I've always liked to swim. I don't do it very often now, but, when I was younger, I would spend hours swimming back and forth in our pool. I've never been scared of the water and would jump right into the deep end, no problem.
Maybe that sounds brave and fearless.
Could be. But, I can tell you that generally there's a pretty thin line between bravery and foolishness. And I've done plenty of things that teetered rather precariously on that line. And yet, even though I know that I have this tendency towards foolishness masked as bravery, that doesn't much stop me from continuing to jump in the deep end, be it the deep end of the pool or a deep end of a more metaphorical sort.
I guess I keep doing such things because, to be honest, the fool in me is really too naive to understand the danger I might get myself into. The fool in me doesn't see impending doom. The fool in my sees only the excitement or the good that will come out of taking the risk, if the fool in me can even understand that it's a risk being taken.
I was thinking about this today, as I fumbled around in a bit of a funk, sad about everything. I won't go into detail about what all I was sad about because there were a great many things, and each of them are so large they'd necessitate a separate post, if not a collection of books.
But, anyways, I was in a funk. And I was in a funk precisely because I had jumped in the deep end.
You see, I'm usually a pretty distant person, at least emotionally speaking. I'm incredibly funny. I mean, I'm not even bragging here, people. I'm hilarious. I know this because I totally crack myself up most of the time. I say some of the funniest things to me, you wouldn't even believe. Again, that's a whole different post.
But, suffice it to say, I can communicate well with people because I'm funny. But that's often pretty much it. I mean, I'm not going to cry on your shoulder and tell you my feelings. And, for the love of all that is good in this world, I hope that you don't try to put your head on my shoulder and cry. I'm telling you, seriously, I'm not sure what I would do. I would probably implode or have a panic attack or just plain pass out. Barring those things, I would at least tense up and have no idea what to say to you. I would have no words to communicate.
Yes, I am that person. I'm not saying I like it. In fact, I really don't. And that's how I ended up jumping in the deep end.
It started off simply enough. I decided that, if I was to truly open up to people and care about people, I would need some help. And, I decided I'd get that help by praying about it. Yep. It sounded like a good idea. I'd pray that I could really and truly love people. That I would see people as God sees people. And that (and here's where I really got myself in trouble) I'd love people as Jesus loves them.
Sounds great, right? Jesus is loving. God is love. Jesus loves me. We sing songs about this stuff. They're good songs. Happy songs.
So, I decided to pray that I'd love people as Jesus does. Now, I wasn't great at this prayer. I kept it up for a while, and then I dropped it for a while. Here recently, I'd really started it up again. And that's how I ended up in the funk, treading water in the deep end. I'm a good swimmer, but I wasn't quite prepared for what I'd jumped into.
You see, when I thought about loving people as Jesus loves them, I'd simply thought about feeling warmly toward people. Caring about them in a way that's a little more personal than the sort of abstract way that I'd always cared about people before. To love people like Jesus would simply mean to care about them. To see the good in them, to seek to see that good even when I didn't really like them. That's what I figured loving people like Jesus would be like.
But, loving people like Jesus loves them means hurting for them. How I didn't factor that in, I'm not sure. And yet, I didn't. I didn't think that loving people as Jesus loves them would mean that I would see their hurts and hurt for them. I didn't think it would mean that I'd think about people I don't even know and worry for them, care for them. But that's what happens.
The other day, I was in the campus bookstore, and I bought a book called Redeemed. So far, I'm kind of in love with it because I'm kind of in love with reading stories of faith and how people come to faith. The author, Heather King, writes about falling in love with Christ and coming to understand His love for all of us.
"I couldn't get my mind around a God who ruled by such apparent powerlessness. If Christ is God made man, it came to me one day, for instance, then God lets us kill him. He didn't, and doesn't, so much "die for our sins" as love us so much, so fiercely guard our free will, that he allows himself to be in a relationship with us in which he is capable of being hurt; in which he allows himself to be totally, totally vulnerable. He could have made himself impervious to hurt, but he didn't. And when we hurt him--because it did hurt, almost beyond comprehension, to be betrayed by his friends, to have his life's work go for seemingly nothing, to be scourged, mocked, scorned, to be crowned with thorns and have spikes driven through his palms, the soft part of his feet, to basically suffocate to death, publicly, with people spitting at him and jeering, which continues to happen, throughout the world, every day, as we kill the Christ in ourselves and others, revile him, commit barbarous acts in his name--he doesn't hold a grudge, doesn't have a word of reproach. He says, Oh come back, you're back? Oh that makes me so happy, come over here by me and I'll tell you what I've learned, I'll show you how to be awake, alive, reconciled..."
It's so beautiful, isn't it? To love like that. And so, though I do feel the pain of that kind of love, I also feel the joy that comes from knowing what it is to love like that, if only to know some small part of that kind of love. And though it feels at times like I won't see the surface of the deep end again, I'd rather foolishly keep jumping in. I'd rather let the fool in me jump into loving too deeply than to play it safe by the water's edge.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
School Days
The first two days of school are already over, and I kind of miss them already. A woman who works in our office was teasing, saying to another instructor that I like my students so much just because I'm in love with the first day of school.
And, you know what?
She's at least partly right on that one. I really am in love with the first day of school. I still buy back-to-school supplies. And some of them are hot pink. Okay, pretty much all of them are hot pink. And maybe one or two things are Hello Kitty, but I don't parade those around the students or anything.
The really great thing is that I've gotten to be part of the first day of school every year since I started kindergarten, and I've been part of the first day of school at a huge university every year since my first day as a college freshman.
And I feel really lucky to be there. I love to see the excitement on the faces of students who are just starting their college careers. I love the huge crush of people around certain parts of campus. I even love the poster sales that happen at the beginning of every school year.
I guess I just love the newness of it all. But I think that I'm mainly in love with the hopefulness of it, that all things are new on the first day of school, that the year holds so much possibility. I think that's why I love teaching at a university. I get to be a part of all of that each year and, in some small way, I get to be a part of my students' lives, to be there as they begin this part of their lives.
Well, those are my thoughts on the first day of school. I love it. And, now I'd better go to sleep, because tomorrow begins the third day of school. Now begins the time when I actually have to teach them things! Pray for me! ;)
And, you know what?
She's at least partly right on that one. I really am in love with the first day of school. I still buy back-to-school supplies. And some of them are hot pink. Okay, pretty much all of them are hot pink. And maybe one or two things are Hello Kitty, but I don't parade those around the students or anything.
The really great thing is that I've gotten to be part of the first day of school every year since I started kindergarten, and I've been part of the first day of school at a huge university every year since my first day as a college freshman.
And I feel really lucky to be there. I love to see the excitement on the faces of students who are just starting their college careers. I love the huge crush of people around certain parts of campus. I even love the poster sales that happen at the beginning of every school year.
I guess I just love the newness of it all. But I think that I'm mainly in love with the hopefulness of it, that all things are new on the first day of school, that the year holds so much possibility. I think that's why I love teaching at a university. I get to be a part of all of that each year and, in some small way, I get to be a part of my students' lives, to be there as they begin this part of their lives.
Well, those are my thoughts on the first day of school. I love it. And, now I'd better go to sleep, because tomorrow begins the third day of school. Now begins the time when I actually have to teach them things! Pray for me! ;)
Friday, August 15, 2008
Milkshakes and Tears
It started with a breakdown. My time at the orphanage in El Salvador, that is.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and, for reasons I cannot remember, there weren't many people around the orphanage. The members of the group we'd been with for the first week had left a few hours before, and we'd had a sad goodbye to them at the airport. The kids must have been doing something, and Susan and Maegen, my two roommates and fellow English speakers, must have been off with the kids.
Except one of the kids was there, and so was I. I was with Saul, a thirteen year old boy who has Muscular Dystrophy. He had also recently broken his leg in a fall from his wheelchair. In better circumstances, surgery might be needed, but Saul's body is not strong enough to go through surgery. This isn't a situation in which we can think of the possibility of getting him better medical care in the US. It's true that the care would be better than what is currently available to him. And yet, it is also true that the disease he has is one that will eventually be fatal, no matter how good the medical care he receives.
I'd just learned all of this the day before. And I thought of it as I helped feed Saul the rest of the milkshake that he was unable to finish the night before.
And then I just couldn't do it. I felt the tears in my eyes. I mumbled something in Spanish about needing to get a napkin. I went straight to my room.
And there, sitting on my bed, I just lost it. I started crying, annoyed with myself for not being able to keep it together, but crying all the same. In my mind, I began counting off the days that I had left in El Salvador, trying to figure out how much longer I had to stay in this place I was not strong enough to deal with, how many more times I'd have to blink back tears.
I'd like to say that there was some great revelation that came to me, some great insight about life that straightened me up right in that moment. But life never really goes like that for me. What stopped my crying was knowing that there was a young boy who needed help eating his milkshake, who needed the napkin I said I was going to get.
I know Saul knew that I'd been crying. He didn't tell me he knew, but he is sweet and very wise. He also like stories about monsters. And music. And movies. And he puts up with my terrible Spanish, especially with the awful stories I make up before bedtime. And he likes to pray at night before he goes to sleep.
As it turned out, there weren't many more sad moments with Saul. Somehow the disease that weakens Saul's body, that thing which was at the front of my mind on that first day, moved to the back of my mind as I learned more about Saul, about his life and likes and dislikes.
But the day that I sat on my bed crying, I wondered why God would want me to be in El Salvador. Surely, I had misunderstood. Surely, God had plans for someone better suited. Someone less selfish, someone less materialistic, someone more giving, someone more loving. And yet, there I sat. I was the one in El Salvador, crying and wondering what I was to do. I guess I learned that I was there to love. I was there to give, even when I didn't feel like giving. And, in doing that, maybe I learned a little. Maybe I became a little more like the person God should have sent.
Or maybe not. I'm never too keen on being self congratulatory, and I'm still plenty rotten. :)
It was a Saturday afternoon, and, for reasons I cannot remember, there weren't many people around the orphanage. The members of the group we'd been with for the first week had left a few hours before, and we'd had a sad goodbye to them at the airport. The kids must have been doing something, and Susan and Maegen, my two roommates and fellow English speakers, must have been off with the kids.
Except one of the kids was there, and so was I. I was with Saul, a thirteen year old boy who has Muscular Dystrophy. He had also recently broken his leg in a fall from his wheelchair. In better circumstances, surgery might be needed, but Saul's body is not strong enough to go through surgery. This isn't a situation in which we can think of the possibility of getting him better medical care in the US. It's true that the care would be better than what is currently available to him. And yet, it is also true that the disease he has is one that will eventually be fatal, no matter how good the medical care he receives.
I'd just learned all of this the day before. And I thought of it as I helped feed Saul the rest of the milkshake that he was unable to finish the night before.
And then I just couldn't do it. I felt the tears in my eyes. I mumbled something in Spanish about needing to get a napkin. I went straight to my room.
And there, sitting on my bed, I just lost it. I started crying, annoyed with myself for not being able to keep it together, but crying all the same. In my mind, I began counting off the days that I had left in El Salvador, trying to figure out how much longer I had to stay in this place I was not strong enough to deal with, how many more times I'd have to blink back tears.
I'd like to say that there was some great revelation that came to me, some great insight about life that straightened me up right in that moment. But life never really goes like that for me. What stopped my crying was knowing that there was a young boy who needed help eating his milkshake, who needed the napkin I said I was going to get.
I know Saul knew that I'd been crying. He didn't tell me he knew, but he is sweet and very wise. He also like stories about monsters. And music. And movies. And he puts up with my terrible Spanish, especially with the awful stories I make up before bedtime. And he likes to pray at night before he goes to sleep.
As it turned out, there weren't many more sad moments with Saul. Somehow the disease that weakens Saul's body, that thing which was at the front of my mind on that first day, moved to the back of my mind as I learned more about Saul, about his life and likes and dislikes.
But the day that I sat on my bed crying, I wondered why God would want me to be in El Salvador. Surely, I had misunderstood. Surely, God had plans for someone better suited. Someone less selfish, someone less materialistic, someone more giving, someone more loving. And yet, there I sat. I was the one in El Salvador, crying and wondering what I was to do. I guess I learned that I was there to love. I was there to give, even when I didn't feel like giving. And, in doing that, maybe I learned a little. Maybe I became a little more like the person God should have sent.
Or maybe not. I'm never too keen on being self congratulatory, and I'm still plenty rotten. :)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
I'm Home! Sort of...
Well, I made it back to the USA in one piece, though I have to admit that I'd probably jump on a plane back to El Salvador in a minute if given the chance. :) It was a really amazing trip, and I have lots of things to write about. Right now I'm just getting readjusted to life in the US. It's really different.
I suppose a lot of people expect that it's a welcome relief for me to have a hot shower everyday and to have more freedom of movement. Soyapango and Ciudad Delgado (the areas of San Salvador where I lived) are fairly dangerous, so I wasn't able to just hop on a bus and go to the store whenever I wanted. But, the thing is, I wasn't ever scared. And, things like hot showers are nice but not necessary.
Getting readjusted to life here is strange and kind of funny at times. I still try to plan out how to say things in Spanish. I miss arroz and frijoles and tortillas and pupusas. I miss having roommates and eating PB&J with them in the mornings. And I really miss my kids. All thirty of them. I miss praying with them at night and getting hugs before going to sleep. I miss being there to see what's going on with them each day.
But, I know that I will go back. And between now and then, I'll have plenty of hot showers! :)
So, that's what's up with me right now. I have plenty to tell you all about El Salvador and the wonderful kids there. For now, I'll leave you with this video. The song is the Spanish version of Hillsong United's "Take it All." It is really popular with the kids, and it is proof that a life in Christ can, in fact, rock. ;)
I suppose a lot of people expect that it's a welcome relief for me to have a hot shower everyday and to have more freedom of movement. Soyapango and Ciudad Delgado (the areas of San Salvador where I lived) are fairly dangerous, so I wasn't able to just hop on a bus and go to the store whenever I wanted. But, the thing is, I wasn't ever scared. And, things like hot showers are nice but not necessary.
Getting readjusted to life here is strange and kind of funny at times. I still try to plan out how to say things in Spanish. I miss arroz and frijoles and tortillas and pupusas. I miss having roommates and eating PB&J with them in the mornings. And I really miss my kids. All thirty of them. I miss praying with them at night and getting hugs before going to sleep. I miss being there to see what's going on with them each day.
But, I know that I will go back. And between now and then, I'll have plenty of hot showers! :)
So, that's what's up with me right now. I have plenty to tell you all about El Salvador and the wonderful kids there. For now, I'll leave you with this video. The song is the Spanish version of Hillsong United's "Take it All." It is really popular with the kids, and it is proof that a life in Christ can, in fact, rock. ;)
Friday, August 01, 2008
A long time coming!
I hate to write a blog that starts off, "I'm sorry that I haven't written in so long." But that's just what I'm writing.
I've been really busy lately, and my access to the internet has been pretty limited. It's limited because I've been living at an orphanage in El Salvador. My days are pretty full, playing with and talking to kids, so even if there was a decent internet connection, I'm not sure that I'd have much time to write. I won't be here forever (though I wouldn't entirely object to that), so I will be writing again.
And I'll have plenty to write about. From just today, I can write about the village of Panchimalco, a colonial church from the 1500s, holy water, Puerta del Diablo, a trip to the jungle, conversations with our taxi driver, and how great it is to get hugs and kisses from lots of kids every day.
So, my days here are pretty full. But also really blessed. Perhaps I won't go home after all! ;)
Love,
Sara
Oh, and by the way, I might have accidentally become Catholic today. But I'll have to check with the Catechism to see if what happened constitutes a real conversion. You know, since Vatican II, just about anything is possible! ;)
I've been really busy lately, and my access to the internet has been pretty limited. It's limited because I've been living at an orphanage in El Salvador. My days are pretty full, playing with and talking to kids, so even if there was a decent internet connection, I'm not sure that I'd have much time to write. I won't be here forever (though I wouldn't entirely object to that), so I will be writing again.
And I'll have plenty to write about. From just today, I can write about the village of Panchimalco, a colonial church from the 1500s, holy water, Puerta del Diablo, a trip to the jungle, conversations with our taxi driver, and how great it is to get hugs and kisses from lots of kids every day.
So, my days here are pretty full. But also really blessed. Perhaps I won't go home after all! ;)
Love,
Sara
Oh, and by the way, I might have accidentally become Catholic today. But I'll have to check with the Catechism to see if what happened constitutes a real conversion. You know, since Vatican II, just about anything is possible! ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)