Thursday, August 11, 2005
live the question
Wednesday, I shared my adventure in Spain with the staff at Avant. It was an interesting time sitting in a board room with faces all around; some new faces, some I've seen since I was 10 months old. I shared all the good parts of Spain, what I miss, what I learned, what I saw. I told of the question I've been trying to answer about what I can do as a simple graphic designer on the mission field. Afterward, I talked to the new writer/editor at Avant who wants me to write an article for the Avant newspaper. We discussed this question, and he told me something very intriguing to me. Live the question. I believe he said it is from a poem that reflects on how the answer often isn't the important part, but the question itself. Live the question.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
5 days
The countdown continues on. Sunday I will be back at school, unpacking, preparing for orientation and chatting away with my dear friends. I cannot wait! I have so much to do but I'm very much in denial that I need to do anything. Yesterday, I bought a pair of jeans.
Sunday was a good day. My first English sermon in a while. It was strange for me to walk into a room and be greeted by people with hugs and handshakes and not the typical Spanish kiss on both cheeks. I never liked that but I guess I became accustomed to it a bit. The sermon was decent, and I enjoyed it very much simply because I could understand it all. The music time was wonderful. It felt so good to sing in my language again. The air conditioning about did me in. It is a great thing, but after not being used to it, I nearly froze sitting in church.
Our Sunday night service continues to stick in my mind. Our church sent a team to China to teach English in a school for 3 weeks. The team gave testimonies and told stories in the service. It was incredible for me to hear how God worked through each of their crazy circumstances and used them to humbly teach English to some strangers, but be able to share Christ through it all. My highschool friend Anthony went as well. He was stoked about it, which was very exciting to me as I've never seen him jump at overseas ministry before. He gave a testimony about how he realized that God is the same God whether he is worshipped in the U.S. or in hidden parts of Asia. That was a simple, yet powerful thought for me. I've been thinking a lot about how easy it is to fall back into desensitized, self-centered mode as I'm home and trying to get ready for school again. The same God I felt closer to in Spain, the one who made my lonely times not suffocating, the one who helped me finish projects and ask questions and talk, is the exact same God I know here in the U.S. It isn't possible for our culture to limit his moving ability, I've just got to tap into it here and now. That's incredible to me.
I'm going to go warm-up a blueberry bagel and see how I can change the world by packing.
Sunday was a good day. My first English sermon in a while. It was strange for me to walk into a room and be greeted by people with hugs and handshakes and not the typical Spanish kiss on both cheeks. I never liked that but I guess I became accustomed to it a bit. The sermon was decent, and I enjoyed it very much simply because I could understand it all. The music time was wonderful. It felt so good to sing in my language again. The air conditioning about did me in. It is a great thing, but after not being used to it, I nearly froze sitting in church.
Our Sunday night service continues to stick in my mind. Our church sent a team to China to teach English in a school for 3 weeks. The team gave testimonies and told stories in the service. It was incredible for me to hear how God worked through each of their crazy circumstances and used them to humbly teach English to some strangers, but be able to share Christ through it all. My highschool friend Anthony went as well. He was stoked about it, which was very exciting to me as I've never seen him jump at overseas ministry before. He gave a testimony about how he realized that God is the same God whether he is worshipped in the U.S. or in hidden parts of Asia. That was a simple, yet powerful thought for me. I've been thinking a lot about how easy it is to fall back into desensitized, self-centered mode as I'm home and trying to get ready for school again. The same God I felt closer to in Spain, the one who made my lonely times not suffocating, the one who helped me finish projects and ask questions and talk, is the exact same God I know here in the U.S. It isn't possible for our culture to limit his moving ability, I've just got to tap into it here and now. That's incredible to me.
I'm going to go warm-up a blueberry bagel and see how I can change the world by packing.
Friday, August 05, 2005
it's raining in Kansas City
I'm home hoorah! I made it safely in last night at 3:30 and was able to stay up til 11, which was a huge accomplishment. I attempted a phone conversation before I went to bed though and that wasn't the best of ideas as I could barely focus on anything. I've never almost fallen asleep on the phone before. It was humorous.
On the plane from London to Chicago yesterday morning, I sat by a girl who is my age and had just completed a journalism internship in London. She was there for 2 months and she is from St. Louis, MO. Strange right? Well, it gets even more bizarre. She was in Barcelona for a couple days right before I got there. She saw all the Gaudi stuff and she got her purse stolen. It was like talking to someone almost just like me. I'm so thankful that that didn't happen to me. Her story was even more complicated. She was on the tubes the day the bombing happened, only a couple miles from that station. She was evacuated from the tubes. After our flight, we went through the Chicago airport together, customs and parted as we rushed to our gates. It was really nice to hang out with someone and we talked about Barcelona a lot.
The only other exciting thing that happened after that is that I nearly killed myself getting on the train from the international terminal to the departure terminal. I saw it getting ready to leave and leaped through the door. Everyone in that car, gasped and a couple people laughed. I made it though and had plenty of time at my gate in which I bought the magazine Real Simple and ate a McDonald's cheeseburger and fries. Quite an exciting trip.
Now, I should get myself going. It is no-tax weekend in Missouri. Wahoo! School supplies, here I come.
On the plane from London to Chicago yesterday morning, I sat by a girl who is my age and had just completed a journalism internship in London. She was there for 2 months and she is from St. Louis, MO. Strange right? Well, it gets even more bizarre. She was in Barcelona for a couple days right before I got there. She saw all the Gaudi stuff and she got her purse stolen. It was like talking to someone almost just like me. I'm so thankful that that didn't happen to me. Her story was even more complicated. She was on the tubes the day the bombing happened, only a couple miles from that station. She was evacuated from the tubes. After our flight, we went through the Chicago airport together, customs and parted as we rushed to our gates. It was really nice to hang out with someone and we talked about Barcelona a lot.
The only other exciting thing that happened after that is that I nearly killed myself getting on the train from the international terminal to the departure terminal. I saw it getting ready to leave and leaped through the door. Everyone in that car, gasped and a couple people laughed. I made it though and had plenty of time at my gate in which I bought the magazine Real Simple and ate a McDonald's cheeseburger and fries. Quite an exciting trip.
Now, I should get myself going. It is no-tax weekend in Missouri. Wahoo! School supplies, here I come.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Monday, August 01, 2005
a bit of what's swirling around in me
I'm just continuing to put off the Barcelona update, so I'm thinking it probably won't come at all. Interested readers are going to have to suffice with the account of Monday unless I decide to write about it in the future. However, exciting news, my Barcelona photos are now up on my flickr site. I was looking through them last night as I put them all in their set and realized that I doubt many people will be excited about some of them as I was. It makes sense as I was taking the pictures that I would take shots of things that fascinated me, so I'm curious as to what must go through others minds while they look through my photos. I love them however and get extremely excited when I browse them.
Two nights left. Wednesday afternoon at 2:20 Spain time, I will be on my way to London. I still haven't figured out what I want to do in London during my night there. I was ecstatic about seeing the Design Museum again only to find that it will most probably be closed by the time I could get to it. So, I find myself browsing the internet for ideas of my night in that city I love so much. I'm anxious to get home. I very much dislike this waiting time. I feel like my innards are twisting every which way. Goodbyes and I are not good companions. I was thinking this afternoon how much I dislike closing a chapter of my life. I never feel that way when I'm reading a book. I'm always very excited to hit a new chapter, taking in its title and wondering what things will enfold in its parts that make it worthy of a whole new section. I should be viewing my life like that, I guess; and yet, I don't recall reading a book where a chapter ends and the character leaves behind a lot of other characters who were so important for those few pages, but will fade into the long list of people from other times. Its inevitable I guess, the people who have become very dear to my heart and shaped each day I spent in Spain are suddenly going to vanish from my days despite a few e-mails here and there, that probably won't last very long. Those who have kept with my blog for a while are probably thinking, "Gee, she's really bipolar with this pining for home sometimes and now sulking that she is leaving." I assure everyone, including myself, that I'm not. I never really pined for home - yes, there were nights were I dreaded my house and nearly panicked at the prospect of more time alone - but those were a very small ratio in the whole of my time here. And I'm not sulking about leaving, not a bit. I'm very ready to clean my house, pack my suitcase and sleep with my pillow at home in KC. People are just so hard to leave.
Almost completely unrelated topic now. I'm reading this book called "Letters to Karen" which I was drawn to simply because it is practically my name. I felt very silly about this, since that isn't how I spell my name, but saying it and allowing myself to think that this book is particularly written to me by some misguided person who just hasn't figured out my name - the book got me. It is a lovely book. It is a compilation of letters from a minister to his daughter a couple months before she got married. (Don't anyone jump on that one for I will gladly knock any notions from anyone's heads that that is a far thing from my desires right now!) But this book is full of thoughts of what marriage really is, what love really is and the not so fairy-tale life that is. I have found it very interesting as I've been searching a lot this summer in Spain for whom I'm supposed to be as a woman. I've been afraid of that in the past, but through wonderful people like my dear Dani and Tracy B. I've become courageous about it. "Let Me Be a Woman" by Elisabeth Elliot furthered my ponderings this past semester and now I'm just enjoying gathering thoughts and hints about what a mystery life really is.
With all that seemingly mushy nonsense written, I must say that I'm also reading "The Pilgrim's Regress" right now and greatly enjoying the philosophical battles I've encountered there. Somehow relating that I'm not just dreaming about being a girl makes me feel better. Perhaps I'm not as courageous as I thought.
I'm off to concoct some sort of dinner for myself. Sometimes rambling really soothes me. Tonight is a You've Got Mail night, I can feel it. Packing first, of course.
Two nights left. Wednesday afternoon at 2:20 Spain time, I will be on my way to London. I still haven't figured out what I want to do in London during my night there. I was ecstatic about seeing the Design Museum again only to find that it will most probably be closed by the time I could get to it. So, I find myself browsing the internet for ideas of my night in that city I love so much. I'm anxious to get home. I very much dislike this waiting time. I feel like my innards are twisting every which way. Goodbyes and I are not good companions. I was thinking this afternoon how much I dislike closing a chapter of my life. I never feel that way when I'm reading a book. I'm always very excited to hit a new chapter, taking in its title and wondering what things will enfold in its parts that make it worthy of a whole new section. I should be viewing my life like that, I guess; and yet, I don't recall reading a book where a chapter ends and the character leaves behind a lot of other characters who were so important for those few pages, but will fade into the long list of people from other times. Its inevitable I guess, the people who have become very dear to my heart and shaped each day I spent in Spain are suddenly going to vanish from my days despite a few e-mails here and there, that probably won't last very long. Those who have kept with my blog for a while are probably thinking, "Gee, she's really bipolar with this pining for home sometimes and now sulking that she is leaving." I assure everyone, including myself, that I'm not. I never really pined for home - yes, there were nights were I dreaded my house and nearly panicked at the prospect of more time alone - but those were a very small ratio in the whole of my time here. And I'm not sulking about leaving, not a bit. I'm very ready to clean my house, pack my suitcase and sleep with my pillow at home in KC. People are just so hard to leave.
Almost completely unrelated topic now. I'm reading this book called "Letters to Karen" which I was drawn to simply because it is practically my name. I felt very silly about this, since that isn't how I spell my name, but saying it and allowing myself to think that this book is particularly written to me by some misguided person who just hasn't figured out my name - the book got me. It is a lovely book. It is a compilation of letters from a minister to his daughter a couple months before she got married. (Don't anyone jump on that one for I will gladly knock any notions from anyone's heads that that is a far thing from my desires right now!) But this book is full of thoughts of what marriage really is, what love really is and the not so fairy-tale life that is. I have found it very interesting as I've been searching a lot this summer in Spain for whom I'm supposed to be as a woman. I've been afraid of that in the past, but through wonderful people like my dear Dani and Tracy B. I've become courageous about it. "Let Me Be a Woman" by Elisabeth Elliot furthered my ponderings this past semester and now I'm just enjoying gathering thoughts and hints about what a mystery life really is.
With all that seemingly mushy nonsense written, I must say that I'm also reading "The Pilgrim's Regress" right now and greatly enjoying the philosophical battles I've encountered there. Somehow relating that I'm not just dreaming about being a girl makes me feel better. Perhaps I'm not as courageous as I thought.
I'm off to concoct some sort of dinner for myself. Sometimes rambling really soothes me. Tonight is a You've Got Mail night, I can feel it. Packing first, of course.
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