I told people I wasn't going to use Facebook or Blogger while I was here. I lied. There is too much to write about, too much to be said, and too many awesome moments not to share. (And yes, I will explain my extended hiatus from the written world in a later, soul-baring post. Fret not.)
To back up: I feel as if my life might be a remake of the game "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?" (Does that game reference make me old? It makes me feel old...). I have some friends whom I accidentally neglected to tell about my little journey halfway across the world. Not that it surprised them in the least, anyone who knows me knows that I am a wanderer - something which has only been confirmed the longer I live and the more places I see. I can't help it, it's who God has made me to be - it's the only thing I know.
There are people like my grandfather (whom I love very dearly): He is the kind of man who is perfectly happy to stay in one place for his whole life. He was born and raised in the midwest. He never lived further than one state away from where he was born. He's not much for traveling. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't live in a cave or under a rock. He'd just rather read about, see pictures of, or hear from other people who have been to other places, and not have to go himself. I have a lot to learn from my grandfather about contentedness and perseverance.
Then there are people like my parents (whom I also love dearly): They like to travel. Recreationally. To fun and beautiful places. Our family vacations involved road trips, airplane rides, train rides... all sorts of transportation to all sorts of places. (Well, mostly places we could camp and be outside, but that's what you get when Colorado hippies take family vacations. Who ever liked vacations inside anyways?) They enjoy it for what it is: a brief experience into a new place and (perhaps) a new culture, for a short time. Then they return home and get on with life. I have a lot to learn from my parents about stability and practicality.
And then there are people like me: People who travel to infuse their blood with life and vigor. People whose passport is in their top five list of most valuable possessions. My fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants and throw-caution-to-the-wind attitude is distinctly tied to the wandering, nomadic part of my soul. I desire to (figuratively) get my hands on as much people, place, culture, and experience as I can possibly have in this short life. And so I am here. Halfway across the world (well, technically I'm exactly 1/3 of the way around, if you go by time zones), reflecting on who I am and what on earth brought me here.
As I sit on a couch that does not belong to me, in a country where I do not speak the language, having had experiences I did not expect, challenges I did not foresee, and blessings I could never have imagined, with another month of living in this place, I cannot help but feel oddly at home in the chaos of this rhythm.
Plan (optional). ;)
Pack.
Stamp the passport.
Wonder at a new place.
Gospel.
Laugh.
Be absolutely, utterly alive.
Learn.
Praise the God of the Universe.
Repack.
Breathe.
Have airport adventures.
Pray.
Hear "Welcome Home" from the US Customs agent.
Smile.
Cry.
Pray.
Breathe.
Unpack.
Cry.
Open a new tab on my web browser for the Kayak Explore Website.
Plan (optional).
Repeat.
It's a lifestyle that seems to make some people uncomfortable. I can understand that. There are things I sacrifice to live the way I do. But it's the most honest reflection of who God has created me to be, of the gifts and passions he has given me. This, I think, is going to be my life for the foreseeable future. With that, I'll tell you I'm somewhere in the middle of the wondering/laughing/praising/learning phase. And I'll leave you with this small anecdote:
Today, I went to a local gathering of believers, where we sang songs of praise and adoration to our God. In a room of less than 100 people, there were songs being sung in at least 4 languages, with at least 6 (and almost surely more) people groups represented. What a tangible representation of the God who is working in the world, and what a marvelous taste of the splendors of heaven!
To back up: I feel as if my life might be a remake of the game "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?" (Does that game reference make me old? It makes me feel old...). I have some friends whom I accidentally neglected to tell about my little journey halfway across the world. Not that it surprised them in the least, anyone who knows me knows that I am a wanderer - something which has only been confirmed the longer I live and the more places I see. I can't help it, it's who God has made me to be - it's the only thing I know.
There are people like my grandfather (whom I love very dearly): He is the kind of man who is perfectly happy to stay in one place for his whole life. He was born and raised in the midwest. He never lived further than one state away from where he was born. He's not much for traveling. Don't get me wrong, he doesn't live in a cave or under a rock. He'd just rather read about, see pictures of, or hear from other people who have been to other places, and not have to go himself. I have a lot to learn from my grandfather about contentedness and perseverance.
Then there are people like my parents (whom I also love dearly): They like to travel. Recreationally. To fun and beautiful places. Our family vacations involved road trips, airplane rides, train rides... all sorts of transportation to all sorts of places. (Well, mostly places we could camp and be outside, but that's what you get when Colorado hippies take family vacations. Who ever liked vacations inside anyways?) They enjoy it for what it is: a brief experience into a new place and (perhaps) a new culture, for a short time. Then they return home and get on with life. I have a lot to learn from my parents about stability and practicality.
And then there are people like me: People who travel to infuse their blood with life and vigor. People whose passport is in their top five list of most valuable possessions. My fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants and throw-caution-to-the-wind attitude is distinctly tied to the wandering, nomadic part of my soul. I desire to (figuratively) get my hands on as much people, place, culture, and experience as I can possibly have in this short life. And so I am here. Halfway across the world (well, technically I'm exactly 1/3 of the way around, if you go by time zones), reflecting on who I am and what on earth brought me here.
As I sit on a couch that does not belong to me, in a country where I do not speak the language, having had experiences I did not expect, challenges I did not foresee, and blessings I could never have imagined, with another month of living in this place, I cannot help but feel oddly at home in the chaos of this rhythm.
Plan (optional). ;)
Pack.
Stamp the passport.
Wonder at a new place.
Gospel.
Laugh.
Be absolutely, utterly alive.
Learn.
Praise the God of the Universe.
Repack.
Breathe.
Have airport adventures.
Pray.
Hear "Welcome Home" from the US Customs agent.
Smile.
Cry.
Pray.
Breathe.
Unpack.
Cry.
Open a new tab on my web browser for the Kayak Explore Website.
Plan (optional).
Repeat.
It's a lifestyle that seems to make some people uncomfortable. I can understand that. There are things I sacrifice to live the way I do. But it's the most honest reflection of who God has created me to be, of the gifts and passions he has given me. This, I think, is going to be my life for the foreseeable future. With that, I'll tell you I'm somewhere in the middle of the wondering/laughing/praising/learning phase. And I'll leave you with this small anecdote:
Today, I went to a local gathering of believers, where we sang songs of praise and adoration to our God. In a room of less than 100 people, there were songs being sung in at least 4 languages, with at least 6 (and almost surely more) people groups represented. What a tangible representation of the God who is working in the world, and what a marvelous taste of the splendors of heaven!
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