fence-crossing

Well, this will be the last post from the southern side of the border before the new year arrives in all its waxing glory. It will also be a little short, because I don't have a ton of time to expound the profundity of my finite mind.

We are leaving for El Paso today, hoping to cross the border in the evening time, find a hotel close to the airport, and fly out for home tomorrow morning. My thoughts about this change of place, routine, and rhythm are a little jumbled at the moment, still tied together with the logistics of what I have to do before getting on the airplane.

Nevertheless, I've been thinking about how this time of going home has finally come, and how unreal it seems right now. I've been dreaming of going home for months now, how I got more excited as the days passed from Thanksgiving-time into December's patient anticipation of all that is red and green. As my recent posts have indicated, I've missed (and am missing) my family a great amount, and the amount of anticipation I have to celebrate Christmas with them and be in a known, familiar place is building up rapidly.

I'm standing in what seems to me a dry, brown pasture, longing for the lush, verdant fields on the other side of the fence. Over the fence lies my home, warmth, familiarity, fellowship, a place where I am known and can speak my own language all the time, and all the comforts of my former life. This appeals to me greatly, for obvious reasons. Here, in this desert life, I am exposed to my weakness and removed from my familiar roots, forced to place my trust in God, who is not comfortable to my liking most of the time.

Tomorrow, I'll be crossing the fence to the other side, rejoicing in a reunion with my family and my home. I am greatly thankful for this, and am entirely ready to celebrate this happy homecoming with them. At the same time, I do not want to cultivate an attitude of "looking for greener grass" in my life. As a good friend wisely commented on a recent post of mine, the secret to contentment is to live in the "eternal now" of the living God, even in the marginal, dry-pasture times of life. To drink deep of each moment of the time we have been given is a pleasure when drunk in Yahweh's Light.

waiting...

To keep in step with the reflective theme of my blog, allow me to answer the question that sprawls across the top of your web browser: "here I am, but where am I?"

The obvious answer is this: I'm here Parral, doing the same thing I've been doing for four months, which is teaching and being a part of the body of Christ. The more complicated answer still evades certainty in my mind, which is preoccupied with things of a much less significant nature.

This is what I feel: I'm very ready to go home and be with my family. As I wrote a few weeks ago, I keep daydreaming of the moment I see my mom and dad when they pick me up at O'Hare International Airport. The joy of that reunion is something I long to experience. I can't wait to bear-hug my brother when we pick him up from O'Hare the next day. The longing I have in my heart to see my family and be in the same place with all of them nearly brings tears to my eyes as I anticipate it. I miss them tremendously. I also greatly look forward to being reunited with my close friends, whom I haven't seen for half a year, whose lives have changed dramatically since we last talked.

Although I enjoy my life here and know that this is my job/responsibility right now to be here, I'm finding it very difficult to keep a good attitude about being here when I would much rather be somewhere else. I want to experience the comfort of home and familiar people, with whom I can talk in my own language. I'm tired of teaching kids, the majority of whom don't care about my English lessons, and I want to be in a place where I am truly known. But this is what I feel.

This is what I know: God the Almighty sees my rotten attitude toward my life here, and the rest of my stinky, messy thought-life. And by mercy, He decided to punish Jesus Christ rather than me. Now, I know that wanting to go home is not a sin. But, my discontent and apathy toward the real problems that are in front of my face are definitely not the attitudes of those who have been rescued from God's wrath by grace. I am realizing more these days the importance of Paul's attitude of being content in every situation.

Jumbled thoughts of the future, hopes and desires of this world, and preoccupation with temporary comfort: these things occupy my mind most of the time, not the timeless, unexpiring promises of the Gospel. When I lose sight of the Cross, I begin to think that I deserve a good life and I start trying to acquire this "good life". What a deception, eh? Didn't Jesus say that I needed to lose my life in order to find life? Wasn't he telling the truth when he said that in him and him alone is true life found?

Thanks for reading my thoughts. If anything, it helped me sort out a little where I'm at, as I try to finish this race well before a wonderful holiday break. A week and three days before home! Pray that I put forth my whole effort into stewarding what I have been given.

mi casa es tu casa

Well, here's a short post just to let you know that we are successfully moved in to our new place. One Saturday morning/afternoon, one truck, and half a dozen faithful female friends placed us in our new apartment, safe and sound, albeit a little disorganized.

Although David invited half the church to come and help us move, only half a dozen young women showed up at our house at 7:30 am on Saturday to help us pack, move, and clean. Don't worry, we're in the midst of giving our guy friends a hard time about the quality of their friendship. These awesome girls pretty much worked a miracle by packing up our entire kitchen and most of our bedrooms, as well as cleaning practically every square inch of the empty house, all in half a day. Yeah, we pretty much owe our lives to them. I'll never say a bad thing about women for as long as I live.

Our new place is much smaller than our house before, which had two floors and a huge basement, but it fits us a LOT better than the old one. We hardly used any of the acres of space we had in the old house, and now it feels that the three bedroom, one bath wonder we have now is truly home. That, and it is partially carpeted, fully insulated, and has central heating, which are all rarities in Mexican residential construction. It was wonderful to get out of bed this morning and sink my toesies into soft, warm carpet and not freeze my buns off after getting out of the shower. Oh, what a creature of comfort I am!

I'll try to post a few pictures of our new abode here pretty soon. Fifteen days until home, and counting!