I miss running 10-in-60's on the basketball court. Visiting the opposite baseline every 5 or so seconds, then exhaustively engaging in playful banter, such as, "See you later," before darting to the other end. It is grueling, and definitely not fun, but I miss it.
The baseline is where you start. The baseline is where you finish. But no one makes a delicate approach when the sprints are finishing. You always overshoot. If it is a dead stop on the baseline, it doesn't feel like you actually made it. The baseline is where you finish, but it isn't that simple. A line is soft. One-dimensional. Very unimposing. The baseline holds stark contrast to every other line on the court. It is a wall. When you finish that last length, you lower your head and you assault the formless barrier which is so imposing. If you walk it in, you'll know that you didn't really breach the baseline. You just folded under it.
Now, if any of the KU basketball players were on my reading list, I feel like I would have relevant things to tell them about their baselines. Despite my repeated attempts, though, it seems they are not interested in letting a former NAIA D-II one-year varsity off-the-bench senior become their mentor (talking to you, Josh Selby). So, I'll adjust my pep-talk accordingly. (coincidentally, if you have Selby's email on hand, maybe you could forward it...)
I had little business becoming a deafblind educator. Indeed, professional deafblind educators probably scoff (nay, guffaw) at the proximity of my name to the classification. I am increasingly aligned with their sentiments. Still, when one enters the field of deafblind education, there are (for the most confounding of reasons) inevitably some parallels drawn between "one who administers education" and "an educator", as if the two are in any way similar.
So, as I have fumbled about, meandering along in my prolonged educatorial (smooth word) debut, I have tried to find my baseline. I find the experience akin to what I imagine it would be like to, overnight, be made aware that for no reason other than availability I had been given the nod to start for a revived Seattle Supersonics franchise. Then, while averaging a modest 1.1 ppg, 0.3 apg, 0.4 rpg in 38.6 mpg, and a tremendous assist-to-turnover ratio of 1.0: 38.5, retaining status as team captain and having carte blanche through an entire season. Then, to my surprise, winning MVP as the architect and floor general of the league's first, and very cavalier, 0-82 debacle of a campaign.
You look at the numbers. You look at the situation. And none of it adds up. That is how I feel in my job. Lack of experience and skill, poor performance, and excessive amounts of recognition and praise.
So, in the midst of this, I have looked for the baseline that I hold myself accountable to. And while I get better at my job, I begin to recognize an ever expansive set of needs. A deafblind young man, needing guidance in communication, independence, social relationships. Everyday I see new things to work on, without conquering the old obstacles. I am enveloped by it, while it simultaneously expands beyond me. It isn't static, nor do I know where to begin, or what the end would even look like. This baseline doesn't play by basketball's rules. So, at the epicenter of the this perceivably inflating responsibility, I am foundering and lacking direction.
My disadvantage, though, is that I didn't start this job with any point of reference. I was just thrown in. And now, a year and 3 months later, I am finally realizing that having goals is not the same as having direction. I can have the goal of reaching that baseline, and be sprinting with great fervor, but am probably running parallel to it. Good way to get burnt out. I want to stop, turn, and actually cross it. To not only know the goal, but to know the direction.
I am praying for direction, so that progress becomes meaningful rather than redundant. So, in Matthew 18:11, when it says, "For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost." I feel like I could use some of that. Plus (no blasphemy intended), it provides a good basketball visual, with an mop-top, sweat-drenched, tube sock wearing, headband sporting Jesus diving across the baseline to save the ball which I so careless bounced off my foot. I can relate to that. I want my life to reflect gratitude and faithfulness for that sacrifice. Peace.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Winsomnia
I am usually fairly positive, and I think that adding a "w" to insomnia makes it sound lot better. I mean, who doesn't enjoy mental exhaustion and sleepiness, almost every day, for more than 5 weeks? Who doesn't respond with elation when waking up at 3am is seemingly programmed into the body's sleep schedule? Who doesn't relish the relative impatience, lowered thresholds for outcropping of frustrations, and less than pleasant expressions plastered across their faces as tiredness takes its toll?
I have enjoyed, at times, the constant challenge of overcoming this obstacle. For the most part, it is much more draining than the lack of sleep itself. And I rarely overcome it. At best, I feel like I am operating at about 50% efficiency. Quite literally, I can count on one hand the number of days that I have felt like myself during my work day, being patient and thoughtful (It should be noted, though, that I have a normal number of digits on my hand. If I had 30 fingers, then it would be much less impressive to say such a thing...). It feels somewhat disappointing to really enjoy what I do, but to have so many breakdowns. Falling asleep in the middle of helping Mohammed spell a word in Arabic. Being inexplicably irritable, and criticizing rather than facilitating and helping. Committing to going to bed before 9pm, then waking up at midnight, 2am, and 6am.
The contrast is starkly remarkable. Tired day: I asked Mohammed a question. He did not answer, but rather mirrored my signs back to me. I quickly informed him of his lack of an answer, and the insufficiency of his response. I then allowed him time to think, but mostly struggle to identify where he went wrong. I then tell him he needs to work, and not be lazy, and that I am not satisfied with his studying.
One of my few not-tired days: I asked Mohammed a question. He did not answer. I gave him two possibilities, based on a recent exercise during a classroom session. He gave an answer, without understanding it. I had asked "How is school? Do you like it or do you not like it?". He responded, "I like school." He doesn't understand the meaning, though. This is his "program", not expressing anything, but rather reeling off a trained response learned by rote. So, I move on. I say, "How is (blank)? Do you like it or not like it?". I give him several items he likes to let him build confidence in his answer, affirming him. Then, I ask about exercise. He gives the same response "I like". 70 push-ups later, he is exhausted. Does he still like exercise, in this moment? No. Not remotely. And he is starting to make a connection, but doesn't know what to do, so when I ask him a final time, "Do you like exercise or do you not like exercise?", it is with exasperation that he says, "I don't know." He didn't even know that he could express it, even though he is perfectly capable of using the sign, "I don't like". I had to illustrate it for him. And then, suddenly, he was on the "don't like" bandwagon. So, when I asked him about his shirt and his pants he thought the answer was clear, but he was suddenly confused once again, because as I responded (in the middle of a room full of people) "if you don't like your clothes, let's get them off", he knew something was clearly wrong. As he frantically fought off my hands, while simultaneously bursting out in nervous laughter, a connection was being made. "Like" and "not like" are more than classifications. It isn't just about repeating "I like school", or "I love mama" or "I want to eat". There is meaning, and the meaning is expressive. In addition, he is allowed to express his feelings, and others can actually understand it. Not that he has suddenly mastered expressive communication, but he is moving towards awareness of it.
Ummm....which day sounded better? It is kind of like this: I tell you I'm having a party. I give the you the day and the time. You show up. I say, "Hey, it's a party". Then I get you a glass of water, make up a word like "firgled", and then tell you about my hopes for KU basketball this year. You might have a really good time, watching me fill your glass with unfettered excitement. No doubt you giggled at "firgled". If you like KU, you might feel engaged...but it all depends on if you equate boring with exciting. Or. I tell you I'm having a party. You show up and I have a Moonwalk (you know, the awesome inflatable bouncy house). I made fresh fruit cocktails. A KU game is actually on. There are fireworks, and maybe even an amateur wizard is present for all sorts of magical shenanigans. That's a party. For me, both days involve work, but only one has a lot of work being done.
Through all the tired days, we have still made progress. I wish to make much more progress though, and a not-tired day is usually ends with me entertaining other aspirations, like starting self-taught parkour around the campus. I like when I have the energy to do that. For now, I suppose I have to be thankful for the not-tired days when they come, and hope that the insomnia subsides. In the meantime, I guess I'll keep pushing myself to be accountable to the weariness. To be aware, and focus everything I have into accomplishing the same goals, no matter my energy level.
If it wasn't lack of quality sleep, it would certainly be something else influencing my work day. Thankfully, sleeplessness is easy to recognize, and helps me to be critical about how I conduct myself in the classroom. Hopefully, it will help me develop better habits as a teacher, which is definitely more of a blessing than a curse. And, in the end, everyone wins. Hence, winsomnia. Peace.
I have enjoyed, at times, the constant challenge of overcoming this obstacle. For the most part, it is much more draining than the lack of sleep itself. And I rarely overcome it. At best, I feel like I am operating at about 50% efficiency. Quite literally, I can count on one hand the number of days that I have felt like myself during my work day, being patient and thoughtful (It should be noted, though, that I have a normal number of digits on my hand. If I had 30 fingers, then it would be much less impressive to say such a thing...). It feels somewhat disappointing to really enjoy what I do, but to have so many breakdowns. Falling asleep in the middle of helping Mohammed spell a word in Arabic. Being inexplicably irritable, and criticizing rather than facilitating and helping. Committing to going to bed before 9pm, then waking up at midnight, 2am, and 6am.
The contrast is starkly remarkable. Tired day: I asked Mohammed a question. He did not answer, but rather mirrored my signs back to me. I quickly informed him of his lack of an answer, and the insufficiency of his response. I then allowed him time to think, but mostly struggle to identify where he went wrong. I then tell him he needs to work, and not be lazy, and that I am not satisfied with his studying.
One of my few not-tired days: I asked Mohammed a question. He did not answer. I gave him two possibilities, based on a recent exercise during a classroom session. He gave an answer, without understanding it. I had asked "How is school? Do you like it or do you not like it?". He responded, "I like school." He doesn't understand the meaning, though. This is his "program", not expressing anything, but rather reeling off a trained response learned by rote. So, I move on. I say, "How is (blank)? Do you like it or not like it?". I give him several items he likes to let him build confidence in his answer, affirming him. Then, I ask about exercise. He gives the same response "I like". 70 push-ups later, he is exhausted. Does he still like exercise, in this moment? No. Not remotely. And he is starting to make a connection, but doesn't know what to do, so when I ask him a final time, "Do you like exercise or do you not like exercise?", it is with exasperation that he says, "I don't know." He didn't even know that he could express it, even though he is perfectly capable of using the sign, "I don't like". I had to illustrate it for him. And then, suddenly, he was on the "don't like" bandwagon. So, when I asked him about his shirt and his pants he thought the answer was clear, but he was suddenly confused once again, because as I responded (in the middle of a room full of people) "if you don't like your clothes, let's get them off", he knew something was clearly wrong. As he frantically fought off my hands, while simultaneously bursting out in nervous laughter, a connection was being made. "Like" and "not like" are more than classifications. It isn't just about repeating "I like school", or "I love mama" or "I want to eat". There is meaning, and the meaning is expressive. In addition, he is allowed to express his feelings, and others can actually understand it. Not that he has suddenly mastered expressive communication, but he is moving towards awareness of it.
Ummm....which day sounded better? It is kind of like this: I tell you I'm having a party. I give the you the day and the time. You show up. I say, "Hey, it's a party". Then I get you a glass of water, make up a word like "firgled", and then tell you about my hopes for KU basketball this year. You might have a really good time, watching me fill your glass with unfettered excitement. No doubt you giggled at "firgled". If you like KU, you might feel engaged...but it all depends on if you equate boring with exciting. Or. I tell you I'm having a party. You show up and I have a Moonwalk (you know, the awesome inflatable bouncy house). I made fresh fruit cocktails. A KU game is actually on. There are fireworks, and maybe even an amateur wizard is present for all sorts of magical shenanigans. That's a party. For me, both days involve work, but only one has a lot of work being done.
Through all the tired days, we have still made progress. I wish to make much more progress though, and a not-tired day is usually ends with me entertaining other aspirations, like starting self-taught parkour around the campus. I like when I have the energy to do that. For now, I suppose I have to be thankful for the not-tired days when they come, and hope that the insomnia subsides. In the meantime, I guess I'll keep pushing myself to be accountable to the weariness. To be aware, and focus everything I have into accomplishing the same goals, no matter my energy level.
If it wasn't lack of quality sleep, it would certainly be something else influencing my work day. Thankfully, sleeplessness is easy to recognize, and helps me to be critical about how I conduct myself in the classroom. Hopefully, it will help me develop better habits as a teacher, which is definitely more of a blessing than a curse. And, in the end, everyone wins. Hence, winsomnia. Peace.
Friday, October 15, 2010
I Like Elixirs
Sometimes, I just choose a blog title, then actually try to relate the content to the chosen title. I don't think this one will work.
I have been slightly overwhelmed by looming responsibilities, most of which I haven't the slightest notion of how to approach. This pertains, quite specifically, to doing my job. I have before me the task of unifying goals for the next year within a comprehensive curriculum. I even have activities, and plenty of resources. But actually putting it all together may take weeks, even months. In the meantime, I am simply trying to integrate new things as they are produced. Which has been somewhat less than successful. I tend to lazily shift blame to my student, accusing him of lacking motivation. The precision of my job, though, actually requires me to make the learning process as successful as possible. Instead, I often make it quite difficult, and boring.
I look forward to learning from my continued failure to bring energy and excitement into education. Still, it is often hard to play it entirely off the cuff. There is usually uncertainty that accompanies each attempt, and it becomes really difficult when most methods have an implied question mark attached. A question mark changes everything. A question mark changes everything?
There has been some success in continually narrowing down my methods (basic process of elimination), which gives me hope. I am also finding new ways to motivate. I find push-ups are a perennial powerhouse of motivation. When Mohammed had been refusing to focus on reading the braille in front of him, and I told him to do some push-ups in order to "wake-up". I was quite amused when he asked to be punished with a time-out instead. I forcefully said no.
Still, all things considered, I don't take much notice of the things I should be tremendous leaps and momentous milestones. The actual progress that has been made. With a month of Arabic, followed by several months of summer holiday, and then 3 weeks since I have been back, Mohammed has developed a significant vocabulary. I often scoff at the simple knowledge of words like "food", "car", "bathroom", and even just having a recollection of the names of people he works with. But, 5 months ago, Mohammed didn't even know that Arabic existed. He didn't know there were such things as "letters". Words were anomalies, somehow connected to bumps on a page. None of it made sense, and it was all a monotonous sequence. Now, it is still repetition, but he is accumulating the awareness that is needed. It all feels normal to me, unless I actually evaluate it. It is truly incredible.
More than 8 months ago, I was scoffed at for trying to teach Mohammed how to sign the numbers 1-6. It was perceived as being useless, a waste of time on an impossible endeavor. Now, several months later, Mohammed is fingerspelling and brailling the names of the teachers that doubted he could manipulate his index finger independently to signal the number one. Perhaps this is his ever so subtle way of metaphorically manipulating his middle finger...nevermind. And I get to sit back and feel blessed by his success (and it is his, not mine). With tactful arrogance, I just let his brilliance communicate to others what I have been thinking all along the way, which is, "How about them apples?" I am by no means venerable, and perhaps could use some humility along with the pride I feel for being able to work with him. There. Tie-in. A mystical elixir of humility. The Humility Elixir. I like elixirs. You didn't even see that coming.
I have had some of my responsibilities cut back, and although they were exhausting a year ago, I also miss them. I miss my daily lunch battles with Haazim, where I would obstinately insist he must feed himself, and he would invariably reply "I want water" (or simply scream and bite the table, or attempt to bite the hand of anyone daft enough to think they should intervene). And then having the opportunity to teach him signs right after the meal, as we ventured together to a land of wonderment known to most simply as "the school". I cringe when I see him being force-fed, and simply being led around, pulled from location to location and having an implied message of "do what I force you to do". Progress is slow, but people do notice it. So, I take solace that people observe how I interact with him in hopes of figuring out how to actually communicate with him. I take solace in the knowledge that he has been angry with me several times, and for good reason, but has not yet thrown a fit while I am working with him (which is a daily, perhaps even hourly occurrence a vast majority of the time). I take solace that he smiles and casually walks back to the deafblind unit with me when I say, "Swinging is finished, now we are walking back "home" together."
Amidst the pressures, the stressors, the time constraints, and the responsibilities, there is so much goodness that goes unrecognized. And being thankful that we are given the opportunity to experience the spectrum is renewing. I am being careful, though, not to characterize the pressures, stressors, constraints and responsibilities as being on the opposite end of the spectrum. If those are a part of my job as a service worker, as a faithful follower of Christ, then I think they are wholly good by association. I just have to take the time to recognize that as well. Peace.
I have been slightly overwhelmed by looming responsibilities, most of which I haven't the slightest notion of how to approach. This pertains, quite specifically, to doing my job. I have before me the task of unifying goals for the next year within a comprehensive curriculum. I even have activities, and plenty of resources. But actually putting it all together may take weeks, even months. In the meantime, I am simply trying to integrate new things as they are produced. Which has been somewhat less than successful. I tend to lazily shift blame to my student, accusing him of lacking motivation. The precision of my job, though, actually requires me to make the learning process as successful as possible. Instead, I often make it quite difficult, and boring.
I look forward to learning from my continued failure to bring energy and excitement into education. Still, it is often hard to play it entirely off the cuff. There is usually uncertainty that accompanies each attempt, and it becomes really difficult when most methods have an implied question mark attached. A question mark changes everything. A question mark changes everything?
There has been some success in continually narrowing down my methods (basic process of elimination), which gives me hope. I am also finding new ways to motivate. I find push-ups are a perennial powerhouse of motivation. When Mohammed had been refusing to focus on reading the braille in front of him, and I told him to do some push-ups in order to "wake-up". I was quite amused when he asked to be punished with a time-out instead. I forcefully said no.
Still, all things considered, I don't take much notice of the things I should be tremendous leaps and momentous milestones. The actual progress that has been made. With a month of Arabic, followed by several months of summer holiday, and then 3 weeks since I have been back, Mohammed has developed a significant vocabulary. I often scoff at the simple knowledge of words like "food", "car", "bathroom", and even just having a recollection of the names of people he works with. But, 5 months ago, Mohammed didn't even know that Arabic existed. He didn't know there were such things as "letters". Words were anomalies, somehow connected to bumps on a page. None of it made sense, and it was all a monotonous sequence. Now, it is still repetition, but he is accumulating the awareness that is needed. It all feels normal to me, unless I actually evaluate it. It is truly incredible.
More than 8 months ago, I was scoffed at for trying to teach Mohammed how to sign the numbers 1-6. It was perceived as being useless, a waste of time on an impossible endeavor. Now, several months later, Mohammed is fingerspelling and brailling the names of the teachers that doubted he could manipulate his index finger independently to signal the number one. Perhaps this is his ever so subtle way of metaphorically manipulating his middle finger...nevermind. And I get to sit back and feel blessed by his success (and it is his, not mine). With tactful arrogance, I just let his brilliance communicate to others what I have been thinking all along the way, which is, "How about them apples?" I am by no means venerable, and perhaps could use some humility along with the pride I feel for being able to work with him. There. Tie-in. A mystical elixir of humility. The Humility Elixir. I like elixirs. You didn't even see that coming.
I have had some of my responsibilities cut back, and although they were exhausting a year ago, I also miss them. I miss my daily lunch battles with Haazim, where I would obstinately insist he must feed himself, and he would invariably reply "I want water" (or simply scream and bite the table, or attempt to bite the hand of anyone daft enough to think they should intervene). And then having the opportunity to teach him signs right after the meal, as we ventured together to a land of wonderment known to most simply as "the school". I cringe when I see him being force-fed, and simply being led around, pulled from location to location and having an implied message of "do what I force you to do". Progress is slow, but people do notice it. So, I take solace that people observe how I interact with him in hopes of figuring out how to actually communicate with him. I take solace in the knowledge that he has been angry with me several times, and for good reason, but has not yet thrown a fit while I am working with him (which is a daily, perhaps even hourly occurrence a vast majority of the time). I take solace that he smiles and casually walks back to the deafblind unit with me when I say, "Swinging is finished, now we are walking back "home" together."
Amidst the pressures, the stressors, the time constraints, and the responsibilities, there is so much goodness that goes unrecognized. And being thankful that we are given the opportunity to experience the spectrum is renewing. I am being careful, though, not to characterize the pressures, stressors, constraints and responsibilities as being on the opposite end of the spectrum. If those are a part of my job as a service worker, as a faithful follower of Christ, then I think they are wholly good by association. I just have to take the time to recognize that as well. Peace.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Newness in the Same Place
After a home leave that lasted seven weeks, I feel blessed to have returned to a Jordan that is recognizably the same, and intuitively different than when I first arrived. The intriguing newness of Jordan that happily accompanied me a year ago has deserted me in favor of other bright-eyed, vibrant young adults that venture into foreign lands. Instead, a rather faithful contentedness has revealed its commitment and consistency, perhaps keeping me uncomfortably comfortable.
It is strange to return to a familiar place, but to acknowledge its changing form. A once inconsequential step that lies three floors below the deafblind unit has taken on meaning. It is where Haazim learned his first sign, and where I cried my first joyful tear with him. Hand rails and fences surround the premises, and were once simply noted as landscape. Now, they are a part of my service, comprised of hundreds of hours of painstakingly meticulous painting, which was more often unappreciated due to its pace rather than applauded for its quality. The gates, through which I entered, a barrier between my American culture and a Jordanian deaf culture which I was invited into with a painfully evident clause to clarify my temporary status. A year later, that gate is my own door, and when I enter I am welcomed home as an old friend.
While inconspicuous, I notice the subtle difference. A newness has nonchalantly crept in, daring to redefine a place that I was quite fond of in the first place. A swelling reserve of experiences here combined with the continuity of a growing perspective and spirituality makes it impossible to return.
In truth, I was hoping to return to the place I came to a year ago. Following many opportunities for reflection, new friendships, moments of reconnection, and much valued time with family, I strangely anticipated the oddly revitalizing feeling of being a stranger again. Upon my arrival at the institute, I felt anything but that. And as touching as the hugs, kisses, and handshakes from the childre were to those who accompanied me as I moved back to Salt, it was strikingly disheartening to me at the moment. To be greeted as a brother, instead of as a detached American simply passing through, that brought on a moment of clarity. That moment, in itself, was the consummate expression of acceptance, and it was certainly not one that I had expected. A sort of newness that I thought would be unattainable, and did not even realize I had been moving towards over the past year.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful for it, but initially, that moment caused me great distress. It brought on a bit of worry, and worrying is definitely not one of my strong suits (I even worried a bit about the worrying, which is a quite vicious cycle). It was obvious that I now have an identity in my context in Jordan, and I also have an identity to those who know me in the US. To me, the two are the same, but the expression in each context has fashioned a being that is simply not sustainable. In each context, it is a simple matter to be myself. To be in one context, though, and hope to maintain each interaction from the other context...well, that is about as easy as trying to write in Arabic with my feet.
Simply, I realized the constancy that would be required of me if I were to attempt to unify both expressions within one context. To be both in Jordan, and continue to relish the lavish relationships that I experienced briefly during my time back in the US. The pursuit, even pondering the pursuit, was quite occupying. It was so daunting, especially feeling like I had to sort it out in solitude.
Henri Nouwen brings an interesting perspective in Making All Things New, writing "Today worrying means to be occupied and preoccupied with many things, while at the same time being bored, resentful, depressed, and very lonely." I certainly was utilizing an incomplete understanding to approach all of these occupying roles. A teacher. A student. A friend. A mentor. A son. A brother. Maybe without processing, I could have very well moved towards crippling experiences and delved into a dark place.
Somehow, though, when I was looking through the roles, "a Christian" was skipped. That is terrifying. I call it lack of clarity, and am thankful that moment has passed. I realized that if I want to continue to do service work, my identity has to be built upon the foundations that Jesus Christ has laid out. First and foremost, I must be faithful to that. In doing so, all of the occupying roles can seamlessly be integrated, although that is not to say there will be much deliberate planning and intentional shifts in how I utilize my time. I cannot be everywhere and do everything, but I can be present in the place and context I currently am in, share the stories of my work and life with those that I love and whose relationships I am blessed to share in (wherever they may be), and do so with the intention of serving Jesus Christ's vision. That is my prayer as I begin the next two years. Peace.
It is strange to return to a familiar place, but to acknowledge its changing form. A once inconsequential step that lies three floors below the deafblind unit has taken on meaning. It is where Haazim learned his first sign, and where I cried my first joyful tear with him. Hand rails and fences surround the premises, and were once simply noted as landscape. Now, they are a part of my service, comprised of hundreds of hours of painstakingly meticulous painting, which was more often unappreciated due to its pace rather than applauded for its quality. The gates, through which I entered, a barrier between my American culture and a Jordanian deaf culture which I was invited into with a painfully evident clause to clarify my temporary status. A year later, that gate is my own door, and when I enter I am welcomed home as an old friend.
While inconspicuous, I notice the subtle difference. A newness has nonchalantly crept in, daring to redefine a place that I was quite fond of in the first place. A swelling reserve of experiences here combined with the continuity of a growing perspective and spirituality makes it impossible to return.
In truth, I was hoping to return to the place I came to a year ago. Following many opportunities for reflection, new friendships, moments of reconnection, and much valued time with family, I strangely anticipated the oddly revitalizing feeling of being a stranger again. Upon my arrival at the institute, I felt anything but that. And as touching as the hugs, kisses, and handshakes from the childre were to those who accompanied me as I moved back to Salt, it was strikingly disheartening to me at the moment. To be greeted as a brother, instead of as a detached American simply passing through, that brought on a moment of clarity. That moment, in itself, was the consummate expression of acceptance, and it was certainly not one that I had expected. A sort of newness that I thought would be unattainable, and did not even realize I had been moving towards over the past year.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful for it, but initially, that moment caused me great distress. It brought on a bit of worry, and worrying is definitely not one of my strong suits (I even worried a bit about the worrying, which is a quite vicious cycle). It was obvious that I now have an identity in my context in Jordan, and I also have an identity to those who know me in the US. To me, the two are the same, but the expression in each context has fashioned a being that is simply not sustainable. In each context, it is a simple matter to be myself. To be in one context, though, and hope to maintain each interaction from the other context...well, that is about as easy as trying to write in Arabic with my feet.
Simply, I realized the constancy that would be required of me if I were to attempt to unify both expressions within one context. To be both in Jordan, and continue to relish the lavish relationships that I experienced briefly during my time back in the US. The pursuit, even pondering the pursuit, was quite occupying. It was so daunting, especially feeling like I had to sort it out in solitude.
Henri Nouwen brings an interesting perspective in Making All Things New, writing "Today worrying means to be occupied and preoccupied with many things, while at the same time being bored, resentful, depressed, and very lonely." I certainly was utilizing an incomplete understanding to approach all of these occupying roles. A teacher. A student. A friend. A mentor. A son. A brother. Maybe without processing, I could have very well moved towards crippling experiences and delved into a dark place.
Somehow, though, when I was looking through the roles, "a Christian" was skipped. That is terrifying. I call it lack of clarity, and am thankful that moment has passed. I realized that if I want to continue to do service work, my identity has to be built upon the foundations that Jesus Christ has laid out. First and foremost, I must be faithful to that. In doing so, all of the occupying roles can seamlessly be integrated, although that is not to say there will be much deliberate planning and intentional shifts in how I utilize my time. I cannot be everywhere and do everything, but I can be present in the place and context I currently am in, share the stories of my work and life with those that I love and whose relationships I am blessed to share in (wherever they may be), and do so with the intention of serving Jesus Christ's vision. That is my prayer as I begin the next two years. Peace.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
SALT Should Include an F
I don't have a countdown. I know the date that I fly back to the US. I know the date I fly into Kansas. But I honestly don't know the specific number of days between now and then. Unless, of course, I look at a calendar. I am practically flawless when it comes to basic addition and subtraction, and as long as we're not in triple digits, I am confident I could figure out the time frame between now and then.
I have one more week at the school, and for that week, a couple deafblind students come back. I am ecstatic. Not "buy gummy bears" ecstatic, but "randomly break out robot dance moves without prompting" ecstatic (which is, quite evidently, a much better kind of ecstatic).
And, although I don't mean to slight my return to the US, it is the coming week and the coming school year that attract my attention. Being in the US with friends and family will be important, fun, meaningful, but won't require so much deliberation. Kind of like putting on pants. Or swallowing food. I am a savant at both.
So, while I have some plans for my time in the US, and a bit of anticipation, it all seems routine. Almost like I have done this before. And, with that kind of feeling, it is hard to have that bubbly excitement which makes you suddenly homesick and overtly expressive about how long you have been waiting for this. Similarly, if I planned to eat ice cream on the coming Saturday, I don't suppose that would encounter a longing for the magic of flavored milky crystals accompanied by some inane compulsion to spread the news that Saturday is gonna be brilliant. I still like ice cream, all the same, and I might mention to someone in passing that I will be engaging in frosty bliss at a specific point in time, but like I said, it still seems rather normal. (If you got lost in the metaphor (which was so elegantly stated), the point: I am happy to be going home, without regard for the amount of time that has passed between the last time I was there.)
But, meanwhile, my inexperience in the job I will continue doing for the next two years, it is chiding me. Reminding me that I will be returning to teach. Prodding me, calling me childishly ignorant names like "Mr. Bumbleface" or "gulpy pants" or "brazen hussy" (words hurt). And, poignantly issuing out memos, referencing instances of failure.
Which is what made SALT so fun. And, even though I would love for SALT to include an "F" for fun (or just meld the words together, instead of Serving, Learning, and Fun Together, you get Servarnunther, which just rolls off the tongue), I would much rather applaud the distinct precision of "F"ailure. In SALT, I encountered failures of a uniquely prodigious nature. Jumping into deafblind education, I knew I would fail, but I didn't anticipate the impressive regularity of the occurrences. There were so many more, which varied in frequency. Failing to get on the right bus. Failing to communicate an important, or irrelevant thought in Arabic. Failing to follow cultural norms. Failing to lock a door. Failing to finish a painting job quickly. Failing to use correct signs. Failing to maintain spiritual focus. Failing to be motivated to study. Failing to have a basic conversation.
So many ways to fail, some familiar, many atypical and uncannily simple. And it has been a blast. Every morning, I get the sense that I am developing extrasensory perceptions, based purely on my ability to anticipate that a new day will bring epic foundering and higher acuity in regards my inadequacies. How absolutely delightful!
And even so, I am not entirely sure my ego has been kept in check. I still feel a bit proud, stubborn to allow failure to shape me in more significant ways that it has. Seems shameful to be proud of acknowledged failure. But, I do like that I am able to withstand, and even be thankful for failure. It has, perhaps, been the best part of SALT.
Still, failing to fail in a manner that brings about tangible change is the worst thing I can do. I hope SALT has taught me to be better at failing. I certainly look forward to not only continuing to do so in the future, but to creatively one-up myself. Peace.
I have one more week at the school, and for that week, a couple deafblind students come back. I am ecstatic. Not "buy gummy bears" ecstatic, but "randomly break out robot dance moves without prompting" ecstatic (which is, quite evidently, a much better kind of ecstatic).
And, although I don't mean to slight my return to the US, it is the coming week and the coming school year that attract my attention. Being in the US with friends and family will be important, fun, meaningful, but won't require so much deliberation. Kind of like putting on pants. Or swallowing food. I am a savant at both.
So, while I have some plans for my time in the US, and a bit of anticipation, it all seems routine. Almost like I have done this before. And, with that kind of feeling, it is hard to have that bubbly excitement which makes you suddenly homesick and overtly expressive about how long you have been waiting for this. Similarly, if I planned to eat ice cream on the coming Saturday, I don't suppose that would encounter a longing for the magic of flavored milky crystals accompanied by some inane compulsion to spread the news that Saturday is gonna be brilliant. I still like ice cream, all the same, and I might mention to someone in passing that I will be engaging in frosty bliss at a specific point in time, but like I said, it still seems rather normal. (If you got lost in the metaphor (which was so elegantly stated), the point: I am happy to be going home, without regard for the amount of time that has passed between the last time I was there.)
But, meanwhile, my inexperience in the job I will continue doing for the next two years, it is chiding me. Reminding me that I will be returning to teach. Prodding me, calling me childishly ignorant names like "Mr. Bumbleface" or "gulpy pants" or "brazen hussy" (words hurt). And, poignantly issuing out memos, referencing instances of failure.
Which is what made SALT so fun. And, even though I would love for SALT to include an "F" for fun (or just meld the words together, instead of Serving, Learning, and Fun Together, you get Servarnunther, which just rolls off the tongue), I would much rather applaud the distinct precision of "F"ailure. In SALT, I encountered failures of a uniquely prodigious nature. Jumping into deafblind education, I knew I would fail, but I didn't anticipate the impressive regularity of the occurrences. There were so many more, which varied in frequency. Failing to get on the right bus. Failing to communicate an important, or irrelevant thought in Arabic. Failing to follow cultural norms. Failing to lock a door. Failing to finish a painting job quickly. Failing to use correct signs. Failing to maintain spiritual focus. Failing to be motivated to study. Failing to have a basic conversation.
So many ways to fail, some familiar, many atypical and uncannily simple. And it has been a blast. Every morning, I get the sense that I am developing extrasensory perceptions, based purely on my ability to anticipate that a new day will bring epic foundering and higher acuity in regards my inadequacies. How absolutely delightful!
And even so, I am not entirely sure my ego has been kept in check. I still feel a bit proud, stubborn to allow failure to shape me in more significant ways that it has. Seems shameful to be proud of acknowledged failure. But, I do like that I am able to withstand, and even be thankful for failure. It has, perhaps, been the best part of SALT.
Still, failing to fail in a manner that brings about tangible change is the worst thing I can do. I hope SALT has taught me to be better at failing. I certainly look forward to not only continuing to do so in the future, but to creatively one-up myself. Peace.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Reflections on Teaching
I lied in my title. You thought you would be getting some juicy material. Maybe even delving into the realm of the philosophical. Not gonna go there.
Still, there is just a week left of school before the kids go home for the summer. Then, I get to paint, to finish off my SALT experience. Which will give me endless hours to process a year in Jordan.
Here is the part that might leave you, dear reader, disappointed. I could ramble on and on about my time here. The culture. The things I have learned. The stories. The falafel. The "life-changing" experience. I won't. Because I am interested in something else.
What have you been doing? I am in a different part of the world, away from you. There is value in what I am doing, and in this context, it is DEFINITELY an experience. But it isn't more valuable than what you are doing. And while it has revealed things about me based on the unfamiliar, uncomfortable, strange circumstances I am faced with daily, (SPOILER ALERT) it hasn't changed a whole lot about me. From my perspective, I think it has just allowed me to actually understand myself from a different angle. Refreshing. Not life changing.
So, as I was saying, what have you done in the past year? I hope you have been praying. I hope you have been focused on God. I hope you have felt a sense of calling in the things that you do. I hope you've loved and felt loved. I hope you have served faithfully. I hope you have done justice, loved kindness, and walked humbly with your God. I don't care how or where, because that is irrelevant. Jordan. Israel. Bolivia. America. Botswana. Indonesia. I hope you're doing the same thing I'm doing. Probably better than I'm doing it.
And if you think I am selling my experience short, too bad. If you think I am supposed to be changed, many apologies. If you think there are profound realizations that will come about as a result of the last year, you are entirely correct. But you have that too. A year in SALT doesn't give me a monopoly on God, on service, on change, or on growth and paradigm shifts.
The point: While I doubt I'll get much feedback here, if you want a simple, semi-focused, mildly humorous, probably sarcastic assessment of some of the things I have experienced through SALT, shoot me an email (brentalanstutz@gmail.com). Tell me about your past year. It has been just as important as mine. I'll do my best to be diligent in responding.
And lastly, here is a teaser. One thing I have learned in Jordan: Dune jumping in Wadi Rum is fantastic.
Still, there is just a week left of school before the kids go home for the summer. Then, I get to paint, to finish off my SALT experience. Which will give me endless hours to process a year in Jordan.
Here is the part that might leave you, dear reader, disappointed. I could ramble on and on about my time here. The culture. The things I have learned. The stories. The falafel. The "life-changing" experience. I won't. Because I am interested in something else.
What have you been doing? I am in a different part of the world, away from you. There is value in what I am doing, and in this context, it is DEFINITELY an experience. But it isn't more valuable than what you are doing. And while it has revealed things about me based on the unfamiliar, uncomfortable, strange circumstances I am faced with daily, (SPOILER ALERT) it hasn't changed a whole lot about me. From my perspective, I think it has just allowed me to actually understand myself from a different angle. Refreshing. Not life changing.
So, as I was saying, what have you done in the past year? I hope you have been praying. I hope you have been focused on God. I hope you have felt a sense of calling in the things that you do. I hope you've loved and felt loved. I hope you have served faithfully. I hope you have done justice, loved kindness, and walked humbly with your God. I don't care how or where, because that is irrelevant. Jordan. Israel. Bolivia. America. Botswana. Indonesia. I hope you're doing the same thing I'm doing. Probably better than I'm doing it.
And if you think I am selling my experience short, too bad. If you think I am supposed to be changed, many apologies. If you think there are profound realizations that will come about as a result of the last year, you are entirely correct. But you have that too. A year in SALT doesn't give me a monopoly on God, on service, on change, or on growth and paradigm shifts.
The point: While I doubt I'll get much feedback here, if you want a simple, semi-focused, mildly humorous, probably sarcastic assessment of some of the things I have experienced through SALT, shoot me an email (brentalanstutz@gmail.com). Tell me about your past year. It has been just as important as mine. I'll do my best to be diligent in responding.
And lastly, here is a teaser. One thing I have learned in Jordan: Dune jumping in Wadi Rum is fantastic.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Focal Point
I am currently on retreat in Egypt, and the relaxation is bountiful.
And due to that, I get to thinking. I wonder, in my feigned busyness, what have I been neglecting. There is certainly a lot of things that I assumed SALT would accomplish for me (many of which have played themselves out in their own way). Spirituality presenting in new ways, though certainly leaving a lot of room for growth. Solidifying particular aspects of my identity, while giving rise to dissension or protest of other parts. I am comfortable with being belittled by coworkers, undertaking responsibilities I am clearly not qualified for, being isolated. I struggle with how to humbly consider my own flaws, how inexperience profoundly affects those I work with, and if being a social enigma is acceptable.
I articulate these things in my mind throughout my day, literally every day. I also fit in the a sincere pursuit of sarcasm and silliness, plastering posters for personal amusement within the confines of my esoteric realm. I can seamlessly transition from considerations on ways to be more spiritually focused into thoughts of how to creatively startle the sickly cats I encounter in Salt. And, I can do this without feeling disrupted (it would be alarming, I suppose, if this was due to a spirituality that relies upon frightening felines in order to feel close to God...I assure you this isn't the case). When I really need to be focused, I can do it without being serious. Allotting time to be pensive seems to be so much better spent if you can combine the arduous with the ridiculous. Considering your future is tough, maybe even frightening. But considering your future, with the possibility of acquiring the technology to become a cyborg, well, that is not only fun, but COMPLETELY practical. Plus, it leads to other thought processes. What percent robot should a person be allowed to become and still maintain status as a human? Would a four-arm cyborg model be efficient, or entirely against the green movement? Should a cyborg be ordained within the church? If not, could we acknowledge that Jesus loves cyborgs, all the same?
And those thoughts bring me back around to what I have been neglecting. If asked about myself, a lot of my identity is currently invested in a particular community, and specifically, the individual with whom I work with. And it seems no matter the topic, my mind is brought back to him. Really, it isn't a bad thing, and definitely not detrimental to my sanity. Better than constantly looking at myself as an imperfectly formed object, unworthy of redemption. Better than thinking of some girl, as if my life is empty and in need of some different kind of love. Better than simply daydreaming about that perfect moment, right before chemoreceptors on your tongue are sent into a blissful frenzy upon encountering the soothing textures of a well-crafted cupcake. You know, just as your teeth sink in, and you anticipate that spongy goodness issuing a formal salutation to your taste buds, probably something along the lines of, "Good day sir. Our fates are intertwined, and at this moment, I believe it practical to engage in a metaphorical tango of tastiness." That moment, while extremely important, and worth recognition, doesn't function as a part of my experience as a service worker.
Still, even in those thoughts of my student, there has been neglect. And I think I know what is lacking. I am still in awe, and still see God in the children I work with, the community that is a part of my context here in Jordan. But, I haven't really gone much further than saying, "God is here." And today, I tried to go past that. I didn't find a lot that will have meaning for my readers (I guess that is presumptuous...I'll let you decide what is meaningful). But, I started to wonder if I am spiritually deafblind, and if my student has more to teach me about God than I give him credit for.
To be spiritually deafblind, that is not a condemning statement. But, like a deafblind person, it implies an inherent lack of mechanisms to fully process God. I think I have some very specific ways in which I experience my relationship with God, but it definitely isn't all-encompassing. To be spiritually deafblind, then, is also to only have a small portion of God within your proximity, and you are only capable of being aware of (at best) that piece.
And I, then, am in need of a lot of guidance. Grace. You can't just take those bits, and make them your own. You would get a distorted world view (or, a distorted God). It isn't about being content with what is there, and the few means you have to process it. Just like a deafblind child, you have got to have help, and you have to want to leave your isolation to be a part of the incomprehensible and ineffable. A bigger world, a bigger context. God. I see my student make that effort daily, and I am trying to realize that intentional approach in my own spirituality. Still, it is hard to stop rocking back and forth, especially if you are convinced that the sensation of motion is the same as actual locomotion. As progress. But that starts with a tap on the shoulder, a pause, and a chance at deliberation. I have been neglecting to notice the taps, but I hope to be more aware. Peace.
And due to that, I get to thinking. I wonder, in my feigned busyness, what have I been neglecting. There is certainly a lot of things that I assumed SALT would accomplish for me (many of which have played themselves out in their own way). Spirituality presenting in new ways, though certainly leaving a lot of room for growth. Solidifying particular aspects of my identity, while giving rise to dissension or protest of other parts. I am comfortable with being belittled by coworkers, undertaking responsibilities I am clearly not qualified for, being isolated. I struggle with how to humbly consider my own flaws, how inexperience profoundly affects those I work with, and if being a social enigma is acceptable.
I articulate these things in my mind throughout my day, literally every day. I also fit in the a sincere pursuit of sarcasm and silliness, plastering posters for personal amusement within the confines of my esoteric realm. I can seamlessly transition from considerations on ways to be more spiritually focused into thoughts of how to creatively startle the sickly cats I encounter in Salt. And, I can do this without feeling disrupted (it would be alarming, I suppose, if this was due to a spirituality that relies upon frightening felines in order to feel close to God...I assure you this isn't the case). When I really need to be focused, I can do it without being serious. Allotting time to be pensive seems to be so much better spent if you can combine the arduous with the ridiculous. Considering your future is tough, maybe even frightening. But considering your future, with the possibility of acquiring the technology to become a cyborg, well, that is not only fun, but COMPLETELY practical. Plus, it leads to other thought processes. What percent robot should a person be allowed to become and still maintain status as a human? Would a four-arm cyborg model be efficient, or entirely against the green movement? Should a cyborg be ordained within the church? If not, could we acknowledge that Jesus loves cyborgs, all the same?
And those thoughts bring me back around to what I have been neglecting. If asked about myself, a lot of my identity is currently invested in a particular community, and specifically, the individual with whom I work with. And it seems no matter the topic, my mind is brought back to him. Really, it isn't a bad thing, and definitely not detrimental to my sanity. Better than constantly looking at myself as an imperfectly formed object, unworthy of redemption. Better than thinking of some girl, as if my life is empty and in need of some different kind of love. Better than simply daydreaming about that perfect moment, right before chemoreceptors on your tongue are sent into a blissful frenzy upon encountering the soothing textures of a well-crafted cupcake. You know, just as your teeth sink in, and you anticipate that spongy goodness issuing a formal salutation to your taste buds, probably something along the lines of, "Good day sir. Our fates are intertwined, and at this moment, I believe it practical to engage in a metaphorical tango of tastiness." That moment, while extremely important, and worth recognition, doesn't function as a part of my experience as a service worker.
Still, even in those thoughts of my student, there has been neglect. And I think I know what is lacking. I am still in awe, and still see God in the children I work with, the community that is a part of my context here in Jordan. But, I haven't really gone much further than saying, "God is here." And today, I tried to go past that. I didn't find a lot that will have meaning for my readers (I guess that is presumptuous...I'll let you decide what is meaningful). But, I started to wonder if I am spiritually deafblind, and if my student has more to teach me about God than I give him credit for.
To be spiritually deafblind, that is not a condemning statement. But, like a deafblind person, it implies an inherent lack of mechanisms to fully process God. I think I have some very specific ways in which I experience my relationship with God, but it definitely isn't all-encompassing. To be spiritually deafblind, then, is also to only have a small portion of God within your proximity, and you are only capable of being aware of (at best) that piece.
And I, then, am in need of a lot of guidance. Grace. You can't just take those bits, and make them your own. You would get a distorted world view (or, a distorted God). It isn't about being content with what is there, and the few means you have to process it. Just like a deafblind child, you have got to have help, and you have to want to leave your isolation to be a part of the incomprehensible and ineffable. A bigger world, a bigger context. God. I see my student make that effort daily, and I am trying to realize that intentional approach in my own spirituality. Still, it is hard to stop rocking back and forth, especially if you are convinced that the sensation of motion is the same as actual locomotion. As progress. But that starts with a tap on the shoulder, a pause, and a chance at deliberation. I have been neglecting to notice the taps, but I hope to be more aware. Peace.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
24
I have always been fond of the number 24. It is divisible by so many numbers, with 3 being the most important (basketball related). I would always request it for my jersey number. If you add up the numbers of my year of birth, 1986, what do you get? 24. The highest consecutive number of 3's I have ever made while practicing? 24. If you multiply each individual digit of my birthday, 4-24-1986, what do you get? 13,824. Which is actually 24 cubed. So, to be simple, you could actually just write my birthday as 24-24-24. If I had 3 pies, I would invariably cut them each into 8 pieces, resulting in....24 pieces. Coincidence? No. The number 24 is practically perfect. It is orderly, predictable, reliable.
Today it is the 24th. This day will consist of 24 hours. It marks my 24th birthday.
A long time ago, I was under the impression that I would have accomplished a lot by this age, this magnificent milestone of 24. I was supposed to be in my rookie season in the NBA. I was supposed to be married, and have my own house. I was supposed to have an overwhelmingly large circle of friends, all of whom absolutely adored me. With my signing bonus on my contract with the Sacramento Kings (realistically the only team I could play for), I would have started establishing myself as a great philanthropist, with donations to cancer research, special education programs, and contributions to my small (but important) liberal arts college. I was supposed to have picked up an instrument, and kicked my stage fright in favor of a boisterous personality that only had room for confidence. I was supposed to have flowing hair, like a blazing flame that fuels the inception of great ideas within my perfectly molded cranium. And, I was supposed to have a pet ferret. Or, a cocker spaniel at the least.
In all ways, then, I guess that I have failed spectacularly. And, this day is less of a milestone, and more of a sullen occasion.
But, I am not sulking. All the things I was supposed to have established by now, well, they just didn't play out. And, now that I am 24, I think I am fine with it. But, I think I should start on a new list of things I am supposed to be/do by age...30 (2+4=6, so 6 years down the road should work). Here goes:
1) Shed 30lbs. to get back to my high school weight of 135.
2) Have a pet plant, which requires minimum care.
3) Convince people I am bald by choice.
4) Be able to do a mean robot dance.
5) Effortlessly shoot 3-pointers from 35 feet out.
6) Have a Mini-Cooper, and a Ducati.
7) Be able to do a Tomahawk dunk, which would have force substantial enough to bring even Bill Walton to his feet, proclaiming, "Throw it down, big man. Throw it down."
8) Write a self-help book, probably titled "6 Instant Ways to Slowly Make Huge Changes in Your Behavior Which Will Result in Very Small Changes in Your Life in the Very Distant Future"
9) Have a newly discovered species of crustaceans named after me
10) Learn how to untie any knot (I don't care so much about tying them)
11) Be able to make my own clothes
12) Have eaten my own weight in cheese through the course of an intense one-month cheese diet
13) Be able to cry without actually shedding tears
14) Appear in an episode of House, as a patient presenting with a rare, genetic, expanding eye disorder
15) Have a handlebar mustache on Tuesdays and Thursdays
16) Free-hand draw perfectly parallel lines on command
17) Be fluent in an imaginary language
18) Look professional in a suit jacket, tie, pajama pants, and sneakers
19) Develop an intuitive sense of what is in the trunk of any car I pass
20) Be the president of a company that aims to provide all children in the world with old school roller skates
21) See my family more than once every year
22) Be involved in service work, no matter what my career is, because my vocation is a calling much higher than a job
23) Be able to doubt things that I know are true
24) Change my favorite number to 30
Pretty good set, I think. Today, I have a day off. I have time to relax, to think, to be in fellowship with the people around me. Earlier today, a new volunteer noticed a calendar hadn't been changed for over a month, so she flipped it to April 24. I glanced, and saw that the words for today were "God is love and love is God." A perfect reminder, and a perfect gift, on my birthday. I hope you enjoy my birthday as much as I am right now. Peace.
Today it is the 24th. This day will consist of 24 hours. It marks my 24th birthday.
A long time ago, I was under the impression that I would have accomplished a lot by this age, this magnificent milestone of 24. I was supposed to be in my rookie season in the NBA. I was supposed to be married, and have my own house. I was supposed to have an overwhelmingly large circle of friends, all of whom absolutely adored me. With my signing bonus on my contract with the Sacramento Kings (realistically the only team I could play for), I would have started establishing myself as a great philanthropist, with donations to cancer research, special education programs, and contributions to my small (but important) liberal arts college. I was supposed to have picked up an instrument, and kicked my stage fright in favor of a boisterous personality that only had room for confidence. I was supposed to have flowing hair, like a blazing flame that fuels the inception of great ideas within my perfectly molded cranium. And, I was supposed to have a pet ferret. Or, a cocker spaniel at the least.
In all ways, then, I guess that I have failed spectacularly. And, this day is less of a milestone, and more of a sullen occasion.
But, I am not sulking. All the things I was supposed to have established by now, well, they just didn't play out. And, now that I am 24, I think I am fine with it. But, I think I should start on a new list of things I am supposed to be/do by age...30 (2+4=6, so 6 years down the road should work). Here goes:
1) Shed 30lbs. to get back to my high school weight of 135.
2) Have a pet plant, which requires minimum care.
3) Convince people I am bald by choice.
4) Be able to do a mean robot dance.
5) Effortlessly shoot 3-pointers from 35 feet out.
6) Have a Mini-Cooper, and a Ducati.
7) Be able to do a Tomahawk dunk, which would have force substantial enough to bring even Bill Walton to his feet, proclaiming, "Throw it down, big man. Throw it down."
8) Write a self-help book, probably titled "6 Instant Ways to Slowly Make Huge Changes in Your Behavior Which Will Result in Very Small Changes in Your Life in the Very Distant Future"
9) Have a newly discovered species of crustaceans named after me
10) Learn how to untie any knot (I don't care so much about tying them)
11) Be able to make my own clothes
12) Have eaten my own weight in cheese through the course of an intense one-month cheese diet
13) Be able to cry without actually shedding tears
14) Appear in an episode of House, as a patient presenting with a rare, genetic, expanding eye disorder
15) Have a handlebar mustache on Tuesdays and Thursdays
16) Free-hand draw perfectly parallel lines on command
17) Be fluent in an imaginary language
18) Look professional in a suit jacket, tie, pajama pants, and sneakers
19) Develop an intuitive sense of what is in the trunk of any car I pass
20) Be the president of a company that aims to provide all children in the world with old school roller skates
21) See my family more than once every year
22) Be involved in service work, no matter what my career is, because my vocation is a calling much higher than a job
23) Be able to doubt things that I know are true
24) Change my favorite number to 30
Pretty good set, I think. Today, I have a day off. I have time to relax, to think, to be in fellowship with the people around me. Earlier today, a new volunteer noticed a calendar hadn't been changed for over a month, so she flipped it to April 24. I glanced, and saw that the words for today were "God is love and love is God." A perfect reminder, and a perfect gift, on my birthday. I hope you enjoy my birthday as much as I am right now. Peace.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Twitching...With Excitement?
I wish I had a good story for this. An epic tale of self-sacrifice, in which I took on so many responsibilities, helped initiate the construction of a bridge between desperation and salvation. A grandiose odyssey into abysmal circumstances and emerged triumphant, though not without sustaining heavy emotional scars. The type of burdens that don't haunt dreams, but are in actuality twisting the perception of reality. Terrorizing every waking hour, manifesting themselves in unforeseen ways. A certain onset of darkness, in which I have only fragmented glimmer of light that I still hold on to. But in doing so, my being is so visibly shaken that I appear outwardly broken, contorted into a marred physical form while remaining internally strong, fortified by faith.
My story isn't quite that good. No vast expanses to traverse. No triumphant emergence. No hauntings. Just an awkward physical symptom.
In fact, I can't even pinpoint the origin. There is only a distinct point in time in which I noticed it. I was working out in the gym (the Institute has recently put up basketball goals, and I have been a gym rat since then). After shooting around for a bit, I was lifting weights. I don't know how many times it happened before I became conscious of it, but I realized it felt as if a blood vessel had exploded in my left, lower eyelid. Perhaps it had occurred the day before, or in the morning, or at that moment. I have no idea.
I didn't think much of it, and just didn't worry about it. This was two weeks ago. A few days after the initial occurrence, it persisted. One night, I tried to look in the mirror for a problem, and saw nothing....until the slightest of a twitch glared at me. A quiver of the eyelid. The lower left eyelid, to be precise.
An enigma that presents with such minute movement that I doubt anyone would ever spot it. Even if you were looking for it, I don't think you could catch it. But I know it is there. So, I decided to amateurishly investigate. Of course, anything on the internet is fun. In China, a twitch in the left eye is good luck (boom goes the dynamite). In India, it is the opposite...faulty fuse. A left eye twitch that presents suddenly is generally considered to be entirely harmless. More than likely a sign of stress (hah, that is doubtful), lack of sleep (probable), caffeine or alcohol (nope), or dry eyes (conceivable).
I could also go into Psych 101 and say this is the presentation of an emotional issue buried deep in the subconcious, which is manifesting itself physically and will only go away when the issue is addressed. That sounds the most appealing of all possibilities, but I really have no clue. As of now, though, the twitch makes me feel more sane than crazy, which might be crazy in itself.
The reality, though, is that things are becoming more consistent, and I am continually feeling better about my position here. I have good things happening all around me. There is a strong possibility of revamping the deaf-blind program to facilitate higher learning for one of the more advanced students whom I work with. A woman from the Perkins Institute (look it up) is coming to advise on possible changes, and hopefully mentor me to become a "legit" teacher. My Arabic is progressing, I am competent in Jordanian sign language, I spend more time at the school, am forming more relationships, help the school with additional projects, play basketball and work out regularly, and do so without feeling the need for extra time at my apartment watching movies. I found out my college roommate got engaged to a college friend. March Madness lifted me like nothing else, until KU floundered....but I recovered quickly. I have a 10-day Easter vacation approaching after this week. Then, in early May, an MCC retreat to Egypt. And, in the far distance, my older sister's wedding.
The only downside, was that for the first time, I experienced a bad week. Not bad in the sense that it was difficult, or overwhelming, or anything negative. It was bad by evaluation of my actions. I had moments where I felt like I was a good teacher, but for the most part I was out of sync. I still don't really know how to do my job, but it was simply a week where I felt like I even messed up the things I did know how to do. Very humbling to look back and see such poor performance, even in basic social interactions. And, a good reminder of how much I can learn, how much I need to rely on help, and the power of grace. I have a new week starting tomorrow, and I will do a better job. Heading into Easter, it was good to have a week of monumental failure, if only to think about how even those closest to Jesus had a miserable time doing the right thing when the path was so clear. It is clearer this week than it was last week. I am thankful for that. Peace.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Halftime
The title of this post isn't, in any way, related to the length of my SALT term. Nope. I am just updating as wait for the second half of the Big 12 Championship game to start. And yes, watching it live did require me to wake up, and come to school to have internet access, but KU basketball is always worth it.
This will be nothing significant, since I cannot afford to spend too much time typing, at risk of missing valuable game time.
Recently, I made a significant impact on the deaf community. I did something so selfless, and inspiring, that I cannot help but wonder if they will make a statue to commemorate this act of service. It was the perfect opportunity, as the older students gathered to celebrate recent birthdays. I baked cookies for the party, but no, dear reader, this was not the famous incident. No, that came later. At a different party. Another, more important party. That would set the stage for the single most important event in my time as a SALTer.
Dancing. The students have been pushing me since my time at the Institute began. So, with the music blaring, and the threats being issued towards me, I reluctantly stepped out on the dance floor. I don't know if you have even seen me dance, but it is a sight to behold. Since I NEVER dance in public, there are only rumors of the elegance and prowess that my style possesses. I think time stood still, as all eyes were upon me. Then, I was simply overcome by a series of passionate, robotic convulsions, which the students mistook for "dancing". Not only that, they emulated it. As I awoke from this nightmare, it became apparent that I had actually "danced", in some form of artistic expression.
The students still compliment what they perceived to be a creative interpretation of American hip-hop culture. They even snapped a few pics of it with my camera. Unfortunately, my camera was broken later in the evening, and all evidence was wiped from the face of the Earth. Too bad.
This will be nothing significant, since I cannot afford to spend too much time typing, at risk of missing valuable game time.
Recently, I made a significant impact on the deaf community. I did something so selfless, and inspiring, that I cannot help but wonder if they will make a statue to commemorate this act of service. It was the perfect opportunity, as the older students gathered to celebrate recent birthdays. I baked cookies for the party, but no, dear reader, this was not the famous incident. No, that came later. At a different party. Another, more important party. That would set the stage for the single most important event in my time as a SALTer.
Dancing. The students have been pushing me since my time at the Institute began. So, with the music blaring, and the threats being issued towards me, I reluctantly stepped out on the dance floor. I don't know if you have even seen me dance, but it is a sight to behold. Since I NEVER dance in public, there are only rumors of the elegance and prowess that my style possesses. I think time stood still, as all eyes were upon me. Then, I was simply overcome by a series of passionate, robotic convulsions, which the students mistook for "dancing". Not only that, they emulated it. As I awoke from this nightmare, it became apparent that I had actually "danced", in some form of artistic expression.
The students still compliment what they perceived to be a creative interpretation of American hip-hop culture. They even snapped a few pics of it with my camera. Unfortunately, my camera was broken later in the evening, and all evidence was wiped from the face of the Earth. Too bad.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
A Report
So, as it happened, a woman who was visiting the institute wanted to get some information on the deaf-blind unit. The director was away for the afternoon....so of course I was the obvious person to interview. The volunteer with no background in special education, who has only been here for a few months. Limited knowledge of students' personal history and progress. Yeah, I'm the man for the job.
I did my best to come up with some important points. First, I think the most considerable thing to grasp when trying to understand deaf-blind children is a unifying quality of all people. The world doesn't exist outside of our head. We have tools to perceive what we believe is going on in the space around us, and beyond. Ultimately, though, we rely on the brain's ability to interpret every signal that our sensory systems are capable of capturing. The deaf-blind person is deprived of the distance senses, shrinking the perceivable world from everything within earshot or line of sight to simply all things within their immediate proximity.
But, that world is still accessible. Since it is the brain which creates the awareness of this world, it is just as real, as true, and relevant as the world you and I experience. The approaches to facilitate proper awareness, though, are not quite as apparent. With visual and auditory cues, communication is just...picked up. Cause and effect can be collected on a time-line to promote intellectual formations of basic principles. Life skills are observed and copied. For a deaf-blind child, though, the disadvantage lies in an initial existence in a world of darkness and silence. When education is eventually started, all of the things the sighted and hearing take for advantage need to be deliberately taught. Discipline can't be understood unless the effects of an action are understood. The effects of an action can't be understood unless a moderate awareness of physical space and physical properties is understood. The awareness of physical space can't be meaningful unless a distinction is made between self, objects, and others. And this distinction can't be made until communication (in some form) has opened up a channel in the brain, which allows for thoughtful processing to evaluate the connections of everything within in that immediate proximity (and eventually even things beyond).
Truly, just because an action elicits a response in a deaf-blind, it doesn't mean understanding has occurred. More than likely, it is just a conditioned response. Additionally, a positive conditioned response doesn't necessarily mean progress. If cognitive processes of awareness, interaction, and understanding aren't the medium, then the signals between the cues and the responses are not much more than noise. You might end up with a well behaved child, but you don't have one with the ability to truly perceive the world.
And that is the challenge. Breaking the barrier of jumbled signals, to foster the meaningful connections that lead to emergence. The emergence from chaos into a peaceful, sensible world. A world that is within their grasp. How long does it take for an infant to develop language, self-awareness, and basic senses of the order of universe? The time needed is significant. For a deaf-blind child, a lot must be undone before the process of teaching is even conceivable. Then, add on to the fact that creativity is essential for tapping into the unique mechanisms of the deaf-blind brain. You end up with a child that is, in fact, not limited by their own disability. Instead, it seems more accurate to say that they are limited by the incompetence of the people around them to express the world in meaningful ways.
I suppose, then, you could say that my job is to creatively express the world. Its truths, absent of the sights and sounds, which in themselves do not contain any meaning other than what we assign to them. Pretty rockin' job. Peace.
I did my best to come up with some important points. First, I think the most considerable thing to grasp when trying to understand deaf-blind children is a unifying quality of all people. The world doesn't exist outside of our head. We have tools to perceive what we believe is going on in the space around us, and beyond. Ultimately, though, we rely on the brain's ability to interpret every signal that our sensory systems are capable of capturing. The deaf-blind person is deprived of the distance senses, shrinking the perceivable world from everything within earshot or line of sight to simply all things within their immediate proximity.
But, that world is still accessible. Since it is the brain which creates the awareness of this world, it is just as real, as true, and relevant as the world you and I experience. The approaches to facilitate proper awareness, though, are not quite as apparent. With visual and auditory cues, communication is just...picked up. Cause and effect can be collected on a time-line to promote intellectual formations of basic principles. Life skills are observed and copied. For a deaf-blind child, though, the disadvantage lies in an initial existence in a world of darkness and silence. When education is eventually started, all of the things the sighted and hearing take for advantage need to be deliberately taught. Discipline can't be understood unless the effects of an action are understood. The effects of an action can't be understood unless a moderate awareness of physical space and physical properties is understood. The awareness of physical space can't be meaningful unless a distinction is made between self, objects, and others. And this distinction can't be made until communication (in some form) has opened up a channel in the brain, which allows for thoughtful processing to evaluate the connections of everything within in that immediate proximity (and eventually even things beyond).
Truly, just because an action elicits a response in a deaf-blind, it doesn't mean understanding has occurred. More than likely, it is just a conditioned response. Additionally, a positive conditioned response doesn't necessarily mean progress. If cognitive processes of awareness, interaction, and understanding aren't the medium, then the signals between the cues and the responses are not much more than noise. You might end up with a well behaved child, but you don't have one with the ability to truly perceive the world.
And that is the challenge. Breaking the barrier of jumbled signals, to foster the meaningful connections that lead to emergence. The emergence from chaos into a peaceful, sensible world. A world that is within their grasp. How long does it take for an infant to develop language, self-awareness, and basic senses of the order of universe? The time needed is significant. For a deaf-blind child, a lot must be undone before the process of teaching is even conceivable. Then, add on to the fact that creativity is essential for tapping into the unique mechanisms of the deaf-blind brain. You end up with a child that is, in fact, not limited by their own disability. Instead, it seems more accurate to say that they are limited by the incompetence of the people around them to express the world in meaningful ways.
I suppose, then, you could say that my job is to creatively express the world. Its truths, absent of the sights and sounds, which in themselves do not contain any meaning other than what we assign to them. Pretty rockin' job. Peace.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Having a Spot Without Fitting In
I still don't really have a classification. I mean, I am a foreigner. I am a volunteer. I work at the Institute. But that doesn't make me really fit into a role. I am a teacher, but not quite. I am a guest in the community, but also a member of the community. I am hearing, but sometimes pretend to be deaf when outside the school (just easier than faking adequate knowledge in Arabic).
For instance, I work long days. The teachers in the deaf-blind unit are here from 8:30am to 4:00pm, with a lunch break from noon to 1:15pm (Sunday through Thursday). I work from 8:30 to 6:00, eating lunch with Haazim and having an allotted break on Sunday and Thursday from 12:30 to 1:15 (the other days I spend that time block on the play ground working with him). Then, as a volunteer, I also work on Fridays, 8:30 to 5:00 with a one-hour lunch break. Surprisingly, this hasn't caught up with me. I would rather be working with the deaf-blind children for those hours than sitting at home. I would rather work a full day Friday and be with the deaf community than work a half day and be rather useless (or at least feel that way). I suppose that is just how I am. But, it makes me appear to be distinctly overworked. I don't look at very many of my hours as work, though, which seems to make it all sustainable.
Still, I don't really fit into a descriptive category. The expectations are completely different for me. A unique set of flexible conditions that shift according to my availability and willingness.
I recently undertook a task of compiling, revising, and finalizing a list of PE equipment for HLID. In my incompetence, I spent many hours trying to locate and inquire about items through an online form, which was both tedious and...less than fruitful. After being at a prayer meeting, I stayed at the school until midnight trying to complete the task. I was bested, though, and quit without anything to show for my efforts. Exhaustion won the day. The next morning, running on 12 hours of sleep over the past two nights, the intensity of my work took its toll. I wanted to be focused. I wanted to be able to communicate in more than blinks and a greatly diminished vocabulary, whittled down to "sorry", "huh?", and "oh, right". Truly pitiful. And yet, without a category, it was like I wasn't at all accountable. I was told to take a nap. Perhaps I should hold myself more accountable for time management...
Slowly, this has been fading, though, and I am thankful for it. Wait....thankful? What? Why give up a lack of accountability? Why move away from being a perpetual guest, who is always allotted understanding, given excessive hospitality, and admired for doing such "good work"? Why trade that in for expectations and responsibility? I am not exactly masochistic, so it doesn't seem to make sense. It's like choosing to swallow grapes whole when you are perfectly capable of chewing. Yes. Exactly like that. Perfect metaphor.
And here's why: Everyone here swallows grapes whole. Dang. Lie. Metaphor proves to be inconsistent. Roll with it. By jumping into the trend, I get to be more than the foreigner. It won't make me Jordanian. It won't make me deaf (maybe mute if a couple grapes take up residency within my vocal chords). Instead, it makes me a little more dismantled. I might not fit in, but there is continually a place for me. The more I am dismantled, the easier I transition into said role. I don't really feel like I am serving if everyone has to constantly adapt to accommodate me. That sounds like vacation....
Today, we had a farewell party for a coworker in the deaf-blind unit whose last day of work is tomorrow. Everyone chipped in to help buy a gift and give some extra money for her as she is moving to Bahrain. I have only been here for a few months, but I have felt very welcomed by her, and consider her a good friend. But...I am still the American Christian, who is just a volunteer. So, I was just going to take pictures while we celebrated the gifts she has shared with us daily, through her work and friendship. When the gift was given to her, though, I was asked to do something special. The gift was a matching bracelet and wrist-watch, which I was asked to put on her wrist. I was taking the role of her brother. Maybe it didn't mean that much. But to me, that is substantial.
There is not an ounce of me which is qualified to assume that position, and yet the spot was there. I don't fit, which is what makes it even more perfect. I don't fit into most of the roles given to me, but I am asked to do them. I try to take on that responsibility humbly, and fulfill it with a sense of purpose. And each day, this is placed in front of me. If I lose sight of God within the children I work with, or the community I am placed in, surely I'll see God when I reflect on the serendipitous occurrences which so directly impact me. And, if my eyes are really open, maybe I'll have the wisdom to make the slightest of an impact the this community as well. Peace.
For instance, I work long days. The teachers in the deaf-blind unit are here from 8:30am to 4:00pm, with a lunch break from noon to 1:15pm (Sunday through Thursday). I work from 8:30 to 6:00, eating lunch with Haazim and having an allotted break on Sunday and Thursday from 12:30 to 1:15 (the other days I spend that time block on the play ground working with him). Then, as a volunteer, I also work on Fridays, 8:30 to 5:00 with a one-hour lunch break. Surprisingly, this hasn't caught up with me. I would rather be working with the deaf-blind children for those hours than sitting at home. I would rather work a full day Friday and be with the deaf community than work a half day and be rather useless (or at least feel that way). I suppose that is just how I am. But, it makes me appear to be distinctly overworked. I don't look at very many of my hours as work, though, which seems to make it all sustainable.
Still, I don't really fit into a descriptive category. The expectations are completely different for me. A unique set of flexible conditions that shift according to my availability and willingness.
I recently undertook a task of compiling, revising, and finalizing a list of PE equipment for HLID. In my incompetence, I spent many hours trying to locate and inquire about items through an online form, which was both tedious and...less than fruitful. After being at a prayer meeting, I stayed at the school until midnight trying to complete the task. I was bested, though, and quit without anything to show for my efforts. Exhaustion won the day. The next morning, running on 12 hours of sleep over the past two nights, the intensity of my work took its toll. I wanted to be focused. I wanted to be able to communicate in more than blinks and a greatly diminished vocabulary, whittled down to "sorry", "huh?", and "oh, right". Truly pitiful. And yet, without a category, it was like I wasn't at all accountable. I was told to take a nap. Perhaps I should hold myself more accountable for time management...
Slowly, this has been fading, though, and I am thankful for it. Wait....thankful? What? Why give up a lack of accountability? Why move away from being a perpetual guest, who is always allotted understanding, given excessive hospitality, and admired for doing such "good work"? Why trade that in for expectations and responsibility? I am not exactly masochistic, so it doesn't seem to make sense. It's like choosing to swallow grapes whole when you are perfectly capable of chewing. Yes. Exactly like that. Perfect metaphor.
And here's why: Everyone here swallows grapes whole. Dang. Lie. Metaphor proves to be inconsistent. Roll with it. By jumping into the trend, I get to be more than the foreigner. It won't make me Jordanian. It won't make me deaf (maybe mute if a couple grapes take up residency within my vocal chords). Instead, it makes me a little more dismantled. I might not fit in, but there is continually a place for me. The more I am dismantled, the easier I transition into said role. I don't really feel like I am serving if everyone has to constantly adapt to accommodate me. That sounds like vacation....
Today, we had a farewell party for a coworker in the deaf-blind unit whose last day of work is tomorrow. Everyone chipped in to help buy a gift and give some extra money for her as she is moving to Bahrain. I have only been here for a few months, but I have felt very welcomed by her, and consider her a good friend. But...I am still the American Christian, who is just a volunteer. So, I was just going to take pictures while we celebrated the gifts she has shared with us daily, through her work and friendship. When the gift was given to her, though, I was asked to do something special. The gift was a matching bracelet and wrist-watch, which I was asked to put on her wrist. I was taking the role of her brother. Maybe it didn't mean that much. But to me, that is substantial.
There is not an ounce of me which is qualified to assume that position, and yet the spot was there. I don't fit, which is what makes it even more perfect. I don't fit into most of the roles given to me, but I am asked to do them. I try to take on that responsibility humbly, and fulfill it with a sense of purpose. And each day, this is placed in front of me. If I lose sight of God within the children I work with, or the community I am placed in, surely I'll see God when I reflect on the serendipitous occurrences which so directly impact me. And, if my eyes are really open, maybe I'll have the wisdom to make the slightest of an impact the this community as well. Peace.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Not Just Because I Can
Over Christmas, I have a visit from a great friend by the name of John Miller. I think this photo captures the essence of our friendship.On to other things...
I am extending. I don't know all the details. I am planning on adding two years, but there are still things to work out. I am not extending just because I can, or because I love this school, or because I have nothing else to do. I have so many options. But staying here does not mean I will miss out on anything. You might contend that opportunities are gone, friends might fade, and my life's course will drastically deviate from "what could have been" (maybe even a sigh would accompany such a thought). I am not the type to imagine an omniscient sense of how the future plays out based on my decisions now. By some exclusive property, yes, I will admit that I am passing up on unknowns that the future would hold if I were in the US. To say that I could care less would carry undertones of apathy that are misleading. In theory, I don't think I can be dissatisfied with what I am doing if I truly believe that I am acting out of Christian faith. I am certainly not perfect, though, and maybe I made this decision based on the wrong criteria. Maybe I made it at the wrong time. Maybe I made it in the wrong context, with the wrong reasons.
All those musings seem confuddling (not a word). I made this decision based on what I have. I didn't want to make it in my comfortable, US context. That would have been cheating. I didn't desire for different criteria. That would have discounted what I am doing now. I didn't want to make it a different time. That would have degraded my connection to this community. And I certainly didn't want different reasons. That would have cut God out of my equation.
Perhaps I will feel differently in a year. Perhaps that should be scary. I can just as easily contend that perhaps I would be miserable back in the US, with thoughts of "what could have been in Jordan" (again, *sigh*). Conjectures, though, are boring.
I am not comfortable in this culture (I can't imagine how hard it would be for a female). I certainly don't understand a lot of what goes on around me. I constantly have ideas about how I would like to improve the educational approach here, but am not in a position to really even suggest reform. I am certainly not intoxicated by this place. Definitely not needed. Slightly appreciated. Increasingly blessed. Inadequately thankful. Evidently happy. Peacefully content.
Recently, I have had some awesome experiences. A veritable explosion of utterly nonsensical, raucous laughter from Mohammed as I tried to convince him that a stuffed animal was fluent in sign-language. Witnessing Haazim independently execute his first sign ever, under my instruction after only a few days of extra work with him (which I was initially ungrateful, even indignant about being assigned to). Continued excitement during a game, as Haazim went into fits of joy in response to my signing of "correct" with inappropriately loud verbalizations of the Arabic word to accompany it. And, the simple moments, when Mohammed (without reason or prompting) approaches me to point his finger into my chest, then makes a horizontal "V" with his hand, brings it to his head, and closes it as his hand moves away. It means, "You are happy." And he is always right.
I anticipate these experiences will keep coming, but they are not the reason for my extended term. Maybe it will get harder, but I do love the people here. I love this spiritual community. Love doesn't have a contingency that allows it to fade when things get hard. Or when I think about missing out on another alumni game at Bethel College. Or wonder if I'll ever get married. Or doubt that I'll find the vocation that God is calling me to. But the love from God that I know is consistent. It is fulfilling. I hope that my service here is directly accessing a vein of that love. And the reason that I can extend is because of that infallible, unfailing well which I have access to. I have a lot of work to do. I have a lot of growth to undergo. God is helping me, and is with me. It was an important decision, but not a difficult or big one. And if you know me, you probably can understand the laid-back-ishness that I convey here. I don't fret over decisions when I make them, because as long as I feel God at work, I am at peace. And I have that, which seems adequate. Peace.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Transparency
Best picture I could find. Confused. Happy. Signing. All me.In some ways, I have learned to dissect my own thoughts. It is as if I have one brain for thinking and another brain to analyze the first brain's motives. Not an essential skill, and it certainly makes me busy in thought (an ongoing process to monitor active processes isn't always efficient). Still, it often keeps me...peaceful.
There is an incredible amount of thought that has been allotted to considering extending my term with MCC. There is a requisite for such a decision, and I somehow am blocking it. I didn't decide to do SALT because of the chance to travel. Or see a new culture. Or be on my own. Or find myself. Or to prove I know what a Christian is supposed to do (which I don't quite have nailed down). The requisite is clear-cut: Be faithful and go where God leads. And here I am.
I like being led. It might appear as apathy, or complacency, or maybe just uncertainty. I prefer to think of it as...trusting. Not look before you leap, but jump before you think. It keeps me from faltering, falling back on the perceived power I have in making my own decisions. And it is good to feel powerful, I won't deny that. But once you realize it is a contrived sense of control, it kind of loses its luster. And now, I have this decision forced upon me. I get to determine my future.
Bwaahaa (that is the cry of the worker at Lon Lon Ranch in Zelda: Ocarina of Time...if you don't get it, move on). Sure, the decision will put me in a place (culture, context, occupation, etc.), but what I do and how I do it are the important things. So, a place determines my future? I think, no. In that respect, this decision feels irrelevant. Jesus seems to be telling me that having family 45 minutes away isn't top on his list. And that having a rec. league basketball team doesn't make the cut. And that the desire to reconnect with college friends is precluded by a love for your neighbor, whoever that might be. I don't think I am called to deny those things indefinitely. I do think I am called to deny them entirely when considering extending my term, though. Just the same as I am called to deny the flattery and encouragement that emboldens me to think I belong in this deaf/deaf-blind, Arabic community.
So, I have come down to a need for transparency. I haven't discussed this decision extensively with...anyone really. If only one thing matters, why discuss all the reasons that my brain is coming up with, or the analytical side to discern motives of those reasons? (If you would like to talk to me about it, I'm game, just because communication is so gosh-darn fun.) So, I am gonna wait, and on the day that I need to make the decision (Saturday) I am cutting it all down to see where I am led (not where I am pulling). I work with deaf-blind students, and every moment they have that kind of trust. To take the hand, and just go. Not because they know what is coming, but because the person leading does. That should be enough. Peace.
P.S.- I don't really have two brains. Additionally, I had an alternative method of making this decision, but it involved factors such as: If my presence in Kansas would increase KU's chances of another national championship in basketball. If I would be entirely bald (not by choice) by the time an extended term were finished. If teleportation would be a viable method of transportation within the next two years, thus nullifying the need to choose between Jordan and the US. If I was planning on being hit by a car, inducing life-threatening head-trauma, which would render my auditory nerves damaged, leaving me deaf (not plausible, but if I was planning it, then staying in this community would make sense). If a Jordanian bride were offered to me within the next few days (not saying I would accept, but the gesture would certainly be appreciated and quite moving). And if the local shops here would carry ice cream year-round (seriously, I like ice cream a lot, and superficially, that holds a lot of clout in my book).
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