Breathe

Yod, Hey, Vav, Hey...

One More

You know a book is good when it speaks some old truth in a huge new way every time you read it:

"The writer of Genesis makes it clear that in all of creation there is something different about humans. They aren't God, and they aren't going to become God, but in some distinct, intentional way, something of God has been placed in them. We reflect what God is like and who God is. A divine spark resides in every single human being.

Everybody, everywhere. Bearers of the divine image."

And then the authors commentary in the back of the book continues the thought with this story:

"Recently I saw my friend Josh, who teaches fifth and sixth graders. He was preparing the lesson for that day and had hsi supplies with him: a large glass bowl, a can of beef, fatty tissue, sauerkraut, a jar of olives, some anchovies, and a hundred-dollar bill. I know- I was curious too. So i did exactly what you would have done. I asked him what his lesson was about. He replied, 'I put all of the ingredients in a bowl, including the money, and then I mix it together. Then when it doesn't taste good, I pretend I'm going to throw it away. At this point the kids go crazy, telling me not to. I ask them why I shouldn't, and they say, 'Because it's valuable.' And then I counter with, 'But it smells and it's disgusting.' At which point they rush to the front, volunteering to reach into the bowl and pull out the hundred-dollar bill. Actually, I may have to start using a twenty for this lesson, becuase the last time I used a hundred, they trampled each other to get to the front. I then read to them from Genesis chapter one about how every single human being bears the image of God and how no matter what else is mixed there, a person still has limitless worth in God's eyes."

I want to meet Josh. 

Just Something To Think About

Bit long, but this is a quote from a book I just started for the second time....saying anything more might take away from what I'm gonna quote. So here it is:

"If we were to go through your garage or storage shelves or sock drawer, I guarantee we would find the strangest things. I have a trophy from when I was fourteen. The little man on the top fell off sometime in the '90's, the lettering that says what it's for has faded, and the years have revelaed that, shockingly, that isn't real marble. but I've kept it. I haven't thrown it away because it's more than a trophy to me. That trophy is the first time I actually won something on my own. It represents a certain period of my life and the struggles of being fourteen and finding my identity and wondering if I'd ever be good at anything. 

It's a trophy, but it's more than a trophy.

Jewelry, pictures, sculptures  made by children, antiques that have been in the family for years, art projects, souvenirs, velvet paintings- we hold on to them because they point beyond themselves. If we were to ask you about a certain picture and why you have it displayed in such a prominent place in your home or office or why you carry it in your purse or wallet everywhere you go, you'd probably respond by tlaking about the people in the picture, where it was taken, when it was taken. But that would only be the start. Those relationships and tha tplace and that time are all about somethign else, something more. If  we kept exploring, you'd probably end up using words like trust and love and belonging and commitment and celebration. 

So it's a picture, but it's more than a picture. 

The physical thing - this picture, rophy, artifact, gift - is actually about that relationship, that truth, that reality, that moment in time. 

This is actually about that. 

For me its a simple 10 peso bill from the Dominican Republic. I was given that bill during my first trip down the Carribean to visit my family down there. During that time I helped repair a house by the church we were building. 

By myself. 

When I was 6.

That day I was supposedly helping the guys build this church. But like any other kid I had found some friends to hang out with. They were native Dominicans, really cool people...at least from what I could tell. I didn't exactly speak spanish when I was 6. And they didn't exactly speak English. But through hand signals we had found a way to communicate what we wanted and eventually that lead me over to one of the house's along the same street as the church. As I walked up to the house I began to realize that instead of an actual solid wall surrounding the door in front of us there was a wall with huge gaps between the boards. 

I could see straight into the house...which kind of negates the reason for a door.

But instead of ignoring the man-sized gaps in the wall I decided to run back to the work site and pick up some of the extra lumber to drag over to the house (imagine a 6 year old trying to drag a 2 by 4 30 feet across/down a road). No one seemed to notice...until I felt the other end of the board lighten. I looked behind me and there was the kid I was hanging out with, helping me carry this board over to the house. So with this 2 by 4 I started connecting the existing boards in the wall to close the gaps. Then the kid with me caught on and started handing me nails. And then his dad came out and started helping out as well. 

We eventually gave up the project. Unfortunately the three of us couldn't fix up the entire house. But still, it was the first time I helped someone out just because I thought I should. 

I've loved doing so ever since.

So there's my "this is actually about that" story. 

Whats yours?

My Fight

For some reason my whole College experience has been one fight against belief in God. Or more specifically belief in religion. Yet that fight. The one against religion has lead to a serious questioning of the existence of a higher power, a divine being, Elyon. I have accepted things that make traditional christian belief absolutely impossible. Ideas such as evolution, natural selection, and modern genetics. All these point more and more towards a random and chaotic existence. Humans being but a blip on the radar of the natural universe...

But then something brings me back.

I can't explain what it is. Mere words can not begin to capture the essence that brings me back. Concepts such as love, forgiveness, caring, community and more all begin to form a rough puzzle of what I feel grabs at me every time I try to rid myself of my fundamental belief in what God has done. But story seems to capture it best. Something as fundamental as memories creates a picture out of the jigsaw pieces in my mind...

Light comes in through the window of the bridge between the Emergency Room and the main hospital one morning while I am moving patients from one point to another. The halls are lined with detailed paintings of the American West. In one a group of Native Americans walk through a snow covered alpine forest. Green from the trees just barely poking through the layers of snow. But this painting isn't one of hope. Behind the Natives follow a pack of wolves. With a closer look one might even be able to see the desperation painted on the faces of each character. One, in fact, is carrying a friend with him on the back of his horse. Some unknown malady has hit the man and he is dead but for his friends...

But none of this catches my attention. I've been down this hall hundreds of times. I'm bored with the repetition. Then I see something that causes me to come back down to earth out of my daydreaming. A girl with her mother. The light catches them both just right so their skin seems to glow. The white walls of the hallway only accentuate this feeling. But it wasn't the light that first caught my attention, it was the pink surgical mask over the girl. Her hair had fallen out as well. She had cancer. One of her chemotherapy treatments had just occurred and her immune system wasn't up to the challenge of walking around the hospital unprotected. So the nurses gave her a pink surgical mask to match her pink pajamas.

Then her eyes met mine. And she smiled through the mask.

Her life will affect more than most. Her death maybe even a greater number. I don't know. But she smiled. She has hope.

There a thousand more stories like this. Ones that seem to be hopeless but on closer inspection there is always a glimmer, a pinprick of light. Like the smile of a girl. Or the gentleness of a family in the slums of Kolkuta. Maybe even the generosity of a Moroccan man who sees five Americans in a part of the city which is known for violence and leads them to a safer spot, shows them a place to eat, and then disappears. Even in the difficultly of adjusting and living in two different cultures within the span of one year. Or even in human existence. Research it sometime, human existance is a statistical anamoly.

These stories point to something more. Something that compells people to pass on hope to others. To give others a reason to fight, to move forward, and to love.

I think its some mystical being. An ineffable essence which permiates all aspects of this world; God.

Me+God

I was reading a friends post and I came across something; a sentence that started Me+God. The phrase got me thinking. I just returned from a trip to Wyoming. It was filled with hiking, kayaking, and some quality family time (along with a rodeo). But while I could say it was an experience of Me+God+Hiking+Mountains etc. it feels better to me to say God+Me. That simple change in order speaks volumes about what I feel when I'm out there. I see God. And that's why I say God+Me. I'm in his territory. Area that God entrusted to us to take care of.

Oh and PS this is also from a friends site (sorry im stealing it Katrina). It gives a bit of insight into what the God I'm talking about above actually is:

"I feel, however, how resistance is growing within me against everything "religious" - almost to an istinctive abhorrence - which is certainly not good, either. I am not of a religious nature. But I must continue to think of God and Christ. I place a lot of value on genuineness, on life, on freedom, and on mercy. It's just that I find the religious clothing so uncomfortable".

Dietrich Bonhoeffer (from 'I want to live these days with You')

A Might Be Good Story

Entry into my journal I thought would be fun to share with some friends I know, but everyone who reads this is also more than welcome to enjoy:
October 14, 2007

I'm sitting in the rail station in Fes, Morocco right now. I know, how crazy is that? Our trip has been ridiculous. In a good way though. It began with a bus schedule out of Sevilla which was incorrect. Great start huh? We got up at 7:30Am and went to the bus stop at 8:30. Found out our bus didnt leave for another hour. FANTASTIC. But we rolled with it. We got on our bus and headed down to Algecerias to catch a ferry to Tangier. WE got to Algecerias 3 1/2 hrs later and found out that the ferries cost 70 euros each. Ouch. But still ok. We paid the euros and jumped on the ferry.

Oh and I forgot. We met an American on the bus. One of the most annoying guys ever. His second question was whether or not we could smoke hash on the bus. But we also met an extremely helpful Moroccan man. His name was Mohammad. He spoke 4 or 5 different languages. Absolutely amazing and makes me feel like an idiot. Me who only speaks a language and part of another...I really need to try harder at this Spanish thing.

So anyway, back to this ferry. We got on after a bit of a cringe because of the cost. Once inside we had to wait through the customs line to get our passport stamped. That took a good 30 minutes. By this time we were hungry (little did we know that this problem would be one of the main ones of the trip: "Where do we find food??"). So we ate our bocadillos. The ferry ride was incredible after that. We went off onto the deck outside and chilled, too pictures, and talked....

Back up again though. The ferry didn't leave until 2 hrs past the point it was supposed to leave. That made it ~3:30 PM Spain time. Thankfully that is only 1:30 Moroccan time. So we still have plenty of time to make our train in Morocco. But here's the thing. Two modes of transportation down. Two modes of transportation which were late. So far, so good.

So now we are in Tangier. We need to find a place to change money, to ask directions to the train station, and figure out if we can walk to the train or if we have to catch a cab. Also this is where I'm supposed to "take care" of all these women with me. So now I have the voice of our director, Leslie, in my head telling me that if anything happens down here its basically my fault. No pressure right?

We get to the information desk at Tangier and its all women. The group of us talk and the girls decide to chat with these information women. Already I would have been lost without the people im supposed to be "protecting". The ladies at the desk let us know where to change money and also say we need to catch a cab to get the to train station.

After changing money we all pile into one cab, because we're not supposed to split up, and head to the train station. When we arrive there we find mass chaos with cops trying to keep order. "What is this?!?!" was the question we were all asking. So we decided to get out of the taxi (good idea???), pay the man, and figure out our train situation. Enter helpful Moroccan man numero dos. This guy just started talking to us randomly. And he know perfect English. What?!? He helped us navigate the mob out side of the station. With his help we pushed our way in. Then I saw the line, or lack thereof, for the tickets. It definitely was not a line but a mob of men all screaming for a ticket to Fes. Wow. And I have to get in in that mob??? Fantastic. Well i did what I had to and joined the mob...very awkwardly. The only white guy in a group of Moroccan men tends to stand out. We've got some good pictures.

Eventually the cops came by and started yelling at us to get into a line. That gradually happened, although it was a very tightly packed line without any personal space...whatsoever. I went through this line and got the tickets (helpful Moroccan guy numero dos was a huge help during this process as well). They ended up costing 487 DH. Not bad. Not quite 10 euros a piece.

The next step is to get on the train. Problem is the mob which was previously in front of the ticket booth has moved residences to the area surrounding the doors leading onto the loading platform. And its grown. 200 angry, hungry Moroccan residents who have not eaten all day...or for the last month, does not lead to anything good. They were banging on the windows and whistling/yelling at the cops who were holding the doors shut. Eventually the mob won and broke one of the doors by ripping one of the handles clear off its hinges, forcing themselves out on the patio; most then began sprinting for the train.

Needless to say while this was all happening we were in the back of the crowd without a clue of what to do...and be logical beings we just decided to roll with it and force ourselves towards the only door available to the 1000 (yes it increased in the last few seconds) people flooding out towards the train. Somehow we found ourselves outside. By half running half walking to the last car, we miraculously we found seats available next to some Moroccan people. We all sat down...a bit stunned over what just had occurred.

And then I thought seriously about what we had just done. We're on a Moroccan train, about to embark on a five hour train ride to a city called Fez...yes, we are insane :).

Theres the first entry I made. The others will come later :).

Your Thoughts

Ive got a theme to talk about for whomever randomly reads this blog....and seriously, I want to hear answers. Ill give mine later on if I get some, but I need some time to think it through.

What are your thoughts about the political system in this country? How bout the educational system?

What do you think when you hear that the majority of the enlisted soldiers in the army are from the poorest neighborhoods? These men and women are fighting for a country that abandoned them when they were at their lowest points...but yet they still fight.

Is there hope?

Is it wrong to believe that what the Taliban taught and what Hussein implemented needed to be stopped?...and still need to be stopped?


...is anyone else disillusioned with the hatred of the iraqi war, with the new "environmental" movement, and all the other subjects that are thrown around in "educated" circles?

Sometimes I think the educated aren't the ones found in universities but those found in the streets honestly making a difference. They seem to "get it" more than the majority of those found in universities.

Or the ones standing up for something they believe in instead of just debating. The quiet ones who don't jump up to make themselves known, but the ones who act and allow their passion and lifestyle to speak. They radiate difference.

Anyway, comment a bit on this stuff. To me it seems to be the basic foundation of how people think and what they believe. I'll write more later.

My Meaningless Meandering

Thoughts. I nearly always have something to write about. The thing is, I don't always want the entire world to know what I'm thinking.

I've been watching this show. It's about faces; about how the entire world is working to put on a face so we can "fit in".

And that universal quality of "fitting in" has elicited certain questions from me. One being why I feel so completely different while I'm around other people. I feel outside the majority of the time. And, yeah, this sounds like a pity plea, but its not. The last thing I want is pity. Nor do I want to sound above others at any point, that is never my purpose. I really just want to understand why people do the things they do. And maybe that is why I feel so distant.

I can never allow myself to just do something. I over analyze maybe, or it could be that I just think to much in general. But I always want to know motive.

Another such question is why do people drink as much as they do? Sure its fun...to a point. But even then, if it is so fun, why feel the need to defend yourself about it? I have come across people, that when I say I don't drink much, they feel the need to explain themselves and their drinking habits.
Like I am judging them.
But I'm not.
In fact the majority of the time I feel as if I have to explain myself; giving reasons why I don't drink heavily. I mean, lets face it, I'm in the minority.
And then when I say I don't drink a lot I'm left with people looking at me like I'm stupid. Like I don't know what I'm doing. Like I'm a child who needs to wake up.
But I am awake, and to be honest I think I might be a little more awake than others in this area. But thats not for me to decide.
And none of this is to say I'm against drinking. Just the opposite, I think a few beers, a glass of wine, or some liquor can help facilitate a good conversation or a legit chill time with some friends. But overdoing it is what I don't get. Why does it have to be the thing that people look forward to?

And this is just scratching the surface of questions I have....

My Songs

Alright. Finals are over, life is slowing down....and im not sure I like it. Although i was stressed during finals I look back and realize I liked it. In fact, its weird to not have the pressure anymore. I dont know what to do with myself. So ive resorted to work and sitting around watching crappy tv movies. Somehow not the same....

Anyway, Im trying to find good music to write to. And I keep falling back to three songs. The first one is I am no Superman by Lazlo Bane. Fantastic song. And if youve ever watched Scrubs youve heard part of it. And the main theme throughout the song is the fact that "I cant do this all on my own". In fact, one of the reasons why I love scrubs so much is because of that same theme. The fact that we cant do life on our own.

The second song is one from the movie Transformers. I know, kinda cheesy right? But its a good song called Before its to Late. Its about being who you are. How thats all we need in our lives. About taking risks. "A life you dont live is still lost...so live like you mean it, love till you feel it, its all we need in our lives". Somehow that resonates with me. On a level deeper then well written lyrics.

The third song is Boston by Augustana. This song has been a quality song in my life for a while. Ever since about this time last year when I first "discovered" it. And at one point in the song it says "I think I need a new town, to leave all this behind... I think I need a sunrise, Im tired of the sunset...". Change. My life has revolved around this theme of change. Change in perspective, change in surroundings. Change in this being I consider God, who, according to what Ive been taught, isnt supposed to change.

But thats not the only reason I like these songs. Each one of them reminds me a places, or times. It brings back amazing memories of some of the best highlights over the past year. The first one, reminds me of the last few months. Of Spain and the time after. The second, of the beginning of last summer. And the third. Of that renewing time I had in WA last summer on a little island called Whidbey. When I went to see Transformers with a good friend.

But back to those themes. Change. Not being able to live life on ones own. Taking risks. I know that all these things have been said before. That people have given speeches, lectures, and had coffee over these kinda topics, and that anything I could say about them has already been said. So I wont say anything more. Other than each of these is necessary. Figure it out on your own. Discover what change is, who you can lean on, and where your risks are. Be independent…but be dependent at the same time. Confidence and vulnerability can go together. And be patient. Give your life time. Not everything happens at the speed of sound.

His Last Lecture

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5700431505846055184

Watch it. absolutely amazing. But its a bit long. So find somewhere comfortable to sit, drink coffee, and watch an amazing lecture by a extremely unique guy.

Sorry if yall dont like lectures. but really this is good.


No, but seriously, its good. Watch it.

Miralo.

My Grace and Peace

God I dont understand this, but on the other side its going to advance the grace and peace of Christ....

My Freedom

Im just going to write a journal entry in here. I doubt many people actually read this "blog" part without me uploading it to facebook. But if you do, let me know what your thoughts are on this. Its a bit discombobulated. But thats how my thoughts are most of the time(Im gonna try it all in caps. cuz thats how I write):

I DONT EVEN REMEMBER MY QUESTION ANYMORE. EVERY TIME I WATCH SOMETHING LIKE "INTO THE WILD" IT LEAVES THE SAME HAUNTING FEELING. THE UNQUENCED DESIRE FOR A PLACE WITHOUT BOUNDS. TO FIND MYSELF AND TO SEARCH OUTSIDE THE CONFINES OF SOCIETY. TO FIND LOVE IN A PLACE IT ISN'T LOOKED FOR. TO DISCOVER PURPOSE IN A LIFE WITHOUT OBLIGATIONS.

DOES THE WORLD NEED PEOPLE WHO ARE HAPPY, FREE, AND LOVING? OR IS THE WORLD MORE IN NEED OF PEOPLE WHO WILL FORSAKE SUCH THINGS IN ORDER TO FIND A WAY TO DO THEIR PART IN "FIXING" THE WORLD?

OR IS ALLOWING YOURSELF TO BE FREE A WAY OF FIXING THE WORLD?

DOES COMPLETELY DISENGAGING SOCIETY HELP? IS LIVING TO FIND YOURSELF WHAT WE ARE CREATED TO DO? OR ARE WE CREATED TO FALL IN STEP WITH SOCIETY AND TRY TO CHANGE IT FROM THE INSIDE OUT?

IS LIVING FOR YOUR OWN HAPPINESS A WAY OF CHANGING IT FROM THE INSIDE OUT?

DO WE DENY THE WAY OF SOCIETY IN ITS TOTALITY TO LIVE A LIFE OF TRUE DISCOVERY AND FREEDOM? CAN ONE FIND SUCH THINGS WITHIN SOCIETY?

DO I FORSAKE MY DESIRE TO RUN FREE FOR A LIFE FULL OF OBLIGATIONS, DEADLINES, AND "ASSIGNMENTS" WHICH DON'T MATTER?

WHAT IS MORE IMPORTANT: FREEDOM OR STABILITY? FREEDOM OR LIFE FULL OF DEMANDS?

AND WOULD TRUELY LIVING FOR YOURSELF REALLY BE LIVING FOR OTHERS AS WELL?

My Thoughts...

Relationships.

So Im addicted to Scrubs. You know, that fantasticly funny TV show. And for anyone thats watched four seasons in three weeks, or just a few shows here and there, you know that the majority of the episodes are about relationships.

That being true, and the fact that the former said person who has seen four seasons in three weeks is myself, I have a legitimate reason for thinking about relationships.

And Im not talking just about romantic stuff. But Im talking about everything from romantic, to going to the graveyard to talk to a parent who has passed away.

And there are times where I wish I could explain my thoughts through TV. Because it would be so much easier to capture thoughts. But maybe just a song. Yeah, that might work.

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perhaps it's just imagination

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day

Alone between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
It's time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation

At least there's pretty lights
And though there's little variation
It nullifies the night from overkill

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
It's just overkill

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away

So relationships take getting into. They take time, committment and sacrifice. And especially opening up. Giving yourself to someone. But thats where I get caught up. And where I worry over the situations and the implications and the complications. And then I cant get to sleep.

Maybe you just have to jump into it all at once and not worry about what is going to happen. And maybe sometimes you have to take off all the restraints and let what happens happen.






this post would be so much easier if it was narrated and played out through a story.....dang.

Yeah...more on Spain.

So I say I love Spain. And I say I love spanish. That I love spanish culture.


And I do.


And there are great things about spanish culture. Like siesta....and tapas(minus the ham legs)
...and relational living (at least a little more so than the US), and chocolate, and churros, and...well i think you get the point.

Yet I was writting today. And I starting thinking about Spain again. And my desire to go back. And I asked myself "would it be the same?"....

And the answer is no.


When I think of Sevilla I think of friends. I think of David, Dave Ligtenberg, Steve, Margi, Catita, Jip, Brit, Monica, and everyone else from the program. If I were to go back none of them would be there. And with that being true, would I really enjoy myself as much?

And when I think "Spain" I remember experiences like Morroco, El Camino de Santiago, Portugal* and just living in Sevilla.

What I dont remember, or rather, what I might down-play, where the hardships and frustrations. The inability to speak. The feeling of not having a home....but those even had their place. They also made the experience, and my life there, what it was. Without those hardships I wouldnt have had the experience which I had.

So that being said, I think I associate Spain, and therefore my love for Spain, with the people and experiences I had there. Which isnt wrong. We all do it, with nearly every period of our life.

So the next big question is whether or not my love for Spanish and Spain and anything having to do with either...my passion for this thing called "spanish culture"...is actually a way of me living in the past. Of just remembering.

This got me thinking about "living in the past", which regardless of my love for and experiences/life in Spain means, I have been doing. And its not what we were created to do. The past is beautiful, and memories are some of the most amazing and "good" things we can ever have. They give us joy, peace, happiness, understanding, and so much more. But to live in those memories, to idolize those memories, is the same as idolizing anything else.

And I guess only time will tell. I still throughly enjoy speaking spanish, even if I dont throughly enjoy my class here. And Im excited to see what will happen if I continue with Spanish on the acedemic level. And what doors it will open up. Hopefully many.

But thats enough for now. Sorry if this post is confusing.

*That picture is from a place called Sagres in Portugal. That night was one of the best I had while in Spain. Sagres is one of the places considered "the end of the world" by the ancient Europeans. And when you stand on the beach there and look out over the ocean, listening ot the waves and staring, you can tell why they felt that way. I probably did that for a goo 45 minutes. Followed by some star gazing which lasted another 30 minutes. And amazing, spiritual (cuz everythings spiritual right?) place. Anyway, for anyone going to Spain soon, I highly recommend a trip to Lagos, and then Sagres. Both places are quite amazing. And try hitting Sagres at sunset. Nothing like being at the end of the world at sunset...

Back at it

So over the past two months Ive been trying to readjust to this "american" lifestyle.*

Right.

Actually I think Ive been avoiding reengaging in the "real" world. (Im enjoying my quotations today). You know, the whole going away for a semester. Living a life of no real obligations other than school. Hanging out with friends. Making new friends. Living in Spain. Traveling. Growing. Changing (and yes, in relation to an earlier post, I think I did change). Learning.

Making memories.

And now my task is to try and take everything Ive learned and use/incorporate it into my life in Grand Rapids, MI. Daunting. And not quite as easy as I assumed when I left Spain. Especially when you return to this:**

And so far all I have been able to accomplish is rediscovering how to study. Cuz, Lord knows, I did barely none of that in Spain. At least not the sit down and memorize/look over notes kind. The studying in Spain was more.....well it was more like living. So now that I have rediscovered how to study, evidenced by my four hours of said activity today in the anatomy lab, maybe Ill have some more time to figure out what it means to not enjoy the fast past of american lifestyle, and yet be part of this culture.

How to I incorporate "siesta" into this? Anyone have an answer to that?
Granted I have incorporated it. But Ive had time. Once I buscar a job thats going to become slightly more difficult. So what do I do? Live my life the way I think I should, with some time aside each day, to pray/nap/journal/do whatever it is you feel like doing that day, or do I give that up so I can make more money more quickly?

So, theres one of many questions I have now that I have time to sit down and look back over India, last spring semester and summer (with all that entails, including Washington), and Spain, Morroco, and Portugal. Ive grown, thats for sure. And Ive changed. And my desires have changed. My view on God has changed. My relationship with him has changed. I am honestly a new person....and all I have to show for it is a rediscovery of how to study.
!Que frustrando!

*Ok, so I didnt mean I havent had to switch back over to the "american" lifestyle. I have had to, and am still trying to. Its been waaaaay harder than I thought it would be. Leslie, the director in Spain, said that those looking forward to getting back to the US most will most likely end up missing Spain the most. Case in point: Me. I think when you "look forward" to getting back somehwere as much as I did, you begin to idolize it in a way. Makes getting back a bit dissapointing. Woops. Anyway, that to say I miss Spain and the lifestyle. Its true.

**Thats a month straight of no sun. 30 days. No, thats not a mistype. 30 freaking days of clouds, snow, and blizzards. And my car has no heat. Daaaammmmnnnn thats cold. Not to mention depressing.

La Luna

My parents left for Florida tonight. So now im back at their house. I havent been back here, to sleep, since I got back from Spain. But thats not what Im talking about.

There's a lunar eclipse tonight. I tried to take a picture of it. Didnt work out so well. But its pretty amazing to watch. Humbling actually. Humbling to know Im a part of that shadow that is on the moon right now. That creation is so much greater than what we see on earth. That there are places out there humans havent even laid eyes on. Places untouched by what we call "sin". I could sit here, watching this moon, for hours. I dont know why. Something about it is calming. And I could talk about the processes and what not that make this happen. But why? Why not just look up and say thank you.

Same with the mountains. Or the ocean.
Or a sunset. Or how bout both?

Gracias Dios por adorarnos.

oh and yes, i did take those pictures. Well, at least the terrestrial ones.

Im not to good at titles....

A few days ago I realized something. I was reading a conversation between my Dad and I on Skype and he wrote something to me. He said "I hope Morroco was a blast."

I've been to Morroco. I've lived in Spain. I traveled to India and I spent some time studying in Washington. Along those lines I've spent two weekends in Portugal, along the ocean, in a city named Lagos. All of this in the last year.

And now I'm back in Michigan. Suffice it to say I've lived through a good deal of change in the past year, and I've experienced quite a few different cultures. Each culture has its own way of doing things. Spain is slow, relaxed. The people there enjoy their time together, and they value it. In India the people shake their heads in the exact same manner, whether they are saying no, or yes. Portugal...well I didnt experience much of the actual culture there, but I had a blast with some friends on the roof of an apartment building. And Morroco. What a unique country, and that weekend was one of the biggest adventures of my life (inside of the biggest adventure, namely Spain).

So, with all these experiences, I've obviously changed. But how do I incorporate that change into my life? Is it possible to take ideas and ways of living from other cultures and incorporate them into the old lifestyle you once had? Is it even possilbe, after this type of experience, to have that old lifestyle? To go back to the place you left and make a difference?

Its been two months. Little more. And I have no idea as to what the answer to those questions are. I can say it feels as if I have been a miserable failure in trying to change an old lifestyle. So, I felt "change" in Spain. I thought I had changed. But, really, did I?


oh and ps....you should all read "The Shack". Lots of interesting ideas about God and our relationship to him. But its a story. and, at least for me, I work better with stories.