december 17, 2004

and with that, i am in the air, overlooking lake michigan, headed home. a gorgeous clear day allowed a beautiful view of the city; the shadow of the sears tower and chicago skyline was cast onto the lake, and i was surprised at how small it all looked.

flying makes the world seem small. flying makes the world seem enormous.

the possibilities and opportunities in flying are amazing. airports are amazing places. so many people, so many destinations, departures, arrivals, plans. flying over south america yesterday was a strange feeling. i watched the video screen which showed our location as we progressed, and i imagined the many different cultures villages, cities, peoples, families that were momentarily below us. the world is a vast place.

and so, as i mentioned, i am on my way home. i was much more excited about home a few days ago than i am today. it is dawning on my that i will face the same shallow conversation over and over again in the next month. "how was bolivia?" "good...great...really good...i really enjoyed it." "great..." and the conversation changes from there. (some people dont care, other people realize it's much too large and complicated to get into, others simply dont know how to get into it, and it's all ok.)

perhaps it is just as well, because i don't think people can fully realize what i experienced, and i'd rather not have to try to fumble my way through a weak explanation.

the trip was not magical, romantic, or full of fantasy. short term trips to exotic places produce exciting highs, and this was not the case for my seven weeks in Bolivia. But I think people will be expecting the opposite. (my family would call and excitedly ask 'how's it going?!?' and i think they were somewhat expecting an 'it's amaaaaazing!!!!!!' but i never really felt that way. i was happy, yes, and content, but excited and romantic? not really.) But I'm glad this was not the case. Although it is better or more exciting at the moment, these feelings eventually fade and one might feel a tinge of foolishness later on. no, this experience was authentic. there were boring days, frustrating days, confusing days, miserable days. and there were plenty of amazing days as well. i'm not fanatic about bolivia, but i now have good friends there, who are very beautiful, and i know a small part of santa cruz, which, in its own way, is very beautiful as well.

perhaps this lack of fanaticism is why leaving was easier than expected. the goodbyes were hard, yes, but easier than expected, and i boarded the plane headed for the USA without a bit of sadness or sentimentality or awareness. this did strike me as odd.

and what did i learn? oh the dreaded question! is the fact that i rarely learn anything blantantly god-related on these trips mean that i am a bad christian?!? (oh god! don't allow me to buy into that!)

mom mentioned the possibility of me giving a testimony in church. what would i say? that i am not a big fan of christian schools? that the missionaries there, in my opinion, are doing a poor job of being culturally sensitive, relevant, effective, or useful? that we need to reconsider our view and use of money, and our interactive with those in other social classes? that my distaste for america has, in some ways, grown? but my approval of the way my generation thinks - the 'postmodern' no-easy-answers frame of mind (the enemy of the evangelicals) - has also grown? i dont think many people would like (or approve) of what i've learned.

i have grown in my love of life, this much i know. and while my prayer life continues to be rather stagnant, if what madeleine says is true, then the growth in my love of life means a growth in my prayer life. i do think this is true, for every time i marvel at the beauty oflife, i am marvelling at and worshipping the one who gave and is giving life to me. i was worshipping standing on the back bumper of the jeep. i was worshipping sitting in the bed of a pickup truck for 2 hours, wind whipping through my hair. i was worshipping eating a thanksgiving meal a day late at la cocina de don jose. i was worshipping every night as i laughed and laughed with my 2 new friends. i was worshipping on the bolivian roller coaster, in the back fo the fourth grade classroom (with chills and tears and joy), at the christmas program (with the little exciting shepherds with spanish accents, the terrible solos, and the eighth graders, full of stark personalities and poor attitudes, playing the bells and playing them rather terribly, but still making it beautiful somehow), watching joshie play with his outie belly button, playing basketball with the jr. highers in my dress clothes and letting them see the real me ("you're loud mr. shorb!") falling asleep at the end of joy-filled days, and now, flying over clouds and mountains while listening to explosions in the sky.

the sense of worship, these "movie moments" as i call them, this love of life, is a frame of mind, and i am thankful the good lord has allowed me to discover it and has granted me consistency in it, for although i am far from consistent in conventional areas of worship, this consistency in my love for life gives me some glimmer of hope. it is a sense of wonder and joy. on my second-to-last morning, i stood at the gate of our house and looked across the street to see a boy happily playing with his new puppy. he was so lost in wonder and joy that he did not realize he was crawling around with it in the middle of the street! what an odd scene, but the boy was oblivious to the world around him. he did not care what others saw or thought. he was taken captive by wonder and joy.

perhaps these thoughts would receive more approval. but still not everyone would understand....

...and where do we go from here? the upcoming months hold much. but for now, i am thankful, and extremely so, not because i had a trip full of unbelievable emotions, but because i had the amazing opportunity of spending seven weeks in another culture, forming relationships with beautiful people, loving and enjoying life.

and so, with that, the captain has announced our approaching landing and in less than an hour i will be reunited with the familiar, with the goods and the bads. but may i never forget the months of november and december in the year of two thousand four.