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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

Cutting Through Inessentials

I have almost made my decision. I love working here in Jordan. I love being a special-education teacher. I love how seamless this transition has been. I love being the "foreigner" and changing perceptions about Americans. I LOVE my deaf-blind children. And I probably won't extend my term here. No need for lamentation.

I felt a distinct calling to do SALT. It had nothing to do with a preconceived notion that I am a light to others, and I should by all means travel the world to illuminate the lives of others. It was simpler than that, and hopefully less naive. I did my best to clear my mind, eliminate personal and cultural pressures. I wanted to feel a bit more surrendered. To engage the idea of service without presupposing that I have spectacular calling to which I must adhere. No obligations except to listen, carefully. Delicately, painfully cutting through my own intentions to find the faintest of whispers. I don't really know what I found, but I just knew it was clear once personal motivations were shed, at least to the greatest extent my flawed perspective was capable of.

In considering extending my SALT term, I haven't been doing that. I examined what I love, and what I want. It isn't that those things wouldn't coincide with service, but ultimately, that doesn't necessarily integrate with faithfulness. It comes down to cutting through the inessentials, to find that one important thing. A "calling" sounds so exclusive, but it is usually the language I subscribe to. I'll bypass that here in favor of expressing this process as "listening". It sounds like a cop out, as if I am waiting out God, hoping to have the direction provided. That isn't how I see it. I am just trying to keep my limited (often selfish) perspective from poisoning my decision, under pretense of righteousness. I very much doubt I can entirely eliminate my fallibility, but poison in small amounts is bearable, without toxically endangering the outcome.

I am usually the obstacle in a relationship. No amount of sincerity can overcome personal motives. So, I want this decision to be made without sincerity. Yeah, now I'm confused too. It should be self evident. That is the nature of truth. It just is. Can't contain it, can't own it. You just experience it. Sincerity not required. With open eyes, open heart, open mind, I hope to get there. As of now, my motives excluded, I am experiencing a new feeling. I feel a bit closer to God, and I feel like I won't be in Jordan next year. It is, quite surely, more real than the reasons to stay, which I have conjured up over the past few months. But rather than following a host of important things, I think I am closer to following the one important thing. Peace.