Forever is a long, long time
When you lost your way
To all my friends: I regret that I won't be able to be at Bethel this year doing incredible things with you. I'm making new adventures for the time being, and I hope the same is happening back home. I've compiled a list of all the terrific things that I will not be able to do with you guys this semester, but that I look forward to doing with you in the fall and spring:
All-nighters at Perkins, Christmas Decorating contests, road trip to the West Coast, hosting horrifically embarrassing parties for freshmen, tea gardening, Ninja, frolfing, going to Canada, seeing a lot of indie shows, brinner, seeing Aurora Borealis, late night movie nights in the hallway, sledding on Sem hill, popcorn burnouts, Ethnic Food Parties, etc.
I understand that this list sounds a.) Lame, or b.) impossible. But we're going to either make it unlame or make it possible
Oh, and when we're not doing incredible things, I'll be busy pounding away the hardest two semesters of my life. But knowing me, I won't be doing any homework or readings, so the fact of the matter is this: we really will be doing incredible things.
January 29, 2010
January 27, 2010
When Tides Meet Terrors
Today I went to a place that I swear doesn't exist. I took the number six bus to the edge of the world, and somewhere along the way, I left Lithuania and entered some long-forgotten land that exists only in the minds of children and in ancient epics. I never knew that so close to the city where I live is a land where urban wonders are mere legends and where traffic and business casual seem to be fanciful daydreams that are dreamt by bored school children hoping to leave their little villages.
The number six starts right across from where I live, but it goes down the main road, past the University of Klaipeda, and then turns onto a densely forested street. The street goes down, down, down, away from the city and into the countryside. We passed a little market square and then turned down a small, lonely road and drove until it stopped.
It was cold. Very cold. Zero Degrees Cold. I didn't leave the bus by choice really; it parked on the curb of a completely deserted street, so my options were limited at best. I stepped off and started walking back the way I came. I was the only passenger on the bus. To my immediate left the sky was a hazy shade of mystic grey--the sun hiding behind layers of clouds and fog. Lower on the horizon there was a dark gray haze: the rising of a snowstorm. I walked on down the lonely street. You know this street isn't meant to be travelled on because there happened to be a minimal amount of sidewalk upon which to walk, and here, that's just not acceptable. Unless, of course, you don't intend the street to be used for walking.
It felt like it was straight out of a movie, you know? Like the main character gets dropped off some place in the middle of nowhere, with the sun low on the horizon, and the shot pulls away and the folk music begins as we see him walking away into the distance to who-knows-where. Well, in my mind, it was kinda like that.
But this wasn't Lithuania. Or at least, it wasn't the Lithuania that I knew. There were no large buses and no noisy cars. There were no students blowing smoke into the air and no mothers pushing strollers. It was silent. I could hear the wind and the sea. It sounded like they were fighting with each other--the wind trying to coerce her storm onto the sea's gentle bay. I don't know if they were fighting or not, but if they were, I think the wind won, dropping snow along the coast as if it were confetti.
But it was here on this quiet street that I met Europe for the first time this semester. You see, Europe is more elusive than one may think. You would think you would find her on the efficient mass transit system, or perhaps in the old, colorful houses drinking tea by the fire. And if not in those places, then of course you could find her in the epic castles or skiing in the Alps. But you might be deceived. I didn't find her in any of those places. Now, of course, I found her fingerprints in most of those places, like some barbarous thief leaving only hints and clues for me to find. But today I caught her.
She was walking along this lonely street and heard her before I saw her; she was calling loudly for her daughter who was playing outside in the snow. Then I saw her, yelling at her dog to hurry along. She was hanging her laundry on an old line, leaving it to blow stiffly in the freezing wind. I walked past her house, cracked and old, but homely all the while. Her light was on and I could hear her voice as she prepared dinner and called for her children. This is where I met Europe.
It was in this little seaside village that I really experienced the culture of Lithuania. The architecture of the homes, the voices of the people, the laundry on the line, the smell of cooking food. This is what Lithuania is. It's not in the cities or in the universities or in the parks, although there are traces there. Rather, it is in the people and their way of life.
I eventually made my way back to the market square, energized by the fact that I had, in fact, experienced a true piece of culture. Starving and cold, I bought a snack at the box of a grocery store in the town. I paid in all change, which is annoying in the States, but normal here. At least, I told myself that when I was checking out.
The whole reason I left home today was to visit the sea, and I didn't find it on that lonely street, although I could smell her lurking around. I noticed a long path and a sign with some sea-like imagery so I figured that I might as well visit the sea while I was there, since that is in fact, the reason why I came. I was satisfied with just the walk that I had had, but I figured "What the heck?"
I walked down the village road. It wasn't long. I came to a hill and I knew that over the hill would be the sea. I walked upward, waiting for that first glimpse. In the movies it always seem to go by in slow motion, inch by inch as the hero walks onward to victory. I imagined that when I reached the top, I would discover some lost and hidden civilization, or maybe even find an ancient castle built up against he sea. But that didn't happen. But something happened.
I met God.
When I crossed the top of that hill, there before me was the most incredible, beautiful, terrifying thing I think I have ever seen. There before me was the Sea. The vast, endless Sea. Right on the horizon, above the water, was the storm. It was cold and grey. And moving. Fast. The sky was completely grey and misty. It looked like a wall was moving in, closer and closer to the shore. The water was raging against the shore. Swells rising up and crashing down, throwing mist into the air. There was a misty spray all above the water. It looked as if the water was boiling over, throwing a bubbly mist around it's huge, dark waves.
If you know me, you know that one of my greatest fears in life is water. When I saw the water, I stopped. Just looking at the water shook me up. I have never seen water like this. The sea was storming as great as I had ever seen it, and here I was, the only person on a vast and empty shore. It was as if all the wrath and terror of the storm was directed right at me. I couldn't look away. Just watching it gave me chills. I was looking a murderer square in the eye. How many lives had this sea stolen? How many ships lay at the bottom of it's great wake, conquered by a storm so great that it would swallow them whole? And God spoke to me here.
If God made this sea and can calm this storm, then why do I fear so much when storms spring up in my life? The emotion and bitterness and emptiness feels as if it is able to crush us, drowning us as we gasp for breath. But if God can calm even the most violent of storms, why do I not trust him to calm the storms in my heart?
I think I better understand the Bible when it says to fear God. How do I have the audacity to try to tell this God that I know better? I'm a lot more stupid than I thought I was. I cannot use words to describe my feelings when I saw the sea. Imagine yourself as terrified as you can possibly be; imagine yourself as amazed as you have ever been. And then imagine yourself feeling as safe as you ever have. I think it's kind of like that with God.
The number six starts right across from where I live, but it goes down the main road, past the University of Klaipeda, and then turns onto a densely forested street. The street goes down, down, down, away from the city and into the countryside. We passed a little market square and then turned down a small, lonely road and drove until it stopped.
It was cold. Very cold. Zero Degrees Cold. I didn't leave the bus by choice really; it parked on the curb of a completely deserted street, so my options were limited at best. I stepped off and started walking back the way I came. I was the only passenger on the bus. To my immediate left the sky was a hazy shade of mystic grey--the sun hiding behind layers of clouds and fog. Lower on the horizon there was a dark gray haze: the rising of a snowstorm. I walked on down the lonely street. You know this street isn't meant to be travelled on because there happened to be a minimal amount of sidewalk upon which to walk, and here, that's just not acceptable. Unless, of course, you don't intend the street to be used for walking.
It felt like it was straight out of a movie, you know? Like the main character gets dropped off some place in the middle of nowhere, with the sun low on the horizon, and the shot pulls away and the folk music begins as we see him walking away into the distance to who-knows-where. Well, in my mind, it was kinda like that.
But this wasn't Lithuania. Or at least, it wasn't the Lithuania that I knew. There were no large buses and no noisy cars. There were no students blowing smoke into the air and no mothers pushing strollers. It was silent. I could hear the wind and the sea. It sounded like they were fighting with each other--the wind trying to coerce her storm onto the sea's gentle bay. I don't know if they were fighting or not, but if they were, I think the wind won, dropping snow along the coast as if it were confetti.
But it was here on this quiet street that I met Europe for the first time this semester. You see, Europe is more elusive than one may think. You would think you would find her on the efficient mass transit system, or perhaps in the old, colorful houses drinking tea by the fire. And if not in those places, then of course you could find her in the epic castles or skiing in the Alps. But you might be deceived. I didn't find her in any of those places. Now, of course, I found her fingerprints in most of those places, like some barbarous thief leaving only hints and clues for me to find. But today I caught her.
She was walking along this lonely street and heard her before I saw her; she was calling loudly for her daughter who was playing outside in the snow. Then I saw her, yelling at her dog to hurry along. She was hanging her laundry on an old line, leaving it to blow stiffly in the freezing wind. I walked past her house, cracked and old, but homely all the while. Her light was on and I could hear her voice as she prepared dinner and called for her children. This is where I met Europe.
It was in this little seaside village that I really experienced the culture of Lithuania. The architecture of the homes, the voices of the people, the laundry on the line, the smell of cooking food. This is what Lithuania is. It's not in the cities or in the universities or in the parks, although there are traces there. Rather, it is in the people and their way of life.
I eventually made my way back to the market square, energized by the fact that I had, in fact, experienced a true piece of culture. Starving and cold, I bought a snack at the box of a grocery store in the town. I paid in all change, which is annoying in the States, but normal here. At least, I told myself that when I was checking out.
The whole reason I left home today was to visit the sea, and I didn't find it on that lonely street, although I could smell her lurking around. I noticed a long path and a sign with some sea-like imagery so I figured that I might as well visit the sea while I was there, since that is in fact, the reason why I came. I was satisfied with just the walk that I had had, but I figured "What the heck?"
I walked down the village road. It wasn't long. I came to a hill and I knew that over the hill would be the sea. I walked upward, waiting for that first glimpse. In the movies it always seem to go by in slow motion, inch by inch as the hero walks onward to victory. I imagined that when I reached the top, I would discover some lost and hidden civilization, or maybe even find an ancient castle built up against he sea. But that didn't happen. But something happened.
I met God.
When I crossed the top of that hill, there before me was the most incredible, beautiful, terrifying thing I think I have ever seen. There before me was the Sea. The vast, endless Sea. Right on the horizon, above the water, was the storm. It was cold and grey. And moving. Fast. The sky was completely grey and misty. It looked like a wall was moving in, closer and closer to the shore. The water was raging against the shore. Swells rising up and crashing down, throwing mist into the air. There was a misty spray all above the water. It looked as if the water was boiling over, throwing a bubbly mist around it's huge, dark waves.
If you know me, you know that one of my greatest fears in life is water. When I saw the water, I stopped. Just looking at the water shook me up. I have never seen water like this. The sea was storming as great as I had ever seen it, and here I was, the only person on a vast and empty shore. It was as if all the wrath and terror of the storm was directed right at me. I couldn't look away. Just watching it gave me chills. I was looking a murderer square in the eye. How many lives had this sea stolen? How many ships lay at the bottom of it's great wake, conquered by a storm so great that it would swallow them whole? And God spoke to me here.
If God made this sea and can calm this storm, then why do I fear so much when storms spring up in my life? The emotion and bitterness and emptiness feels as if it is able to crush us, drowning us as we gasp for breath. But if God can calm even the most violent of storms, why do I not trust him to calm the storms in my heart?
I think I better understand the Bible when it says to fear God. How do I have the audacity to try to tell this God that I know better? I'm a lot more stupid than I thought I was. I cannot use words to describe my feelings when I saw the sea. Imagine yourself as terrified as you can possibly be; imagine yourself as amazed as you have ever been. And then imagine yourself feeling as safe as you ever have. I think it's kind of like that with God.
Adventure Time!
Booking hostels should be a fulltime job. It took us about two hours to find a place to stay for our trip to Venice. Eventually, we found a few options that worked, but not without a struggle. Rooms and beds were getting snatched up like they were grab bags at a kid's 7-year old birthday party. We're going to need to do some hostel switching, staying at different places, and travelling to different islands, but you know what, it's going to be an adventure. I'm pretty stoked. I've never had an adventure like this before: intercontinental, foreign countries, lots of travelling, only one bag. It's like this adventure was made for us to get a taste of true what it means to live Hardcore. It also means that I will be living off of potatoes and rice for the month of February, but even that is part of the adventure.
Most of the surprises about our trip have been bad: no place to stay, more expensive than we hoped, etc. But there has been one good surprise: the weekend we are going is the last weekend of the annual Carnival that is held in Venice every year. It is a cultural tradition and it gathers tons of visitors each year and is one of the unique events held in Venice every year. So I guess you win some, you lose some. In this case, the reason we lost is because we won. Kind of profound if you ask me. So the moral of the story is this: Adventures will have surprises---that's the whole point.
And for good measure, make sure you watch this video: Adventure Time!
Most of the surprises about our trip have been bad: no place to stay, more expensive than we hoped, etc. But there has been one good surprise: the weekend we are going is the last weekend of the annual Carnival that is held in Venice every year. It is a cultural tradition and it gathers tons of visitors each year and is one of the unique events held in Venice every year. So I guess you win some, you lose some. In this case, the reason we lost is because we won. Kind of profound if you ask me. So the moral of the story is this: Adventures will have surprises---that's the whole point.
And for good measure, make sure you watch this video: Adventure Time!
January 25, 2010
Freedom: Schools get it, Nations want it
Today I did one of the most impulsive things I have ever done: I bought plane tickets to Venice, Italy. I researched it for only a few hours and, like the Pied Piper, I have led a few others into this mess of a trip. We are going over a long weekend in February. I'm still kind of shaken up from it. From here, it's nothing but pure adventure. We aren't allowed any checked bags. We currently have no place to stay. And most of us don't have many, if any, Euros. And it's great.
That's basically been the highlight of my day. I feel like we're finally going on an incredible adventure. I've never really had any crazy "adventures" in my life, especially not ones involving foreign countries and such, so this is going to be a good experience.
Another very good experience was going to a celebration for Russian Student Day. We watched a few videos on Russian history and Russian myths, but at the end, we watched this little five minute video about Russia and the effect of World War II upon Russia. To be honest, in the past I've seen Russia as synonymous with the Iron Curtain and the Head Brigadier waving the banner of Soviet Communism. But today was the first day that I realized how wrong that is. The Russian nation also suffered at the hands of Soviet Communism. The citizens weren't all part of the Soviet ideal. They were themselves abused and betrayed by the USSR.
The video spoke about the death of countless Russians during the course of the war as well as the devastation that happened among the villages. Thousands of villages burned, thousands of kilometers of railroad tracks destroyed. It was massive. And devastating. Despite the fact that Russia was part of the winning side, they still were left as a wrecked nation.
What really got to me, though, was that after the video was over, there were four or five girls in the crowd of people that were crying. This was their country. Their people. Their families. Russians lost everything too. Oftentimes, we as Americans don't see that, but it's the reality. It wasn't the US versus Russia. It was the free world versus the enslaving power of the USSR political machine.
It just reminds me that rarely are things as they seem. We can't generalize problems onto people or societies. We need to take them back to the original source. And often, what we're scared of most is confrontation.
God save us from being comfortable.
That's basically been the highlight of my day. I feel like we're finally going on an incredible adventure. I've never really had any crazy "adventures" in my life, especially not ones involving foreign countries and such, so this is going to be a good experience.
Another very good experience was going to a celebration for Russian Student Day. We watched a few videos on Russian history and Russian myths, but at the end, we watched this little five minute video about Russia and the effect of World War II upon Russia. To be honest, in the past I've seen Russia as synonymous with the Iron Curtain and the Head Brigadier waving the banner of Soviet Communism. But today was the first day that I realized how wrong that is. The Russian nation also suffered at the hands of Soviet Communism. The citizens weren't all part of the Soviet ideal. They were themselves abused and betrayed by the USSR.
The video spoke about the death of countless Russians during the course of the war as well as the devastation that happened among the villages. Thousands of villages burned, thousands of kilometers of railroad tracks destroyed. It was massive. And devastating. Despite the fact that Russia was part of the winning side, they still were left as a wrecked nation.
What really got to me, though, was that after the video was over, there were four or five girls in the crowd of people that were crying. This was their country. Their people. Their families. Russians lost everything too. Oftentimes, we as Americans don't see that, but it's the reality. It wasn't the US versus Russia. It was the free world versus the enslaving power of the USSR political machine.
It just reminds me that rarely are things as they seem. We can't generalize problems onto people or societies. We need to take them back to the original source. And often, what we're scared of most is confrontation.
God save us from being comfortable.
Trivial things that actually mean something
Skype to me is an absolutely incredible thing. I skyped my family today for a bit and some other good friends. Like seriously, it absolutely blows my mind that I can see people who are over 7,000 kilometers away and talk to them in real time. It is unreal. For those of you who still wish to have a skypeing relationship with me, my skype is: levi.tijerina. I would love to hear from you and maybe even see your bright little faces!
Today was brilliant. This morning I forced myself out of bed relatively early for going to bed quite late last night. A whopping 10am! I wish I could say that I get to sleep in that much during a normal semester, but that's not the case. I'm quite lucky to be able to sleep in so late--usually I get to "sleep in" until 8am at the earliest. So it's been a nice break to get some extra sleep. I have two semesters of sleep to catch up on anyways. So after rising sleepily from bed, I went with some friends to City Church. City Church is in Lithuanian and it meets at LCC in their main hall. It was really cool--the songs have English next to the Lithuanian and they have headphones into which they translate the service and such, so it's very English friendly. But even with all this, it's disappointing to me how much is lost in translation. Emotion. Feeling. Meaning. It really does kind of bum me out. I wish I could learn Lithuanian or Russian, but for now, I'm pretty much stuck being ignorant and I need to just get used to it.
And by the way, Lithuania is pretty darn cold. Sure it isn't "Minnesota" Cold, but still, the wind off the sea sends its own chilling little gift to us. Today we maxed out at -20 C (right under 0 F). That's good enough for me to call it cold. So today was definitely a "Bus Day"…at least to church it was.
Well the original plan was for me to go to the orphanage today with a group of people, but the guy I was going to go with told me that he probably wasn't going to go; so that was kind of a bummer. When I got back from church, though, I was told that he had just stopped by, so I ran down to his room and, lo and behold, he was in fact going. So I re-dressed myself in my winter apparel and this time Denis and I made the long haul back to school. On foot. But you know what? It really wasn't too bad. I think the cold was having compassion on us today; and if not the cold, then at least the sun was. We ended up having quite a group going to the orphanage, probably about 18 people. It's a five minutes walk from school, but when we got there, there was no one there. We waited outside for about 15 minutes until we could get it all figured out. It ended up that the orphanage does some weekend trips with the kids or they had some kind of meeting, or perhaps they had both (a meeting about weekend trips? A weekend trip to discuss meetings?). Regardless, we only had about 15 kids there, but you know, it was still a bunch of fun. We played games with them like "Link 'Em" and "Shark Attack." We also played this name game, which is absolutely annoyingly difficult for me. First off, these kids speak so softly I can barely hear what they say, secondly, their names are so abstract to my English ears that I don't even know where to begin to start pronouncing them. Their names consist of sounds. It's like they were given names in some kind of multi-syllabic script that has no correlation or translation into English. I have to ask each person at least three times before I can even understand what syllables their name is composed of. And that goes for here at LCC too. It is mortifyingly hard. I always ask them to spell it so that I can get a visual, but kids don't really grasp that all too well.
I loved the orphanage. Maybe it's because I love kids. Maybe it's because we played a lot of silly games. I will choose no specific reason for my joy there. What I do know is that I will more than likely try to go back every Sunday. I hear they usually have more kids so I'm excited to meet them all. I just dig little kids. One day I want to have a house full of them, but for now, these guys will do.
Since it wasn't worth it to walk back to Karklu before evening church, I hung out with some good buddies over at Neumann for a while. We're kind of working on a plan for a trip to Sweden, so we talked about that for a bit. Right now it looks potentially more expensive than I though, but I'm going to hit up a travel agency tomorrow and see if they can work some magic for us poor students.
A friend and I decided to walk to church from Neumann, despite the cold. I really do like walking. The cold kind of makes you feel alive. It's easy for me to forget that I'm alive. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a movie or that I'm a human camera capturing memories. Not always do I really feel alive. Walking in the cold makes me feel alive. It could also be my wild imagination, which sometimes I feel is like Greenland. It's mostly empty and unexplored and sometimes I feel like my thoughts are like that. Deep and expansive, but no one, myself included, ever really engages them. So they just kind of sit there, taking up space. But it is what it is.
It turned out to be a really nice walk. My friend whom I walked with, Amanda, is good company and that is something I appreciate. We had some good conversations about more or less serious things. Mostly less. Something I really enjoy are conversations that are provoking and simple at the same time, and I've found that that isn't as common for me here as I would hope, so it's very pleasant to have such a conversation. People are like therapy for me. I don't need to sit in a chair. I just need to hear people and maybe engage them. That can right so many wrongs for me. I go crazy just listing to myself think. But between the good walking conditions and the company, it was a very reflective and good part of the day. And more than likely Amanda is going to read this, so if/when she does, thanks for your time today. Let’s have another adventure this week.
Church was pretty good today. It was church part II and the message was good. We sang a hymn which I especially enjoyed. Probably the best thing, however, was communion. I love taking communion. I have no words to give explanation to my emotions behind it, but communion is extremely important to me.
Oh and next important thing? Potluck afterwards. Sloppy Joe's. American food that I have only two words for, "So good." I'm not even a huge S-Joe fan, but as of late, they have been especially good. So I will give much thanks to the maker of these S-Joe's, and, yes, they were very much satisfying.
Five hours later from then, I have skyped some really good friends, my family, read a book, and read some of the Bible. The quietness is incredible tonight. It has been a really good day of reflection and activity. That's a good day in my book.
One thing I have been thinking of a lot lately though is the idea of music, at least in terms of worship. I have heard from two friends in the past week regarding music and the idea of thinking intentionally about what we put into our minds. During this week, I took both of those conversations to heart and really tried to think about what I put into my mind (as well as what comes out of my mouth). But even more than that, I tried to be intentional about the role of worship music in my life. It hadn't been until this week that I realized that I have heard very few Christian songs recently. We sang some great songs in chapel and in church and it just reminds me of how I take for granted the Christian community around me, especially the access I have to worship. Here, hearing people play worship or singing powerful songs about Jesus are not very common, it happens maybe once a week, if that. At home, I can sing with others and really engage Jesus in worship very freely and very often. That's not the case here. I've really missed my church back home because one of the things I love so much about it is that the music we sing is so powerful and Jesus-centered. It seriously draws me closer to Jesus and to worship and know Him better. Here I don't have that as easily. It's a reminder to me that I need to intentionally set apart time to worship and spend with God. And even more than that, I need to live a lifestyle of worship by guarding the kinds of things I allow into my sphere of influence, and even more so, my mind.
I leave you with a line from one of my favorite songs of all time, "Come Thou Fount":
Here I raise my Ebenezer,* here by Thy great help I’ve come; and I hope, by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger, interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me, I cannot proclaim it well.
*(means "God is my help" and was a sign of remembrance)
Today was brilliant. This morning I forced myself out of bed relatively early for going to bed quite late last night. A whopping 10am! I wish I could say that I get to sleep in that much during a normal semester, but that's not the case. I'm quite lucky to be able to sleep in so late--usually I get to "sleep in" until 8am at the earliest. So it's been a nice break to get some extra sleep. I have two semesters of sleep to catch up on anyways. So after rising sleepily from bed, I went with some friends to City Church. City Church is in Lithuanian and it meets at LCC in their main hall. It was really cool--the songs have English next to the Lithuanian and they have headphones into which they translate the service and such, so it's very English friendly. But even with all this, it's disappointing to me how much is lost in translation. Emotion. Feeling. Meaning. It really does kind of bum me out. I wish I could learn Lithuanian or Russian, but for now, I'm pretty much stuck being ignorant and I need to just get used to it.
And by the way, Lithuania is pretty darn cold. Sure it isn't "Minnesota" Cold, but still, the wind off the sea sends its own chilling little gift to us. Today we maxed out at -20 C (right under 0 F). That's good enough for me to call it cold. So today was definitely a "Bus Day"…at least to church it was.
Well the original plan was for me to go to the orphanage today with a group of people, but the guy I was going to go with told me that he probably wasn't going to go; so that was kind of a bummer. When I got back from church, though, I was told that he had just stopped by, so I ran down to his room and, lo and behold, he was in fact going. So I re-dressed myself in my winter apparel and this time Denis and I made the long haul back to school. On foot. But you know what? It really wasn't too bad. I think the cold was having compassion on us today; and if not the cold, then at least the sun was. We ended up having quite a group going to the orphanage, probably about 18 people. It's a five minutes walk from school, but when we got there, there was no one there. We waited outside for about 15 minutes until we could get it all figured out. It ended up that the orphanage does some weekend trips with the kids or they had some kind of meeting, or perhaps they had both (a meeting about weekend trips? A weekend trip to discuss meetings?). Regardless, we only had about 15 kids there, but you know, it was still a bunch of fun. We played games with them like "Link 'Em" and "Shark Attack." We also played this name game, which is absolutely annoyingly difficult for me. First off, these kids speak so softly I can barely hear what they say, secondly, their names are so abstract to my English ears that I don't even know where to begin to start pronouncing them. Their names consist of sounds. It's like they were given names in some kind of multi-syllabic script that has no correlation or translation into English. I have to ask each person at least three times before I can even understand what syllables their name is composed of. And that goes for here at LCC too. It is mortifyingly hard. I always ask them to spell it so that I can get a visual, but kids don't really grasp that all too well.
I loved the orphanage. Maybe it's because I love kids. Maybe it's because we played a lot of silly games. I will choose no specific reason for my joy there. What I do know is that I will more than likely try to go back every Sunday. I hear they usually have more kids so I'm excited to meet them all. I just dig little kids. One day I want to have a house full of them, but for now, these guys will do.
Since it wasn't worth it to walk back to Karklu before evening church, I hung out with some good buddies over at Neumann for a while. We're kind of working on a plan for a trip to Sweden, so we talked about that for a bit. Right now it looks potentially more expensive than I though, but I'm going to hit up a travel agency tomorrow and see if they can work some magic for us poor students.
A friend and I decided to walk to church from Neumann, despite the cold. I really do like walking. The cold kind of makes you feel alive. It's easy for me to forget that I'm alive. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a movie or that I'm a human camera capturing memories. Not always do I really feel alive. Walking in the cold makes me feel alive. It could also be my wild imagination, which sometimes I feel is like Greenland. It's mostly empty and unexplored and sometimes I feel like my thoughts are like that. Deep and expansive, but no one, myself included, ever really engages them. So they just kind of sit there, taking up space. But it is what it is.
It turned out to be a really nice walk. My friend whom I walked with, Amanda, is good company and that is something I appreciate. We had some good conversations about more or less serious things. Mostly less. Something I really enjoy are conversations that are provoking and simple at the same time, and I've found that that isn't as common for me here as I would hope, so it's very pleasant to have such a conversation. People are like therapy for me. I don't need to sit in a chair. I just need to hear people and maybe engage them. That can right so many wrongs for me. I go crazy just listing to myself think. But between the good walking conditions and the company, it was a very reflective and good part of the day. And more than likely Amanda is going to read this, so if/when she does, thanks for your time today. Let’s have another adventure this week.
Church was pretty good today. It was church part II and the message was good. We sang a hymn which I especially enjoyed. Probably the best thing, however, was communion. I love taking communion. I have no words to give explanation to my emotions behind it, but communion is extremely important to me.
Oh and next important thing? Potluck afterwards. Sloppy Joe's. American food that I have only two words for, "So good." I'm not even a huge S-Joe fan, but as of late, they have been especially good. So I will give much thanks to the maker of these S-Joe's, and, yes, they were very much satisfying.
Five hours later from then, I have skyped some really good friends, my family, read a book, and read some of the Bible. The quietness is incredible tonight. It has been a really good day of reflection and activity. That's a good day in my book.
One thing I have been thinking of a lot lately though is the idea of music, at least in terms of worship. I have heard from two friends in the past week regarding music and the idea of thinking intentionally about what we put into our minds. During this week, I took both of those conversations to heart and really tried to think about what I put into my mind (as well as what comes out of my mouth). But even more than that, I tried to be intentional about the role of worship music in my life. It hadn't been until this week that I realized that I have heard very few Christian songs recently. We sang some great songs in chapel and in church and it just reminds me of how I take for granted the Christian community around me, especially the access I have to worship. Here, hearing people play worship or singing powerful songs about Jesus are not very common, it happens maybe once a week, if that. At home, I can sing with others and really engage Jesus in worship very freely and very often. That's not the case here. I've really missed my church back home because one of the things I love so much about it is that the music we sing is so powerful and Jesus-centered. It seriously draws me closer to Jesus and to worship and know Him better. Here I don't have that as easily. It's a reminder to me that I need to intentionally set apart time to worship and spend with God. And even more than that, I need to live a lifestyle of worship by guarding the kinds of things I allow into my sphere of influence, and even more so, my mind.
I leave you with a line from one of my favorite songs of all time, "Come Thou Fount":
Here I raise my Ebenezer,* here by Thy great help I’ve come; and I hope, by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger, interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me, I cannot proclaim it well.
*(means "God is my help" and was a sign of remembrance)
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