one more post

This post is for two people: Matheo Gavilano and Scott Aronson

I've been watching a lot of tennis on ESPN2. I've gotten so into it that I actually can't wait until the next match. Yesterday there was a woman's tennis match on, and it was awesome (yes scott, not only tennis on TV, but WOMAN'S tennis). Best of 3 sets. Sharapova versus Golovin. Golovin was down one set, and down 5-1 in the second set. She saved 4 match points, and then proceeded to come back and win the set. Incredible. There were points where I had to stand up off the couch. She later rolled her ankle and tore two ligaments, but the match was unbelievable.

So now you know how low I've gone. I'm interested in Woman's tennis.

ESPN and ESPN2 and ESPN

I've been reading a book that a friend told me about called "Open Veins of Latin America". It's a pretty heavy book that so far has done quite a bit of bashing on Capitalism and what it has done to Latin America (Matheo, you would love this book). Some of the stuff is really good, and some a little off base, but for the most part it gives a pretty accurate history. The rich and the powerful feed on the poor and powerless, it's the basic story of life for much of the world. I saw a demotivational poster for sale that said it quite well

in case you can't read it, it says "A company that will go to the ends of the earth for its people will find it can hire them for about 10% of the cost of Americans"

As for me, other than reading and sleeping, I've been watching a lot of ESPN. In the morning I wake up and watch SportsCenter on ESPN. After SportsCenter, I might watch it again, or I might change the channel to ESPN2. Either way, I watch more sports. After that I watch Pardon the Interruption on ESPN, and then flip back to ESPN2 to make sure I'm not missing anything. If I have any energy left after all that, I may or may not watch College Gameday on ESPN. Then I sleep. Then I eat. Then I check to see if my eyes are white yet, which they never are. But they are more white, which is always encouraging.

By the way, to all my students, the Final Four is a little whacky this year. I told you that usually 2 number "1" seeds make it to the Final Four, which is usually true....but not this year. I suggest getting together on Saturday and rooting for George Mason, the team that shouldn't be there. And the Illini got screwed, they should totally be in the final four, just in case you didn't know....

an email, nature, plazas, and chaotic thoughts

I've been wanting to write for a while about some of the events of the last week and a half. Now I don't care to mention them at all. I got an email today that was titled "You are leaving the 21st". Before even opening it, my heart dropped. I didn't actually expect this to happen. The nightmare turned reality. Even when I wrote home and asked someone to find a flight, I thought it was just words and words don't have much power, right? Something would change and I would end up being alright, without any sickness, my liver perfectly healthy. Just a big scare, another lesson in trusting God.

The title of the email couldn't actually be right, so I opened it up. Crap. Crap. Crap. No Way. Tears flooded my eyes, but I'm way too tough to cry in the office so I held them back and tried to focus on the screen and on the words and I couldn't but I tried and tried and tried. I swore in my head, twice, three times, four times, five times, and then closed the window and left the office to the fresh air where nature could refresh me and revive me and beat me once again. God I love nature.

I left the school to go get my test results. Why do I have to carry them? Why can't the dumb lab send them to the doctor. Now I have two trips instead of one. Why am I so cranky? I got the results and opened them as soon as I got outside. Medical words in Spanish made it much more difficult, but I got the gist from looking at the Bilirrubina and other numbers. I'm still really sick, my liver isn't doing its job. I had time before the doctor got to see the numbers, so I walked over to a nearby plaza and sat down. God I love plazas.

My usually simple thoughts were no longer simple. I was sad. I was happy. I was relieved. I was grateful to my family, they care so much, way too much, they're too good to me. I was mad. I was excited. I was sad. So damn sad. I thought back to the Bolivian Dodgeball tournament I played in two weekends ago with my students, and how we made it to the championship game out of 13 schools, and I got sad. I thought about when I listened to an Aymara priest talk about the beliefs in the Campos, and I was thankful I got to hear it. I thought about the near raping under my Terraza the other night, and I was glad I was there at that moment in that exact place. I thought about the Mountaineering Club and their trip this weekend with the Shoe Shiner guys, and I got more sad. So damn sad. Am I being the biggest wimp by not going? I know I could go, I know I could make it down that trail. Why am I being a panzy? Then I thought about my students and how I'm leaving them and how I have to say goodbye TOMORROW because many of them will be gone on the Mountaineering Trip on Monday, and the sadness hit a new level, and the tears came. Oh man. Then I thought about how I'm gonna see my brother and sister and mom and dad and new sister and spend time with all of them, and I felt a bit better, a bit happier. Then I thought about all I had to do before I left. Why am I sitting here thinking and feeling and watching the little kids play soccer, when I have so much to do? oh yeah, I love plazas. I sat there for the next hour.

I then went to the doctor. Good news. Bad news. News. I am closer than I could have imagined to really screwing things up. Relief. There is still hope and I will still recover, if I can not be stupid. I have to be careful. I am sicker than I thought. No room for error. Por lo menos, un mes en la cama. I'm glad I have a plane ticket for Tuesday. I am sad.

Now I have to tell people. I have to find a way to say good-bye to my home, to my family. I may never come back. I'm confused and I wish it could be easier, but it can't. It never is. If it were easy it wouldn't be very meaningful. I'm glad it's not easy. I thank God this will not be easy. If it were easy I would have to think that maybe my time here was a waste. At least the hardness gives me hope that there was a purpose in me being here, that I served God and people with my heart. My heart that now feels so broken....

God I love life.

from writing book entry to blog entry

As I walked home tonight, I had thought after thought after thought. Every now and then, I have moments of clarity and this was one of them. The lightning and thunder shook the ground where I walked, yet it had not yet begun to rain. The air chilled by the second, yet I felt warm. I looked up at the sky and bolt after bolt lit up the darkness that surrounded me, while the deep roar shook my soul and spoke. At one moment, I saw a brilliant, neonic, white, etch it's way jaggedly through the blackness. It did it so slowly that I can trace it in my mind. It stayed for so long that I thought time stopped. If only time had really stopped....if only i needn't be bound by past, present, and future. If only.

Pain can be so deep it can cripple us. Sorrow can be so sad it can kill us. I looked into the eyes of a young mother over the weekend, and saw what I frequently see in eyes: intense hurt. I didn't hear much of what she had to say, but I saw her saying it. Her eyes told the story for her, as they often do, and once again my heart ached and my head throbbed. Why can't it all stop, just for a short time? All of the oppression, all of the mourning, and all of the evil. This isn't how it's supposed to be. And it can be better, that I truly believe. Maybe I've become a litttle bit of an idealist without realizing it. When did I start to dream in such big proportions? Who's to blame, or who can I go out and thank? If only time had stopped when the lightning traced its path through the sky. If only.

Ecclesiastes 7:2-4 "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning."

James 4:9 "Grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up."

Psalm 34:18 " The LORD is close tot he brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Before I finished my walk home, it began to rain. Typical. Soaking wet, I changed my clothes, and got myself relatively warm, only to be reminded once again of all those who would endure the cold, wet, night under a bridge somewhere. Worst of all, many without feeling loved and most without hope. I thought of yesterday, ash Wednesday, and began to really process the significance of Lent. I thought of Isaiah 58, which we just read at the Bakers the other night. It tells us that our fasting should lose the chains of injustice, set the oppressed free, break the yoke, share food with the hungry, provide shelter for the poor, clothe the naked, and not turn away from your own flesh and blood. This is the meaning of fasting, a meaning so deep I read the words again and again and again and still they refuse to seep into my innermost core. Fasting is meant to do all of that? Wow. I want that, that's what what my soul ultimately yearns for. To free the oppressed and in no way be the oppressor. To do that I have to be completely humble, with no power. Or in other words, be truly poor in spirit as Jesus was.

So in the spirit of Lent, truly think of the real meaning of "fasting". Go to the house of mourning, for God is near to the brokenhearted.

The rain has stopped.