055

i have always loved the distinct smell of my gramma jane. & tonight smells like her. i don't know why. i can't seem to rid my nose & brain of her scent (nor do i want to).

i remember the day of her death like it was last week, and at the same time it seems like ages have past. i still miss her more than i know how to say.

i could really go for a gramma jane cuddle right about now.

054

it's been awhile.

this month i've joined some roommates & friends in unplug & cuddle. no facebook, less wasted time, more real life interaction!

i've been enjoying spending time with people in real life, learning to not be so reliant on computer interaction & even doing crazy things like picking up my telephone to call people.

i'm enjoying the Christmas holiday, preparing my heart for the season as to not let the meaning of this holiday pass me by. i'm trying to get into advent, to really understand that the Son of God came to be born into this world to live & to die for us. i'm trying to not get caught up in all the commercialism & presents & cookies & whatever. i'm trying to spend this time loving others & worshiping the Lord & diving into deep & rich relationships (new & old).

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a friend asked me recently what thing in my life right now brings me the most joy. i said jesus. he said that didn't count, because jesus should always bring me the most joy. so i said friendships & relationships.

looking back on this year, it's been up & down (isn't it always, though? i guess it's just been a new kind of up & down). it was a rough transition back into life in america: living with new roommates, finding a new small group, being completely and totally done with the college phase of my life, working in the corporate world, starting VLI, meeting tons of new people, figuring out what my friendships with my college friends looked like as our environment and life situations changed, wondering what the heck i'm doing with my life, so on & so forth. it was overwhelming to say the least.

but by the grace of God, we're kind of getting some of it figured out (the relationship part of this, anyways. i still have no idea what i'm doing with my life, and i'm okay with that.).

my family, my closest friends, my (then new) roommates & my coworkers had so much grace with me as i transitioned from one extreme (living in a mud hut in rural africa with orphans & former child soldiers, all that stuff) to the other (living in a huge house in the first-world, working in corporate america, blah blah blah). they have continued to have grace with me as i keep figuring things out, as my emotions go up & down & up & down. they have pushed me, encouraged me, loved me unconditionally.

new friends have come into my life recently; i feel so blessed to suddenly have these deep & beautiful & rich friendships with people that a few short months ago were strangers. they are friends that have spoken so much truth & love into my life, people that have been teaching me & challenging me & encouraging me in fresh ways, ways that are different than the ways my long-time friends do these same things.

God has been using these people in my life so much. He knows who i need & when, how their unique gifts will be manifested in our relationships, how they will challenge me & teach me.

& i think that's really cool.

"as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."

i guess what i'm trying to say is that these people have been sharpening me in the places & ways where i most need it. for that, i am so so grateful.

so, to my friends who have sharpened me, THANKYOU.

053

a few weeks ago, i started reading some journal entries that i was writing this time last year. my first journal entry, from the wee hours of the morning of august 16, is about the excitement & anticipation of meeting our team & heading off with them to uganda.

i haven't been reading much in between then and now, but tonight i wondered, "what happened one year ago?" so i picked up my worn red journal, flipped to the page labeled with "11 sept 2010" and scribbles.

it reads, "today i ate beans & moved into a mud hut."

it goes on to describe the details of our day: saying goodbye to our friends at hotel roma, our home for a few weeks; a journey from gulu town to a plot of land in the bush somewhere in masindi district; details of a 2-hour trip in a white van driven by charles, going from paved roads to dirt roads to a path that could barely qualify as a road; singing disney songs; all six of us doing ALL of our laundry at once until our hands bled (why we ever thought doing our laundry together was a good idea is beyond me); fred making dirty white socks look impeccably clean; slipping & sliding through the mud as we ventured to the latrine that night.

i wrote about the disadvantages of living in a mud hut: poop floor, termites behind every surface, spiders adorning our walls, the possibility of rats, a fresh sprinkling of dead bugs (ones small enough to fit through the holes of our mosquito nets) on our pillows each night, always dirty feet, etc.

little did i know how comforting these "disadvantages" would soon become. little did i know that soon our hut would become home, that we would decorate, that the rats never would show up (not that we know of, anyways), that the wall spiders pretty much keep to themselves, that termites really aren't so bad.

little did i know that the following day my journal entry would be so different than the day prior.

12 sept 2010: "i woke up this morning to the sounds of children singing. getting ready for bed last night we heard sounds of children laughing. the rain sounds nice on the roof of our hut. i'm still amazed that the inside stays dry. when we go to bed & turn off our headlamps, it's pitch black in here. when there is lightning, though, there is a line of light that comes in along the circumference of the hut where the mud wall and the thatched roof leave a gap."

pages follow of beautiful memories.

i'm so thankful to have these memories documented on paper & in my mind.

052

why do i so often, without even thinking (or even sometimes at times when i take a second to think things through), say things i don't mean?

for some reason, in the moments when so much more could be said, i speak words that are trite & untrue in order to fill empty space in conversation, hoping to avoid potentially awkward situations, to stay at the surface, & to brush over whatever lies underneath.

i had a brief conversation with an acquaintance today.

to his, "hey, how's it going," i respond with truth.

"it's going alright, how is your day" (off to a good start.)

"eh, i'm alright."

"just alright?"

(i'm paraphrasing here) "yeah, you know, getting through it. i'm still alive, that's a plus." (insert a sigh here. not a sigh like "oh my life is terrible and i want the world to know," more like a "today is really rough but i'm trying to keep my head up" kind of sigh.) he continued, "i'm putting one foot in front of the other, trying to make it through."

maybe i was trying to be empathetic, or perhaps i was left tongue-tied by his charming good looks & momentarily forgot how to speak words of substance; i responded with, "yeah, i know that goes."

BUT DO I?

in my naivety i assumed that he was having a rough day at work, that maybe he had a bad night's sleep, that the cause of his downtrodden disposition was something i could relate to.

in my naivety i assume far too often that i can relate to the situations happening in peoples' lives. i assume it's something i've been through. i assume that maybe they're overreacting when they say things are absolutely terrible & falling apart. i assume that they're handling it just fine or that they don't need anyone to talk to about it.

(and you know what happens when you assume…)

but here's the reality: i have NO IDEA what is going on in the lives of anyone i encounter unless i ask, really ask how things are really going. no idea. none. none at all.

it's always a possibility that i cannot relate, that it's something i have not and will not ever experience. it's possible that they are not overreacting, not in the slightest, but that really & truly their lives are falling apart. it's possible that they are not handling it fine and that they are in dire need of talking about it.

so why do i assume the best?

why don't i ask the questions that are a little tougher to ask? why do i say, "oh, i totally know what you're going through," when i am clueless as to what is really going on in your life?

why don't i say, "do you want to talk about it?" why don't i invite people to share a meal and share our lives? why don't i offer a prayer to the Lord on their behalf? why don't i speak up and let people know that someone cares?

i'm a coward. i'm afraid of asking tough questions, afraid to go to deep, afraid to offend, afraid to help, afraid to be rejected… the list goes on.

i don't want to fear that anymore.

i want to stop saying words i don't mean. i want to stop pretending that everything is peachy. i want to ask tough questions.

051

i have a million things in my mind and not enough free time in a day to adequately process them. i think this post might just be an outpouring of the feelings in my heart and the thoughts in my head.

let this be your warning: they may be ugly, they may be skewed by my distorted perception of things, they might not make much sense at all, they might not resolve. but i need to get them out.

(i'm not looking for answers.)

sometimes i feel like i'm not sure where i fit lately. i'll be among family and friends with whom i've always felt perfectly snug, but something just seems off. i feel inadequate. i feel like a third wheel. i feel like someone who is present but not involved, sitting in on someone else's conversation. i feel discontent going back to the places where i grew up; i am anxious and fidgety in middle-class america. the places and situations in which i once felt belonging, i feel i don't belong. i feel a switchfoot song coming on.

(well shoot. i just got distracted and some old switchfoot lyrics refuse to my head. dang it, jon foreman, you can always write my feelings far more eloquently than i can.)

i feel moments of beautiful community and love and life and in a flash it feels so empty.

i feel bold confidence and self-assurance mingled with fear and insecurities.



and then i'm humbled as God gently reminds me that it's not about me. i feel peace as He calls me back and says, "it's the already and not yet! there are parts of heaven on earth, glimpses of what is to come! but it's still earth and it's still so broken and imperfect. and you, my beloved, you are broken and imperfect. but my grace abounds."

His grace abounds.

in my brokenness, my selfishness, my sin, my narcissism, my impure thoughts, my false motives, my lies, my insecurities, my materialistic nature, my wandering heart, my anxiety & fear...

...His grace abounds.

He is so good. and He reminds me time and time again that, yeah, i don't belong here. but while i'm here i need to get off my high horse and get down in the dirt and serve. i need to put aside my selfish ambition and follow Him. i need to serve before i demand, love and not hate, to give before i take. i need to stop expecting anything in return. i need to be aware that this world has nothing for me, we were created for a place far greater.

oh, and i don't belong here.

050

i feel like my fiftieth blog post should be something extraordinary. it won't be.

i'm sitting at panera bread, grabbing a quick dinner between commitments.

evidently, fridays here mean chess night for a half-dozen men between the ages of 35 and 75. i regret the fact that i've always been too stubborn and impatient to figure out the rules and strategy of chess.

(i have, however, made it a goal of mine to be able to solve a rubik's cube without any aid this summer.)

there's a man here that i've seen at this panera at least four times in the last five months (i swear i don't come here daily). we exchanged a friendly hello; as i went up for a refill on my free baby cup of water, he smiled and chuckled. in my mind, i heard him say, "i see that you are also too frugal to spend $1.39 on a fountain drink today." he used his baby cup to sneak fruit punch and a slice of lemon. sometimes i feel guilty consuming a sugary drink for which i haven't paid. maybe at 70 i won't care, either.

049

i haven't written in nearly three months.

whoops.