The Walk

Today I was waiting for my mom while she went to her doctor's appointment. I had a little time to kill and was feeling thirsty. And I have been obsessed with ice lately so I decided to walk to the gas station in hopes of finding a fountain drink. Yes...I knew it was July and a 150 degrees outside. Yes, I knew it was high noon and that the sun was so bright it was burning a hole in the sky. But in South Asia, I walked. And there is something familiar about walking and so I go for it. I don't notice the heat. Instead, I notice the evenly paved sidewalk. I notice the cut green grass. I notice the window tented cars zipping by me in warp speed. My feet don't touch a bit of dirt. I don't run into one single beggar. I don't have to fight for my space.

But I also notice the empty streets. I notice that I don't interact with ONE single human being. I notice that nobody takes notice as I make my journey.  I look up at the Dallas skyline and I feel strangely alone. My overseas life seems so far away. Was I really even there? I reach into my pocket and feel a coin. I pull out the coin and I notice its from South Asia. I smile at the visible reminder. I hold it in my hand as I cross the street.  A small reassurance. Honestly, I am relieved that  my walk to get a fountain drink is stress free. I am relieved that there are no surprises.  But then, in another way, I miss the color, the life and the overwhelming humanity of my walks in South Asia. In South Asia, I went down to the store to get a drink AND I had to fight off a monkey.   How can I miss something but not miss something at the same time?

Only Jesus

I went to church for the first time yesterday. I feel like this weekend was the first time I entered into the "normal"world. I was glad to see folks. Glad to be among my own tribe. Glad that I could sing old hymns as familiar to me as the smell of bacon in the morning. Glad I could understand the lesson because its in my mother tongue- Texan.  But then, I also felt like an observer. I felt like an outsider even though in reality, I am not. I found that I didn't have as much capacity for small talk. When I asked "how are you" and the person responded with the automatic "I am fine"....I knew they really weren't. I could tell by that pained look in their eye.  I recognized that look.  I had seen it before. Cancer. A troubled child. Financial ruin.

 We can have full bellies. We can have all the gadgets in the world.  But that doesn't make us happy. Thats not the source of real joy. Only Jesus. Whether I am walking through the slums. Whether I am walking through the city. Whether I am walking through the doors of my own church. Only Jesus.

Going to Kroger's

I am missing fresh fruits and veggies. So I went to Kroger's. I was overwhelmed at the selection. And the prices. I admit I did buy some mangos, for a dollar a piece. YUMMY. Worth it  but can't do that every day. When I got home, I was thinking about how familiar yet strange that experience was. A store run overseas was very different and more stressful. I thought about the good and the bad aspects of it. For me to go to the store overseas, I would have to walk down a dirty, pig filled road. I would walk out into an hectic street and flag down a bicycle rickshaw, hoping I would get a good one. I would avoid eye contact and hope that nobody called me a bad name that day. Once I got on the rickshaw, I would hope that he could understand my Hindi. Hope that my clothes didn't get caught up in the spoke of the wheel. Hope that we didn't have a wreck. Hope that he wouldn't try to scam me or take me somewhere I didn't want to go. I would get to the store, get my purchase and then repeat the process to go back home. I often got back to my apartment exhausted. Just to get food. And of course, over time, I got used to it. It wasn't so bad. I made friends with the owner of the pigs. The insults became more annoying than hurtful. I ended up enjoying my little store and the shop keeper. I would smile when he slipped a few chocolates in my bag. It was all very old school and quaint.  I got to know the rickshaw drivers. It became routine.

But being back home gives me perspective. Wow, I got used to some hard things. What was abnormal had become normal to me. And it has left its mark. I walk into Kroger's. And I don't make eye contact. I keep my head down and hoped that nobody would call me a bad name. Oh wait...I am in Kroger's...in my home town. I stand in line, prepared to fight for my spot. And then realize that I don't have to push  and so I zone out while waiting for my turn. The guy in line behind me looks at me. My initial thought? What is he looking at? What is he going to say to me? What response will I give? Don't make eye contact...Don't make eye contact. And then I realize...oh wait...I am in Kroger's. The guy was just looking at me because I was in his line of vision.

Its my turn in the line and I smile at the check out lady. Is she going to cheat me? No, instead, she asks for my Kroger card. I don't have it so she asks for my telephone number. Why does she want my number? Is she going to use it to give to her brother who is looking for a wife? Oh wait...no...she just wants me to get my discount.

I leave and think about how its funny...but then its not really. 

Grandpa's Bible

I gave my Bible away, the one I carried in South Asia.  So I have found myself without a bible for the week. My Kindle has been filling in but no amount of technology can replace the feel and smell of a Bible pulled from a dusty shelf. There is just something about turning those thin, crinkly pages. I love it when random pieces of paper fall out, reminders of the past. A note that asks "hey where you want to go for lunch". A bookmark given.  A crushed flower. A church's program. Memories.

So this morning I went into the study and pulled a bible from the shelf. I didn't really pay attention to which one it was. But as I opened it, I quickly realized that it had belonged to my grandpa. I don't feel like I knew my grandpa really well. Growing up, he was always the silent one outside tending his garden. I know he always took care of me if I needed something. He loved animals. I remember sitting on the porch with him as he patiently pulled ticks out of a beloved dog we had growing up.  I know he occasionally slipped me a 20 dollar bill as a teenager.  I know he loved me. But I didn't know him well. As he aged, he grew grumpier and sadder and I  am ashamed to say that I found it more and more difficult to talk to him. His last few years on earth were pretty miserable for him and it was hard to watch. I found myself having a mixture of emotions when he finally passed from this world to the next.  He finally had found rest. He was finally without pain. But of course he left a hole.

As I opened the bible, I looked at the quotes that he had taped in his bible. I looked at the verses that he had underlined and the notes that he had written in the margins. And I wonder what he might have been thinking at that  moment.  I saw apart of his heart and his faith that he had never revealed to me. And I felt I got to know him better. Reason number 35466 I am looking forward to heaven.

Broken Praise

There is a beautiful CD out called the Story. The songs on it come from Scripture itself. I love it! The words are just so honest and raw. ( I also love that the London Orchestra plays in the background. It makes me feel more refined and smarter).

The Lord often uses those quite moments of just 'being' that  He speaks to me the loudest. This song came on my iTunes cycle this morning as I was laying on my bed.

Broken Praise

If one more person takes my hand

tries to say they understand

tells me there's a bigger plan

that I'm not meant to understand...

If one more person dares to jest

that I have something un-confessed

tries to make the dots connect

from righteousness to Easy Street...

I, I won't deny that I've relied

on some assumptions.

A man's honest life

entitles him to something.

Who am I to make demands

of the God of Abraham?
And who are you that you would choose

to answer me with mercy new?

How many more will wander past

to find me here among the ashes?

Will you hold me?  Will you stay?

So I can raise, this broken praise

to you...

Who else would see my suffering

as one more opportunity 

to educate, to help me see

all my flawed theology?

If one more well-intentioned friend

tries to tie up my loose ends...

Hoping to, with rug and broom,

sweep awkward moments from the room...

I, I can't forget 

that I have been just like a mad man

for my chance to die

never have to face the morning.

Who am I to make demands

of the God of Abraham?

And who are you that you would choose

to answer me with mercy new?

How many more will wander past

to find me sitting in this ash?

Will you hold me? Will you stay?

So I can raise, this broken praise

to you?

You were the one who filled my cup.

And you were the one who let it spill.

So blessed be your holy name

if you never fill it up again.

If this is where my story ends 

just give me one more breath  to say...

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

On Being Thankful

Of course its 2:30 in the morning and I am awake. I have completed the first few days of being back home and slowly adjusting to the sleep schedule. I am very thankful that I am at least SLEEPING. Its just sorta backwards.

An insightful coworker said something wise right before I left South Asia. She said "ya know, back in the old days, people had months to adjust as they got on the ships that would take them back to their motherland. Now, we just get a 24 hour plane ride". And I found myself thankful for that 24 hour holding pattern that the plane provided. I feel a bit like Alice going through the looking glass. As I stepped off the plane, everything was familiar again. I could hold my head up straight and smile. I saw my family waiting just outside the gate. It was hot...as Texas summers are.

But in the familiarity, there is also change. My insides have changed. I have to keep a lot of my thoughts to myself because I don't want to be one of THOSE people...you know those type that always has "one up ya" on stories. So, I am keeping an internal catalog of the things I am thankful for.

Yes, its hot here. But its only hot the 15 seconds it takes to go from the car to the Target, while walking on the beautifully paved parking lot sipping my Route 44 Sonic.

Yes, I had to wait  for the waiter to come take my order. But he apologized for the inconvenience of waiting the 3 1/2 minutes and the proceeded to bring me freshly baked bread, Ice tea and steak.

Every thing I could possibly ever want is at my finger tips. And people are being very very kind. Nobody is pushing me. And I am happy to be back among my own tribe. But I still feel undone.

I was in a wedding yesterday. And I was asked to sit by the Chinese mother -of -the- groom so that she wouldn't be sitting alone. And I was honored to do it. She had a red ribbon in her hair for good luck and said in her broken English "I am so lucky to have good daughter in law". I reached over and held her hand and her eyes sparkled. And I felt at home.

So, I am thankful for ice, soft sheets, clean roads, people who speak English, old friends, people who will listen, laughter, and mother's with red ribbons in their hair.

Last Night

I simply can't believe how fast the time has flown. For three years I have been thinking about this date. The day I go home. In about 6 hours I get on a plane and head across the pond. I was crazy busy up until about 2 days ago so I haven't had the chance to let it sink in. But. Now. Its. Sinking. In.

My last days in M Town were busy, sad, happy, disappointing and hot. I had the chance to have a lot of good goodbyes which was wonderful. I moved to my new place and met some new people. And then, suddenly, it was all done. I found myself headed to the Big City to fly home.

The last two days I have spent in the home of a couple who have become like parents to me. We have laughed, watched movies and had chocolate ice cream for dessert. Its been a good place to spend my final days. I also had the chance to help the wife through a medical procedure so it was nice to put on my nursing hat for awhile.

I am on a roller coaster of emotions. I am happy to be going home but also nervous. What if I don't fit anymore? What will I talk to people about?  The thought of Cosco's and IPhones and inside jokes overwhelms me.  I just finished helping with a volunteer team. And I actually found myself relating better to my South Asian friends than to my own countrymen. I found myself being annoyed that they complain a lot but then felt like an hypocrite because I complain a lot too. Oh dear...I could be in trouble. 

Last night I stayed awake worrying. Its something I have been doing since the third grade. I lay awake the night before a big event and think about all the things that will probably go wrong. I get up in the middle of the night to check the location of my passport for the billionth time. 

And so thats it. Nothing profound or funny to say. Just nervous. And wondering if there will be any good movies to watch on the plane. And looking forward to cheese.