Miami Beach Rhumba

I'll save Havana for manana
Meanwhile, I have it in my reach.
I found the charm of all Havana
In the rhumba at Miami Beach.


I mostly just like the song for its beat and because it's fun to sing along to, but Miami Beach Rhumba has always struck me as a song about settling. You could have Cuba, but you settle for a mere taste of Cuba. You could have Haiti, but you settle for a mere taste of Haiti. Maybe the rhumba was just so fast paced and fun that it was impossible to resist a turn around the dance floor, and then you discovered that it was a centripetal force, holding you inward less and less against your will as more time passes.

Why do we settle for less? I am convicted by the verse in Hosea 2 when the Lord says of unfaithful Israel, "When she runs after her lovers, / she won't be able to catch them. / She will search for them / but not find them. / Then she will think, / 'I might as well return to my husband, / for I was better off with him than I am now.'"The prostitute sighs and resigns herself to settling for the loving care of her husband, but the irony of her statement is captured in the next verse when He adds, "She doesn't realize it was I who gave her everything she has..." Really, in pursuing her lovers she was settling for less, running away from a husband who held a deep, undeserved love for her. And because of her attitude, even as she does grudgingly return home, she will miss the depth of what is offered to her.

I do that. I look at God and say, "You are not enough for me. I want ... " Finish the sentence with the empty distraction of your choice. But they really are empty. What little about them that can satisfy is only satisfactory because it points back to the ultimate satisfier who, like Hansel & Gretel, is dropping crumbs along the path to lead us back home to him. Sometimes I find the bread crumb trail and I start to follow it, but I get off track because I spot a pretty flower in the woods or the road ahead appears dark and forbidding. But the final reward is greater than anything I can imagine, more strong in its allure than the grip of fear can hold tight against. Because someday, she won't look to her husband as second best. Someday...

"But then I will win her back once again.
   I will lead her into the desert
   and speak tenderly to her there.
I will return her vineyards to her
   and transform the Valley of Trouble into
      a gateway of hope.
She will give herself to me there,
   as she did long ago when she was young,
   when I freed her from her captivity in Egypt.
When that day comes," says the Lord,
   "you will call me 'my husband'
    instead of 'my master.'"
{Hosea 2:14-16}

Growing Pains

At some point in every child's life, he seems only to eat, sleep, and grow. Sometimes I feel like that sums up my life here at IMPACT.  Well, except for the sleeping part, based on last night's late night essay cram session. But that was something that I wouldn't have missed for all the sleep in the world. We had a huge suite party with popcorn, Tang-laced Koolaid, and eventually brownies. Chelsea danced to Wannabe and Grace told all of us to shut up. I witnessed to Emma, and when Emma witnessed to me we discovered that Jesus Christ is like brownies based on the rather faulty argument that "Jesus is coming. The brownies are coming. Therefore, Jesus is like brownies."

Somewhere around 4 hours or less of sleep, I have this survival system that kicks in and keeps me awake without too much trouble so long as I don't abuse it. I was thankful for that this morning because we had an amazing Life Formations. Trent took us out to Callaway to a little pavilion by the lake, and we ended up spending an hour in quiet time as rain drops crackled through the leaves. I spent most of it praying, just praising God for how amazing He is and celebrating the many wonderful things He has done, then ended up reading Psalm 116 which led into a bit of confession. I love prayer.

Last night, I met with Mary Michael and we talked about a variety of things. She encouraged me to confront some people and had some excellent insights into my life and the universe, that sort of thing.

On Wednesday, I met with Basie and we just chatted about college plans, books, ideas, motives, and whatever it is that one talks with someone like Basie about. And I got a book for my trouble (SCORE!).

Tonight, Saltacious is setting up an open mic night in the classroom which is to begin in five minutes. I was considering singing "The Lonely Goatherd" from The Sound of Music, but I don't have it memorized and my voice will be awful now that I've had a blizzard from DQ. 14 of us went to Chick-fil-A in LaGrange for dinner this evening and then most of that number stopped by DQ while I think the rest went to Walmart. Over the course of dinner, Ben told Chuck Norris jokes, Chelsea tried to confuse the new CfA worker, and Kyle attempted to set David up with the manager, Brittany, based on the fact that they are both 21. On the drive home, Grace came decently close to hitting a deer at the exact place where Kyle hit one this past Wednesday, much to Jillian and Krista's horrified chagrin.

This afternoon, a group of us ended up having a discussion with Basie about dating. And when I poked my head into the SLC office, David and Mary Michael were playing with their Silly Putty. Win!

I did a gorgeous backstitch job on a dress of Mary Michael's that had a broken strap. It was kind of weird because a piece had actually torn off, so I had to take the same piece from the other strap, cut it in half, and then sew both straps back on, but I somehow had thread the exact shade of the dress and my stitching was marvelous, which is not something that I can say very often. Grandma once accused me of knowing more about sewing than I let on. It's true.

Tomorrow we're helping at Rosemont's Harvest Party, which means that I'll probably end up reading the Economics in Christian Perspective book on Sunday. That's not cool. Especially since Krista and I are going to church with Katie and then to lunch at her apartment and then Best Buy. And then in the evening, Nathan scheduled a drama practice and we have hall meeting. Thankfully, I like economics and I'm excited about this book.

Monday is my birthday! And by an awesome quirk, Monday also happens to be the day that Marana rescheduled the dinner for, so I'll be having dinner with the Basies for my birthday (although I didn't tell her because I would rather not be fussed over, thanks). Then on Wednesday my C group is having dinner at the Wilbanks. And on Thursday, all of my planning and plotting will come to fruition as somewhere between 17 and 19 people go on a CIU road trip. Another class with Dr. Gentry, a tour of the campus, and an overnight stay. One word: awesome!

Scary thought: somewhere in the course of the next week, I need to fill out and submit my applications. ARGH!

Paz

This afternoon was a gift from God. How else can I describe that kind of perfection? Some moments are too marvelous to be the sum of the various components.

I was sitting at my computer listening to Bach's Magnificat with the overhead light off, just the strand of Christmas lights around the window aglow, and the door open so that I could smell and hear the rain along with the music. Annie was walking to her room, but stopped and walked into my room instead. We had an amazing talk about the Cotes and Victoria, when friends become more than friends, roommates, and children's books. We prayed together, laughed, and shared the unexpected blessing of a half hour of close conversation. This is why I love IMPACT.

I had just finished reading The Garden of Abdul Gasazi by Chris Van Allsburg to Annie when Alex strolled by with his guitar and took refuge on our porch. Drawn by the appeal of guitar music and rain, we went outside and started chatting with him. Annie wandered away, but I wanted to play in the rain, and I ended up blowing bubbles while standing in the downpour and listening to Alex play.

He got distracted when one of the bubbles went particularly far and high, but I said that they are extra strong because I breathe love into them. So Alex  caught some and I told him to translate all the love on his hands to beautiful music, an idea which piqued my fancy and led me to write a poem.

Peace: For Alex Purdie
Georgia rain shower;
Not quite autumn, not quite anything.
Water drops mingle with
the iridescent swirl and pop of soap bubbles,
floating on the love breath of my lips.

Guitar man with rain song strings,
He plays a simple melody.
But first- hand outstretched,
he catches love,
each little bubble happily dying because
their death is the voice of his tune.

I read it to Alex, who loved it. And he continued playing amazing songs on the guitar while I read poetry, and rain fell on everything.

But the surreality has not completely loosed its hold on me. David and Mary Michael gathered us all together for a surprise meeting where Sean informed us that he is leaving. I will never joke about the 25 cap again. I have at times struggled to serve him, but never desired his leaving. Without him, we are less.  He is not erased from our "family tree" simply because of his absence, but his departure leaves a Sean-shaped hole that nobody else is going to fill.

An afternoon of beauty, of tranquility, of paz, of pain. And we live on.

6 Degrees of Separation

Bethany made the observation last night that we would probably not struggle so much with our "IMPACT exile" if it weren't for the fact that we can't go back whether we would or no. I would argue otherwise because I admit that less than one day into my voluntary weekend in Tennessee, I was writhing to get back on campus, but in her defense here, I had no means of returning even if I willed to do so, and I had no control over our plans including the return time. So while I think that I would miss everyone just as much if I left willingly, perhaps it would not be quite so poignant a separation as twould be if it were forced.

Mostly that's a side note. I was just thinking about that game, six degrees of separation. Y'know, the one where you try to connect people through acquaintances, work, family, etc. to prove that they are removed by no more than six relationships? That game attempts to connect people who are entirely unrelated and either know nothing about one another or, if they are somehow aware of but not acquainted with one another, have no personal connection. This fall break is a contrast to that game in that we who are already connected, having sunk our hooks securely into each other's lives, were separated. I wonder how many of us besides the Carolinian contingent would have any connections outside of IMPACT. With students from so far afield as Arizona, Texas, Illinois, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, and more local students scattered across Georgia, Florida, Tennessee, North Carolina, and at the far fringes of "local," Virginia, I think it is not unfair to say that few of us could ever have met outside of such a place. To God be the glory, then, because He has willed that we should meet in this time and place. Despite the fact that we have only known each other for a month and a half and been aware of each other for maybe three (more for the preview day-ers), we have begun to form friendships that will last for a lifetime. I think a fairly common observation that we will hear on returning is that "the friendships I've formed at IMPACT are already deeper than some that I've had for years!"

I hope that Kennedy works in a few more devotions about humility when we return. I know that we were all inclined to laugh a bit when for the first two weeks of devotions all Kennedy could say was "humility, guys, humility." But I think that by now we all know Kennedy well enough to recognize that he is constantly (yes, Hayden, I really do mean constantly) attuned to God and the moving of His spirit. If we are not reflecting back on those words, I think that we are setting ourselves up for disaster. With regard to those old friendships... A friendship requires two people. If you feel that you have somehow risen above that relationship, remember that it took two of you to take that friendship to whatever depth it had. If it was shallow, remember that once you were probably not so intent on diving deeper yourself. If it was deep, thank God for the amazing friend that He put in your life who was willing to tackle the issues beneath the surface and to sharpen you in the process. When we fail, we like to distance ourselves from the failure, while we embrace our successes. This attitude borders on the hypocritical. I would suggest that you ought to embrace failure as a stepping stone to success, while distancing yourself from your role in your success by glorifying God in those moments.

However, that is tangential because no friendship can be measured in success or failure: a shallow friendship is simply an opportunity to go deeper. In hall meeting last Sunday, David did a "temperature check" where we rated ourselves on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being the worst day of our lives or 10 being the best. Someone made the observation that a 5 is like neutrality, neither good nor bad. But later on we did a group temperature check of our community where David redefined the numbers by saying that 1 is "you guys cannot continue this way and if you don't do something radical to change it within a day or two, we might as well all go home" and 10 is "you can't possibly do anything to increase your fellowship with one another." Well obviously we are not at a 10, but nobody would put us at a 1 either. But as David pointed out, on September 8th, we were at a 1. None of us really knew each other (again, the Carolinian contingent is the exception), and if we had not been willing to move from a state of ignorance to knowledge, we would never have survived past the first week and a half. So it's not so much moving past neutrality as it is a growth process.

What applies to our entire community as a cohesive unit also applies to individual friendships. Had I gone home for break and visited work, I probably would have realized that most of my friendships there were not far beyond a two. But there my optimism or pessimism would come to the fore in how I designate that situation. Is it a failure or is it an opportunity for growth? Sometimes it's easier to give up, but I would challenge both my classmates and myself to take the more difficult path of seeking growth. Would we really abandon old friendships because we're too elitist to deal in the nitty gritty of sorting out relational difficulties? I hope not.

Paper Cranes

Where some girls have necklaces or dice hanging from their rearview mirror, I have a simple origami crane. It is crude, made from an index card, torn through the middle to string a piece of hemp through it. But it is not just some frivolous piece of paper art. That crane was given to me by a man named Michael. Michael plays guitar as if he could somehow give musical shape to his soul simply by picking out the right chord progression. He has a rough life, but he does not dwell on his own problems, preferring to focus on the people he draws with his music. He'll sit outside the cafe and play for hours, talking with but mostly listening to the people who pause and dare to break from their plans to sit with him. Sometimes he tells me their stories, and through him I have been impressed with the beauty of human existence. Everyone has some deeply felt grief, everyone has a heart wrenching joy, and who that person is in his essence... that is worth knowing. I want to know people like Michael knows people. As stories, as a muddled whirl of laughter and pain, as human beings worthy of a listening ear and a loving heart.