Senegal missions trip

Senegal, here we come in just one month's time.

Here's what I know:
I have been successfully vaccinated with typhoid (again) and yellow fever. I'm forever good with Hepatitis A & B. Tetanus is still current.

Senegal is in the hugely large continent of Africa, specifically on the north west coast.
A friend & I will fly up to D.C. to meet up with the rest of the team (from a church in Pennsylvania) and fly into Dakar, Senegal (the capital). That's January 7th.

The goal of course, is to try our hardest to stay awake the whole first day, fighting jet lag, which could be difficult since we arrive at 7am (Jan 8). Soon thereafter, we will head out of Dakar away from the coast toward a city that to me sounds like "chess". (But allowing for mis-hearing it could really be anything.) And the real work happens in villages outside of that city.

The point of the trip across the pond is medical. Yes, I am non-medical. So the point of my trip with those medical people is to help in any way that I can and to be a blessing to whomever I can.

We are there for a week & 1/2, then depart January 17 (Sunday) at 2am (Dakar time) arriving at Dulles at 6am (EST). Linda & I will say our good-byes to our new friends from Penn and hit the air heading home.

I pretty sure that is the extent to what I know. Well, all that stuff above and this: God will be glorified. And that is good enough for me.

(If you want to help financially, give me a holler)

stumble upon

Have you ever happened upon an amazing deal when you weren't even looking to buy? Have you ever bumped into an old good friend when the relationship seemed out of contact but with the one chance meeting has rekindled the connection? Have you ever been stopped by the absolute beauty of the world around you - a glorious sunrise, the aroma of a chili factory on the way to work, or the sparkle and smile of people living a world away?

This is how I describe the newest progression in my life. I have been struggling with how architecture (what I do) can help people that clean water or power is just a dream? What good is a well designed facility when shanti towns are the reality?

While looking for graduate schools I began to lose hope that two of my passions (architecture and missions) would not be able to coexist with relevance. I broadened my scope outside of the U.S. of A. to the world. England, Scotland, India, Australia, Costa Rica, Brazil, South Africa. Nothing fit. Then there it was. There is a program in Stuttgart, Germany (taught in English = geared towards international students) that is more than master planning or public works projects. "This Master's Program Infrastructure Planning emphasizes an interdisciplinary, integrated approach to planning and deals with problems especially relevant to developing and newly industrializing countries." Relevancy.

Relevancy for people that need for us to be everything that we can bring to the table. To share God's love by being present and able. I like that. That's what I want my life to look like. So, I'm applying. I will find out if I'm accepted in March. I guess that means I need to finish applying first.

sky diving

I realized I hadn't posted any pics from my first sky diving experience from two weeks ago. Enjoy.

My tandem guy - Joe. He was great and knew what he was doing. It was his idea to back flip out of the plane and he let me steer the chute during a trick for a small amount of time.

Just hanging in the sky. Beautiful day!

And job complete! Thanks for all who joined the fun - either jumping or spectating.

hosea = me

So, I've been thinking ...

I am preparing for a short-term international mission trip at the end of this year with Habitat for Humanity International through their Global Village program (HFH GV). It has not been decided yet where I will be serving (waiting on the team leaders of each trip) but it has narrowed to two people/locations: Delhi, India or Papua New Guinea.

During each phone interview, I was asked the questions: why do you want to serve with Habitat and why do you want to serve here? I have now come up with better answers. Not to say my first answer was wrong; my answer just wasn't quite there yet.

So, I was thinking about the prophet Hosea in the Bible. Not the part about marrying a prostitute (thank you God), but the children named not loved and not my people. God, in His love and compassion changes their names and changes their lives: "I will show my love to the one I called 'Not my loved one.' I will say to those called 'Not my people,' 'You are my people'; and they will say, 'You are my God.'"

I think we are called to do the same.

There are so many people throughout the world and within our communities that have been forgotten, lost, not loved, outcasted, hurt. I want my business to be about stepping into the lives of these and being present. I want to show tangibly that they have not been left behind and they matter. I want to guide people until they are face to face with God's love.

So if that means going to nations distant by miles and by culture - from an island nation that survives by subsistence farming where their homes are constructed of degradable materials to an extremely densely populated city where far too many are too poor to even have a roof over their heads - to work alongside those we serve to build homes that are safe and good. To say, "I see you. You are not invisible or forgotten. Let me walk with you."

Or maybe it also means lifting my eyes from my own little world to truly see those who exist around my everyday living. To spend time helping in a homeless shelter or soup kitchen. To be a blanket of comfort and compassion talking down a friend from suicide or grieving. To be a force of love.

Many times I fall short. But that's why I'm going.

not homeless

Trying to rent a house is more difficult than expected ... except the very end - at least of my experience.

The process began casually. "hey Liz. You want to room together when our apartment leases are up?" We looked online, made notes, did drive-bys of selected homes, and perused neighborhoods we liked for other houses with for rent signs. Eventually we picked a realtor and started looking intently (11 or 12 houses is intense).

This is all pretty boring. Let's cover over the intermediate time by saying: things got slightly stressful as time was running out. He had hopes for a few houses ... then dashed hopes. Then renewed hope, then completely discouraged. My soon-to-be roommate signed back on for another year at her apartment, and I settled into trying to find either an affordable duplex or downsize in another apartment.

Then the call came. A friend from church read my facebook status (which in general can be cryptic) and thought that I was very soon to be homeless. She has been considering and praying about getting a roommate in her house and thought about me. How cool!

We made a simple arrangement (opposed to the application process that we were experiencing) and I move in at the beginning of August. sweet. Here's praying that we can be friends and roommates through-out and after.

passion

Three weeks ago I found myself on a high. Not so much: 'oh man! life is so amazing right now. This is the best time I have ever had.' But more towards the: 'yes, this is how life should go. I am content and spiritually & emotionally satisfied doing and being right now.' Three weeks ago was my church's senior high youth mission trip to Memphis, TN called SOS (service over self). It was a wonderful time of service with the youth to an inner city neighborhood repairing homes. It was also a wonderful time of service for the youth - being in prayer over them & to them, playing & being goofy with them (including a water balloon attack), and simply waking some up in the morning to attend a student led girls' morning bible study.

The week ended, as it should. That first week after it seemed as if I was in a cloud - not really present at work or meetings or even my work-outs. I couldn't quite pin down what was going on because, well, I wasn't really paying attention to even myself. The second week after (last week for those playing along) I caught my mood in a continually dark state. Not void of light, but definitely dimmed out of joy. A few people caught on and asked me about my mellowness. All I could say is: 'this just isn't right. I feel off.' After outer discussions and much more inner discussion within my psyche, I believe I am back.

After mission trips, local or international, day or 6 months, I know where my passion lies. I feel the call on my life so intensely. My heart feels the most content & joyful in service, doing something that blesses somebody & ushering them ever closer to God. I don't feel this way "in the real world" at work. And that is something that I need to work on. God has placed me here specifically and at this time specifically, and so my response should be joy & satisfaction in being within God's will.

I've had some interesting thoughts, but one of the ones that seems (thus far) the most agreeable to how I am wired is working within the architecture world and possibly taking sabbaticals to fulfill my inner missionary. Who knows though. For now, graduate school in architecture is still the next biggest event to come. Till then, got to learn to live passionately in all I do, instead of simply what is easy to find passion in doing.

(Andy: will be praying for you & your wife as you begin a new thing in India w/ eMi)

selfish

It has taken me a while to get here – probably longer than it should have – but I now have a more full picture of how utterly selfish I am. I am almost ashamed to say it, but I recently had an eureka moment. (huh, ‘an’ sounds odd)

What I discovered is this: many more people than simply me are/were grieved at my dad’s death. I know, what a shocker. I knew that I hurt. I knew my sister hurt because we stepped into the muck of emotions together on many days. I knew others were affected because they knew him and might miss him. So a few days shy of 2 years out from his death (May 16), it's a good time to be learning.

Before my dad was a father, he was a son and a brother and a cousin and a friend and a husband and a co-worker and a … well you get it. I loved him for only 22 years, and parents are supposed to die before their kids. Others lost much more than me. How easy it is to be so wrapped up into our own world that we entirely miss that others share the same circle with us. And what about now and into the future? My dad died a day before one of his friends’ birthday, and we buried him on one of his brothers’ birthday. Those celebrations are linked now with pain. There are probably many more of these linkages that I still don’t see. But it helps to see; it helps to know. And now I am sorry – sorry that I have been blinded to others’ hurts. And sorry that I continue to be selfish. I’m working on it. I promise.

upon the edge of nations

These are not my words, but they have been my sentiment, especially in a nation that knows not the name of Jesus.

--

I stood in the dark upon the edge of two nations,
behind the village masjid with locked doors,
and covered my head with the sky,
to be with you.

Silver light touched hard mountains so gently,
that fell from stars which seemed so close,
perhaps they bent down their heads,
when I called your name.

Such an unfamiliar sound in this remote world,
it soon filled the valley and rang in my ears,
the trees turned up their hands with me,
while we stood before you.

Your majesty fills and bends time around itself,
so that a moment is longer than an hour,
and an hour passes like a moment,
as I bow down to worship.

The endless glowing heavens shouted for joy,
the whole earth was spread as my carpet,
and my mouth cried out silent words,
yet you heard me.

A desperate longing almost like pain to reach you,
but I could not reach further and wet my beard,
perhaps with tears belonging to you,
which you shared with me.

To hasten the day when these tribes and tongues,
will worship before you on this mountain,
as I did to bring glory to your name,
Yeshuaa, hasten the day.


Upon the edge of nations
25th April 2009, Kashmir

In Christ,

XX

life's next lesson

In the past several years I have gone through periods of themes. I suppose God knows that I tend to listen best when multiple sources are all telling (& sometimes yelling) at me with the same message. Some of the more notable heavenly lessons have been patience (several times, in fact - do we ever stop having to learn more about this?), waiting, trust God/in God, stop telling God 'no', and be still & draw near. Starting this last Thursday at Bible study, and again Friday, and yet again earlier this afternoon, and can you believe again just a few moments ago a singular phrase won't depart from my studies: 'Fear not!'

I have dealt with this before between me and God, me and teachers, me and coaches, me French horn teacher, and me and friends ... and I have never been able to come to any real resolution. I don't want to play that game anymore.

So what's the real issue? I am so paralyzingly afraid of failing. What if God calls me to something and I am incapable to accomplish it, inexperienced, or not fit for the task? In my head I know His promises. He does not call us without equipping us. His strength (His ability to do) is made perfect in my weakness (my inability to do). God will never fail me or leave me.

The prescription: application of the cumulative lessons. A step of faith forward (wherever that happens to be) knowing that I can trust God to be God, wait upon His timing to act or to speak, be still enough to hear His heart beat. Oh yeah, and when God says, 'okay my child. Your turn. And don't worry; my hands will always encompass yours,' He means it. Too bad my heart is a slower study than my head. I have an aching feeling I will be in this lesson longer than this weekend.

first time juror

A few weeks ago, I was given a summons to appear at court for jury duty. On Monday, I fulfilled my obligation, and should not be asked again for another three years. This was my first time and honestly it was quite an experience and rather fun. I've decided for the purpose of being true to the moment to record what I had written in my journal while hanging out in the courthouse:

"10:26am - I am sitting in the Bexar County courthouse in the central jury room. I am summoned for jury duty ... or at least waiting to see if I am selected to be a juror. I have a back pack of stuff to keep me occupied for the day long of waiting. One, of course being this journal. Also, my laptop with free wi-fi and a book I am nearly finished with only an hour and half into this thing.

Well, all right. The third panel of the morning is called and I am selected, number 5 out of 25. We will see what happens.

...

10:58am - still waiting in the first floor hallway to be called into county court no. 1. So now I am undertaking the task of people watching. I am sitting on the floor at the intersection of the stairs and elevators and the main hallway. Lawyers are a funny thing to watch and listen to as they interact with each other.

The bailiff assigned to our little band of 25 is sarcastic. I guess it's better to make the job fun when dealing with volunteers who didn't really at all volunteer. I was trying to help him out by telling him what order were in (i.e. juror no. 1 is to my left) because a lady got out of line and forgot her place. He told me he put us backwards intentionally, and then made a funny comment about that he knows what he's doing. Juror no. 4 next to me told me after the bailiff walked away that she thought he was rude and didn't have to put me down like that. I just chuckled and told her that I can take his sarcasm. He's just poking fun & it's not at all malicious.

I would much prefer to jot the life happenings since returning from India (has it really been that long ago?!) and truly much is to be written. However, I have no idea when I will be called into the court room, and don't want to have an interrupted stream of thought - I do that well enough without help.

...

11:25am - Hmm. Still sitting in the hallway. It's 5 minutes till 11:30am when the juror peoples' lunch break is scheduled to begin. I wonder if the bailiff will tell us to do lunch then come back to waiting in the hallway, or we'll do our thing and have a late lunch. This is my first time; everything is a guess.

...

11:51am - Okay, progress! At 11:46am we were lined again for a change of scene. We were escorted into court room no. 8 and told that this would be our home for the afternoon. All I know is it is a criminal case. So now on lunch break, I am sitting in the hallway, just pulled out my laptop and ready to see what the world is up to.

...

12:52pm - I have roughly 20 min. until we are suppose to be back in line in the hallway where we've spent most of the morning.

(rambling on about different things that came into my head, ending with topics related to my previous post and 'Now what?')

'Now what' is to go back into court room no. 8 to see if I'm dismissed or selected. More later, whenever later is.

...

3:30pm-ish - whew. So the case is a DWI case, the defendant being a young male and the prosecution being the state of Texas as represented by the District Attorney's office. The funniest thing is every time the 25 jurors enter the room. The bailiff, leading us, calls out "all rise for the jury!" I smiled every time I heard it and tried very hard not to laugh out right. I never knew they stood for us, just the judge. eh, good times. And oh, all the jurors were re-numbered for some unknown reason (this is me hoping that it wasn't my fault for posting anything on facebook and twitter). I am now juror no. 4. The previous juror no. 4, my neighbor for the past hours is now no. 25.

So the judge explained a bit about what was going on and what was about to go on. Nice lady. She must have gotten tired of the black robe. The defense went first, asking us general and specific questions about our experiences with DWI, police, vehicle related accidents, different types of information presented as proof, and such to see if we think we would be fair and unbiased to both sides. Then the prosecution had their turn to do the same. I had no idea DWI was an opinion type of case. Without a blood-alcohol percent, it is the arresting officer's judgment if the individual is intoxicated (i.e. drunk) not just had been drinking or smelled like or whatever. I have discovered that I do not solely trust sobriety tests. If there was an established constant for each person, then I would feel better about it - but some people naturally have balance issues or eye-hand coordination issues. But then again, if are even possibly borderline intoxicated or had anything to drink shortly before wanting to leave - you should not drive! Driving is dangerous (and yes, sometimes fatal) without being hindered. Anyway, after recessing so that both sides could figure out who to eliminate from the jury as the faithful 25 went back into our real home, the hallway, we headed back in following the "all rise for the jury!". I was dismissed. Apparently I have the ability to be biased for and against both parties in several ways. So no one wanted me. Oh well.

Over all, not a bad first time. At least I was able to experience something outside of the basement (central jury room) by being called into a panel. My work here is done."