Back in the Swing

I'm back at Bryan. Students are in the fourth week of classes, and most of us are already swamped. I had lunch with a good friend, Anna, last week; it's strange to see how people change and grow after only three months of being gone. She had a hard, yet invaluable, summer back home. We talked of our summers and memories that were made, and then we talked about freshman year. It seems like so long ago that I was assigned to a hall with girls I would eventually come to cherish. Time flies so quickly; and suddenly, as I type this, I feel like the narrator from "Our Town." But when we push past good memories, we can see how God so gently gives us example after example of his goodness.

I've got class in a few minutes, and I don't want my umbrella in the hallway stolen. ;) I'll check back later.

I'm moving from Romania tomorrow; I'll be in Budapest for three or four days until I fly westward. It's strange feeling attached to a place I may never return to. I felt attached to Rome for its timeless beauty, but Romania only hangs on to hints of a beautiful past. In shabby building that need a good sandblasting, you can see remnants of the city that once was the Second Paris. I didn't think there would be too much sadness in leaving this city, but I was wrong. Because I have fallen so in love with all of the wonderfully godly people here, I have also seen the charm this city holds.

A friend of mine wrote a poem about the beauty he saw in the city of New Orleans; it was reminiscent of Sandburg's "Chicago." After living and thriving in a place, it is hard to let go of it. Even if the beauty is extremely hard to find, it is still there. I was wrong when I told my mother that "I am allergic to this city which places no value in beauty." This city does value beauty, and if you don't believe me, just research the Rose Park in Timisoara.



One lesson I have learned that I will pass along: don't think that you can understand the effects of communism until you listen to the stories of those who stood in the square when the Revolution started. The changes happened for them. Their prayers were answered that day in 1989.

This is a story that I haven't told as much as I should have; therefore, I feel like this is a pretty decent place to practice telling it. Whether or not you've heard it before, bear with me. It's really the only story I have worth telling.

All my life, I've lived with the tension of wanting to hear from God and sense His presence and being petrified of what might happen once He does. I would thirst for God's voice but was afraid that once He spoke, I would have to listen. I was afraid that if He did show up, I would somehow end up an old maid in China taking care of orphans. No offense to Chinese orphans, but I had other plans.

Eventually, the thirst and the longing started to overtake the uncertainty. I so longed for God's direction, that the fear eventually subsided once I realized the peace that comes from resting in Him. There is a song by Jennifer Knapp that I have known for a long time; I have a few favorite lines that always stay with me: "So turn on the light and reveal all the glory/I am not afraid /To bare all my weakness knowing in meekness/I have a kingdom to gain." Those lyrics sum up all of the anxiety that I felt as well as the peace the comes when our weakness is made perfect in Christ.

Since then, I have struggled with various areas in my life, but I know that God promised His unfailing love to me. I always take comfort in the fact that God knows and answers the prayers in my heart that I am too ashamed to utter aloud. The same tension still rears its ugly head, but I know that with God holding my right hand, He will lead me in triumphal procession [even if it leads me to China].

There are two things that I truly look forward to doing once I am west of the Atlantic.

The first is driving a car. It has been well over two months since I sat in the driver's seat of a vehicle. That seems so strange to me, but when I think about the driving tactics of most Romanians, I get the urge to yell "shot gun!" and run to the passenger's side of the car. Anyone who thinks that Americans need driving lessons should learn how to drive in Romania. I'm almost certain that we could hold a nationwide NASCAR race featuring every licensed driver. A person must not have any fear of death in order to merge into traffic here.

The second thing that I anticipate is honest-to-goodness people watching. It's hard to enjoy this leisurely activity if you're wondering what people are talking about. Maybe they're discussing the weather . . . or a futbol game . . . or a kidnapping on the news . . . or the plot to kidnap that girl who's listening to our conversation. See what I mean? Speculation can only go so far.

Once back home, Taylor and I will need to head to our favorite people watching spot for dinner. The food is amazing, and how often do you get to listen to truckers talk about what highway they were on during 9/11?! Not often, therefore I'm game.

Do you ever put something off for so long that you begin to dread it for no apparent reason? Something that is unworthy of putting us ill at ease seems to take on the awful, shadowy form of the unknown simply because you've waiting so long to get around to doing it. That's how I feel about camp this week. It's an English camp, for Pete's sake! I already speak English, and to top it off, I will be taking care of the only people that can't even speak intelligibly! Why am I dreading this?!

I think it's because we are so off schedule, and my brain must be reverting back to survival mode . . . If she's waiting so long to go, there must be some danger in it! Maybe whatever is at that camp will try to harm her! I should make her worry so that she can prolong the trip even more! Yes, that was Kendall's Brain speaking (but Kendall's fingers still type no matter who is speaking). Maybe my body will force itself to become sick, like those men who became paralyzed shortly after their numbers were called in the draft.

Or maybe I'm just a dofuss who overreacts to things. We'll soon find out, for we're leaving tonight at 8 o'clock to drive to the camp.

In the Heat of Timisoara

All day today my mom and I have been taking care of my dad; he's suffered from heat exhaustion all day long (and came dangerously close to a heat stroke). He probably should have been hospitalized, but none of us trust the hospitals in Romania. It's been a struggle all day praying that his skin will cool down, but most of the day he's just been in a lot of pain that we can't help in any way. Thankfully, my mom's mom was a nurse (they say all of that medical expertise just got passed on to her).... :)

We had planned on leaving for an English camp tomorrow morning, but that's not going to happen. We'll be staying in our apartment giving my dad fluids until he is able to fully recover. A huge wrench in our plan, but maybe God knew better than to allow us to arrive on time. My parents were going to be presenting a seminar on using business English and teaching the DISC profile test . . . all we can do is remain thankful that the other folks working the camp are incredibly flexible.

This post doesn't hold any great musing on deep topics, but I can admit to being incredibly thankful for all of the prayers spoken on behalf of my father. It's been a long day, but please continue to pray.

I don't know why I didn't actually publish this in the summer....

A place that simply lacks beauty. For some reason, I imaged that a God who thought up the wide smile of the sun-flower would make it impossible for a part of His creation to lose beauty. Now, I'm no seasoned aesthete, but post-communist Timisoara is pretty lacking in the aesthetics.

Even as I type this, I realize that from my limited, finite mind, there is roughly one billion holes in my logic. Yes, man can destroy the Earth, and he can neglect it and refuse to nurture the creation, but that does not take away from the worth of his children. Because we are bearing the image of the ultimate Creator, this place is not completely barren of beauty. So, my quips about being allergic to a place with no beauty is moot. Yes, these buildings need a good sand-blasting and white washing, but the majesty of each person's Creator shines through these dingy streets.