words

One of my all time favorite sentiments well-expressed in Psalms: (Psalms 103:15-16)
"As for man, his days are like grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourishes.
The wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more."
And an excerpt from another of my all-time favorite passages: (1 Corinthians 13:8)
"Love never fails. But whether there are prophesies, they will fail. Whether there are tongues, they will cease. Whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away."

The various fascinations we as humans have.. with the written word, with the created image, with the life of adventure.. do they not all stem from a desire to do something bigger than life; to go beyond oneself?

I might suggest that an adventurous life is like a colorful flower. Some flowers seem a little more beautiful than others and some lives appear to be as well... but that doesn´t for a moment stop the wind from passing over them and the place from forgetting their presence.
A word well written of an image well created is like a flower picked and dried. Relative to other flowers it has done well; relative to eternity that doesn´t seem to really matter.

These things we engage in to distract us from our human condition do just that.. they distract, from the admittance that we are less than we think and the realization that that can be an amazing thing.. and they distract from doing what truly brings meaning. In and of itself a word written can´t bring meaning, an image created can´t, knowledge expressed or shared can´t, a moment remembered can´t. Only love enacted can.

My conclusion: writing for the sake of remembering events has no value. Writing as an act of love has value. Everything has value only if love is present in it.

The other day I was reading through my journal from the first days of this trip in Central America. Already my words had been invalidated by new thoughts and realizations. Yet my words were there, imposing upon the present the things of the past which I had moved on from. Words which called to mind past events that competed with my present ability to love rather than encouraging it. Why write such things, why preserve for the future the things that are best left in the past?

“Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it" (Isaiah 43:18)

I want to be more selective in what I chose to record... only that which is useful for building up.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:12-14)

Finally, I realized that the time I spent reading about past events in my life -- even the best past events -- was preventing me from engaging in the best present events. A thought I drafted earlire summed it up pretty well; that is, "If each day of my life is well spent, as it should be, then it will constantly be filled with worthwhile experiences and lessons and there will be no need to sit and read about times past, because I will be living out times present, enjoying the beauty that our God has placed upon us and doing the work that he has established for our hands!" (See Psalms 90:12-17).

Yet.. sometimes I write because I still see it as a service of love. To encourage and support my friends or family; to share experiences which I found meaningful and which others often find meaningful as well if I share them. So this is not the end of writing.. just some thoughts on the subject that I found worth putting words to.

Hoy en Nicaragua

I awoke to the sound of people waking, and following the example set by my roommates I turned over lazily, letting the fan blow lukewarm air across my body. In a few minutes I would get up, check my email on my iPod and hop on the bus to the market in Masaya...
The fan shut off and I lazily noted that I hadn´t sensed anyone near the switch when it happened. Hot air settled oppresively across me and the sheet clung to my skin. I sat up, resolving to climb down from my bunk in a minute, and heard a voice say, "there´s no electricty; the internet´s not working." darn it. I climbed down and threw on a shirt, grabbing some córdobas from my locker that refuses to lock and shoving them into my cargo pocket. Ready to leave.
Wait. That´s no way to start the day. I sat down and prayed, then found my pocket new testament. 1 Timothy. Proverbs 12.. then 13. then 14. I find it hard to stop reading Proverbs once I start. Matthew 5-6. Psalms 10-11. I suddenly realized that the sound I had been hearing, which I thought was rain, was actually th fans which had turned back on in the other room. I wanted to check my iPod. Psalms 12-15. A little meditation. Alright.
Check email, talk to Erica, a girl who explored the bible with me a couple days ago, and reply to email after searching out some recently noticed verses. It´s afternoon, but the morning seems to have been quite well spent.
For some reason, I was not excited to go to Masaya, but I was excited for the day. Yesterday I realized how proundly good of a friend God is- He doesn´t repeat matters but covers our transgression. Each day is a new day, but sometimes its hard to feel that it´s truly a chance to start over, as if nothing in the past matters whatsoever. But today that´s how I felt. My attitute was turned around. I thanked God for my opportunity to be in Nicaragua, for the opportunity to love long distance, and for the beautiful day, and I truly meant it all. And I asked Him to show me how to make the best of my time here, because this is where I am, now.
I got on the bus and the elderly driver left. People sifted through the doors and sat down. When the same woman who came on yesterday to sell her baked goods came on again today, I did not ignore her like yesterday out of embarassment over my Spanish.
"Cuantas?" I asked cheerfully.
"Dos córdobas." That´s about ten cents US money.
"Me gustaría dos," I replied, handing her a ten. "No necesito esto," I added as she pulled out a plastic bag. She handed me two small pastries in the bag as well as six córdobas back.
The bus sat there for a long time without the driver and I began to feel more and more than thi wasn´t the day to go to Masaya. A man with a hugely inflated neck stepped onto the bus. He spoke clearly to the passengers, and to my surprise I understood almost everything he said.
"I have a large tumor," he told his audience. "It´s only through the grace of God, and of you all, that I am alive and can afford medicine." His speech was short and too the point, and his delivery was gracious, polite and matter-of-fact. At the end of his speech I removed my hand from the pocket that had the ten in it for the bus fare, which I was going to give him, and instead reached into my cargo pocket and gave him most of the money I was going to take to the market in Masaya. As he passed onward I stepped off the bus and walked away.
"Vas a Masaya?" Asked a vendor. Often rightly so, the people here tend to assume I have no clue what I am doing and explain in simple terms how to go about getting on the correct bus, only occassionally implying that it would be nice if I gave them a small tip in exchange for their tips.
"No. No voy a ir a Masaya hoy. Posible voy a ir mañana." Maybe tomorrow.
I walked convictedly in the direction of a bakery I saw during the bus ride yesterday. As I got closer I took a detour into a park to loiter for a while. After all I had the whole rest of the day to fill.
A man motioned me and I hesitantly approached. He spoke only in Spanish, but I´ll try to translate what I understood.
Where are you coming from, he asked. Costa Rica. Here for two more weeks, then going back to Costa Rica. He explained something, and the jist of it seemed to be that Nicaragua was more relaxed and less expensive than Costa Rica. Aqui, solo necesito dos córdobas para comprar pan y uno para agua. Si, si. He only needs three córdobas to buy a meal. Necesitas ahora, señor? Do you need a little money right now? I pulled out the six córdobas I recieved as change.
He only needed two. Es bien, you can take them all.
He was trying to tell me something, and I noticed that I was refusing to understand as a safety mechanism. He was definitely saying that I should come with him and he´d buy me something to eat or drink with the money I gave him. Cautiously I followed, keeping a keen eye on my surroundings and him. He stepped into a store. Stores here are tiny rooms guarded by massive metal gateways. Sometimes you can´t go in, but can only hand cash through a small opening in the gate and have your purchase handed out. This store had two gates, one at the entrance that was open and one in front of the counter which was not. My soon-to-be friend opened his wallet, pulled out a 50, handed it in and recieved change as well as two glass bottles of Coca Cola. We left the store and sat on the curb just outside. He seemed truly to just want to enjoy a conversation.
I told him more. I was from the US, and was going to return by plane from Costa Rica in two weeks. He has never been on a plane, but has walked all over his country. Solamente de pies. Only by foot. He has three children, who live in Costa Rica now. I have a sister que vive en las montañas de los Estados Unidos y esta una estudiante. Y una novia que no he visto para tres semanas. And a girlfriend I haven´t seen in three months.
"Tienes una novia!" He seemed truly overjoyed and slapped me on the back.
I don´t remember how the conversation progressed, but a minute later he was crying. I thought his wife had died a year ago, and his heart had died with her. Finally I understood. He had a heart condition and would die within a year. His eyes were red and tears streamed down his face. I hated that I had to ask him to repeat it several times before I understood. Then I just put my arm on his back, trusting that it was the right thing to do. A few minutes later, and we had shared our belief in God and eternity. I struggled to translate a portion of Psalm 103. Las dias de hombres estan como un flor... pero el... el... bien del Señor es para siempre y siempre."
"es eterno."
"Si.. la alma.. es eterno."
Shortly he apologized and wiped his eyes on his shirt.
"Cuando vuelves a Estados Unidos, que cases a su novia." When you get back to the US, marry your girlfriend. Tears lingered in his eyes, and I felt some forming in mine.
"Si, me gustaría a.. a.. hacer eso." Yeah, I would like...uh.. to do that.
The conversation moved on. "Be safe," seemed to be his primary message. En la día, I´m ok. Por el noche, I need to stay in the hostal. "Porque--" He pointed to my eyes, then to the blue building across from us. He pointed at the skin on his arms, then to his short black hair, then to my long brownish hair. It seemed he didn´t think I was getting the point, so I wondered if I was getting the point. Using almost entirely hand motions, he repeated the same gestures and smacked the back of his neck, then one hand into another. I began to equate that motion with some form of violent death. "Me entiendes?" He seemed to be wearing himself out in fear that I didn´t get what he was saying. "Entiendo," I insisted. "No voy a ir afuera del hostal en la noche. Porque quiero a volver a los Estados Unidos para-"
"-para casar con su novia."
"Si. por eso razón voy a usar..."
"su inteligencia."
"exactamente."
"Y no salgas afuera en el noche." Finally seeming satisfied, he continued. Why am I in Nicaragua? I want to learn more Spanish and travel outside the US and Canada for the first time. Maybe I´ll go to León.
"Don´t go to León." He smacked his hands together. "Stay in Granada. If you want to learn Spanish, I have a friend who can teach you. She´s a profesor at a school here. We went to his friend´s house together. A middle-aged woman opened the locked metal door and we went in and sat down on rocking chairs near the doorway. He explained that I wanted to learn Spanish and she explained that she already teaches at two school and has no time. Eventually she directed us to a nearby school.
Manuel, my friend, came inside with me and we were asked to sit down on rocking chairs. "I´ll talk first, since it is easier for them to understand me, and then you talk," Manuel told me. "Entiendes?" Do you understand?" Si.
The kindly man who seated us returned with paperwork. Manuel spoke to him, then I took over, explaining that I want to study for a week and stay with a family, if possible. Somehow this man, who introduced himself as Juan Carlos, made me feel as if I could speak and understand perfectly already. We conversed about everything and unlike Manuel, who spoke loudly and choppily in an attempt to help me understand, he spoke deliberately and clearly at a moderate pace. I would start on Monday at 8 am and would study for four hours each day. My host family should avoid cheese and all dairy products if at all possible, and I would be able to volunteer teaching English or working with youth in some other capacity with my evenings.
"Muchas gracias," I said to Manuel as we left. "Estas mi mejor amigo en Nicaragua." I was slightly overcome by the fact that my sucess in signing up to study Spanish left him completely overjoyed. We walked back to the park, and a few things stick out from the rest of our conversation.
Manuel works in construction, but he himself lives in a plastic shack. For him, it is important to do what he can for those who have less than him. I told him the story of the man on the bus, and how I had given him most of my money but was glad that I did because then I left the bus and met him and got to sign up at the school.
"Si, solamente me gusta ayudar los otros que tienen menos que yo."
"Me tambien. Y es importante tambien para mi novia. Es una de los cosas sobre ella que me gusta mucho."
I wish, said Manuel, that I could afford to fly to the US to be at your wedding. It´s going to be una gran fiesta. Look up at the sky, he told me, and wave hello.
I will, I promised. Siempre voy a recordarte. I´ll take a moment away from the party to wave hello to my best friend from Nicaragua.
But for now, I hope to see Manuel again each day of next week. We agreed to meet at the park a cinco y media - 5:30 - so he can see how my progress is going in school.

Tres dias en Costa Rica

Who knew I´d be more bored in Costa Rica than at home?

As it turns out, it rains a lot here during the rainy season. And, it gets dark by around six o clock!

My hosts are nice, but one is not here much, one is going loco concerning his exciting but stressful new job situation and is not up for much conversation, and the third teaches online english lessons for five hours a day. Today she had the day off, and she took me to downtown San Jose. I ate a delicious breakfast from a bakery -- spicy potatoes baked into doughy bread; and we went to the central market. I had the equivilant of about 12 cents since my debit card would not work in the ATM and couldn´t buy anything, though I tried to hold polite conversations with a few kind vendors. Being on a tour, I did not wander aimlessly like I would if by myself or with Alyssa, so, shortly, we headed back. Sadly I was back in the smoke filled apartment before one o`clock.

What to do with all the time? Until I have memorized every verse in the bible there is something worthwhile to do. I felt very rewarded for doing so. So often there is a bible verse that I want to employ in a certain moment.. I feel that many of the ideas are written the tablet of my heart but now some more of the specific words are too. Having specific words on call to confirm and explicate an idea that is already on my heart definitely gives more power to that concept. Specific words can powerfully combat any oposing sentiment that creeps in to undermine the difficult path to Godliness, whereas a poweful idea left vague or unsubstantiated can be caught speechless and defenseless. I´ve noticed that selfish thoughts sometimes indulge themselves in lengthy mental orations if only because Godly inclinations have not yet learned the few words powerful enough to give expression to such greatness. But those words exist, and time spend alone in solitude need not be a missed opportunity but perhaps a very necessary one. Even in the exciting new location of Costa Rica, surely an hour spent in a quiet room reading and memorizing scripture is an hour very well spent.

He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor punished us according to our iniquities.
For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is His mercy towards those who fear Him.

As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our iniquities from us.

For as a father pities his children, so the LORD has pity on those who fear Him.

For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.

As for man, his days are like grass. As the flower of the field, so a man flourishes,

The wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more,

but from everlasting to everlasting are the LORD´s mercies to those who fear him, and his righteousness to children´s children.

Psalm 103:10-17.

The idea supported by these verses is simple, yet gains so much power when the mercy of God is specifically given expression in words. I am called to find within me or to call on God for the strength to forgive -- because I have been forgiven of far more than I have ever been asked to forgive. And my life is gone with a breath of wind, but at least my time on earth can be like a flower that brings beauty if I seek to be clothed in Godliness. My body is dust but into it has been breathed a spirit -- a spirit able to either to harm and cut down or heal and build up -- may God make me able to do the latter for the short time that this frame of dust supports the incredible capacity for it!

There is one more thing. I had no place to go upon leaving this couchsurfing host, and no idea where I would stay or how I would get there. On night one I shared my beliefs with my host and another athiest surfer after he asked about my Tour of Poverty shirt containing the verse from Matthew 25 - whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.

I spoke as candidly and honestly as I could, and since I didn´t feel I had the authority to try to speak words that I am only just learning and learning to have faith in, I just read some of the bible and let the words speak for themselves.

Peter (the other surfer) was definitely up for a polite conversation; I think that it helped that I was not trying to convince him of anything; just sharing candidly. Still, my faith felt too weak to do me any good, let alone to be shared with someone else.

That night, I prayed and read the bible and emailed Alyssa about my doubts and fears for the unknown three weeks of this trip. On day two, I returned to the apartment after a long walk and prayer eanestly, feeling better despite still having no idea where I would go when I left. Just then Kerensa came and started dishes. I finished up my thoughts and prayers and then headed to really talk with her for the first time. Almost completely without lead in, she suggested that I go to Nicaragua where things are cheaper and stay at the only place she ever stayed in the country during her own brief visits. It is a hostel owned by a Dutch lady.

"She is a very, very nice person," she explained. "She has been developing a program for local children that she supports through the hostel income."
"Can you volunteer there while you stay at the hostel?"

"Actually, it is encouraged and you will get a discount."

"Perfect! Just put me on a bus in the right direction!"
"That will be easy. It´s only about $9 to get there if you only take local busses. And, I never have any day off except for Sunday, but tomorrow is my five-month anniversary with my boyfriend so I took it off. he actually couldn´t get off until eight though, so I can take you to San Jose and show you where to get on the bus and just show you around."

So... tomorrow it´s off to Nicaragua!