Yesterday I went to what very well might be my last OPUS. For those of you scratching your heads and wondering what I'm talking about, I shall tell you. OPUS is Trinity's celebration of scholarship that takes place once every spring. This is the time for students to present anything they've been working on during the semester, whether it's research, a work of art, a poem...you get the idea. Students submit their work and compete for prizes. Many interim groups will also give presentations on what they did in January. Afternoon classes are cancelled and night classes are pushed back to seven, so everybody's free (except those of us who work). We get tickets to enter in a drawing for presenting or going to presentations, and the prizes include everything from free parking permits to a $500 tuition remission. It's cool stuff. Kinda like a big party centered around school.
This year I actually presented for the first time. I've been doing some independent research this semester for the honors program. I got to choose any topic I wanted as long as it had to do with my major, and I decided on social work with suicide survivors. Meaning, people who have lost a close loved one to suicide. This is a very personal topic for me, because I am a suicide survivor multiple times over. My first experience of death when I was six years old was the suicide of my grandfather, and my parents told my brother and I the truth about how he died. It's a lot for a six year old brain to handle, and unfortunately suicide has remained in my life since. I could say a whole lot more about what that experience has been like for me, but this is the Internet and that's besides the point of this post. Anyway, I've been working hard on this research for months, and according to the honors program I must present it. So I did.
Never in a million years would I have anticipated the number of people who came to hear me speak. The room was standing room only--people were standing along the walls, sitting in the aisle...It was crazy. I knew some people would come because we're friends (or friendly), but I didn't know many people in the audience. Hardly anyone came from social work. I was blown away and humbled by their interest in such a tough topic. At the beginning of my presentation, I self-disclosed a bit and said that I was one of the people I was about to talk about. The reactions I got were interesting--I saw several eyebrows go up. It's a scary thing to admit something so personal to so many people in the community where you live and study, but I'm glad I did. For the first time, I felt like I got to stand up and reveal a tiny piece of my story while trying to improve the world and how we relate to each other as Christians.
Later that afternoon, I had a couple strangers thank me for my presentation while I was at work. To my shock, I was voted the best presentation out of psychology, social work, sociology...I forget what else. But wow. I was nervous about speaking on such a tough subject and revealing my personal experience with it, and wasn't sure if I would be well received. But I was. Again, so humbled by how supportive my peers were and so grateful for their willingness to show that they care by at least sitting through my speech. Little did they know, they were a part of a tremendous healing experience for me. We truly are wounded healers in social work, and when we get to use our pain to create change...that's truly something.
Although I (sorta sadly) still have a year left at Trinity, this semester is my last living on campus. Prior to this March I had no idea that I would be moving back in with my parents this fall. Needless to say, the thought of returning to the lime green/orange room complete with bunk beds that I share with my 12-year-old sister as a married woman is a little crazy. Let me tell you, I had absolutely zero intentions to become the boomerang child, especially while having a husband who is totally capable of supporting me!
Brief explanation: I'm getting married to a soldier in the US Army in June. We're living in Virginia this summer, and then I have to come back to Illinois to finish my BSW while my husband is wherever the Army tells him he needs to be, which will definitely not be in Illinois. I decided that it's best to live with my parents during that time and commute the 45 minutes to school.
So, I decided to come up with a couple lists to sum up my feelings about leaving res life so quickly and unexpectedly.
Things I'll Miss.
-Living with two of my best friends. I love sitting at the kitchen table doing homework and usually having someone else to strike up a conversation with. Words can't describe how awesome it is to have people to hang out with all the time.
-Grabbing lunch to-go and watching CSI against our better judgment.
-The fact that someone else cooks my meals.
-The ability to change into comfy clothes and nap in the middle of the day.
-The late night activities on campus, including Outcry, movies, etc.
-Never having to pay for gas because I don't have a car.
-Being able to take it for granted that the shower will have hot water.
-Sharing a bathroom with less people. Yep, that's right--the bathroom situation has always been much better for me at college than at home.
-Great memories from my first three years of living here.
Things I Won't Miss.
-Being stranded on campus most of the time because I don't have a car.
-Greasy food.
-Noisy pipes or whatever they are in Tibstra.
-Not feeling connected to my home church.
I think that's enough for now. Leaving is a weird feeling, but I'm ready. Ready to be a married woman, even if it's in a very unusual way. Definitely ready to start transitioning out of this place and figuring out the rest of my life.
Last week AJ and I decided to postpone Valentine's Day, largely due to the fact that we did not have the time, money, and (for me) cars to do something as special as we wanted to last weekend. And so, this morning I woke up and behaved as though it were an ordinary day, not expecting anything except maybe a "Happy Valentine's Day" text from AJ. Well, I was wrong.
God has given me such a blessing in him. I'm so thrilled to be marrying a true man of God who also spoils me like crazy. :)
This weekend I did something crazy. I packed my bags and drove over 100 miles on a Sunday just to see my fiance for 24 hours. And it was sooo worth it.
Despite the many, many things on our to-do lists, we managed to squeeze in a whole lot of quality time in one day. I got to AJ's apartment at 11:00am, and from there we made a trip to the laundromat just for fun. ;) We got to sit across from each other next to a row of noisy washing machines and do homework, which was way better than doing it alone in my dorm. After AJ's load was done, we (actually, AJ) made some delicious macaroni and cheese and some (not-so-delicious, to me) green beans. It's fun making something in his apartment, even if it is cheap and easy. But really, how do you top homemade sushi? (We did that last fall, raw fish and everything. It was mildly scary at first but ended up being delicious.)
After lunch we opened up our laptops and binders again for more homework time with HGTV on in the background. Of course, sitting next to your fiance and doing research is pretty distracting, so we ended up snuggling and enjoying some quality house hunting shows. We had some make-your-own stir fry at Flat Top and tea afterwards at Espresso Royale, one of U of I's many coffee shops. We came back and watched a show called "Life" about kammodo dragons (sp?) and then went to bed early-ish because AJ had PT in the morning.
Monday morning I got to wake up and see my wonderful fiance after Army training. I helped make a quick breakfast at his apartment and then we had to part ways, but only for three full days. A short trip, but packed with fun and good memories. Now I can start my week. :)
Okay, I've been back in the States for awhile now and I'm running out of excuses not to update this thing. But, I do in fact have lots of important things to say today, so hopefully it's a worthwhile read.
I learned more in Haiti than I could ever list on a blog, but there are two things that stick out when I think about what I would share with my friends and family here.
1. I learned that my faith is incredibly small when I compare it to the faith of so many Haitians that I met.
2. Many Americans, including myself, are impoverished in ways they do not realize--perhaps even more impoverished than so many Haitians who have no food, clean water, or medical care.
Let me explain. Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. Before I landed in Port-au-Prince, I could not have imagined the suffering that I got a tiny glimpse of during the week I was there. The poverty is heartbreaking. People are dying because they do not have clean water, food, health care, or even a structure that can qualify as a home. Materially, the many Haitians are truly impoverished, and this is very difficult for someone who truly follows Jesus to ignore.
One day, as I was painting a house, I asked a Haitian man who spoke English what Jesus meant to him. He very matter-of-factly told me that Jesus is simply everything. He is Lord, and he is to be depended upon for everything. Robinson often wakes up in the morning with no food and no money to buy it, but at some point in the day he'll bump into a friend who happens to have some to share. He surprised me by saying that he doesn't even pray for food, because Jesus already knows what he needs to survive. He spends his time praying for other people, that they would be healed of an illness or come to know Christ as their savior. Robinson has seen a woman healed of malaria and has even survived a terrible motorcycle accident himself (he has pretty terrible scares and crooked bones to prove it). Haitian people have little hope of finding adequate medical care. There is no 911; there are no specialists. But Robinson says that doesn't matter, because "Jesus is the best doctor". When I think of my understanding of my chronic illnesses and occasional financial worries, I realize that my faith is so small compared to Robinson's. I construct safety nets in my life so that I never have to really be desperate. Am I completely dependent on Jesus for all my needs? No way.
It's amazing to see the differences in how a Haitian and a "North American" will respond to a problem, whether it be sickness, danger, hunger, etc. Our response is usually to call 911, to dip into our savings or retirement, or count on the government to bail us out. We always have some sort of worldly solution for our needs, while the Haitian response is so simple: Haitians pray before they do anything else. It makes so much sense to them, yet is so foreign to us.
That's why we're often so spiritually impoverished here. We look for answers, safety, and comfort in what the world has to offer, not Jesus. Many of us (including me) do not really believe Jesus will heal them or meet whatever other needs we have. Sometimes, I do drop everything and pray, but not nearly enough. I still look to the world for far too many things.
Through my pilgrimage to Haiti, God has mercifully opened my eyes to my spiritual poverty. And although we are called to care for the poor and eradicate poverty in Haiti and elsewhere, I'm beginning to realize that I would rather be materially poor than spiritually poor. I need to be desperate for Jesus--we all do.
Well folks, welcome to my first attempt at blogging. In case you're wondering why on earth I've decided to put bits and pieces of my life on the internet (some of you may know that I try to be a private person), it's mostly because I stole my roommate's idea to keep my family and some friends involved in what I'm doing with my life. So, I know at least my parents and my grandparents will be reading this, and if that's all, I'm okay with that. In all honesty, the thought of anyone who has access to the internet reading this is kind of scary. But I'm branching out--apparently blogging is the thing to do now that we're in the 21st century.
I should probably explain the lack of English titles thus far. They're references to Matthew 8:19, where a teacher of the law says, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go". And it's in the very next verse that Jesus replies, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head".
The constant changing of locations that comes with living at college has only gotten harder for me with time. No matter where I am, I always feel like I have one foot out the door. Since my freshman year at Trinity began, I've spent time in Peotone, Palos Heights, Georgia, and Champaign-Urbana. I leave for Haiti on Saturday, I will hopefully visit my roommate in LA this summer, I plan to spend my last semester in Ecuador, and there's an excellent possibility that I will leave Illinois for a few years as soon as I graduate. I'm very blessed to have all these opportunities to travel to and live in so many different places, but I never thought I'd end up feeling rootless. Spend time with me a day or two before I pack to leave again and you'll probably find that I'm not in a good mood, and it's not just because I hate packing. I love to travel, yet I long for a greater sense of permanency, and it's safe to say that the moving around is not ending anytime soon.
So what's a girl to do? Follow Jesus. In a sense, I feel like I can hardly complain, because he has given me the opportunity to fulfill so many dreams. And when I find out that the pursuit of those dreams isn't what I thought it would be, he is there to remind me that I'm still waiting for my permanent home when the redemption of all creation comes to completion.
More than that, though, I'm learning that as I pack for each new location, I already have what I really need--and that's God. He is omnipresent, which is a fancy way of saying that he is with me wherever I go. Even though God's plans, especially for the next couple years, are turning out to be very different than my plans, I'm learning that it's okay. I'm not alone. I have the Creator of this earth with me wherever I go in it.
One final thought. Jesus had no place to lay his head. He was always on the move. So whenever I feel transient and rootless, all I have to do is think of him and know that he must have felt that way sometimes too.
Sorry it's a little rough...I'm hoping to get better at this. Next time you hear from me, I'll be back from Haiti and excited to share what God has done in me and through me. And perhaps a little more tan. :)
