Carry On, Wayward Son

I am sorry I haven't written in a while.  I've been busy laying in a hammock all summer.  In fact, that is what I am doing currently.  I have been ridiculously lazy this summer.  I have done a few crafts and counseled at camp, but over all, I have done nothing but lay around.  On some level, I needed the relaxation.  I had a hard spring semester, and the fall isn't going to be any easier.  However, I learned that too much of a good thing can be bad.  For me, that meant lying on the couch.

I say all this for a reason.  I worked out some over the summer - mostly strength training.  Tuesday I decided I needed to get back into cardio.  This was a bad decision.  My legs are still sore.  I worked out with Kenny Burner and the soccer team for a little bit.  For those of you that know Kenny, you know that he does nothing halfway, especially workouts.  It was then that I realized I am so out of shape compared to how I was during soccer season.  Anyway, we did some jump ropes and wall squats - nothing too terrible.  After that, I went for a run.  Keep in mind I haven't run in probably a month, maybe more.  And in that month, I have done very little cardio.  Being as smart as I am, I also decide bleachers are a great way to jump back into cardio.  News flash - it's not.  I hated bleachers when I was in shape.  To try to do them now was torture.  I was gasping for air after the first set; it was really a pitiful sight.

I know it sounds like I'm rambling about my fitness, or lack thereof, but I have a point.  I learned something this summer.  1. I hate cardio, and 2. your character is defined by how you act when people aren't looking.  

All of my life, I have had someone pushing me to do better.  In school, it was my classmates.  In soccer, it was my teammates.  At home, it was my family.  We all challenged one another to be our very best.  Now that I'm in college, it's just me.  My classmates don't care if I fail a test, I no longer have teammates, and I don't come home to Valley View at the end of a long day.  I had to learn self-discipline in every walk of life.  From school to reading my Bible.  

I realized this with each step I took on the bleachers in the hot sun on Tuesday.  I could stop right then and no one would notice. I could stop the pain in my legs, the burning in my lungs.  I could just...stop.  But something inside pushed me to keep going - I was determined to conquer the bleachers again.  There was no trophy or crowd cheering me on at the finish line.  It was just me and the setting sun.  

Life is full of moments like this.  There is no glory in late night studying in a dorm room.  There is no great reward in waking up at 6 to hit the gym.  There is not a trophy for kindness.  You don't get a pat on the back every time you say "please" and "thank you."  Sometimes, it feels like there is no good reason to continue working hard and being kind.  You do these things and you get nothing in return. 

Or so it seems.

All of these moments that seem pointless are what determine your character.  Doing one more set of bleachers when you want to pass out determines your character.  Studying one more hour when you want to do nothing but sleep determines your character.  Being nice to the waitress when she spills your drink all over you determines your character.  

Galatians 6:9 says, "And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up."  Kindness, determination, and hard work may not have any immediate reward on Earth, but God promises that He will give us so much more in Heaven. 

In the same way, if you continue to work hard - to complete the bleachers - and still feel downtrodden, remember Colossians 3:23: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters."  In those times when you feel no one is watching, or that no one will notice if you stop, God is with you.  He sees your weariness, but He will give you strength to carry on.  He sees your heart like no one else, and He knows you are capable of so much more.  

Paper Memories

Melancholy is hard to define.  Sure, Webster has plenty of words attempting to explain this term, but is there a proper way to put this elusive emotion into concrete terms?  Can you really define any emotions?  It’s hard to remember how something, or someone, feels until you experience it again.  And when you do experience the feeling once more, you hold onto it for all its worth, knowing when you wake up tomorrow, it will be gone.

Memories come with waves of these emotions.  Melancholy cannot stand alone.  The word itself is two-dimensional – it tastes weird on your tongue.  Melancholy requires emotions to be had in order to be experienced.  You cannot feel nostalgia for memories you’ve never had.  You can be lonely for those memories, but never nostalgic. No, nostalgia buries itself into your bones when you are lonesome.

Nostalgia is different for everyone.  I feel it when there is a tinge of autumn in the air.  I am immediately transported to crisp Saturday mornings in October with leaves crunching under my soccer cleats.  I am 8 years old again, with no other goal than to stop one. 

Other times, when the sun is shining just right through maple leaves, I wind up in my front yard.  I have climbed the tree, the bark rough against my skin, and am laughing with my best friends in the whole world.  Because then, my front yard was my whole world.

When the smell of winter wriggles its way into my nose, I am sledding down what feels the biggest hill in all the world with my dad and sister.  There are plenty of wipeouts, causing red faces and runny noses, but we treasure every second.  Later, we go inside for hot cocoa that warms you right down to the soles of your feet. 

Baby’s breath is not just a flower, but a memory of spring days taking Easter pictures in flowy dresses. The spray of water from a hose is green grass and apple trees and dancing around in the miniature rainbows in my Pooh Bear swimsuit.   

The smell of coffee is a multitude of memories, from dipping cookies into my grandma’s cup to late night Bible talks with some amazing people.  It is late afternoons in a porch swing, waiting for evening to fall.  It is snowy evenings curled up with a book, wandering through fantasy worlds.  It is small cafée in Europe, watching people meander past.   

With a warm breeze swirling through the open windows of my car, I am not driving to college alone anymore.  My favorite people are in the seats with ice cream dripping into our hair.  We are exhausted from soccer practice, but we still sing Disney songs at the top of our lungs.

The crackle of a campfire is late summer evenings playing card games and telling ghost stories that were too silly to be scary.  The smoke winds towards the blanket of stars that make me feel like I’m falling through infinity.  My best friend’s faces are dancing in the firelight, and I remember thinking that life never got better than this.  I was right.

Salt air is the best summer of my life with my family baking in the sun and flying kites.  It is dark nights on the beach watching sea turtles find their way to the water - to their home. Salty breezes are telling stories with my mom until my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

The notes of one song take me back to late nights in dorm rooms, my feelings for a boy amplified when he sings it in a way that makes my heart do somersaults., loneliness dispelled just by the sound of his voice.  With the notes of another song, I am in the front seat of the car on the way to a day in the sun at an amusement park with 30 of my closest friends. 

To you, these memories are just words on paper.  But to me, they are feelings, and smiles, and laughter.  I could spend the rest of my life writing down these memories, but to outsiders, they will never be more than paper.  Instead, I will cradle them in my heart until they completely envelop me.  When I am lonely, I will call on them to comfort me. 

This is nostalgia.

Vintage Moon

darling play the dusty records' lullabies
dance together 'neath the autumn skies
live your dreams 'til the music dies

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

dance with the heavens as a fire rages 
with a flame that's been lost for ages 
write a tune in these unwritten pages

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

forget the worries of the sunshine's light
you don't have the colors of the world to fight
tonight you're just a child of black and white

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

cover your wrist fraught with scars
live a life that death once marred
to the rhythm of the lone guitar 

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

throw away the doubt you face
twirl about in your dress of lace
and know that strength is found in grace

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

breathe the quiet melody of days long gone
let the records play their broken song
and dance a little slower in a world gone wrong

'cause nothing can change under a vintage moon

To Learn from the Trees

One of the most terrifying realizations a person can have is that time passes.  Whether you are doing something or not, time continues to progress, seconds turning into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into weeks, weeks into years, until certain moments are no longer distinguishable.  People are born, and from the minute they take their first breath, they begin to die.  We are all dying.  Seasons change and nature progresses through its cycle - birth, death, new life - continuously.  Humans are not as aware of it as we should be.  Every second of every day, the trees and the birds live and breathe around us in perfect harmony with one another.  Perhaps we should take note of it.  Through storms and brutal winters, the keep on living.  They are survivors.  Regardless of their circumstances, they continue to live.  And when their time has come to leave this world, they have passed on their seeds to sprout new life so the world can continue its perfect harmony.  In the end, we all fall victim to time and its passage.  It's a beautiful tragedy.

The reassuring reality of it is we all play a part in the tragedy, whether we choose to or not.  We are surrounded by living organisms, characters in the circle of life, for however brief of time.  Through this passage, we should learn from the trees.  Eventually, they will die - just like us.  But through the seasons, they thrive.  They grow and bud, then prepare themselves for winter, year after year.  Biologically, death is imminent.  That does not give them reason to stop living, though.  Creatures depend on them, so they live and thrive.  We should do the same.

Seasons will change.  Time will pass.  You will live.  And you will die.  While we are here, we should thrive.  Beneath the vast cosmos, we need to become active participants in this great tragedy, contributing our voice to the harmony of life.

Faith and Science

Okay, so can we can just talk about how amazing God is for a second?  I am a biochemistry major, and I've really only been studying the sciences really in depth for a couple months, but I have learned so many amazing things about how life works.  Every time I open my textbook, I see God.  In today's society, that sounds really strange, especially with all the evolution talks.  But even in the first chapter of biology, where all it speaks of is the biosphere and such, the complexity of the world is brought to light.  The deeper I go, the more I realize that we are not here by accident.  The systems and reactions and cells in the body, or even the microscopic bacteria, are far too complex to simply have happened.

Do you realize the amount of steps and processes that occur just in the mitochondria of a cell to provide our bodies with energy?  It's amazing, quite simply (and also completely overwhelming).  Atoms, the smallest unit of matter, can react with other atoms in an almost infinite number of ways, yet our bodies know the codes to arrange them in a way to specifically suit our needs. The neurons that connect in your brain to form memories, or even that cause your hand to move as you are scrolling, are incredibly complex, yet specific to a function.  Our body can be scratched, bruised, and broken, yet still manage to heal itself.  If that doesn't point to God, I don't know what does.

I could probably get some criticism for this post, but I don't mind.  Everything I am seeing and learning is reflecting God.  We are not here by accident.  Random particles did not come together to form systems as complex and as perfectly organized as the ones on this Earth.  Humans are flawed by sin, but I believe our bodies, the ecosystem, and the stars are all still intact, the way God created them to be.  The mitochondria in our cells are making energy so we can praise God, yet so often we use it for something pointless.  We need to take a look inside ourselves, not just our souls, but the bodies that house them, and examine how we are the artwork of a magnificent, beautiful, and perfect God.  

Hello Again

Wow, I didn't realize how long it has been since I last wrote.  Since my last post, I have traveled to Europe, graduated high school, and started college.  These are all huge milestones that haven't fully sunk in for me yet.

I have learned quite a bit though.

First and foremost, I loved Europe an inexplicable amount.  Most of you probably know that I've been dying to travel to London for a long time.  It was everything I'd dreamt it would be. In just ten days in Europe, I tried more things than I have in my entire life.  There was my first experience riding the tube - basically picture a can of sardines.  I ate snails, which was great with all the garlic and butter.  I rode on a night train; contrary to popular belief, it was NOTHING like the Hogwarts Express.  I learned and spoke and heard a cacophony of different languages, which was fun until I didn't know how to order a cheeseburger and people yelled at me.  I was cleansed by a hippie at Stonehenge.  I spent Easter morning on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea.  Through all of this, I saw an inkling of how diverse and beautiful the world is.  Even in London, where we spoke the same language, the people were so different than they are here - I am not saying they were better or worse, just different.  In France and Spain, it was so strange to hear people speak and not know what they were saying.  It was beautiful and terrifying and eye-opening.  The new experience, different cultures, and foreign languages made me feel alive, like I'm not the most important thing in the world. Everyone has stories to tell; my brief ten days in Europe taught me I want to listen to them for the rest of my life.

I read Paper Towns right before gradation, which was fitting.  The main character, Q, makes the point that leaving somewhere is exhilarating and sad and terrifying only if that place mattered.  High school was difficult, and part of me was completely ecstatic to be leaving it behind...but another part of me knew that things would be different from then on.  Leaving high school meant that I would no longer be surrounded by faces and thoughts very similar to mine; much like Europe, going to college bombarded me with new ideas and perspectives on the world.  High school was a cocoon of safety (mostly) - I was a big fish in a small pond.  With adulthood lingering above me and college surrounding me, I realize that I am a very very small fish in a massive pond.  There is nothing wrong with that; it is very exhilarating...but also completely terrifying.  Leaving high school mattered - it meant leaving a part of my childhood and comfort zone behind.  But if I didn't have the childhood and experiences I did, I wouldn't have the capacity or the will to accept things different than myself.  I am thankful that I was raised to be respectful and open-minded, but also to stay true to myself and my beliefs.

I don't really know the purpose for writing this blog, other than to tell you that just in the past six months, I have learned and grown more than I ever have.  I learned that the only constant in life is change, which is beautiful and exhilarating and terrifying and sad.  But how boring life would be without all of those emotions.

There are No Supermarkets in the Desert

The bright African sun reflects off the desert sand as sweat drips into his eyes. He can scarcely see the faces surrounding him.  The men have rich olive skin with coffee-colored eyes and chocolate hair; he can only see the dark brown eyes of the women- the rest of their bodies are covered by black cloth.  Everything around him is dark - except the sun.  It beats relentlessly.  Josh and his wife, Liz, moved to a 99.8% Muslim city in Africa a year ago, choosing to surround themselves with these people in hope to share Christ with them.  Venturing into the Unknown, they left everything familiar behind to become the only Americans for an eighteen hour radius.  From the moment they stepped off the plane, people noticed them.  Liz, her long brown hair hanging freely on her shoulders, and Josh in his new khaki pants, stood out in the city of poor Muslims.  Some men kept their distance while most were receptive because “in their view, you’re the American.  You’re smart, you’re rich, you have the American dream and you have chosen to take interest in their lives and their culture.”  Spending over a year there and completely immersing themselves in the Islamic culture brought this couple a different view on the people Americans so greatly loathe.

 Being the only Americans, they were forced to learn and embrace Arabic.  Every form of communication, besides talking with their boss, was in Arabic.  For Josh, this was one of the most difficult parts of adjusting.  “I’m not a language guru,” he sighed. “I still struggle with the language. It also makes it hard to form relationships when you can only speak certain words.” However they learned it because that was the key to unlocking new friendships and insights to the Muslim thought process.  If, through this language, Josh and Liz could form new relationships with a people that are so demonized by Americans, then they could overcome any obstacle the language presented.  The people were patient with them.  Laughter over misused words at the souq, the local marketplace, brought about conversations and friendships that would not have happened otherwise. 

Culturally, the Muslims are governed by all things Islam.  “Everything they do is Islamic to the core.  The way they raise their kids, the way that they do business is based on Islam.”  Americans say that this is a terrible and radical way of life.  In some ways, there are negative effects from the Islamic worldview and thoughts.  Women are persecuted greatly. Men always eat before the women and children.  Perhaps the most recognizable degradation to women is the covering, or jilab, they have to wear.  The men cannot “control” themselves so women cannot have any part of their body exposed in public.  Besides his wife, Josh never saw a woman’s head uncovered.  “Not being able to walk down the street and talk to a lady is really different from our culture.”  Beating of women is a norm to the Muslims.  If the woman does one thing wrong, men have the right to hit them.  Very rarely would Liz ever walk the streets by herself.  “In the few times I did go out by myself, I would cover my head and try to blend in more.”

In contrast, while Americans focus on their jobs and professions, the Muslims concentrate on relationships.  “You could be invited over to someone’s house for tea and end up staying three or four hours because it’s not about the time, but the relationships.” Work and schedules are not priorities to them; rather, the men will work in the mornings, then come home for a few hours for lunch with their families and neighbors.  The interaction between people and friends govern their day to day lives.  Although food is limited, Josh and Liz’s neighbors would invite them to their houses almost daily to mingle at dinner with their families.  The evening would often fade into night as conversations between friends were enjoyed over pots of tea.

            Because of their illiteracy, Muslims tell stories of their families or of their religion in order to pass down their traditions and wisdom.  Much like in Appalachia, oral storytelling imparts the history and beliefs of generations of Muslims to younger family members. These times of socializing and bonding with the locals provided perfect opportunities for Josh and Liz to tell “stories” about their faith.  Hoping to share Christ in a way that was natural for their friends, Josh and Liz incorporated stories of the one Lamb who was slain to rescue everyone from a terrible eternity.  They also told several simple Bible stories such as Noah’s Ark or Daniel and the Lion’s Den in order to pique their interests in Christianity. Although the language continued to pose a bit of a problem, their friends began asking pertinent questions about why they believed in God and His Son.  Some chose to reject Josh’s answers because they did not align with their Islamic faith held all of their lives.  Others would sit in quiet reflection, soaking in the new point of view the strange English-speaking outsiders told.  Despite the danger that comes with turning from Islam, Josh could tell some were hungry for more than their culture provided.  The Bible stories bestowed a means to escape a lifetime of Islamic culture and open their eyes to a new Hope.    

Josh and Liz may consider their struggle at language, the strange way of cooking, or people not relating to their stories failures. When they moved, they realized they had to redefine their definition of failure and success.  “If you’re scared of failure, you should never move overseas because you fail every day.”  Even though they were incredibly afraid, they moved to the Muslim city in Africa daring to reinvent the American thoughts of Muslims and to share the Gospel with people who desperately need it.  They learned that there are many faults to the Islamic religious system.  More importantly they learned that all Muslims are not the radical terrorists Americans make them out to be.  They require the exact same necessities Americans do; they want to love and be loved and share in the everyday experience that is Life.