Here We Go.

It's been precisely one week since I wearily dragged my feet down the empty, over lit halls of the Chiang Mai airport to catch a 2am flight back home. It's almost inconceivable to think that just seven days ago I was   used to things like bartering, being a minority, feeling like a child learning about the world for the first time, missing my family, and being incredibly comfortable and content in the community that was borne after four months with each other in a foreign country.

When we walked away I teared up, and since then I have not mourned. In fact, I have been surprised at how natural the adjustment has been, how normal America seems to me and how un-schocked I am at the culture and attitudes here.

At the same time, there are ways in which I have been permanently changed--things other than the fact that I can't stop eating everything with both a fork and a spoon like a Thai would; or how incredibly large American food seems to me now. Things like feeling as if I need to really pray and think before I purchase a new smartphone--asking God if this is actually the way in which he'd like me to spend the share of the world's money that he has so graciously lent to me. Things like how starkly in contrast my immediate impatience at silly things is to the relaxed and un-anxious person I had become after four months of losing all control I had over my schedule. Things like never, ever wanting to lay aside the intense servitude that was modeled to me by every Lao and Thai person I met. Things like taking every little decision a bit more seriously, and questioning whether every little thing I do is glorifying God and making him attractive, or whether it is about me.

Ironically, I believe that one of the largest things I learned from my experience abroad had almost nothing to do with Thailand at all. After spending four months with five brilliant, inspiring, humble and hilarious other students, I can honestly say they taught me more about myself and how to exist in relationships than I ever thought possible. I learned how valuable and difficult it is to "not be rash with my words." (Ecc. 5:2) I also learned how ridiculously individualistic I am by nature, and how blessed my life can be when I exist in an open and giving community.

Moreover, my faith has greatly increased--of course, it's had to. After witnessing some pretty emotionally traumatic things in succession--events that honestly caused me to question the goodness of God--he has really had to show me just how good he is. Just how huge, present and redemptive he is in the face of horrifying evil.

One of the most joyful times I had in Thailand was listening to the lengthy, foreign prayers of my brothers and sisters in Christ whom I could not understand. Thai, Lao and hilltribes alike all spend five times as long as myself, my church and most Christians I know do in prayer. Sometimes we'd wait for fifteen minutes while an entire congregation prayed together, at the same time. We'd hear their prayers, which sounded like speedy mumbles, cascade to the heavens; and at times we doubted whether God heard ever them. But the beautiful thing about these prayers was their reflection of God's greatness. Here, in a context so incredibly different from mine, my fellow followers were praising and asking things of the same God that is with me now as I determine my weekly schedule, balance my budget, and meet with friends I haven't seen in a while at restaurants more expensive and fancy than most of the people I encountered will ever, ever experience.

There, in the Karen tribe where two giant spiders scared the salt out of us girls trying to brush our teeth. There, where Saturday nights meant round circles full of songs with guitars and beating on sodapop cans. There, where women, children, and men are forced everyday to do acts that those of us in middle class America would rather not even think about.
There, where a world consists of limited opportunities and an inability to dream.
There, where I received more out of people's lack than I have ever been given from people's abundance.

God is there, watching, listening, moving, bringing justice, healing and reconciling people to him.

***

The funny thing is that, just before I left, I realized that this cyclical and enslaving evil also exists at home. In fact, it exists in my own life. I have a friend who has been addicted to heroin, shooting it intravenously, for over four years now. When we were eleven, she and I would spend hours dreaming about our future. She wanted to be an actress and I, a singer. The girl I knew back then was motivated, a social butterfly, and she was going places.

Ten years later, she has liver issues that will inevitably result in her death  unless she can kick one of the most addicting substances known to man. This girl has been plagued not only by her own flesh and desires, but coerced and taken under by evil. The further satan gets her into her addiction, the happier he is--just as he rejoiced when Moon's mom sold her into prostitution.

This same evil, in fact, exists in my very own heart. The evil that tells me my idols are more satisfying than God. The evil that causes me to judge others without grace. The evil that consciously chooses to sin rather then to repent and run to Him. The evil that keeps me lazy, keeps me detached and afraid of the call God has on my life. The evil that manifests itself in  "little things" like selfishness, impatience, and especially bitterness.

The tragedy that occurred in our country yesterday is a sobering reminder of what can happen when the sinful nature remains unattended to. I overheard two friends discussing the matter and asking, "How could someone do such a thing?"  Coming immediately back from a context in which four year old girls and six year old boys are sold to be raped, and where those same children are tortured and beat should they not preform their tasks as slaves correctly, I was surprised to find I was not shocked.

Heartbroken and led to tears, yes. But not shocked.

This evil that we think of--the ones my friends were questioning--it exists all around us, it exists inside of us. It is the reason why men kill children. It is the reason why slavery exists more in the world now than it ever has before. It is the reason why America consumes more of the worlds resources than any other country, even though we are outnumbered by aplenty (20%, that is). It is the reason why Eve ate the apple, and why Adam stood idly by and let her do it.

It is the reason why Jesus Christ died on a cross.

We believe in a God that looks that exact evil in the face and, instead of punishment, offers us free grace. That doesn't make any sense at all. But the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God. (Cor. 3:19) The "price" we pay is so little in that light, isn't it? The call to answer evil without fear, to live sacrificially and with more than gusto, whatever the Lord may have us do.The call to have our life be oriented in the way my little sister's Christmas recital sang about: "Jesus, others, than you." The call to be willing not only to die but to live for Him. And the call (which seems to be most difficult for me) to repent when there is sin and no, not dwell, not self help, not condemn or try to atone. But, in fact, to get out there and as David said immediately after repenting from killing a man who trusted him, "Tell transgressors of [His] ways."

Considering the sufferings of this world, it would be insane for a Christian to stand before a microphone and proclaim, "I consider the sufferings of the world nothing when compared with the glory that is to come." But that is exactly what Paul did in a world that is much like ours today. (Rmns 8:18) If this statement bears any truth, than (I'm sorry) but we have no excuse for paralyzing hesitance and fear. If it is true, than we hold the power to transform suffering. By the power of the holy spirit, we can answer evil at any cost, and we can do it fearlessly.

Well, Lord: Here we go.








,

I'll be home for Christmas...You can count on me.

One week left.

It’s amazing how unrealistic that feels right now. Like we still have another weekend, another adventure, another lesson to learn. And we do—just not here, not now, not anymore.

A large part of me is very scared to go home. To return to the go-go-go-ness of things. The stress, the time management, the control, the pressures. The worries, the concerns. The hard conversations I have to face. The relationship maintenance. The undeniable changes my heart has undergone, and how to relate to them in a new context with different eyes.

The opportunities that have opened up, the tasks God may call me to. The temptations to sinful luxuries, the crutch of convenience, the blindfolds that seem so comfortable when you are so far removed. The comforts—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. The power, and the temptation to abuse that power. The things I am not good at and all the talents I am called to use. The fact that it’s only three more semesters till graduation.

When I first began this journey—praying with my head in my hands in the middle of a chapel service—I had no idea what God had in store. Fun, yes, but maybe not a direction changer. Maybe not a reconstruction of my faith and a strengthening of my foundations. Maybe not five new relationships I would give a lot to plant in Washington State.

Today, we walked through Doi Inthanon—the highest mountain in Thailand. We were up so high evergreens were growing and the 55 degree weather made me freeze. There was a nature trail filled with moss infested trees and ferns, dewy wooden bridges and the chipper calls of forest birds. The sky was overcast and a tiny stream ran through the trail, making music on the rocks. All I could think of was home, home, home.

Home, where evergreens are aplenty and warm coffee awaits the cold on every corner. Home, where siblings have grown and changed and are in desperate need of cool Thai presents. Home, where comfy couches sit by foggy windows next to fire places. Home, where studying means espresso and the Temper Trap. Home, where God has called me for now, where God is still in control, and where God knew I would return to.

So, difficult as it may be—and heartbreaking as it is to leave my friends—one week and three flights more and I get to be at home. I know the Lord will bring me peace (he always does), but your prayers are still greatly appreciated.

…Perhaps in the next post he’ll tell me what this has all been about. ;)

Beauty Out of Dust

Hello! Sorry for the lack of posting in the last few weeks--we have been busy, busy, BUSY wrapping up our classes.

Nothing much has been happening around here, just lots of studying and watching movies for mental breaks.

One of our last classes, Thai Arts & Culture, required us to create an art project reflecting the themes of Thai art. Some frequent themes are the shape of the lotus flower, curves and swirls and intricate designs that only a master of Thai art would be able to accurately depict. In fact, in Thailand the only way to become an "independent" artist is to serve under the tutelage of an older master. Even then, the master is only passing on his knowledge to the student--the student can never surpass his master.

So, I decided to create a poem (go figure!). The poem I created, which I have posted below, is written in what is called Pantoum form. The form is from the late 16th century. It takes the 2nd and 4th line of each stanza and uses those lines as the 1st and 3rd for the next stanza. The second to last and final stanza are an odd and complex combination of both the first stanza and some other stuff...

I chose this form to pay homage to the intricate nature of Thai art that is so highly venerated here. The poem itself turned out to be a dialogue among six characters. First is the Raconteur, which is just a fancy name for storyteller or narrator. The second in appearance is Mara, who is the satanic figure in Buddhist tradition. This demon god was the same who tempted Buddha with his three daughters under the Bo tree where Buddha reached enlightenment. The third is Siddhartha, which is Buddha's birth name. Then come the Cowering Skulls, and I will let you read into that yourself. Next is Father, who is the first person of the trinity and lastly comes the Son of Man.

My intention with the poem was to illustrate the horrifying, powerful and strategic evil I have encountered in my time in SE Asia. From there, I sought to critique the Buddhist ideal of a human with no desires and how this philosophy completely invalidates suffering in general. When the Son of Man comes in, he is meant to validate the suffering of us poor sinners by not only acknowledging it but suffering for and with us. Finally, I wanted to discuss God's intention to use our tired, doubtful souls to relieve the suffering and injustice seen in this world.

In presenting the poem to my fellow students, it was insight-fully mentioned that the poem gave a good summary of all we have be learning and wrestling with this semester. There are many more personal allusions to my experience here, but I have a paper to write and need to make this short. :)

I will say this, though: we have been asked many times to preform songs at random churches, and have since the beginning of the semester preformed Gungor's "Beautiful Things." Who knew that song would actually teach me so much this semester.

Without further ado:

Have you passed through this night?

Raconteur:

Have you passed through this night?

With eyes wide open or half closed?

Is there anything left that is right?

Or is morality strictly imposed?

Mara:

With eyes wide open, half closed

I take, I deceive, I make bleed.

Morality is strictly imposed.

So what, for Truth, do I have need?

I take, I deceive, I make bleed.

Confidence is so easily lost…

So what, for Truth, do I have need?

Allegiance has a very cheap cost.

Confidence is so easily lost!

Preying on those with no defense,

allegiance has a very cheap cost.

Do I make no sense?

Preying on those with no defense,

those destitute, dismal dulls.

Does it make no sense,

to feed on their cowering skulls?

Raconteur:

Those destitute, dismal dulls.

The ones with no power and no luck.

To feed on their cowering skulls?

…They fall without having to be struck.

Siddhartha:

Those with no power, no luck,

Need not to lament.

They fall without having to be struck,

because they, on silly desire, depend.

Cowering Skulls:

Need not lament, you say?!

Than you, I dare, take our place!

Because we, on ‘silly desire’ depend,

for us, there is no grace?

Father:

Than you, I ask, take their place.

Pass through the night wide awake.

For them, there is no grace,

unless the earth, for your blood, quakes.

Son of man:

Pass through the night wide awake?

Of this, I am willing.

Unless the earth, for my blood, quakes

they’ve no chance to meet the King.

Of this, I am willing.

Hear, ye cowering skulls,

ye, who’ve no chance to meet the King:

Your demerits will be null.

                                    

Hear, ye cowering skulls,

ye trembling and ye lost,

your demerits will be null.

Though free, this has a high cost.

Ye trembling, ye lost,

my riches, neither silver or gold.

Though free, they have a high cost--

take heart, justice will come tenfold.

My riches, neither silver or gold,

but the power to expel fears.

Take heart, justice will be tenfold--

if you are my eyes and my ears.

The power to expel fears,

to count, by hand, the least of these.

If you are my eyes and my ears,

than suffering and chaos shall ease.

Cowering Skulls:

To count, by hand, the least of these,

seems a task too great.

If injustice, suffering and chaos shall ease

when will our darkness abate?

Son of man:

Seems a task too great,

you say, with doubt lining your tongue.

When will your darkness abate?

When you and I are one.

Cowering skulls:

We speak with doubt lining our tongues:

you would use those as simple as us?

When you and I are one,

we, too, can make beauty of dust?

…You would use those as simple as us.

We, who are easily distracted.

We, too, could make beauty of dust,

if only this nature were extracted.

Son of man:

You, who are easily distracted,

you need not deny your heart.

If all this nature were extracted,

the desires I put inside you would also depart.

Cowering skulls:

We need not deny our hearts, you say?

But this is all we know!

These desires you’ve put inside us,

they gave us many years of woe.

This is all we know:

that love is but a lie.

It gave us many years of woe

and countless laws to abide by.

Son of man:

Love is but a lie?

No, you’ve not seen pure Love.

The many laws you abide by

are the chains I’ve come to free you of.

No, you’ve not seen pure Love.

For it comes only from me.

The chains I’ve come to free you of,

are the earthen roots of the Bo tree.

Cowering Skulls:

For it can only come from thee?

If this indeed, is true,

the chains you’ve come to free us of

are weakened only by you.

For it can only come from thee!

There is plenty left that is right!

If this, indeed, is true,

you have passed through this night.

Copyright Lyric Hammond 2012 

Stop This Train

It'll be exactly 30 days until I fly home. That realization, of late, has been staring me straight in the face-- wanting peace, resolution and most of all control. Wanting to be prepared, to be unafraid, and trusting.

I am so excited to leave, and yet so despaired to be leaving. I do need prayers for peace and preparedness.

In the meantime: A couple of weeks ago we went on vacation after our practicums and we got to visit Phuket and Bangkok. We flew, took a bus and even a boat on vacation but we got the lovely opportunity to take a 15 and half hour train ride back to our center in Chiang Mai. This turned out to be  the most comprehensive and breathtaking ways to see the Thai countryside. Exhausted, in need of sleep and completely excited to be there, I wrote this poem on the train "home" and felt compelled to share it tonight.

Thailand by Train

At night: so dark.

Tiny bursts of light peep through the deep purple.

Are they lightening bugs?

Or are they stars.

The awkward blur

Of city lights

As we pass,

Honking,

By.

The murmur of sleepy voices beyond my curtain.

Beyond my privacy

Beyond my dreams.

And the calm realization that I’m living them.

Further, still, into the darkness,

We pass the moonlit hills of this

ancient soil.

Hills wrought with moss,

Blackened by stone and smoke from village life.

I fade, unwillingly,

Unto a dozy trance as the stars float by my window,

And think of the past.

A wind just cool enough to be relieved by a thin blanket.

A sigh, a yawn or two…

___

In the morning,

When Heaven’s only Sun buzzes

bright enough--at last--

to penetrate these eyelids,

I am awoken to nothing but green, green, green.

The green of the banana leaves, yes,

And their vastness, compared with the rest.

The green of the palm trees

tall and pointed,

Shading the villagers and the bugs.

But green, most of all, of the rice field.

Lined with small, separating water paths.

Large enough only for a Thai

To water, nurture, and harvest in the fall.

Dusted by different shades of the color:

Si keow, si yellow, si tan—

Swaying as we pass by them.

Embodying an entire continent’s livelihood, work (love) and pride.

I am greeted also by the familiar music of tropical insects.

The cricket, and gecko, and cockroach too.

By a subai sawat-dee

And a hot cup of tea.

Now, I know, it won’t be long.

Until we reach our destination.

Until the sun turns from friend to hot enemy.

Until the many worries of a student’s busy life vie, valiantly,

for my attention.

But until then I will

Stare at these tall hills

In shady green

Hiding the mysteries of Thai jungle.

I will breath in, slowly, the oxygen that they so graciously pass on.

I will smile to my friends

And laugh at our memories,

Resting, waiting, thinking,

On a train towards Chiang Mai.

Gonna miss this.

Eyes Wide Open

In a country surrounded by other countries surrounded by other countries that is permeated with corruption, wrought with complex layers of evil and hardened by years of denying Christ, it is hard for one to remember who is in charge.

In the midst of walking yet another temple today, watching old women, men and young children bow down before golden idols and pray to demons, a detached sense of sorrow filled what was left of my faithful heart.

Even looking out my window here in Thailand I am berated by the worship of other Gods--Buddha, wisdom, knowledge. On every corner, in every home, there is perched a small spirit house where offerings to angry spirits are consistently renewed. In the artwork on the streets, the attitudes of the people, the concepts pervasive within the culture...there is so much evil.

There takes place a huge cultural shift that exists for a Christian who, indeed, became a Christian in a country that is most commonly described as "Christian"--how ever false or nominal that may be.

In class we have been discussing--talking ourselves in circles, rather--the complex nature of development work for a Christian. The debate between the dualistic nature of the action. Which is our focus: physical, economic and social needs or the saving of the soul? How do they go hand and hand? What if they don't? All week long the Spirit in side me has been turning upside down and inside out each time the Gospel is lowered or equated with something it should not be. Each time I am humbled by Scripture I do not fully understand, or experience I cannot argue with.

So even when I study, for hours, and run my findings by people with PhDs and years of experience, one simple class discussion later I can be left baffled by both the evil in this world and the fact that I am not quite sure how I, as a Christian, am supposed to respond to it. What if I focus too much on the physical and forget what Jesus died for? What if I preach the Gospel and miss relationship and the chance to relieve suffering or injustice? What if helping hurts?

Of course, these fears and worries and concerns can be paralyzing. But the task at hand is such that it should be taken seriously.

But then, I am reminded simply by songs I've only ever heard in a Chapel in Kirkland, Washington what the Truth is. I think of the girls I saw nervously bowing before the golden hand of an enlightened Buddha and I hear His voice say, with all the power in the world,

 "I am Yaweh, I am eternal, I am reigning, have reigned, and will reign forever."

...Those words are no less true a million miles away from the shelter of my suburban home, in an environment that is so clearly anti-Christian I sometimes forget what American churches look like and imagine temples instead.

He has watched me watch broken hearts unfold and not be healed, but remain in darkness. He has seen the same children as I, begging for money on the street so that their parents can support their drug habits. He felt the fear and heartache of my innocent friends when corruption manipulated, exploited  and oppressed them. He knows that his children are crying out from every corner of this world for mercy from oppressors and relief from injustice. He sees genocide and knows it the smell of dead, rotting human bodies killed by the force of unbridled sinful nature. He is not stupid or ignorant and, unlike the "serene" Buddha,

 HE DOES NOT SIT ON A THRONE WITH HIS EYES HALF CLOSED.

Instead he is here with me, and there with them, and with you. In the midst of our confusion, our overwhelmingly complex systems of ministry and our oversimplification of the nature of human sin and reconciliation to God. He watches me struggle with these ridiculously hard concepts and these new things he keeps throwing at me. He sees pain, feels it in the way that we do. He has experienced it. And my word, he is SUCH a better God for that.

Tonight he reminds me in a gentle voice but with SO much power: "I have never, ever changed. I validate the suffering in this world and without me it has no answer, without me there is no relief. I have come, am coming and am already there. I reign."

Not the corrupt rulers and passive leaders that seem to be in charge. Not the money hungry, power loving temporal humans that make rash decisions and don't care who they hurt. Not the rulers of countries that call themselves Christian. Not the men who make laws to protect the people and kill them in secret. Not powerful who exploit the weak. Not the ones who brainwash for control, or even close their countries to the rest of the world. Not the demons that hurt those who do not know Christ. Not  the evil cycles, the enslaving diminished sense of self, the intricate and strategic evil that bears down on humans. Not sin. Not the dichotomy of the Fall. Not the lawmakers, armies, weapons, or brains of this world.

Satan, you are not winning this one; no matter what this world looks like. I know it with all my heart: His eyes are wide open.

Tomorrow Isn't Monday/28 Days Later/Every Little Helps

I watched her raise her hand, three fingers stood tall while her thumb and pointer formed a shaky circle. She put her other hand on my low back, as always, and smiled. “It’s okay.” She said quietly, and tears filled her brown eyes.

Slowly they sank down her freckled cheek and were quickly dried by the Asian sun. “It’s okay,” She repeated, squeezing my hand, “Tomorrow is Monday.”

***

Well, tomorrow wasn’t Monday. Tomorrow was Saturday, and Friday was the last day I spent—and very well may ever spend—in Laos.

It’s amazing to me how attached I became to the environment, culture, and people of Laos in a mere twenty eight days.

***

Gods’ power is  this:

That even in the midst of my sin

Even concerning the most evil passions of my heart

Even beside all these lies I am told and believe

Even when I cannot, or do not, or will not

See His grace

Even when I consider myself as nothing

Even when I am cornered by condemnation,

Or devastated by despair,

Or distracted by temptation,

Enslaved to entitlement,

Controlled by anxiety,

Berated by doubts,

Too skeptical to trust,

Hardened, willingly.

Even in my outright disobedience,

In my sleepless nights of fear,

In my confusion,

Mistakes,

Or poor decisions.

Even in my immaturity,

My broken, empty promises,

My bargaining,

My divisive judgementalism

My pride, which permeates even the most

“Earnest” of actions.

Even in my slothfulness,

My lack of motivation.

My moments of rage at Him,

At you,

At the Church,

At myself.

My months—or years—of bitterness.

Even in my forgetfulness,

My assumptions,

My ignorance.

Even when he calls me outward and I am

SO.

INCREDIBLY.

INWARDLY FOCUSED.

Even though my past so often defines my present,

And future.

Even though I only seldom recognize his miracles and given him praise.

Even though I try to atone for my transgressions.

Even though my flesh and the enemy tell me none of this is true.

Even though it has only been two years:

HE USES ME.

He uses me for God honoring relationships.

He uses me to teach.

He uses me to laugh and be laughed at.

He uses me to spread joy.

He uses me to inspire others—

Individuals who otherwise may never know what they are capable of.

He uses me for healing,

For reconciliation.

He uses me to be an extension of his perfect, heavenly grace.

He uses me to talk and to listen at just the right moments.

To tell his sons and daughters across the world that they are loved and blessed,

In the midst of painful persecution.

He uses me to promote peace, forgiveness, selflessness, unity.

He uses me to work, work, work for his kingdom.

He uses me as an example of redemption,

As salt to the earth,

Bright, shining impalpable light in the wake of thick darkness.

As a mouthpiece for the Gospel.

As a mere servant, and nothing more.

How this is possible I do not know.

But as I sat on a couch in Thailand, and read the broken English words of a student I met four weeks ago,

As I was brought to humble tears by his gratitude of our work, requests for prayers and exhortation to never forget…

It hit me that this,

As simple as it may be,

THIS is God’s power.

And nothing in this world (or, in my heart) can disrupt it.

***

I let go of her squeezing hand and found my balance, my luggage, and the largest smile I could muster. One of our students came towards me, shook my hand and placed his other on my shoulder, “Thank you, Lyric, for all you taught us. We learned so much and we will not stop praying for you.”

Another young man asked to say something. Our translator repeated his kind words, “Although we wish you could stay longer, we know that this is the time God wants you to return. We are glad he brought you to us and so glad you served him through us. I know he has amazing things for you, and we will always pray for you. We may never see each other again, but I know I will see you one day in Heaven. Although we are of different languages and nationalities, we are one in the family of Christ.”

I walked--or rather, was dragged by obligation--forth and did not look back, for soon I knew my countenance would break and emotion would win me over. Across the point of no return we went and then, without warning, the reality of their absence struck my heart and my eyes swelled with tears.

As we entered the other country, the weight of memories bore me down. I asked Him why it made sense that we only were able to stay 28 days, why we couldn’t do more. Inspire more change, enliven more hearts…

Then, he answered me…through a t-shirt.

A yellow cut off worn by a Thai I will never know, inscripted boldly with the comforting words of my sovereign father:

“EVERY LITTLE HELPS.”

To Red Dirt and Khao Neow

Man, I am going to miss this place.

The red dirt roads

The feeling of sticky rice between my fingers

The oohs and aahs at a culture so familiar to me.

The smiles when I mispronounce something

The black hair and dark skin

The spicy cucumber and

the way the sky looks at night,

Painted with palm trees and stars.

The newness of a sip of chocolate milk

And the bliss of freshly baked bread.

The risk of riding a bike on the side of a busy highway

And the unmatchable feeling of

Community,

Home,

Love.

The sound of the wind running past my ears as we speed

Through the city

Sitting, uncomfortable,

On a mat in the back of a pickup truck.

The flash of lights as we pull out into the night,

And the sa bai dee’s when we return home.

The miss you’s,

The beautifuls,

And the songs--so moving--in a language I cannot understand.

The murmur of foreign prayers late at night

To a God that is

So much bigger now.

The off key voices singing praises,

Joyfully,

To he who sees everything.

The pain of my wrist after a long day of fooseball,

The adrenaline that pumped through these veins when I first realized

What God can do through me.

The earnestness of each conversation.

The elation in each step of the day.

The cold water on my back

And hot sun on my face.

The learning to teach and

Most of all,

Teaching to learn.