Becoming poor: Musings of a Hopeful Skeptic

resurrection

2006-10-18T09:16:00.000-07:00

i wanted to start fresh and new. view my new blog at jenadams.wordpress.com

africa and her women

2005-10-04T16:54:00.000-07:00

i am reading a book about female genital circumcision. not to get into the horrible details but this is a ridiculous practice. the more i read this book, the more i want to adopt a girl from africa or move to africa more likely.

basically, this practice includes cutting out the intimate, private parts of women at an early age and sewing them shut to a tiny opening. this is done because women are seen as oversexed or sexually sensitive. maybe in sex and the city but women in africa? how are they oversexed? they aren't even allowed to choose their own husbands much less ask for sex. it saddens me that women are subjected to this torture not only the uneducated but the professionals, even doctors. all for the sake of culture.

my question what is our FGM? what do we do in the great, ole USA that is disgusted by the onlookers of our world? what is questioned in our culture? perhaps our society is too individualized to choose one atrocity, one cultural flaw. Should I dare say, it is apathy? Can this be characteristic of our entire country?

Well, I answer with 30,000 children dying of hunger a day, genocide in 100 days in Rwanda, the AIDS crisis, the lack of quality health care for the poor in our own country. How can we ignore all this while we fight with a country, use more than 80% of the world's resources, pursue our own successes while driving Tahoes? WE are apathetic people.

Get educated and remind me to do the same. Find one issue this year and fight with passion for change with those who suffer like the women in Africa.

arranged marriages and waiting

2005-09-20T12:46:00.000-07:00

i have recently come to the conclusion that i don't like to be busy. i always thought i liked to have my life filled to the brim with activity and people but in the past few weeks i now would like to become a different person. i realized this after having to cancel hanging out with actual living, breathing people to go to a meeting. how ridiculous!

honestly, i think i do this in order to avoid thinking about the world, specifically the world i have created for myself. coming home exhausted every night does not give much time for reflection. i like this. i don't like to think about myself, my future, my life. it is frightening to think that i am letting a 27 kid decide my future. can i just be a supporter of arranged lives?

A few weeks ago some friends of mine, may i call them my b and n buddies, discussed arranged marriages. while i like the idea of not having to choose a mate for myself b/c i suck at discernment, i am not sure i like the idea of having others choose what they think is best for me. is this because i am afraid i will have to be with some man who has no money but lots of passion for social justice or am i really afraid of commitment? i think i have to answer both. i am realizing more and more I am afraid of commiting to one particular idea, person, job, educational choice, group of friends not because i like change, which BTW I do not, but because i don't want to find myself stuck with misery or loneliness. not only is this in my life of dating or spousal exploration but also in my life in general.

so any takers on arranging my life? i will be waiting.

the excitement of life

2005-08-28T12:42:00.000-07:00

today, as with each new day, i am learning to be excited. last night one of my dreams came true. i finally after 15 years i participated in a randy travis concert. when i say participate, i mean i sang most songs word for word. it was amazing. don't judge. i am southern and am guilty of being a little bit country.

so what does this have to do with the excitement of life? well, i am learning to take a step of each day and do exactly that. i am walking step by step and seeing the world as a slow, often pain-staking journey. the place i am now, i am content with the stepping. i was excited to walk around and taste margaritas with a friend and know that contentment is found in conversation and the mere watching of strangers.

this content is found in my new found love for social work and fighting for justice and peace for all. i am excited about working with college students yearning for the same desire i have: to find true excitement with God. i am content with being back in graduate school and learning how policy in our society is at best inadequate and needs to change. i am content with my friendships and watching them fall in out of love not only with people but also with life in general.

i pray this excitement is not shallow but consistent. i pray for this theme to take a hold of my life and the lives of those i love.

am i over the top

2005-08-15T18:25:00.000-07:00

recently, i was in a dialogue (can you really be in a dialogue if you only listen?) where i felt uncomfortable. we were just discussing general topics nothing profound or even interesting. then some comments were made that generalized a certain ethnicity. i left thinking what have i done by remaining silent when i was pissed that educated, Christian people can simply categorize a people group. you may wonder why i am ranting about a subject that i am sure i have over-steped or been somewhat inappropriate but i just can't let go of the feeling i had during this conversation.

having thought about the experience, i wonder if i am over the top about issues, about being politically correct, culturally sensitive. i wonder if i deserve the rolling of eyes from my well-meaning friends. i don't know. am i too much of an eggshell walker or should i expect sensitivity as i try and usually unsuccessfully attempt. is it too much to ask for people to be seen as who they are not how our society classifies them, ie fat, black, white, asian, hispanic, skinny, preppy, ghetto?

this afternoon i went home and watched a movie about rwanda. i realized all my issues are trival compared to being ignored by countries who had the means to stop the slater of people based on racial profiling. so, after the movie i think we should be mindful of our words. they sharpen swords.

cheerleaders and apple sauce

2005-07-19T12:50:00.000-07:00

lately, i have made my office become a coffee shop and I mean literally. i am being serious. i have taken refuge this month at a local shop to remind myself what life is like as a college student. i miss the conversations about tests and postmodernism, about impossible math problems and lit reviews about Christ as a social advocate. come by and see me and often i am engulfed in listening to the conversations around me or on the internet learning about promoting positive self image in teen males. random, but have i ever claimed another title.

soon i will be moving back to the school to watch the cheerleaders make signs for the incoming students and talk about the possibility of being 1 and 6 or actually having a winning season. I will enter the world of a high school mixed with the stereotypes of preppy whites, gangsta blacks, and Spanish-speaking Mexicans. am i looking forward to this? i miss being around the drama brought to me by my 9th grade cheerleaders and the reality of poverty by students working to support their families.

in june, i got to meet some of the cheerleaders at my school. they broke the stereotype from my whitie high school i attended over 10 years ago. they are not the cute, little fake innocent blondes who look like they eat celery for 5 meals a day. these are girls who struggle with poverty, suffer with friends who are pregnant at 14, want to be successful but have no model for success, who have the pressure of being the first family member to finish high school much less have a chance at college. the walls of my prejudice are shot down with the beauty i see in whites, blacks and hispanics cheering for a team that went nill last year. pray for a miracle for my boys. they need to win.

june also not only broke my stereotype about cheerleaders but also about people living in waco. i thought those people were ones i could never become friends with. blame my lack of an ability to see my potential or my extreme conviction of wanting to be more of an activist. in these new relationships (ceci and laura, especially) I have found two great, strong, beautiful friends who not only share my convictions but also are completely normal, unpedistal people. people who i could live with and share organic applesauce. i think that through the realization of their normality i am embracing my own. i am learning that community is about loving people inspite and despite themselves, community is about sharing fears and insecurities as well as hopes and dreams.

here is a new story of broken stereotypes and living in community with those of similar convinction.

a year after

2005-07-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

well not only has it been 6 months since i last updated the blog, it has been a year since i was in india. here is the update of how my life is turning out:

i am learning more and more that my heart is for the world. what does this mean? i think that i have become in tune with what is going on in the world not out of obligation but out of compassion. i have an overwelming desire to experience the cultures of the vast world to the point that i have sleepless nights wondering what it is like to see the africa of kunta kinte and land of the geisha and the baba world of India. each book i encounter more and more of the world in which i can only grab in my imagination and not is my grasp.

india seems to be such a dream now that it has been a year since i have been overseas. i have come to see my world in waco as my home. it is so wierd to know that waco is not the place of my education but my home. in this, i have come to the point in my life where i must decide if waco is home for one more year or for several more. is it that i am stuck with the pull of waco or am i too afraid to explore the world in which i dream and yearn daily.

a little vulnerability a la jen. i am scared. i have become acclaimated into the culture of waco that my life is being lead as a blind person in a pillowed circular room. there are no my sharp corners or unexpected turns. i am afraid of the unknown world outside of the 100000+ people of waco to the point that an awesome job is laid out for me to at least apply and i am too much of a chicken to even email my resume to the committee.

what happened to the brave girl of last year, you make ask? she has become part of the wind in waco. i have become comfortable in my relationships, in my ministry, in my career. she is no longer brave but comfortable. what must i do? maybe the answer is to journey outside the comfort of community or maybe it is to live more radically here in my home, waco.

whatever it is. it needs to happen soon before i become a wacoite forever.

being american in the world

2005-02-20T16:29:00.000-08:00

today i went to see hotel rwanda. a few summers ago, i did an internship with refugees in canada. it was an eye-opening experience and the movie reminded me of my friends. the movie is powerful and i feel a sting of guilt. not only guilt individually but guilt collectively. guilt as a nation, as humanity. how could no one help people who are in desperation? the story broke me.

Burundi. i have a friend from this small, war-torn country. he watched his father's beheading and lived in refugee camps until he was rescued by the UN. He is now canadian and trying to find his mother and sister.

Palestine. a family of 11 children. the mother and half of them. i got to sit with her children as she heard she was approved for Canadian citizenship. a people with a home. stateless, homeless people with a new sense of hope.

what can i do? what can we do as a people, as humanity? i don't know anymore. i will never again take advantage of my birth on american protection, freedom, and safety. i know this. i know my commitment. what will you commit? being an american, a westerner, a person of wealth, fortune, voice is a command to do. do what is the question you must ask! i beg and plead.

breathing life

2005-02-07T17:55:00.000-08:00

Lately, i have been thinking about what it means to give life to the people i love. i feel as though this is a command perhaps from God or perhaps from being a part of an earth full of so much suffering and not as much compassion. i have a mission for the few who venture to "becoming poor."

what if we as a collective, broken people decide to breath life into those who cannot do it for themselves? i am not just talking about the marginalized, the homeless, the confused but the ordinaries, those we encounter each day, our friends, family, coworkers. i want to discover how to be a life-giver to someone who cannot see the beauty in his or herself. who cannot see their own creativity, their own strength, their own self-worth.

the past few weeks have brought about this idea. conversations with friends, both new and old, that seem to be not only disenchanted with the world and its standards/offerings but disenchanted with themselves. they no longer see their God potential but only glimpse at their human condition. i have noticed this in my own life as well. how i don't have the strength to let people know how much i love them, how much i need their grace and mercy, prayers and confrontations. i have this amazing ability to only love/like people from arm distance. this is not allowing me to breath life, to allow others to breath life for me.

what can be done? I wish i had a formula to answer this but life cannot be broken down to numbers. life must be breathed upon. to do this we must, or i must, see the Christ in people, see their creator, see all as creation. i must love others as i must be loved and expect nothing less from those around me. i need to encourage others to see their creativity, voice, God potential.

i want to be a breather of life among those i see each day. this is a journey. anyone want to be along for the ride?

tragedy of our sin

2004-11-01T14:36:00.000-08:00

Today a student was thrown out of his home for protecting his mother. Now his life is uprooted, no longer a student in the security of his friends but a new stranger in the land of white flight thought and life. I am afraid for him. What am I do to do when women are too afraid to stand up for what is right, to stand up for themselves when men beat them? what, at the same time, makes me so assured that I would not allow the same to happen to me?

The sin of our society has become so real. The sin of myself, of my own inconsistencies and insecurities, of my comfort, of my lack of concern for my fellow humanity. The tragedy of sin that makes a 14 year old answer violence with a gun and revenge. Today was hard, a hard realization of reality.

Abundant Spirituality: Is it a reality?

2004-10-31T15:05:00.000-08:00

Today at church, a prayer was spoken and the words giving in abundance struck me. I thought why do we always give the left-overs. Why cannot we give the beginnings? This thought brought me to tears as we took the elements. I was immediately reminded of Christ's poverty not his abundance. We have become a culture of takers. Not always takers with our own motives and desires in mind but takers in fear of losing the security of the material. We give often because we have sowed the field and have left-overs. What would this world look like if we gave first before we sowed? Scary thought. Would we be taken over by the takers or would we actually be blessed?

I am not sure if I know exactly what it means to become poor. I have always viewed myself as one who knows and understands the concept of giving to the downtrodden but I am beginning to question my own motivations. I am able to give in abundance my resources and at times even in my poverty but this giving was only in the material. Today a still, small voice said: "Jennifer can you give me and others your soul not in abundance but in poverty?" What do I say to this? I am in a state of spiritual poverty still questioning the answer of God's existence in such a gross, evil world full of systemic poverty, rapings of both physical and spiritual natures, women who are afraid to be the best for fear of being labeled "too progressive," children dying for lack of what we take for granted. Is it okay for me to question? I don't know but I do and this is all I can proclaim.

What can I try to do? I am in a desperate attempt to love a world that has become too realistic for a dreamer such as myself. I am beginning to view evil in light of sin not accident. Not the sin of the person but the sin of myself, of my society, of my upbringing. I am loving despite my spiritual poverty and in search of my spiritual abundance.

Community and the realization of reality

2004-10-02T14:34:00.000-07:00

I will welcome myself back to the blogging community. I ask myself why am I now taking interest in blogging? I am realizing the importance of community, even if this community is just reading my thoughts.

In a few days I am preaching with a friend at Truett chapel. Some of you know that i am a recent graduate of seminary. This fact has caused much to occur in my life. I am employed full time now as a social worker, i go to bed before midnight, i am frustrated by systems of evil corruption, i spend hours researching health care for my students and benefits for their families, i convince students to see their potential beyond a football field and a relationship. I love this new life. Actually, I am enjoying the scenery.

My life has become real. Out with ideals and in with real, tangible thoughts. I no longer believe all I want will be accomplished nor do I see the world completely through rose-colored lenses. I am experiencing the pain of reality. but, instead of moping about, I am embracing the realization of reality and learning to lean on my community.

to get back to the preaching, I am preaching! Yes, as a female in front of many of my peers and my professors. this is both intimidating and exciting. I am both overwhelmed and overcome with joy at the chance to give a glimpse into life outside of the seminary bubble. This bubble has been proded with the idea of seeking real, intimate community, where I am able to be pissed off at systems and evils and still talk about God and God's grace on this world. How perplexing is the idea to have people who have held me while I have struggled with the realization of reality.

What, then, is my community? A year or so ago, a friend shared an idea to live in community together with some other of our friends. The thought of sharing a bathroom with friends who live in (no offense and I love coming to visit you guys) dismay and decay, does not appeal to my senses. The thought of sharing a bathroom with the opposite gender after living 18 years next door to a messy male frightens me. but after I pondered the idea and laughed it away, I realized the profoundness of this suggestion. Why wouldn't it be great to live in community with those I love and already do ministry with? Why not live with my closest friends who allow me to be myself and still embrace me after they see the ugliness? Why not share life with those I already share life with? More practically, it is safer for me to live with the opposite gender considering the location of where I want to place myself. I don't laugh anymore; I pray. I pray to one day have a home where I can support and share life with those I love dearly. Will it happen with those in Waco, I don't know. But, I know this is certain realization of reality.

My relationships lately have taught me to be. I have never been good at being. I have always done. Today, I am being. I am being someone I am and not doing in order to be someone I am not. What does this mean? I am not completely sure but I know I am learning to find forgiveness and love and patience and kindness not in my worthlessness but in my worth, in my imperfect but loved creation. Why do we have to be in relationship? In order to breathe and live and die. This is why we have to be in relationship.

What do I have to say on Tuesday? I can only say that community has made me more complete in the body of Christ and for this I am thankful for those who have listened to my constant babbling, who have allowed me to be pissed at a world I no longer believe I can completely change, who encourage me to see my gifts and use my weaknesses. I am thankful to those who love my weaknesses and love me in spite of my humanity. Who I am able to love the same and live with a little closer to what Colossians speaks to . This is what I have to say.

the wetness of Indian clay

2004-07-20T08:57:00.000-07:00

i will be honest. being stuck in waco for the last few weeks has been hellish. i struggle each day to find my purpose in this place, i have loved for a short time. i struggle to see why i am here, when so much of my heart is in india awaiting a return. does this meanindia is my next step? i can only speak of it in dreams and tears. i mourn over the loss of this beautiful place.

a few weeks ago. i had a hard conversation with two precious women. i realized one, i am not crazy and prozac is not part of my future but, two, that major steps need to be made in my living for me to live successfully. by success, i don't mean money and material but i mean emotional and spiritual soundness. i realized that after this very hard confrontation that life is like a potter's wheel.

a potter's wheel. i used to do this before i became so wrapped up in intellect and knowledge. i remember the peace i found when a pot took form on the wheel. i felt freedom there. a freedom i no longer seem to grasp. throwing allows one to be the creator, sometimes creating a beauty and some times an abstraction. with each throw, i lived for the moment that my pot would fly off or would turn into a pile of nothing. i loved this frustration. it reminded to try. i loved trying to piece the pot back to normalcy and in the times, i couldn't i started over, always recycling the brokenness.

what this means. i have begun to not only see the need for me to be creative again but also the mere act of throwing as an illustration of my living. see, india has made my clay too wet. i am not able to form back to the jennifer i was two months ago. i can't seem to find her anymore. india made me see that i am not able to become the abstraction i was before. i must start over. not completely but with recycled clay. thanks meredith and julie for reminding me that is through recycling that i will find my life again.

a letter and a meeting

2004-07-13T08:36:00.000-07:00

i went to austin. i went to pick up a friend and visit a church. in reality, i went to escape the drudges of waco. i have come to the conclusion that my passing through waco is coming to a close and by this time next year i will be off to bigger places. hopefully, one that has seasons and not degrees of summer. any suggestions?

the church. it was great to be in worship with people who understand and appreciate art as a form of worship. not just art as in paint and drawing but art as in writing and dance and music. but there was something missing. no crying of babes and no voices of the wise, older generation. through this, i have come to see that part of growing up is recognizing church is not about pleasing my palette of musical interests and interesting eye candy but is about community. community of the bad and the ugly, of the beautiful and the rich, of the poor and the broken. i think i have glimpsed this in waco.

the letter. i had to write a letter that was both painful and past reminding. it was difficult and at the same time, a great reminder of dealing with the sadness that comes with the good.

the meeting. yesterday was great b/c i not only got to eat great food with good friends but i got to process my india experience with two of my favorite workers among the indians. it was great to hear from them and then realize i miss the place terribly and probably have found a home, well at least a home for a brief moment in time. i have concluded it is time to process and talk about the good and the terrible.

what this means. india was life changing but so is waco. i have much to do here and have many to process with.

a lament for the poor

2004-07-11T13:00:00.000-07:00

well, i am offically back into the reality of waco. i have been back from the enchanting place some like to call india. yes, i have hit reality like a ton of bricks thrown into the ganga. well, maybe i am not quite back. i have come to see life so differently that words have not been able to come out of this rusty brain that has been filled with so much for so long.

yesterday, i went back to work. yes, i work at a bookstore. this is a dream job for someone like me who likes to leave reality for the world of words. so many words and people still come to my register with 25 dollars worth (less) of gun magazines. in my head, i think are these just for pleasure or does this man think he can solve the world's problems with a trigger and a bullet. i think what would people in india think of this place i work. i don't think they could even begin to dream of a place that lets us forget about the world and delve into beads, guns, and rock stars.

church was confusing. as usual, my brain falters between listening and dreaming. a lament for the poor. this is what i heard. an excuse to cuss God for pain and uncertainty, for a lack of a job, so for me, no future. for no one to love like i want to love. for nothing to come home to. and then i am reminded of this kid i met in india. he never had a name to me b/c i never bothered to ask. partly b/c i don't speak Bengali and partly b/c then he would have been real. he has no future, no home to keep him warm or cool, no one to give him presents besides dumb Americans who fill his emptiness with sugar and pop, nothing to call his own. he deserves a lament that has no excuses and no beauty. but instead, he lives and he lives as though life is a beautiful painting.

this is what i have to learn. poverty is about not seeing our own benefits and loves. poverty is about selfishness and the rich. poverty exists because of all this. i am now learning to lament for the sake of the poor, including the poverty i have begun to discover in my own weaknesses.

an orpanage and the dying

2004-06-15T05:24:00.000-07:00

today we are in kolkata. i went to a orphanage for the physically handicapped and then to the home for the dying. probably too much pain for me in one day. i am a bit overwelmed.
with the children. i was not sure what to expect. i had to pray for the confidence to deal with what i would encounter. when we arrived i was surprised by smiling faces and warm hearts. for a brief moment, i had forgotten that children love much more than i can imagine. no words can express what i feel right now. these children could have been saved by a simple shot in the butt. what do we as americans take for granted? all i had to offer was a smile and tears. it was beautiful to hold a child who is not often touched.
from there i went to the home for dying. it used to be a resting place for those who came to worship kali, a goddess. I was overwelmed by the stench and the nakedness. i smelled the fear of death for the first time in my life. it was difficult to look in the faces of those who are breathing their last breathes but i can only conclude in my weak state that love conquers fear perhaps even the fear of dying.
God is changing me and i know tomorrow is a new day.

take me down to the paradise city

2004-06-09T06:17:00.000-07:00

well the grass is pretty but there are no women. at least not where we go. everwhere we walk 20 men appear. it must be a miracle.
now we are in paradise. we are experiencing the treat of our trip. we are staying at resort and i wake up to the sound of the surf of the indian ocean. i can now say i have been in 3 oceans of our great big world. it is so surreal. i have begun the process of falling for this place. i have never experienced love like this.
this love is both aching and beautiful. it makes me cry with despair and laugh with joy. i am annoyed with its inconsistency, long waits for everything no matter what you order,its definition of chicken sandwiches and spices that make you want to cuss. but with all this, i can't stop looking into the eyes of the people.
i am in love with paradise.
in two days, we leave security for desolation. I am anxious, afraid, curious and ready. i pray. we leave for the north. this is to be the hardest. i am waiting for the tears.
Celina, i am trying to call you. answer the wierd indian man. Welcome Scott to the blogging community.

i like big butts and I cannot lie

2004-06-04T01:25:00.000-07:00

well folks. only in india will a man stare at my butt. yes, no matter what i dress i am stared at. all of us are. i am learning to stand high and shake it. just kidding.
the people of india are so beautiful. I am learning to love the people in this country despite the stares and the reactions. we are now in a city called bangalore. it is estonishes me to think that there are so many people in such a small space. everywhere i turn i run into someone.
last night was hard. i had a beggar child refuse to let go of my arm. each step i am reminded of the poverty in this place. it is very difficult for me and i pray to never forget the blank stares of hunger children and the parents/terrible people who exploit the precious children.
what have i learned? I have learned that i am so blessed and i have a responsiblity to share these blessings. actually, we all have that responsiblity.
i will keep strong and hopeful learn something new today.

Macau: the city of peace

2004-05-27T20:42:00.001-07:00

yesterday, we climbed a hill. I felt at peace. It was wonderful. I finally felt alone. God has been so gracious to me and i have seen so much as I have traveled around HK. Last night I got to ponder more on my temple experience. i have a feeling that I am being to see Christ as the truth of this world. not that I ever questioned this but it has become vivid and vibrant like never before.

Today we leave for india. I have nervous stomach. I was told that hindu temples will be much more eye opening. I only pray God will give me the answers and strengh for which I am searching.

Also, I am tried of the random songs in my head. Every day a new one arises to which i have to scream why o why do i have old amy grant in my head. oh, well. at least it is entertaining my fellow learners.

I am off on a new journey. a hellish flight and a night in the Delhi airport.

Macau: the city of peace

2004-05-27T20:42:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong: the place that never ends

2004-05-26T05:47:00.000-07:00

Well, I in HK now. This has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I wish I had time to share all that I have come in contact with but I have no time or energy to expend.

Today, we went to a Buddhist temple and for the first time my worldview was shaken. As a secular Christian, I have always believed that all paths lead to eternal truth. Today, I am not sure if I can still believe this. I saw a woman in her poverty worship something that offers nothing. There is no peace, no joy, no foundation. How am i to process this today?

All I can say is that I have now embarked on a new journey to find a God who exists to all but must be found through redemption. What does this make me?

Hong Kong never ends because there is always something to see aroung the corner. whether that be a homeless man asleep on a bench or a women wearing all the great American fashions. I am in shock of what I am going to encounter as I leave tomorrow for India.

Thank you India, Thank you, Thank you.

2004-05-18T10:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I am in the midst of packing, reading and a to do list to last a month. I don't seem to have enough time to accomplish all of it but it will still exist when I get back to Waco. One of these days I am going to learn to organize my life and become a new changed person but for now I will stay the way I am. The last one to get tickets for a trip on Saturday, the last one to get shots to save me from diseases we don't have in the grand ole USA, the last one to pack, the last one to read. Well, maybe not the last to read all those books. I like the way I am.
Last night my life group laid hands on me. I can't remember the last time I have experienced this type of anointing. It was amazing to be in the midst of people I can be vulnerable with. We prayed for my fears. The fear of not wanting to believe in a God that allows pain and heartache, I have come to terms that this is my greatest fear. I am afraid, no petrified, of coming back a cynic, a person who hates the beauty I feel today. To not see the faith I see in those I love. To not feel the God I have come to rely on for so much. Why do I question so much? I am learning to like the way I am.
So, I leave on Saturday, the day after I turn 26. Yes, I am feeling the age. I have to appreciate the fact that I am now closer to 30 than I am to a college graduate. I now have to become the grown-up with an address book and a planner. I had a friend tell me last night that she does not believe I will ever have a real job. Well, I have begun to think she is right. But, what necessarily is the definition of a real job? My definition is to have a vocation that I love so much that I don't feel as though I am working. A job that brings me to utter exaustion. Does this exist? I believe, in my dreaming self, that it does. I love the way I am.
Well, I am now thanking India for what I will become. I am hopeful to remain a questioner or in other words, a skeptic. I want India to teach me to love not only the way I am but who I am and, then, who I am to become.
I am off!

Arise, shine; For your light has come.

2004-05-11T16:28:00.000-07:00

Well, I have now embarked on my first attempt to establish myself as a blogger. It seems to be similar to fearing the unknown. What do I expect from this new identity? Don't I want to be profound and enlightened? Screw that. I want to be real. So, here it goes. I am leaving in over a week for a country feared by many. Yes, I am going to India. I will be traveling over 20 hours on a plane with 13 of the most diverse and distinct people I have encountered on my life journey. We will be breathing each other's stench, both literal and figurative, for 38 days. The closer it comes to the date the more afraid I become. What am I to expect? What am I to see? What am I to return to? How am to change? Who will I become? The greatest fear is that God will not seem as real and as faithful as God does today. How will I define faith after seeing those dying on the streets? What will I find in a God who exists in India?
My greatest question is: Am I a person who can handle the pain and desolation of an entire population of people? I am ready to see a people who Mother Teresa left the comfort to be among the uncomfortable. What is in their eyes that allows normal, comfortable Christians to leave security to be unsecure and uncomfortable? Only a week or so, and I will possible have the answer to what has been a constant pondering on my mind.
Yesterday was my graduation. I still have no idea what is instore for my the next leg of my journey, the journey that has been labeled life. I woke up this morning with my robe in the chair and was reminded I have a new step of this thing called life before me. Am I to become who I have always been or am I to become poor?
What does it mean to become poor? This is a question i am searching to answer. The journey has just begun or did it begin any years ago?