So this post has been a long time coming. Try five failed attempts. So now I’m typing it out on Word in the hopes that if the internet goes out I’ll be able to save it. Five drafts later, you’d think it would probably be better, but alas, it probably won’t be.
I’m sitting in the middle of a blizzard right now preparing to go to California for water polo training. I’m not going to lie, I’m getting antsy. I’m ready to get moving again…too much time in one place and all that. It’s funny though, everyone’s all excited about going to California and how they get to see Hollywood and everything. When they start going on like that I just sort of stare at them. Thinking...
What a strange journey we’ve been on, dear friends. Just think about the places we’ve been, the things we’ve seen, the people we’ve talked too. Sometimes it seems like just a dream, but other times I remember it being the time when I was most alive. A friend told me the other day that this semester has taught me about what it means to truly live life. Live raw, live reality. It is when we can’t depend on anything else that we are truly dragged, kicking and screaming, to the throne of the Almighty God, until that point, we are simply living a game.
I don’t really even know how to catch you all up about what’s been going on in my life, but I should try and I’ll attempt to be as complete as possible. I’ll begin with three stories.
Story numero wahaad: It’s Wednesday morning and I find myself sitting in Wheaton’s chapel where the HNGR interns are sharing stories from their six month internships in third world countries. As we all stand up to leave, they put on foreign music…you know, leave us with a good taste in our mouth, and what better way to do that then to put some on some disco tech. So as I’m walking up the isle, on comes our good friend Shakira. I chuckle a bit as I hear two girls behind me exclaim, “Ok now, what in the world does Shakira have to do with development!” and “Shakira doesn’t belong here!” Little do they know…and I was immediately transported back to hours of dance parties in the flat, on the bus, on the cruise ship…and, I must admit, I shaked my butt a little. Once or twice. But don’t worry, no one saw.
Story numbero itneen: Last weekend our water polo team had our first games. For those of you who don’t know the glorious sport that is water polo, let me enlighten you. Big butch girls sprint around the pool for about and hour trying to drown each other and in the process score a few goals. That’s about it. It’s awesome. So I was fighting with one particular girl when all of a sudden I felt a hand grab something that hasn’t been grabbed since I left Cairo. That’s right, miles away from the trashy Mediterranean, I experienced a deliberate full frontal grab. And I wished I had a nice Egyptian mother with a billowing sheet to come to my rescue.
Last story: Last weekend I also finally made it to our local Sudanese church. As I walked in I remembered something Margie told me the first time we walked into All Saints, she told me that her comfort level immediately increased the second we were around Sudanese (as opposed to Egyptians). I experienced the same feeling last weekend. Everyone there had lived in Cairo for at least a year and I was informed that since I too was “from Cairo” the church was now my home, because I am effectively Egyptian, therefore, effectively their sister. I had a wonderful time talking about Kosheri, All Saints, Agouza, Cairo…and I thought about our students back in Egypt. I wonder if they will ever get to where they are hoping to go. Oh the memories. They amount to very little at this point in my life, but I value their presence dearly.
I don’t really have much to lean on besides memory. When emptiness consumes, when every foundation upon which I once rested is stripped away, and when I no longer know where to go…this is when I remember that verse that Grueler read us in Turkey:
When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me till I entered the sanctuary of God; then I understood…When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered…I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory…earth has nothing I desire besides you. Psalm 73.
Let’s face it guys, this earth sucks. Granted, as people I’m surrounded by keep insisting, God made this world and it is designed to illuminate His glory and redemption…but as far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t keep it from being broken. And yet, through the darkness, loneliness, and fear, there are moments of hope. A flash of memory, a brief laugh with friends, a dance party, a cup of hot tea…I wish we could be back in the wilderness of antiquity together so that we could bend over cups of steaming tea and share tears with each other, share smiles. Somehow I feel that then, if you could see my eyes and hear my sighs, I could truly communicate with you.
But we’re not. We’ve emerged from Egypt and now we’re wandering about the wilderness of the suburbs, of the cities, of the churches…we’ve been freed from slavery if you will, but somehow I still feel the chains tightening around my wrists. I don’t feel free, because I don’t really understand what being free means. I’m not quite sure what the Promised Land is, because, once again, let’s face it, it isn’t so promised at this point in the eschatological calendar. But it holds hope. Every stone laid in Jerusalem yearns to break free from bondage and sing praise to God…the world will see peace. I trust this. I trust that I will see peace again.
Maybe it will be in California. Who knows? Anyway, I have to end this—my laundry is calling and I have to pack. I know I didn’t really say much, but it’s been a while. I think of you guys often and pray for you even more, and I’ll for sure be thinking of you as I visit Universal Studios, Chrystal Cathedral, Hollywood…the Wheaton Trustee’s yacht…oh dear…what am I going to do??? I ask God to give you all and show you all his peace. And if he does not, I pray his grace on you so that you might be able to rest in trust. Like Mandy told me the week after our GR reunion, Jesus didn’t promise that life would be easy. But he for sure promised peace. Let’s hope in that.
With that, I love you and I can’t wait to see some of you soon!
Tory
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1 comment:
Oh my precious dear one...First, you are an amazing writer. There were times when I could vividly picture what you describes--such as a butch woman grabbing you in a front assault. Second, our hearts are one. In Cairo we were in survival mode--yet maybe that IS the mode of life: survival. When I think of all the things going wrong, I think of the last semester and evaluate what I did when things went wrong there. Sometimes I curled up in a ball with my roommates and cried. Other times I went and sulked in a coffee house. Still others, I went to open villa and unloaded on an intern. This is life. Isn't it beautiful and disturbing at the same time?
I miss you, friend.
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