Today, I was reminded of how blessed I am.  Its not worth bringing myself to a point mentally where I wish things were different.  Each day is special, and each day is something to be thankful for.  For so many reasons, I can have joy in my heart.  Today, I am thankful.

[most precious]

Four years ago, I met a little boy named Joshua.  It was when little Joshua was in my arms that God showed me how incredibly precious His children are.  It was in that moment that I knew how incredibly fragile orphaned children are and how much they need a family and love.  It was in that moment that I finally understood Jesus' command to love "the least" in society.  

Not many days go by where I don't think about that boy - Joshua.  It took almost a year for the tears to go away when I thought about him.  Because Joshua isn't only an orphaned child, he also has learning disabilities and cognitive delay.  In all honesty, his future looks bleak.  Every time I think about Joshua, my heart breaks a little bit more.  I miss him so much and its a difficult place to be when all you can do is pray that one day he will have a family that loves him.  And until that day comes, I will be praying that my little Joshua will keep laughing and smiling and that he will keep his innocence without realizing what a cruel place the world can be.  Most of all, I hope and pray with all my heart that little Joshua will never go a day without feeling loved.  

Always on the mind.

fear of the unkown

Last week in my physiological psychology and neuro-biology class, we learned that stress evokes a fear response in the brain.  Everyone in class seemed to think that it was just one of those "duh" moments, but I was shocked.  Now, biology isn't my thing so I was already one step behind the rest of the class, but still.  Your body treats stress the same way it treats fear; your brain sends out the same response to your body when you are stressed out as when you are terrified.  Its no wonder being stressed out takes a toll on you.

It seems like this quarter, and this year, in fact, has been packed with so much stress.  Stress of hard classes and hard situations.  This week, however, I realized something.  The worst has been the looming stress, the stress that never goes away, the stress that comes from the unknown; and what I have figured out is that the stress really is fear of the unknown.  If I'm being honest with myself, I'm constantly stressed about things, but the things I'm stressed about are really things that I'm actually scared of.  I guess that is a kind of "duh" - no wonder the body takes it as fear, it is fear.  Usually, its the little things that get to me, the things that my mom constantly has to remind me to remember that small things don't define me.  When I freak out about a test, she'll remind me, "Its just a test."  And the thing is, the reason I freak out about the tests and the papers and the assignments are for the grades.  Because, if I don't get good grades, I don't have a good GPA, and if I don't have a good GPA, I don't get into a good graduate program, and if I don't get into a good graduate program, I don't get a good job, and if I don't get a good job, then what?  What if?

Last week, I dropped a class for the first time in my whole life.  It was a class that I was taking because I had to.  But, it was too much.  I tend to spread myself way too thin sometimes and tackle way too many classes.  My parents reminded me that if I'm not having any fun because I'm always working on school and worried about the next test, its just not worth it.  So, for the first time, I dropped the class, simply because I didn't want to take it...because I wanted to have fun.  And it felt good.  When I talked to my teacher about not being able to handle the class at this point in time, she said, "I'm very impressed that you were able to realize that the class is too much for you right now, that is something that most adults don't even know how to do."  In that moment, I wasn't worrying about what people thought of me, I wasn't worrying about future plans, but I was living for that day.  Each day I'm realizing more and more that life is short.  You never know what is going to happen next, so why worry about the future instead of just worrying about the present?  I guess I'm a little slow on the uptake because I think this was probably a sunday school lesson waaaay back in the day on Matthew 6:34 accompanied by a nice Steve Green jingle, but seriously.  There's no reason to live in fear of the unknown; life is too short and time on earth is fleeting.  There's a plan for the future and in His time, the plan will be clear.  

stating the obvious

If nothing else in my research class last quarter, I learned that the data doesn't always speak for itself.  You can be looking at the same data day-in and day-out until all of the sudden a new pattern or outlier or something of great importance which can just pop out at you.  Randomly, a lightbulb really does seem to come on.  My professor used to tell us that if we couldn't find anything significant we should just walk away for a while, get some fresh perspective.  All of this that a very long preface into a lightbulb that went off in my head yesterday.  I have now been alive and kicking for 20 Easters and countless readings of the betrayal and crucifixion of Jesus.  But this year, a new lightbulb went on and I apparently acquired a fresh perspective since the last time reading the Easter and pre-Easter passages.

It is striking and incredible that Jesus was perfect, lived a sinless life, fed people, healed people, did miracles, and people hated Him for it.  They hated that perfect man enough to kill him in the most excruciatingly painful and terribly humiliating way possible.  Even amidst all of the terrible circumstances, Jesus continued to act in a way that only the Son of God would be able.  In Luke 23:34, it is written, "Jesus said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.'"  Jesus was being led away, like a lamb being led to slaughter and yet, instead of showing anger, disappointment, or even fear, he was thinking of others.  He was not thinking about the brutal torture that he knew was about to be inflicted on his earthly body, but rather he was thinking about those who were sinning against him - not with anger, but with a hope that they would one day come to know The Father and know forgiveness.  Even more striking, however, is that Jesus was asking for the forgiveness of those people who were oppressing Him.  He prayed for his oppressors, with hope, in his dying days.

I see the world as a terribly broken place, but within all of the brokenness, I see such great beauty.  I see beauty in the people of the world, especially the poor and the oppressed.  My heart is with them.  It is so incredibly easy to despise those doing the wrong and to despise those who are oppressing the weak.  Its easy to forget that the oppressors, those who can be seen as "the worst of the worst" in society, are God's children too.  I am no better than they are - we are all sinful, fallen beings who so desperately need God's love and forgiveness.  If we truly are to paint the world a picture of Jesus, hating the oppressors is far from the right thing to do.  Hatred for those who hurt others is easier than loving them, but Jesus, in his dying days, loved them and pleaded for their forgiveness and salvation.  This Easter weekend, I am reminded that we are to love as Christ loves (Eph 5:2, Romans 5:8), even when its hard and even when the whole world tells us to hate.  Jesus, in his last moments, had hope for those who did not know The Father, and I believe that it is our duty to carry out that hope and do everything that we can to love others, even when they hurt us, for they are God's beloved children, just as we are.

This Easter, I am reminded to have hope.  Jesus died a terrible death and just when it seemed like all hope was lost, He rose from the dead.  He conquered sin.  He forgives me for my sin, just like He will forgive anyone who will ask for it.  This Easter, my prayers are for society's oppressors, that they would see that they have a father who loves them more than they can imagine and that forgiveness and love are theirs for the taking.  This Easter, I am reminded to love.  

blurred lines

Sometimes, it is so hard to find the lines in life, especially when they are so blurred.  As Christians, we are called to live lives of simplicity.  Until a few years ago, that was something I completely ignored - all my friends had nice things, so I did too.  I wish I could say that things have changed, but I think they have just heightened.  Having the right jeans has turned into having the right car which has turned into having the right vacation destinations, the most prestigious schools, and the list goes on.  American culture has taught us, since day one, that we are to live for ourselves - the American dream is the goal, right?  Um...no.  Simplicity means going against all of that - the nicest cars, schools, trips, all of it.  In a country where "keeping up with the Joneses" has become a way of life for so many (perpetuating social stratification), how do you step out of that?  How do you completely ignore the ways of the world?  How do you make wealth and "stuff" not central to life when that is exactly what the culture tells you to do?  I wish I had an answer.  I really wish I knew.

All I know is that Mark 10:25 says that, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God."  Its pretty obvious that being rich is not the goal.  I wish it were easier to live by that and to remember that such is the case.  Its been so heavy on my heart lately as people ask, time and time again, "what do you want to do when you graduate?"  When I respond by saying that I would eventually like to do social work the response usually is something along the lines of, "Oh.  Better find a rich husband!" or, "You know they don't make very much money right?"  Yes, thank you; I am aware.  I don't care.  Or at least, I try not to care.

restless.

Give me an answerGive me the way outGive me the faithTo believe in these hard times-"These Hard Times,"  by Needtobreathe
Its after 2:20 in the morning and I should really be sleeping.  I'm tired and I want to be fast asleep.  But, I cant seem get that rest that I so desperately want and need.  There's a restlessness in my body, it feels as though butterflies are not only  flying around my stomach, but also surging through my veins; there's a restlessness in my mind, like my brain has a broken switch that I can't turn off.  I've heard people talk about feeling restless but until a little while ago, I just didn't get it.  I thought those people were silly and just needed to take some sleeping pills and get over their self-diagnosed insomnia.  Boy, was I wrong as ever.  I am restless.  I've been restless for the last month, since December 17, when I touched down on American soil.  My mind won't quit going.  All I can think about is what to do next.  Where do I go from here? I'm restless.
I'm going to sound like a huge sap when I say this, but as I go through the motions day to day and lay in bed trying to sleep at night, I can't stop thinking about the orphans. I think about the orphans in India and how badly I want to be back, holding Angel in my arms, hearing her laugh.  I think about the orphans in the Philippines and what I would give to run around with my not-so-little-anymore Joshua, who stole my heart.  I can't let the feelings go and my heart hurts for the children.  I've been told to never lose hope, but for some of the orphans, its hard to see any hope at all.  There's a harsh reality that some will not be adopted.  Some will be adopted by parents with very wrong motives.  At the same time, so many are being adopted by loving families and I am thankful beyond measure for that.  But some won't be adopted. Ever.   Some will never be loved in the way that a child should be loved.  Its those kids for whom my heart is constantly heavy.  Its those kids that I can't stop thinking about.  

"Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

It would be a complete and total understatement to say that the transition back to America and back to school has been hard.  It has been so incredibly difficult that there have been countless times that I have felt like I can't do it anymore - America, school, all of it.  I've struggled with a slew of emotions, most of the time feeling overwhelmed which leads to me isolating myself, followed by anger because I know I shouldn't be isolating myself.  But, its hard.  Its really, really difficult.  I think its safe to say that the transition back to American life has been tougher than the transition to India ever was.  As a result, I have been moping and not trying very hard at anything.  Yes, I know...not a good plan to make things turn around.

Today, I was sitting in my room, staring at the tapestry from India that hangs on my wall.  I was thinking about the people I miss, the challenges I miss, and the joy that I felt while I was there.  And in the background, my iPod had shuffled to "In Your Love" by Phil Wickham.  He sings, "I have looked you in the eyes; I have seen the tears you've cried; I have heard you question why you are here...there's a reason, there's a plan; there's a God who understands; you've got your life inside His hands; have no fear, 'cause he says, 'In all your hurt and all your pain; I'll never leave, I won't forsake; you're my child and I'm your God; come and rest in my love."  And, I was reminded that there's a plan.  If I'm supposed to go back to India, the doors will open.  But for now, I'm supposed to be right here, which means that I'm supposed to be a light wherever I am. Shining, I think, is sometimes a much more difficult task where there is comfort and where people know you and have always known you.

But, I have been reading The Hole in our Gospel by Richard Stearns and it has made me think about life and what my future holds as well as how I should be living each and every day.  It has made me think of poverty alleviation and other forms of social injustice and what I can do to help.  It reminds me of the society that I used to see and be immersed in.  In the spirit of Martin Luther King Jr. day, I re-read (we had to read it in high school) his "Letter from Birmingham Jail," and new parts stuck out to me.  I felt like I had been hit by a brick reading it because I could see it from a new perspective.  King wrote, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."  Wow.  He got it.  On one hand, its incredibly disheartening because of the lack of social justice across the globe.  But, King continues to say, "Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever.  The urge for freedom will eventually come."  That, if nothing else, is a source of hope amidst all of the world's brokenness.  Someday, there will be freedom.  Someday, there will be justice.  For now, we each need to do our parts right where we are to aid in that process.  That is our job.  That is what we were created to do.

"Action springs not from thought, but from a readiness for responsibility." -Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Isaiah 61.

raindrops.

Each quarter is something brand new, a fresh start.  Today was the first day of winter quarter.  After this one, I'll only have one more winter quarter left to go and then its time for the real world, whatever that means.

Today was rough.  It felt like a Monday, even though its Wednesday.  I had all three of my classes today, spanning from 9:30-3.  Buying textbooks for just those three classes cost over $450; they weren't even new.  The classes were difficult, but more difficult than the work was dealing with the fact that I just don't feel like I belong.  I feel like I'm walking around campus like a ghost, and when I have a chance to stop and think about things, I feel restless.  I want to get back to India, where things felt so right.  

Its comforting to think about the fact that being there was one of the biggest challenges of my life, and yet, at the same time, one of the biggest blessings.  Gandhiji once said, "Everything you do in life will be insignificant, but its very important that you do it."  While I was there, India felt like an insignificant blip on the radar, something that I would do to broaden my worldview, but it was important.  It changed me.  

I now recognize the individualistic nature of most Americans, the materialism that plagues our country, and the hurry that we all seem to be in to make it through life.  I am a victim of all of the above and with all of my heart I hope I can change that.  Today, I miss India and I miss my ISP friends and I miss my family.  

I have no doubt in my mind that things will get better.  We got the warnings about reverse culture shock and I just didn't anticipate mine being a real issue that I'd have to deal with.  That being said, I suppose its a beautiful thing, of sorts, that I am a changed person upon my return, so changed that I can't comfortably go back to who I was.  I guess thats progress, right?

1 Cor. 16:13

whirlwind

I just found this little tidbit.  I wrote it shortly after leaving India.

"Its absolutely crazy and almost incomprehensible that one week ago, I was just leaving India.  It seems like its been so long since I was in class at Bishop Appassamy College.  As much as I doubted that I’d ever say such a thing, I miss it.  It has been such a blessing to be back with family, especially because they ensure me that its okay to have a “well, in India..” rebuttal to nearly everything. But, being back, there are things that keep hitting me like bricks that I never thought would.  One of my fellow ISPers said something along the lines of, “Although India didn’t concretely change who I am, I wouldn’t feel like myself without it.” Amen to that, sister.

As the mehindi on my arms fades, I pray that my memories do not.  

There are so many things from the two weeks of travel that I can’t seem to push from my mind.  First of all, Calcutta.  Even though we were only there for 4 days, it took a piece of my heart.  I’m a firm believer in seeing the “tough stuff.”  I think that there is great value in seeing things that break your heart and force tears to be shed because those are the things that stir such discomfort within the soul. That terrible discomfort, I believe, leads to action.  Our leader, Kirk, possesses a great amount of wisdom.  Two things that he’s said have struck me.  First:  “You need to find a way to live in the tension between comfort and a deep upset for justice.  When you live in that tension, you are able to make an impact.”  Second: “Everything is preparation for something.”  I don’t know what Calcutta is preparing me for, but I know that something will come as a result, because I feel that tension.  If I could, I would pack up my family and friends, throw them in some suitcases and take them all to Calcutta and I would find something to do there, some way to love those who need it so badly.  But, unfortunately, those doors aren’t open and I don’t think everyone I would want to come with me would want to come.  But, Calcutta broke my heart in a way that I don’t know how to mend.  I will never forget the small, small things that I witnessed in such a short time there.  If you’ve ever watched Slumdog Millionaire, you may recall that in the film, people are many times maimed by those higher up in society in order to become beggars and are then forced to give the money they earn begging to their “bosses.”  I never realized that beyond being an incredibly sad plot to a movie, that actually is a sick reality in India.  People who are severely disfigured and begging on the streets many times weren’t born that way, but were made that way by what I would consider to be the equivalent of a pimp, but in a different context.  I saw a man whom I will never forget.  He had no arms and he had no legs.  All he could do was lie hopelessly on the sidewalk and wait for someone to act as a good Samaritan.  He literally couldn’t do anything on his own.  I can’t imagine there being a human being so obsessed with money or sick in the mind that they could do such a thing to another person as to mutilate them and make them into a completely helpless creature.  It absolutely blows me away. 

It makes me feel ignorant to say this, but Calcutta put a face to the issues.  I knew these kind of dreadful things existed but until I went to Calcutta, I had never seen such poverty, such hurt, such sadness and yet such joy even in the pain.  In Shane Claiborne’s book, The Irresistible Revolution, he writes about how when he was in Calcutta, he could see Jesus through the street people, through those who had nothing and to me, it is so true.  I get it now.  We can see so much of Jesus in those who may not even know him.  Life is a beautiful thing and so full of Christ’s love for us if we only stop and take a minute to soak in that beauty."