Time Travel

It is such a blessing to be able to look back on the past couple years of my life and experience joy in just thinking about the people I’ve met and the things I’ve experienced. I’ve heard you’re supposed to live in the present… but sometimes the present just isn’t very exciting. This evening I found myself looking back over my tweets from the past year and reliving many a wonderful day. I know that judge myself for feeling the urge to tweet whenever I’m having a good day but the truth is those 140 characters seem to be worth 1,000 words. I’ve done the whole 1,000 words thing… but it’s pretty unlikely that I’m going to casually read through all a 1000 word journal entry without being bogged down.

I think I started writing this because I wanted to try to capture the joy of reminiscing. On December 10, 2013 as I was saying goodbye to the many wonderful friends I met in Uganda I remember telling one of my friends that I was afraid I would forget everything I had experienced and everything I had learned. Her simple response was this, “you’ll remember what you need to remember.” She was right. I don’t think about my semester in Uganda every day. I don’t think about my summers Johnston Canyon everyday. I don’t think about any one experience I’ve had every day, but every once in awhile I get to suddenly indulge in a memory.

A smell, a message, a picture, a texture, or 140 characters can suddenly pull me back to a specific moment in time, and then, for a short little while I have the incredible joy of reliving that moment. The rush of emotions plays a trick on me and I am quietly transported to what seems like another lifetime.

And then, just as quietly, I am transported back to the present- but I don’t travel back empty handed for a carry with me the reminder that I have been shaped by my past joys and sorrows and they are a part of everyday. I will remember what I need to remember, but even what I do not remember is a part of who I am. 

Lake Victoria Venture (UB#10)

Yesterday I walked along the shores of Lake Victoria with a group of people from my practicum. We wound our way through the fish market and then sat on the shore and watched the sun set as we snacked on fresh fried tilapia. Lake Victoria- like most large bodies of water- is beautiful. The lapping of the waves brings a sense of peace even to the busy (and somewhat smelly) marketplace. I thought it was beautiful. Then I noticed the awe of one of the men I work with, he is about sixty-five years old but his excitement was similar to that of a five-year old boy who has spotted a sweet tractor. He watched in awe as boats came and went, pondered where the boats could be going, and ended with a short speech about how he could not understand the complexity of living near the water. At sixty-five he had only been to the lake once before and had never ridden in a boat.

I am privy to a hoard of experiences unimaginable to some people. Yet my life is not fuller or deeper than Mr. Senjuwa’s. Those experiences in themselves have not given me greater wisdom or understanding. Standing there on the lakeshore I experienced maybe one quarter the joy that Mr. Senjuwa was experiencing.

May my past experiences never dull my ability to rejoice in the little things because those little things probably aren’t as little as they might seem.

(Photo Credit: this photo was stolen... from google... sorry)

The Joy of Knowing

We are so intricately made that we don’t even know ourselves. How mind-boggling is that? We blink and suddenly we’ve changed… yet somehow we convince ourselves that we know and understand each other. That we know all there is to know about the friend we’ve known for three months or a year… or at least all that is worth knowing. Man. There are so many layers to every person I’ve ever met. How can I continue being content knowing people for four months and then moving on?

I want to settle into one place. One set of people. I want to spend years and years, the rest of my life really, focusing on knowing one set of people. And I don’t just want to know. I want to love. I don’t want to back away when I figure out that you’re not perfect. I want to embrace that imperfection because it is exactly the same imperfection I see in myself. We’re all walking around missing the mark and we’re all covering it up. I want to be with people who know my depravity. I want to live into the truth that I am corrupt, not because I want to be more corrupt but because I don’t think that corruption can be escaped until I admit it and I don’t think admitting it to myself carries nearly as much weight as allowing other people into my life to see me for who I really am.

I wasn’t made to run to God alone. I can sometimes convince myself that my relationship with God was meant to be a ‘me and God strolling through a quiet meadow’ type relationship. Then I mess up. And God uses someone else to turn me back in the right direction. God uses my friends, my acquaintances, my professors, even strangers to turn me around- to fill me up with hope. Only when I enter into the stampede of people running towards God do I ever seem to experience meadow-moments. I want this shared experience to be deepened by time. We are dreadfully wicked and delightfully liberated by the same God. With this knowledge, why would we not want to strive for greater knowledge of who we are- together? Simply put- let us endeavor to be friends.

When Leaving is Fashionable (UB#8)

I see a trend among my peers towards fixating on leaving home… we are confused when people do not have a plan to leave the place they grew up. There are so many issues leaving home has forced me to face that I wouldn’t take back… but I don’t think seeing more of the world will somehow make your life ‘better.’ It will probably force you to expand your mind and yes, travel will be a temporary escape from what might be eating you up, but you’re going to find more problems and then you’re going to go home to problems and you’re going to be carrying remnants of the problems you found along the way.  Those problems might be the fact that you have found out that your own worldview is not unquestionable or simply that in coming home you had to leave friends you love. Travel is not a cure to life’s problems and if I’m correct in thinking that that is how it is often portrayed something needs to change. We cannot go on lying to ourselves about how wonderful it is to travel. Being gone from home for a prolonged amount of time is incredibly difficult and sometimes even painful yet we continue to pass on the lie that it is all fun and games. It is easy to pass on funny stories about crazy places and unusual people-- it is harder to pass on the power of the emotions that will sometimes overwhelm you when you find yourself thousands of miles away from anyone that has known you longer than two months. We ache to be known by others. Leaving home means sacrificing the craving we have to experience love through being known. We should not go on trying to share the experience of leaving home if we are not willing to share both sides of the experience. It is lying when we are not willing to admit that our experiences away from home are not only positive.  

Rural Homestay (UB#7)

It is really difficult to know where to start writing about something that I haven’t even really begun to process. I spent the past week in rural Uganda. I stayed with a wonderful family, ate wonderful food (even if I never want to see another groundnut, peanut, or anything that in any way resembles either), and somehow I think my brain grew. I learned that a hut is a home, that making less than $2 a day does not mean you’re starving, and that I really don’t like ants/spiders/snakes/rats. I’m sure I’ll be blogging more in the next couple weeks, but for now, the thought of thinking about the past week makes me feel tired… so here is a poor quality video that is probably a better representation of the past week than anything I could say right now!

jokes. that video probs doesn't work. just gonna have to wait till the internet is stronger.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXqtj36DqQs&feature=youtu.be