Travel Must-Do's/NMC 302 post #1

My mind is constantly in the place I could go next, I feel it important to make a durable list of international locations that I am obligated to make my way to within the next ten years (a bold mission I realize.) Places on here have either always been on my list for no apparent reason or have recently been added due to the New York Times news agenda or Travel + Liesure's feature spreads on must-see luxury resorts (oh don't act like a Thai spa treatment doesn't sound attractive to you, liar.) Let's get started on just a few, in no particular order:

Abidjan, Ivory Coast.

Like I said, the news agenda plays a pretty critical role in my process of choosing destinations. There's enough tragic publicity daily on this place to bring me to tears, and it has actually, but I can't help but be inspired by the recent turn of events:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/12/world/africa/12ivory.html?_r=1&scp=5&sq=abidjan&st=cse
In this story from last week, we can see that a change has finally come. Gbagbo is gone. Though the effects of his time in power may continue on for some years, the first step has been taken (unless you count the opposition's initial decision to fight as the first step) and now the country can get back on it's feet- economically and politically. The article also stated the involvement of foreign military groups (like France) as aid for the opposition. Information presented in the article was presented in a way commonly used by the new York Times: quotes from big men involved (including Gbagbo and a commander in the French military) sprinkled throughout but it gets to the point immediately. The arrest of Mr. Gbagbo can probably be considered the climax of the story of unrest in the Ivory Coast and the NY Times wasted no times in telling readers exactly what they needed to know in a situation like this. The ultimate message being conveyed in this story is one that I not only agree with, but also an underlying cause to why visiting the Ivory Coast is on my to-do list. The message is that now that Gbagbo is gone, the country can move on.

For weeks we've been reading about political disaster and internal war, but what we are seeing now are stories of hope. These people, pardon my making assumptions based on what I've read and not directly seen, are the kind that won't let a power-hungry man maintain authority if he doesn't deserve it. Out with the old (Gbagbo: The Mr. Undeserving) and in with the new (Ouattara: the rightful election winner.) I like it. I must meet these people: the very same people the UN predicts will make an immediate come-back and swift economic recovery because they refused to let a cheater get his way.

I can only imagine the cries of happiness that resounded after the arrest.
The following is an article by Voice of America news about the forecasted economic recovery under Ouattara:
http://www.voanews.com/english/news/africa/UN-Expects-Swift-Economic-Recovery-in-Ivory-Coast-119858994.html

Let's hope the UN knows what it's talking about.


Dublin, Ireland. This whole thing stems from my father informing me my family roots are somewhere in the British Isles about seven years ago. Who knows if it's true; I don't come from a particularly heritage-informed family. Even then, though, I made the decision to go see "where I come from" (an obvious excuse to go some place new- as if someone needs an excuse) and experience the compassionate and fun-loving culture that is the Irish. As I have no personal experience on which to base my cultural understanding of this region (my family and I went to London five years ago and that's the closest I've come) I am making some pretty profound assumptions. Regardless of whether or not I am right or wrong, I must go see Dublin: famous for it's coffee-drinking, seven-hours-a-conversation intelectuals, cobble-stone streets and lively pubs. These are the basics I know from articles and books: *Dublin likes to drink.

I'll admit, I got this idea from movies mostly ("P.S. I Love You" played a big part and I'm not ashamed to say it. Okay, maybe a little), but every Dublin travel article I've ever read swears by the pubs and breweries so I'm following suit. Of the the dozens to choose from, there's the world-famous Guiness Storehouse, which was built in 1908 and almost single-handedly ran the economy for hundreds of years. Excuse my frankness, but any city that maintains financial stability through beer must be a light-hearted bunch. *Dublin likes to read.

Sounds dumb, right? What city with any internationally-known university like Trinity wouldn't enjoy a good read? What Dublin has, though, is different. The Archbishop March's Library was built upon a simple cornerstone concept: everyone should have access to books: books on medicine, navigation, math, travel, classic literature and music. From what I've heard, the city continued this theology and has since developed just a few more public libraries.

*Dublin likes to talk.

Well who wouldn't with that accent. A friend of mine once told me about her study abroad experience in Dublin. Her descriptions of the locals were mesmerizing: that they were the friendliest, most hospitable, genuine people she'd ever come across. Not to mention they have plenty to talk about given the availability of higher education, the success of local artists, musicians and restaurants.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

This has been a growing priority since my freshman year in college. I watched a documentary in my anthropology class about the autrocities of the Khmer Rouge and Pol Pot's regime, and just like any other naive girl, I suddenly had to go. I guess I am still naive, because the urge has only heightened since then. Not to mention I am becoming good friends with a lovely lady at my church who spent three years as a missionary in Phnom Penh (and of course remains in contact with people who are still there- guest rooms perhaps?) If there is any spirit or happiness left in these people after that devastating history, I will be in awe. I do have experience in Southeast Asia, and from what I have seen with my own eyes, Southeast Asians are a beautiful and lovely kind with smiles from one ear to the other. What I want to see when I go (not if; when) is a bright smile on a Cambodian citizen: proof that a selfish and blood-thirsty dictator does not have power over a nation's people once he is gone. People bounce back, and Cambodians can smile after millions of their own are brutally killed, displaced and weakened.

This is a New York Times story from April 7th on continued repression and adversity in Cambodia: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/08/world/asia/08cambodia.html?ref=cambodia

“Over the past 20 years, the development of civil society has been one of Cambodia’s few enduring achievements,” he said. “This law threatens to reverse that progress.”

In the early 1990s, Cambodia emerged from two decades of civil war and mass killings by the Khmer Rouge, which left the country brutalized, without an educated class or civic institutions."

I wish this country's human rights would for once become the government's main priority, but even if it doesn't I think the people can still be found smiling.

*photos used from various travel websites and news sources.

They heard Him/Mexico Report

I got back from Queretaro, Mexico three weeks ago. It was by no means a trip for beach-lounging or pina colada-drinking, though the first would have been accepted with open arms had I been anywhere near the coast. It was a soul-searching journey.

After spending the short week there, I now feel I can look at the news and form a somewhat more credible opinion than I could before ever being there, not to mention a much stronger connection. I saw a couple stories on cnn regarding Mexico and the news did what it usually does best: devastates.

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2011/04/08/mexico.mass.graves.cnn?iref=allsearch

http://www.cnn.com/2011/WORLD/americas/04/14/mexico.mass.graves/index.html?iref=allsearch

In seeing things like this, especially after having been there, the tendency to feel hopeless is incredible strong. Living in Corvallis, OR does not seem the ideal living situation when there is a cause calling my name thousands of miles to the center of Mexico. It breaks my heart that an unstable economy and political unrest are the underlying causes of so much violence and disaster. From what I saw with my own eyes, the Mexican people are not at all like the criminals constantly portrayed in the news. This is what I got to experience...


The fact that spring break was only a week long and therefore an extremely short experience had little influence on how much of my soul I actually discovered there. It was beautiful. The plan was to travel to the casa of very old family friends who moved to Mexico as missionaries over ten years ago. They currently reside three hours away from one of the world's most dangerous cities (that is la Ciudad de Mexico) and oversee three different churches in the country. The church in Queretaro (a gorgeous colonial town) is now where they live and are having the greatest impact. The very first morning I woke up to the strongest sun beaming through the window. Sunday: time for church. Spanish worship commenced, my friend Cassidy leading like a freakin' rock star, and everyone-- I mean three year-olds and 70 year-olds and everyone in between- - was on their feet dancing with their hands raised to the heavens. God had my heart in his powerful grip from the first song. It was the truest feeling of humility I've experienced in a long time. It was as if the distance my praises and worship usually have to travel from me to God was eliminated. If that makes any sense... at all. Singing in Spanish manifested a whole new element as well; something about not singing the song perfe ctly humbled me in His presence even more. For the rest of the week I spent time with the American missionary family, got to know them and their ministry well. They inspired me more than anyone has in the last four years. In a country where times are very rough (as the saying goes: "When the US sneezes, Mexico catches a cold") and it is dangerous for someone to walk on his/her own at all in certain states, my friends are seemingly fearless. The two daughters evangelize to everyone they come into contact with (in their perfect Spanish of course), hold separate secular jobs to compensate for a missionary's salary, teach Sunday school, lead powerful worship and even give Sunday morning sermons every we ek. They are building up Mexican disciples who in turn go on to build their own churches. People are getting saved by the dozens weekly. They are fearless because they are p lanted in the Lord's purpose for them, so overwhelming satisfied with the work God has given them in a place they once did not consider home. Now they can't imagine leaving Mexico. I learned many things during my time there, the most significant being that I must keep my eyes and ears open for when God is ready to reveal my life's ministry. It may not be in international missions- though I would definitely not complain if that be the case- or in pastoral horizons, but I know it will be important for the ultimate Christian goal of every knee bowed and every tongue confessed. I know the calling may not come overnight (though it did for these people) but probably in a sequence of blessings and signs revealed to me over time... at least that's the way God has worked in my life thus far. I also learned of a very interesting lifestyle, which is that of the missionary and the missionary's kids. These people are not constantly covered head to toe, nor do they end every sentence with "Praise God." They are real people: personable and content and ready to spend time with anyone who wants to spend time with them. I love them so dearly, and am so blessed to have their email address. They assured me all I have to do is send an email a day in advance next time I plan on visiting them in Queretaro, and there will be a next time. As a result of my journey, I came to realize something... There's been a disturbance in the belief system I strongly cling to. It's not recent, in fact I think it has been around much longer than I've been alive, but it's just now starting to bother me. I'm getting really agitated with it. Not necessarily with the people who are doing it but with the concept itself. This concept is tolerance. My tolerant brothers and sisters in Christ, as well as myself since I have become quite a tolerant individual, have the best intentions, and I don't want to come off as a self-righteous, finger-pointing sonofagun with a wrinkled forehead. I don't. But honestly, isn't it better to be that than a confused, semi-heated church-goer who somewhat resembles, if you squint your eyes and tilt your head just so, one of those people who are living with a God-given purpose? I suppose I'm putting myself at risk of hypocrisy because I'm not classified as the gospel-preaching, incredibly well-versed Christian gal with the purest intentions. What I am getting at here has little do with the actions of others and more to do with my individual mentality that we were not made to attend church, go home, create a few "God is great" facebook statuses and call it good. I no longer believe that to be okay for myself or anyone who claims to be living for God and fulfilling spiritual purpose. Either you are or you're not. Either God's purpose is being revealed through my life, or it's not. I realized most of this as I roamed the streets of downtown Queretaro (one of the few safe cities left in Mexico) smelling cultural uniqueness and tasting the potential of a revival, a revolution of sorts, stemming from a family's decision to obey God's command.

Friday, November 5th

Feeling like a legitimate college student here at the Brew Station on my second cup of coffee. Just finished up my first small group led by the one and only Natalie Gilcrist, a woman of God everyone is blessed to know. Her enthusiasm pushes me, and she consistently says the same thing to me. This is a friendship rooted in God I believe. I need to pursue it whole-heartedly. I'm stoked to be apart of this girl-dominated, intimate small group.

Hallelujah.

Anyway, afterwards I decided to read a couple chapters in John. Now we JUST got done talking about how, if we're open to it, God can reach up through his Word. Listen:

Yesterday I walked into work at the Boys and Girls Club to find a high school girl I've gotten to know on the phone crying. I was concerned as I recently started working with the high schoolers once a week. Turns out an old club member who was involved with the high school and Keystone last year committed suicide Thursday morning. I didn't know him but it's devastating even as a, outsider. Anyhow, I asked all my friends to pray for him and his family and this morning in John chapter 9 verse 3, "but this happened so the works of God might be displayed in his life."

Even if all that happens is a friend getting healed from the pain of loss, it will be a miracle.

Use me please, Heavenly Father.

Tiara,

Hello my best friend. You’ve been on my heart so much lately, for no real apparent reason. Actually you’re always on my heart as we spend every single day together- in the same city, the same school, the same house, yes even the same room.

Isn’t our room beautiful? Everyone knows it. Everyone’s jealous of it too, you can tell by their expressions as they walk in and notice the quaint furniture and flock of black birds spread out across the walls. They wish their rooms had that much time and affection put into them.

Who else can say they spend every night with their best friend? We don’t even need to talk to notice the good it does to our lives. Being so physically close to you since I moved in a couple months ago has somehow blessed me in a lot of ways. As if we weren’t close enough before, this whole sharing a room thing has made it even more so. Sometimes, yes, we wake each other up. Sometimes we talk and laugh too late into the night and wake up zombies the next day. But, and I know I speak on your behalf as well, it’s so worth it.

Both of us have joked in the past about how our relationship reminds us of marriage. If this is a glimpse of what marriage is like, I can’t wait. We share everything. We balance everything perfectly: the room, our personalities, our chores; my ying and your yang, my contentment and your absolute zest for life.

Whatever God was thinking when he put you in front of me one day when I wasn’t looking, it was genius. I would imagine it was something like this: “They don’t know it quite yet, but they’ll become two of the most important people in each other’s lives. They’ll never find a better friend in anyone else. Oh… and they’ll realize how lucky they are to have one another as soon as they’re on their own in college.”

I don’t mean to quote God, but this is what my imagination gave me when I thought about His plan for us. “Once they spend some time together, they’ll realize part of the reason I made both of them was to be there for each other, to help each other grow through both hardship and laughter, and of course love.”

How right he was. You’ve been there through it all. Listened to every word I’ve had to say, contributed advice only when I needed it, and let me figure stuff out on my own when I didn’t.

However, I can’t go through this whole spiel without mentioning the little issues we’ve had. You know… the occasional, “what exactly do you do when you procrastinate?” or whatever it is you said to me that one time that made me give you an angry face that no one ever really takes seriously. Oh, or my personal favorite: the fight we had about a certain someone spending some time on our couch. In the end, it was all meaningless banter. They were arguments that prove we’re humans with feelings- and sometimes they get hurt, even by our best friend. It’s okay… there will be more. And that’s okay with me J

Then there are the not-so-meaningless issues, like the one you approached me with last Thursday about your struggle with jealousy. That night proved as much as any other that only my best friend could come to me, after feeling convicted by God, with total humility and apology about somewhat unfriendly feelings. I commend your courage, Tiara. I wonder if I would be strong enough to admit what you did if the tables were turned and God convicted me about my shortcomings.

So, thank you. Thank you for always listening to God and respecting me enough as your best friend and sister in Christ to admit those feelings to me. It meant the world to me, my love. It will remain in my memory as one of the most commendable actions someone has taken toward me, I swear.

Anyway, I just want you to know that when we spend days and nights together, as we tell each other “I love you,” every night before we fall asleep, I mean it. I mean it as if I were saying it to family. I mean it as if I were saying it to someone I’ve known my whole life. I really do love you, my best friend. I know I can trust you with my life.

Excitement lies ahead within the next few months for us, as we plan to travel and spend more time together, but on a different continent. I so look forward to traveling and showing you more of the world I came from, as if you don’t know enough about me already? J

I pray for you all the time, thanking God for blessing me with the crazy plan he made long before we were even born: Joce and Tiara will become best friends. They will teach each other many things about love, happiness, responsibility, the world and me. I’m sure right now he’s thinking to himself, “You know? They’re not doing half bad.”

Back home.

My best friend and I were discussing just a few moments ago the word "home" and how it differs so much from person to person. For some people, home will mean the same thing/place for their entire lives. For people like Tiara and I, home has the tendency to change its meaning every year. When we travel, even for only a few months, the host country becomes home. When we move across town, our new duplex becomes home. It's an interesting thought, is it not. It really inspires the chameleon in me; the undying characteristic that will always be apart of me: the ability to not only adapt to my surroundings but also become apart of them. I have no doubt that college students hold the record for the demographic that shifts surroundings the most often, which in my eyes is something to be very proud of.

My friend Kenny and I were talking on the phone the other night (due to the fact that he is a state North) and he was telling me about some funny things he encountered while at the fair. I won't get into his silly stories because I don't want to steal his thunder... but we agreed we should blog about the fair and the amazing people and events that only occur in such an atmosphere.

I ended up going once to the State Fair in Salem this summer with Tiara, Braden, Sumana and Tiara's family. For me, unlike Kenny, it wasn't a single event that made me roll on the ground laughing while I was there but rather a plethora of people and sights that, as always, led me to believe that those who go to the state fair are those who don't necessarily care what people like me think of them.

Thank God for the Salemites who attend the fair and their ability to live long peaceful lives without teeth.

All things glorious.

Today's just one of those days that the weather can't seem to make up it's stinkin' mind. And, well, neither can I.

Right now I'm going to do my best to describe the current view outside my window. There are trees. Big ones. On one half of the scene, there is blue sky and white, puffy, weak, easily-blown away, wispy transparent clouds. On the other half there is what seems to me one huge gray cloud. No blue skies to speak of, no white puffiness, no transparency. Just gray thickness. The trees toward the left side of this scene past my window are bright green, and due to the sun light hitting it from the East, they have taken on this sort of back-lit, staged beauty. The plants and shrubbery on the other side, however, are not lit up. They look dull. They are just green. Not bright green or brightly-lit like their relatives only feet away.

In my amazing wisdom and creative mindfulness, it took me like five minutes to relate this scene to my spiritual life. As the onlooker behind the window, I represent the world: a place full of unknowing, often uncaring non-believers who see me from the outside in. They see what I saw of my backyard: partly sunny and bright with Jesus' light making me look beautiful, and the other part just a blah gray thickness.

I don't think anyone, besides maybe my brother, really considers me a moody individual, but sometimes, I feel like I am half and half and sometimes, a little too often, I think it shows. All in the same day, I will experience God's tangible passion and desire for me to thrive and be blessed and make fishers of men and feel spiritually empty and wort... no, not worthless... purposeless.

How dare I, someone who has been blessed beyond belief, compare myself to this torn, confused image of nature?

Well... I am human after all. I know this might be awful to say, but almost everyday I find myself questioning how it could be this good. Then, two seconds later I inevitably slap myself in the face because I know the answer. Duh.

The point is, I need to make sure that I understand two things. The first, is that God made us human. Ever since Adam and the garden, we have been somewhat prone to shortcomings. And by "somewhat prone" I mean infinitely. God made me a questioning human being with free will, so it is only natural, that even after God's presence has been made so clear and abundant in my life, I will question it's validity. Second, I need to understand how to show the Joces behind the windows, the onlookers of the world, that although I am often brightly lit on one side and gray and dreary on the other, I am still loved unconditionally by my Savior. If I can learn how to convey that on a daily basis, no matter what my spiritual status or mood is, I will certainly relate to a lot more people.

Oh, hey would you look at that? I'm looking out the window right now and the sun, or Son, has just taken over. Goodbye, gray thickness. Praise God.

Just a verse I stumbled upon recently:

From the rising of the sun to the place

where it sets, the name of the Lord

is to be praised.

Psalm 113:3

Crushing Me

There's a certain feeling that was a faint part of me in high school. I don't really know how to explain it, but I'll surely try because what was a faint part of me in high school has grown to be a much more prominent part.

The only way I can really describe the feeling is like this:

It's as if my mind is being crushed.

squished.

trampled.

overwhelmed.

(quick pause so I can briefly admit my love for Ella Fitzgerald and all songs of that genre and era... I love Ella. I wish people still sang like that... maybe they do and I just don't know it.)

So my mind is going through this thing, we'll call the entire process "crush" for all intensive purposes, and it only happens when there is something that needs to get done. When crush is occurring, that thing that needs to get done, whether it be studying, taxes, my fiction story for writing class, or changing the oil in my car, is weighing down my brain as if it is a tangible object that actually takes up space. For clarity, the task is crushing my brain. I know it's not really, they never are. They're just thoughts like any other thing that takes up space in my mind... but when that thing needs to get done, I often think of nothing else.

For example, this is awful, but yesterday during church while Pastor Seth was giving his sermon in that very distinctive, eloquent style of public speaking, all I could think about were the many hours of final cut editing I had put off the whole weekend. What a freak, right? Yah, I know.

I wish I wasn't the kind of person who experienced crushing every time a big task is handed to me. Right now it's the assignment from the newspaper, a blank screen staring me straight in the face. I swear it's not even due to me thinking I can't complete it, it's due to my intimidation of the work I will inevitably put into it.

I get it's silly.

But this has always been apart of me- ever since I can remember. In 5th grade, Mrs. Johnson assigned us a book report and I remember feeling overwhelmed for the month that we had to complete it. It consumed my gosh darn thoughts! I get it's silly, believe me.

So anyway, being in college has allowed for many crushing moments, but the difference between then and now is that i have more trust. Like yesterday, when the time finally came for me to edit on Final Cut, I asked God to take that feeling away and by-golly he did. Instead of all that nonsensical consuming and crushing, all I could think of at that point was the song we sang at church:

"I hear the Savior say, 'thy strength indeed is small,

child of weakness, watch and pray, find in me thine all in all.'"

Even in times when I'm like a child, worried about the silliest things that honestly don't matter at all in the scheme of life, he reaches me. He always reaches me.