and the greatest of these, es amor

The Greyhound.

I am sitting in the Laredo Greyhound station. I have a forty-five minute wait for my bus, and I already spent 30 minutes, and 10 quarters trying to call my parents from a payphone. Oh well, I will have to find another distraction. I still don’t want to face it.

I sit down, and it starts to hit me. I am leaving Mexico. I am going home. I just held my tears back after a touching goodbye with Andrew and Gena. They have done so much for me, including driving me all the way to Laredo to see me off.

Tears well up in my eyes, so I close them and pretend to nap. I don’t get away with it though.

“Ok. What did she do to you?”

I open my eyes and see a middle age blonde lady with a messy pony tail, and an oversized “I gave blood” T-shirt on.

“Um… Who are you talking about?”

“Well, the girl, obviously. It’s always a girl.” she responded.

I decided not to divulge my story to this lady, partially because I feel she will be disappointed that it has nothing to do with a girl. But nonetheless, I whisper,

“Yeah… a girl.”

I close my eyes for a bit more, but she doesn’t pause long.

“What did she take from you?”

“What… did she Take from me?”

“Yeah, they always take something.”

Confused, and not sharing the same outlook on her sex, I again evade saying anything true and stammer,

“My… my car. No. My dog. She took my dog.”

The loudspeaker cuts in before she can respond. “Laredo to San Diego, now boarding. Please have your tickets in hand, and take your luggage to the right side of bus 663139.”

I don’t know at what point I thought this was a good idea. The greyhound ticket was only about 75 dollars cheaper than a flight to Tijuana, but I thought the drive would help me think through things, and bring me some peace. Whoops.

The road stretches out long and thin and within the first few minutes I realize my mistake. This will be like peeling a band-aid off slowly, for 40 hours straight.

Before I even get out of Texas I have met 2 young potheads from New England, 1 ex drug dog trainer, 1 mom and child trying to outrun an abusive man, and 2 ex-cons that have literally been released from prison last night. I can’t tell all of their stories within this page.

By the time I reach Phoenix, most of the original passengers have transferred buses. Traveling alone has it’s ups and downs, but having to pee in a Greyhound station is near the bottom. Do I leave my bags outside of the door unattended, and just go for it at full speed? Do I take them in? Do I trust someone to watch them? Everything I own are in those 3 bags.

After solving the bathroom situation, and with 30 minutes more to wait, I decide to sit in between 2 black gentlemen that I recognize from the original bus. They start up a conversation about what they do for a living, and how this is their first time on the greyhound. Discussing politics, business and travel, then suddenly,

“OH! Did you see that woman that got on at San Antonio??”

“YEAH! Woooweee!”

“I mean DANG. That thing was huge!”

“And she was a young thing too. 20 at the most. But that booty! DAAAAAAAMN!”

I apparently had not been too attentive to the passengers (or their respective booties) entering at San Antonio and had missed this natural phenomenon. But I guess in an attempt to include me in the conversation, the two gentlemen starting slapping me on the shoulder/back after every exclamation.

“It was MMMMMMMMMM.”

smack.

“That thing was fine. FINE!”

smack.

“*Imitates dog barking*”

smack.

like a chess match with me as the punch timer, this continues for a while until they call us up to board.

As the 3 of us rise and start collecting our bags, one of the men says,

“Know what I hate about coming from Louisiana to California? The farther west you go, the smaller them booties get. By the time to get to the coast, there ain’t no booties left.”

They shake their heads in agreement, and then address me for the first time since Laredo.

“Hey kid. Where you from?”

I pause in nervous thought.

“Memphis.”

What I would have said

if I was a braver man.

I would probably have cried. Heck, I am a crier. I might have told you how much you have shown me about joy, and courage. I would probably have stopped trying to think of polite goodbyes, and witty escape-isms from raw exposed emotions, and simply said this:

“It breaks my heart to leave this place. But I count on the One that will mend mine, to mend yours as well.”

The Clean Feet of a Dirty Judas

I am having a hard time in John 13.

I am having a hard time because Jesus washes Judas’ feet. That doesn’t make sense to me.

Why wash the feet of a traitor? Why wash the feet of a man that has stolen money from Jesus? Why was the feet that will carry a killer on a late night to collect a handful of coins to murder God?

I am having a hard time, because in my pride I want to put myself in Jesus’ corner, when I am really standing next to Judas.

In my mirror stands a dirty man on a pair of clean feet.

I am getting ready to leave Mexico. My commitment is coming to a close. For the sake of honestly, I will say exactly what I am struggling with. Have I been successful? I want to pat myself on the back, or reprimand myself for my faults. I want to look mathematically at 6 months of a life spent, and hear that the price paid purchased results.

But, that’s not the way God works.

A new friend, and missionary on the field here in Mexico, Jon Mackey, said something that has stuck with me. “Success is something that man invented. I think that God is infinitely more concerned with proximity.”

If God did anything with 6 months of my life, it’s because He is God. Who should be credited? The man with the broken Spanish, and the limping heart? Or the God that desires proximity and uses broken people as part of His plan for redemption?

Jesus washed Judas’ feet. Judas would still go on to betray him. His heart would not be cleaned. He would kill Jesus, and shortly after, kill himself.

Jesus didn’t do it for results.

He did it to please the Father.

3 cheers for normalcy

I am a pretty average dude. I have good days, I have bad days. I sometimes say the right thing, sometimes the wrong thing, and I always think of the perfect thing I could have said about the time I am falling asleep. I play music, but I don’t think I have ever claimed to be a musician. I have memorized movie quotes, but never made a movie. On the handsome scale, I would think I rank somewhere in between hideous and George Clooney. I have no super powers. I have some skills, but there are about 10 million things I can’t do. I have helped some people, and I have been helped. I don’t have any serious physical or mental problems. I think I am smarter than I am. I have some heroes but I am not one. I got rid of my acne after 10th grade, but it comes back when I get stressed out. I am not, and will not be famous.

Yet in my chest lies a heart that beats to change the world.

When I first got here, I read Nehemiah. In chapter 3, there is a long list of names of average Joe’s. These men rebuilt the rubble of a city with a trowel in 1 hand, and a sword in the other. You wouldn’t think construction workers would make the bible, but they did. Why? Because they were normal men doing small things with great love.

You want to do something crazy with your life? Give it away. You want to love the world? Love a person. That’s what the world is made up of anyway. And if you are feeling Truly crazy, read this chapter and see what God can do with the ordinary:

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Nehemiah%203&version=NIV

p.s. The city they rebuilt? Jerusalem. The very gates that Jesus would ride through on a donkey so many years later.

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart

I was reading this today, and I found it very fitting. If you don’t know what the situation is like here in Mexico, it is rather like a mix between a war zone and the wild west. This being said, God has protected me from getting mixed up in any violence, and has protected my friends. Along with protecting me, He has given me an absolutely profound respect for those who have to deal with this their entire life. Pray for Mexico, and if you live here (or anywhere) read this:

Psalm 27

Of David.

 ¹ The LORD is my light and my salvation—
       whom shall I fear?
       The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
       of whom shall I be afraid?

 ² When evil men advance against me
       to devour my flesh, 
       when my enemies and my foes attack me,
       they will stumble and fall.

 ³ Though an army besiege me,
       my heart will not fear;
       though war break out against me,
       even then will I be confident.

 ⁴ One thing I ask of the LORD,
       this is what I seek:
       that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
       all the days of my life,
       to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
       and to seek him in his temple.

 ⁵ For in the day of trouble
       he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
       he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle
       and set me high upon a rock.

 ⁶ Then my head will be exalted
       above the enemies who surround me;
       at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy;
       I will sing and make music to the LORD.

 ⁷ Hear my voice when I call, O LORD;
       be merciful to me and answer me.

 ⁸ My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
       Your face, LORD, I will seek.

 ⁹ Do not hide your face from me,
       do not turn your servant away in anger;
       you have been my helper.
       Do not reject me or forsake me,
       O God my Savior.

 ¹⁰ Though my father and mother forsake me,
       the LORD will receive me.

 ¹¹ Teach me your way, O LORD;
       lead me in a straight path
       because of my oppressors.

 ¹² Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
       for false witnesses rise up against me,
       breathing out violence.

 ¹³ I am still confident of this:
       I will see the goodness of the LORD
       in the land of the living.

 ¹⁴ Wait for the LORD;
       be strong and take heart
       and wait for the LORD.

My next year and a half

Here is a list of my future plans. They are not set in stone, but excluding the possibility of me dying, suddenly being married, or changing my mind about them, I will probably see at least 90% of these things to completion in the next year and a half.

The reason for this post is simple. I am learning why the disciples were sent out in twos, and all about all of that “a cord of 3 strands is not easily broken” stuff. Luckily for me, I have made friends here in Mexico, but chances are they won’t be traveling with me for the next little bit of adventure.

So, here goes:

October I get home, and help my dad for 2 months. I will probably stick around in San Diego till January, on account that I plan on running the Silver Strand Marathon with a good friend, JJ.

In January, I plan to head to Ireland. It is a goal, though not a necessity, to take a ship across the Atlantic Ocean. I am not sure how to make that happen, but I am going for it, and don’t intend to pay a dime for it. I plan on being in Ireland from January (or early feb if I catch a ship) until early May. I want to try to get an internship with a young church in Ireland that may need the assistance of a youth leader/ worship leader. While in San Diego I will check my contacts, and see if I can’t figure out a way to get free housing in Ireland in return for helping out, and in the evenings I will make money gigging.

In May, I will do a 1-2 month tour of Europe, mainly backpacking and camping. I want to go with a group, and I want to do it cheap. To the best of my abilities I would like to trace the route that my dad and his good friend took when they were about my age. I also hope to see Portugal, since that is part of my bloodline.

In late June or July, I will return to the states. I have decided at this point that I will ride a bike from North Carolina to San Diego. I researched several people that have done it, and find it to be feasible, both physically and financially. I want to take my time and see the states, in a way that flying over it or driving through it just doesn’t show you. I plan to document it fully, and make videos of the whole thing.

I will check in to San Diego for a bit, but my plan is to make it to Portland before school starts in the fall of 2011. I will begin my schooling there, just starting with General Education at a community college for 2 years. I figure Portland Oregon is close enough to my family to not have an excuse to not visit, and it offers me a place and a time to grow up and do some “pre-settling down”. I hope to gig, work for a church, or get a part time job while doing full time school. For my living arrangements, I have decided that I would very much like to live on a boat. I stayed for a week on a 22’ sail boat once, and found it much more comfortable than some of the apartments I have rented. Doing my research, I found that it is also cheaper monthly than renting, with the exception that you indeed have to buy a boat. I found that you can get a trustworthy vessel for no more than $3-5K, something that needs a bit of work, but that will be part of the adventure of it.

At that point, I will be devoted to my studies, and possibly be working on writing my first book.

All of this excites me incredibly, and I am ready for the questions. “HOW?”, being the probably most popular of them all. I assure you I do not know, but I will soon enough.

Most importantly, if you are a guy that has any interest in traveling alongside me, know that there are only a few qualifications. 1-must be self supported, or crafty. 2- must be in the realm of “tolerable” 3- if you are not whole-heartedly a Christian, you must at least be able to put up with my being so.

When the Water Wings Come Off-

I never could get much farther than about half way. Kicking and writhing like some sort of awkward frog. Every time I got to the middle I would surface, gasping for air like I had never breathed the stuff.

I am glad my dad was patient with me that day. The first day I swam underwater from one side of my grandma’s pool to the other.

“Listen Austin. There is what you can do comfortably, and then there is what you are capable of. If you push through that first barrier, you will be amazed at what you can accomplish.”

An 8 year old me looked on, doing his best to understand that freeing yet daunting concept.

Today marks 3 months of my being in Mexico. It is my halfway mark, and just like before I am squirming and writhing. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life here. Being chained to honesty, I must say that occasionally a day will come when I feel like I unfairly sentenced myself to this 6 months. Usually this is the kind of day where I don’t feel very useful, I miss home, and end up spending most of the day in a bathroom… (soy gringo). But most days it’s not even altogether unpleasant, and still I get squirmy.

I remember watching my dad like he was a super hero, swimming back and forth under water 3 or 4 times before coming to the surface to breathe.

Sometimes I want to surface. Sometimes I want to go back to when life was easy, and I didn’t claim to live for anything too exciting or demanding. The days when my biggest problems were fixing flat tires on my bike, or the science fair… not things like supporting myself, or being burdened for other people. Floating had it’s perks.

Sometimes I just want to put the water wings back on.

Colossians 1:10-12- And we pray this in order that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and may please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.

Ecclesiates 1:18- For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.

1 Corinthians 13:11-  When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

P.S. I know this may not appear to have been a very encouraging notice. It’s my hope that you don’t hear “you must do more stuff!” That is a great (and wicked) lie of religion. You must choose to walk with Jesus though. Life is an escalator, and there is no standing still. You are either falling away, or consciously drawing nearer to God. That is precisely the paddling that I speak of.