24.7.10

flesh and dreams.

"you pulled me from the wreckage
of bitterness and blame
flung open the page
and put some flesh on
the bones of my dreams."
-David Gray, "Flesh"

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These aren't the kind of dreams had at night. They're not the kind that tell you something super spiritual that might be from the Lord. It's not a "I Have a Dream" dream like Martin Luther King, Jr. encountered and shared.

The kind of dreams I'm talking about are the things that you want so badly that can be attained if they are meant for you; they're also the kind that may just stay dreams.

When I was a child I dreamt I would one day become the President of the United States. I dreamt I would swim in the Olympics and win medals. I dreamt I would become a successful lawyer.

About fourteen years later God has given me new dreams. Some constantly change while some have stayed the same for a long time and will stay with me forever.

I dream about being a mother and a wife. I dream about traveling the world and meeting new people and having new experiences. I dream about sharing life with people in physical and spiritual need. I dream about one day looking around me and seeing all of my extended family together (whether it's my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins, or whether it is my own old eyes looking out over what I have birthed).

One of my dreams is constant, and it's something that I love doing with all of my being: I have this ache within me that says "Write. Just write."

I've always loved Jo March from Little Women, who says "Wouldn't it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true and we could live in them?"

I'm not creating castles in the air quite yet, but I'm hoping my pen will take me lots of places in the future (whether castles or slums). I'm getting excited about the possibilities of what is to come. I'm trying to avoid this fear I find creeping in too often. So much comes with being vulnerable: Criticism, rejection, and more criticism. If you know me at all, you know I'm not a fan of either. Then again, who is?

I'll press forward through the fear (with your help and prayers) and see what happens with this dream of mine, which started out with the stuff 7-year-old girls write. It's moving into things that I hope will be blessed by God and able to bless others.

So my pen wonders this: Wouldn't it be fun if my words come alive and move people and I can live in that?




22.7.10

unfinished (?) and untitled.

To begin,

you were never mine.
In vain were the skips that my heart made.
Thoughts and prayers sent up
Only to be returned with unwanted answers.
You were never mine.
I tried to find love in you,
But to no avail.
I wonder what I've done,
Why I gave some of my heart away.
You were never mine
And I was never yours.

But then,

bitter tastes slowly subside
like the winter winds morphing into spring breath.
Wounds healing
as the truth that 'love is a process' is believed,
stirs up the soul, and
ignites promise
like the coming of summer raindrops on a slow southern afternoon.
The love that is present around me and
the love that is not yet
wraps me up
like a worn blanket once the autumn cool has set in.

18.7.10

Peru: A Narcoleptic Nation

Peruvians can sleep anywhere.

I've determined that they are not necessarily tired; in fact, they could be wide awake at one moment, and if the conditions are right, they're asleep the next.

This phenomenon has been an on-going observation during my time in Peru. It wasn't until I realized that my roommate Julia and I have semi-succumbed to it that I decided to write about it. Here's the scenario:

Julia and I were on a bus from Piura (inland Northern Peru) on our way to the coast in Zorritos a few weeks ago. We had no idea how to get to the beach once we got off the plane, so we asked around and found that the cheapest option was to take a bus called "El Dorado" to the water.

We found the bus station, bought our 15 sol ticket and braved the crappy four hour ride, all while drugged-up on sleeping pills.

We immediately fell asleep once we got on the bus. Little did we know that the four hour ride should have been a two hour ride, except that no one told us that (of course). Instead, in typical Peru-fashion, our bus decided to stop every fifteen minutes.

Good thing we were drugged.

During our comatose state, I realized while enduring constant bouncing just how bad the Panamericana Norte is. Had I been fully awake, I would have thrown up several times.

Towards the middle of the trip the bus almost fell over sideways on the desert road. I'm jerked awake and I look at Julia, who, in a very Peruvian stance, is bouncing along to the precarious turns of the bus. Her head is flopping up and down like a baby doll; when it rests, it rests forward, with the neck in a very uncomfortable strained-looking position.

I look around with sleep still in my eyes and see everyone in the same position. Some might have their heads tilted back with their mouths open (there is unfortunately some photographic evidence of me guilty of this), others are hunched forward with their heads against the seat in front of them. All of them are either snoring or drooling. It's a lovely and comical sight.

As I continue to observe the silent state around me, hearing only the sounds of the bus's junky engine, I remember other instances in which Peruvians prove that they have a knack for falling asleep whenever, wherever:

1. Combis/collectivos. If you board any type of public transportation, you're guaranteed to see ninety percent of the people asleep. If you can't find a seat, no matter--You can sleep standing up.

2. Church. Fifty percent of Peruvians will be asleep during the first five minutes of the sermon.

3. Benches in parks or plazas. When you walk around these places, don't be fooled by the people sitting up straight with their arms crossed wearing sunglasses, looking right at you. Their sunglasses hide the fact that they are dreaming about their next meal or playing in the World Cup 2014 Peru match.

4. Movies/Plays/Concerts. Any sort of entertainment, really. If they are sitting down for any length of time, I'd bet five dollars half will fall asleep relatively quickly.

I've had people fall on me while they're asleep and they don't wake up. I've seen babies stay asleep on moving buses while their mothers are changing their clothes awkwardly and kind of violently. I've had Marta come over, say "Oh, no tengo sueno" ("I'm not sleepy"), lay on my couch, and she's snoring two minutes later.

While you may think this is a country of Narcoleptics, Peruvians have this process down to a science. They know precisely when they need to wake up. There exists within them an innate ability to know when they've arrived at their bus stop or when the stewardess (whether it be bus or plane) is coming by with food/drink.

In conclusion, Peru is a sleepy country, whether it appears to be so or not (observations about work-ethic in this country will be saved for another post). Just give them two minutes of being stationary, and it's siesta-time.

14.7.10

great article

My friend Joel and I were talking about our hope to write in a professional forum, and he mentioned he'd just had something published on a website. I checked out the website ("Wrecked") and also read his article, which is posted below. Both are wonderful. Carpe Diem.

http://missions.wrecked.org/?filename=god-is-not-practical-a-new-call-to-missions

13.7.10

change is coming.

August 9.

I leave Peruvian soil on the 9th of August. I hit North American soil el 9 de agosto.

My mother says I have to start over in a way, and it'll be okay. Debbie, my best friend's mentor whom I've never met says "Change is good."

I want to believe them.

I feel like I'm floating in a bubble of emotion; if something in my bubble is shifted even a little bit, it will break and all these emotions that I can't begin to explain will spill out and my "safe" bubble won't be so safe anymore and I'll have to shuffle through these aforementioned unexplainable emotions.

I'll then be wandering around in a haze, even more so than I seem to be wandering hazily as I write this.

I can't begin to tell you how I feel. A friend mentioned that the goings-on of these last years are things that God alone understands. Have you ever felt that way? Something in your spirit that you know wants to get out, but you can't get it out very well?

I've found that I can write some things down in hopes of communicating effectively, but even then, I can't promise much. People have started to ask me "How do you feel about things?" Well, I don't know. I'm emotional. That's all I know to say. I feel that it's time. I feel excitement over seeing my family. I feel scared to move into the unknown.

"What is next?" This is 'The Question" to which I don't know the answer. All I know to do is cling to the truth that God will show me in time what I'm supposed to do. My "unknown" isn't God's unknown--it's His reality. His plan will be whispered to me (or maybe it will slap me in the face, I'm not sure) on time.

The unknown is something I remember being swallowed up in during my junior year of college when I was being prompted by the Spirit to move overseas to do ministry. But He was faithful to send me here and take care of me; now, I've somehow gotten semi-comfortable in Peruvian life and I'm leaving it behind, moving into a life that holds few immediate prospects from where I sit.

God doesn't sit where I sit, though. He sits above me and has something for me. I have to remember that. I have to remember that starting over is okay. I've done it before and been blessed; I've encountered change and been blessed.

For now, the blessing is going to come when I step off the plane, hug my dad, and cry into his shoulder as I can't bring myself to let go. And then I'll just go sit with my family. I'll hopefully receive words to say. God is going to use this time to speak to me and to my family about what is next. I don't know how I know this--I just do.

Listen. Dream. Laugh. Rest. Remember. Cry. Give and get hugs. Pray.

That's what I'm doing. And among these things, even greater things are coming.

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Here is a cool song lyric I heard the other day. I can't remember who sings it. Find Ryan Northup, my amigo who gave me the song and ask him. :)

What's left to lose? You've done enough...
And if you fail, you fail, but not to us.
Cause these last [two] years
I know they've been hard
But now it's time to get out of the desert and into the SUN.

12.7.10

April 3, 2010.

This is something I came across while I was reading previous journal entries. I'm trying to remember good, and I stumbled upon this; while reading it again, I thought: "This must have come from the hand of God, not mine." It's proof to me that He still speaks to me, and I try to respond.

Day 1 of April travel adventures. I'll never forget today: Driving with Jason, Liz, and Javier down the Panamericana to Atico. Listening to "I Will Rise" by Chris Tomlin. I started to think about my time here.

1. I'm a beach girl. It apparently takes limited transportation in addition to living far from the ocean to realize this. I've been surrounded by mountains for the last two years, with few options to see my beloved water. But today I was astounded by the sea below me (incredible, breathtaking views), and I realized I'm meant to be a playera.

2. Peru truly is a beautiful country. I mean, astounding. The vistas are things that shouldn't be of this world (even as you contemplate a very easy death that is only feet away on the highway).

3. My time here has been so defined by being solitary. This has affected my ability to have a conversation. To make eye contact. To feel like my normal, social self again. My means of expression has been largely through writing, not verbal.

4. As we are driving, I have a lightbulb moment. Don't know why it's just now happening. I'm going to try to express it clearly:

God doesn't promise Christians that they follow Him and life is suddenly free of pain, sorrow, hurt, loneliness, anger, disappointment, depression. This life doesn't mean that we are free from the gamut of human emotion; we still feel, and we will feel low sometimes. We are still mortal.

But we have hope. Not only can we still live abundantly, but we have hope in this life because we walk with Christ. He is here, even in the midst of crap. He won't leave us.

What's more, our hope carries over from this world into the next. My hope is found in Christ, in spending eternity with Him. Heaven means no pain, no sorrow, nothing bad.

So while we may find ourselves in hard times, we live day to day in joy, remembering Who is on our side, and being reminded of, and clinging to, our hope in Jesus.

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