“Destined to serve. Destined to roam.”
I’ve learned many things over the course of my life. One big one is that things almost never work out the way you first plan them too. I never could have predicted all the twists and turns that would have arisen as this journey progressed. Some were welcome. Others less so. But it all blended together to form one unforgettable adventure. You all were captivated (I’m sure) to read our various postings and come along with us, at least in part, to share the ride. But I bet you often wondered what went on behind the scenes. How did we endure being away for so long? Were there any truly hazardous circumstances we didn’t tell you about? Any cute girls? There are so many stories telling them all would amount to writing a very large book. In reading older posts we’ve made they are usually informative but can sometimes seem over general, like everything always ran smooth with the occasional rough day or two. To be honest this trip has been an emotional roller coaster for me. It’d be almost impossible to go out and experience all of this and remain completely even keel the whole time. There were some definite lows but also some soaring highs. But it all had to start somewhere.
Before this trip began I’d written about how I had no idea what was coming and being unsure onto the direction of the trip. What can I say? I’m American; it’s instilled in me to have goals. Not a bad thing at all, but sometimes it misses the point. We were created to achieve and strive for better things, but we were also put here to feel and to experience. As the trip went on I began to understand that there was really no real goal except at some point to make it back to the people I loved. Otherwise I was there solely to see and to learn and understand more about this amazing world God has made for us. And what an amazing world it is.
Don’t get me wrong. America has a lot of great things going for it and I can’t picture myself living anywhere else, but stepping out into the world beyond my country’s borders was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. In the wondrous and expansive corner of the world called Latin America I saw ancient temple pyramids the size of five story buildings and glaciers large enough to provide an overabundance of snow cones for the next couple thousand years. I journeyed through the world’s driest desert and stood in front of the highest mountain not placed inside the Himalayas. I jumped out of a plane miles above the Earth’s surface and plunged into the depths of a decades old mine shaft in the planet’s highest city. I walked the Inca trail and biked the world’s most dangerous road. For nearly eight months my home wasn’t contained in a house, a city, or even a country. For more than half a year I was a nomad; my only home being the globe itself.
And then there were the people. Everywhere there were people. Some could remain friends for life; most I may never see again. But at every corner of the world there was a soul to meet with their own story to tell. Some were people who weren’t all that different from me, the main thing separating us being our country of origin. Others lived a completely different lifestyle than the one I grew up with. People who had no real knowledge or use for the internet or cell phones or grossly overpriced lattes. And yet they grow and live their lives just like the rest of us; laughing, crying, and sharing with one another. Seeing people who live such simpler lives but can walk about smiling and so happy really reminds you of the important things in life.
But no matter who the person was and what their story was to tell they are all important and relevant in God’s eyes and should be in ours as well. Living such small and isolated existences is definitely not what we were put on this Earth for. Getting out and relating to every person I met was just as important, if not more so, as seeing all the astounding places and views of the land, man made or not. Each person I met, whether if I knew them for many months or only for a few sparse moments, had something to teach me. For those of you who I laughed and had such a joyous time with I thank you for your good company. For those of you who I didn’t get along so well with I’ll say I’m sorry if I didn’t do my best to make things work and give you the best impression of me. You were still an important part of my trip and it would not have been the same experience without you. To everyone I came across I say thank you for being there. You all taught me much about the world and gave me more than you know, and I pray I gave you a little something in return that made your life better.
As much as this was a journey over land, sea, and air, and a journey with the people of the world, there was another kind of journey going on as well. My methods of travel varied as did the people who accompanied me. Even Jordan wasn’t with me 100% of the time. But there was someone who did go the entire journey with me and never left my side, although I didn’t always see it that way.
“I’m a doubting Thomas. I took a promise, but I do not feel safe. Oh me of little faith.”
I have always considered myself to be a very spiritual person, which was odd in a way because for the vast majority of my life I did not believe in anything specific. But it stemmed into a mysterious and mystical view of the world. I saw beauty in many things and it was hard to convince myself that all of this world and all the amazing things in it were just a “happy accident” as it were. And looking at the direction of my own life I found it hard to chalk up all the events and what eventually followed as mere coincidences. I had often had people who knew me describe me as being a very spiritual and even religious person. The fact I didn’t go to church or read the Bible, or anything similar, could surprise some people. I believed that a god existed. Whether or not the god that existed was God as Christians know Him to be was another matter entirely. Believing in Jesus and all of the Christian view was a little tricky. I’d thought it was a wonderful idea at least and whether I realized it or not I tried to embrace many of the Christian ideals in my own life. But going to church and actually pursuing God was not something I’d considered greatly in my personal life. Once I’d reached college this all somehow changed and I turned toward a more God focused existence. What it brought me is hard to describe, but it felt right in any case. I left for South America thinking I had a firm hold on my faith and that my relationship with God, while not perfect, was good enough.
When things get tough the Christian focused mind will seek comfort and guidance in the outlet of prayer. So at a time in the trip where I was feeling rather cut off and in need of some guidance I prayed to the Lord. It did not help. But I kept at it, and it seemed the harder I tried the less it helped. I tried many different things. I went to a mass service here and there, I journaled relentlessly, and I read the Bible diligently. Piece of advice: if you’re feeling distraught and shaky in your faith the Old Testament isn’t really the best place to go. It’s often boring and sometimes even depressing. And all the time I prayed, and still I felt nothing.
You can imagine this made me frustrated, stressed out, sad, and even angry. I didn’t feel at all like myself and found it impossible to improve my disposition. What good is humbling yourself before your savior and feeling like it serves no purpose? I began to wonder if all this time I’d spent pursuing God was just one enormous waste of time. I still believed that God existed, but I started to think that maybe He wasn’t quite what Christian ideology had made Him out to be. So I finally reached a point where I had to make a decision. I saw the road to God before me, and I turned right around and went the other way. I’d had enough. I stopped praying. I stopped reading the Bible. I figured as long as I tried to live life to the fullest and stick to the Golden Rule I could live a happy fulfilling life without all the religious hoo hah.
After this life changing moment I was surprisingly a lot better. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I was more at peace than I’d been in a very long time. I felt no regret and became convinced that I’d done the right thing. But then something odd happened. After a while I started to have this small nagging feeling. God was on my mind and I couldn’t shake the notion that someone was trying to talk to me. So finally I answered and God and I had it out. I wasn’t a shy lost lamb. I wasn’t a guilt-ridden born again. To be honest I was almost annoyed. I stood straight and looked right ahead. My question “Alright, what do You want?” The response I received didn’t come as so much a series of words than a rush of feeling. But whatever the medium the message was clear: He wanted me back.
“Cause I don’t have the heart to try one more false start in life. It’s been so hard to get it right. It seems like the moment I catch up the farther you fly.”
Naturally I was hesitant and even confused. Just when I thought I’d found a direction I could stick with the world, as it humorously likes to do, started to nudge me in another one. I knew what I thought of the whole deal and what it had been like before. I decided to seek outside help. So I went to the people I trusted to give me a straight answer and I asked why they believed in God. Some of you may recall receiving one of those emails. I was surprised with the large amount of replies I got, and once again let me thank everyone who was willing to share. In each one was a very different answer and many had very heartfelt personal stories behind them. And whatever the reason it all pointed to one inevitable conclusion: people believed. And not only that they believed that their faith made everything better.
It’s hard to argue with that, especially when so many people you hold dear to your heart have told you so. So after some reflection I quietly sought God out again. And He was there, patiently waiting. And I offered myself one last time, despite all the doubts, despite what had happened before. And He accepted, as faith said He would. There were no ringing bells or flashing lights, and yet right there for a moment whatever the future held it became clear that it was in His hands, and I was fine with that.
Traveling and vacation, while ostensibly the same thing, are vastly different. Vacation brings to mind images of sandy beaches and bottomless margaritas, of rest and relaxation and the most pressing concern is how much of a tip is it customary to leave your waiter. Traveling is adventurous and unpredictable. You can have an idea of what you want to do, but you damn well better be flexible because it hardly ever goes by the book. This can be really exciting sometimes. After a while it can be just plain exhausting. When I knew for certain the date I’d return to the states I began to look forward to it more than anything else. I was still having fun seeing the world outside and experiencing what it had for me, but I was missing a lot of things back home. I was missing my family and friends and a bed that is designated as mine. I missed vegging in front of the TV and if a hunger rush came I missed being able to get up and walk just 20 feet to the fridge for a snack. I missed jogging and lifting weights. I missed shooting hoops with friends and pretending I knew how to play the piano. I missed listening to my music (my iPod having been stolen by this point) and playing Super Mario Bros. (something I hadn’t done in years). I missed taking my dogs for walks and wasting time on the internet IM’ing friends. All in all I missed real life. Traveling around was a great experience and a grand privilege, but it wasn’t really achieving anything at the moment and I missed actually having a goal in life to move towards. I had had my fill of the nomadic lifestyle for now. It was time to go home. But there was one more thing to do before I said good bye.
“In You we’re living. In You we’re moving. In You we’re finding who we are.”
I had never been on a mission trip before, and I’d heard so many great stories about Jordan and his family’s trips in Caxijay. Despite being so exhausted I eagerly looked forward towards being able to participate in this one. Right away it became clear that this was going to be very different then anything I’d done so far. Before we even reached the village just meeting the team and watching things progressed was intriguing. I don’t think I’d ever prayed so much in my life! Even as a confirmed Christian again I prayed maybe once or twice a week; I figured I’d start things off again slowly. But I suddenly found myself praying four times a day or more. And it didn’t even feel like it was only compulsory. I actually enjoyed it.
Finally arriving in the back of a bouncing truck to this village I’d heard so much was something else. There it was nestled in a lush green valley, isolated from the rest of the world in almost every way. I’d always known that I was very blessed to have been born in America. There I always had my most basic needs fulfilled and I had plenty of luxuries in life that were largely unnecessary. Whatever the reason God chose to put me there and not somewhere like this little village I may never know, but I was grateful that I was fortunate enough to live in a land where so much opportunity was available to me. I’d known this even before going to South America, but knowing and seeing are not the same. Traveling around the Latin American world and seeing true poverty only served to make me feel even more grateful to live in a world where I had choices in life. Many people had been given no choice at all and Caxijay was no exception. The village itself looked very similar to other poor towns I’d been to. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the locals. I knew of their horrifying history with the bloody civil war and the atrocities that were rained on Caxijay and its poor people. What I got was a surprise and a half.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been more warmly received in any town I visited. The villagers were so friendly and the children so curious in this troupe of big white gringos that came to visit them. Some were open and chatty; others were quiet and shy, but all of them were fascinated by us. The first day walking around and just visiting the homes of these villagers was so moving. Here were these people who led vastly different lives from mine, and if I’d try to explain it to them I don’t think I very well could have, even if I spoke their language fluently. Yet even as if the barriers weren’t there at all we connected, and I felt like I’d made some friends. We held hands, we exchanged friendly words, and we prayed together as if we’d known each other all our lives. I told my people my name what seemed like a million times, and I was bombarded with their names wherever I went. I hopelessly tried to remember them but it seemed a lost cause, even counting the fact that the village seemed to have a running pool of only ten or so common names that circulated throughout the people evenly. And the next day we came back something I was not expecting occurred. Kids were hanging out of the broken windows of their small school house. And they were calling my name. I stopped in my tracks. They remembered me. I’d not had more than a minute with the vast majority of them, and yet they remembered my face. They remembered my name and they were calling me like they’d been waiting an eternity for my arrival.
The week progressed and each day I continued to feel the love that circled around this village. A small lost village that at one point seemed to have been forsaken by both God and man was now slowly standing up on its own, children and adults alike laughing all the way. I saw God in the eyes of the children who played with such energy. I saw Him in the village elders, whose tired smiles still held a glimpse of hope and kindness that prevailed above all the trouble they’d witnessed. I saw Him in my teammates who grew closer every day and were quickly teasing and relating to each other like they were the best of friends. And I saw Him in me, watching, learning, taking it all in, and here and there showing the Spirit for what it was: a gift to the world. Although I felt ready to leave by the time the last day came, it still felt like I was leaving something behind. All the faces; all the lives behind them. I was so glad to have been a part of them for at least a little bit, and I prayed silently that some day God would allow me to come back.
“Show me the river that leads to my home, back to the one I love. Show me the wind that constantly blows, and I will fly away, fly away home.”
And at last the day arrived: the day I would fly from Latin America to Los Angeles, CA. I felt at ease, excited, but not overwhelmingly so. I knew I was ready and I patiently waited for the final hour. Not knowing exactly beforehand, I’d wondered how Jordan and I would spend this last day. Regaling stories from across our long journey? Discussing the future? Watching movies? To some extent we did all three, but my endurance proved greater than his that day and he spent most of it asleep while I packed and mulled things over. I smiled, shrugged my shoulders, and thought “That’s Jordan”. The final moment came when the shuttle showed up at 4 a.m. to take me to the airport. Our farewells were brief. After nearly eight months of constant togetherness we very well may have run out of sufficient words to say. I waved goodbye and climbed into the car, and even as the vehicle pulled away I realized I was already beginning to miss him a little. Traveling with him was many times funny, exciting, difficult, and in the end always a pleasure. I pray that God keeps him safe over the rest of his trip and that He has at least a few more adventures for us in the future.
Taking that early flight back I found myself so inpatient that I tried to will the plane to go faster. In terms of country to country flights it wasn’t bad at all, only four and a half hours nonstop, yet it could not go fast enough for me. Way back when we’d had the idea that we were going back all the way by land and without flying. When I discovered that I could not do that I was a little depressed. That lasted less than a day. I was quickly fine with that and had no qualms about not going through Mexico. It wasn’t going anywhere; I could always come back someday if I wished to. But as I was sitting in my seat I thought again about traveling to Mexico and I realized I still could see it if I wanted to. After all, I had the window seat. I looked out over the land and saw…brown. And from up until I heard the captain remark that we were making or descent into L.A. that’s all I saw. I felt even better about flying home.
While landing in L.A. I marveled at just how flipping huge the place is, this being the first time I ever landed there in daylight. As the buildings came closer and closer I began to identify plenty of landmarks: McDonald’s, Target, and Home Depot. Even in the huge ugliness of it all I was glad to see them. The plane touched down and pulled into the gate, and true to form no one went anywhere for the next five minutes. It always astounds me just how long it takes everyone to get off the plane. Without fail you stand there patiently (or not) while people attempt to control their luggage and their kids at the same time and the line moves nowhere. I wish sometime I could sit in first class near the door and just see what it is that keeps everyone rooted for so long.
Finally off the plane I moved as fast as I could without actually running, covering more ground in a moment on the moving side walk than an Olympic athlete does in ten seconds. Immigration took forever and getting my bags took even longer. Mine were practically the last ones of the plane and I’m not exaggerating. And even when they finally came it took a while to get them as these days when people travel they pack suitcases that are roughly the size of a small duplex and are heavy as sin. I blazed through customs and eagerly tried to spot my mom who had driven down to meet me. She was standing there with my uncle Joel, both of them smiling ear to ear. I’d picture this moment a hundred times. I saw myself running up and hugging the dear life out of them. It’d slipped my mind that I’d be carrying three pieces of luggage so it took a bit longer.
I talked and laughed and traded stories with them and my uncle’s partner John that evening over dinner, very much feeling like I was still traveling but glad to be in a place where everyone spoke English. The next day mom and I drove to Las Vegas to visit my sister who had just started college. Our reunion was brief but good and I opened up and distributed all the souvenirs I’d been packing for so long. Finally we made the long boring drive back to Carson City. And at 2:31 p.m. I stepped through my mother’s front door: seven months, 22 days, 9 hours, and one minute after I’d left. After 235 days, nearly a third of a year, I’d come full circle. I greeted my dogs Jesse and Lily, who I swear I’d missed just as much as most of the people in my life. I looked about to see how the old place was and if anything was different, as any person will naturally do when they’ve been awhile. As they say “The more things change, the more they stay the same”. If anything had changed at all it was me. I’d wondered how long it would take for me to adjust to not traveling and set about the task of returning to normal life.
“With love, with patience, and with faith he’ll make his way.”
After a few days of it I came to realize that even though I was back it didn’t feel like I’d come home. It still felt like any moment I could pack up and move on to somewhere else. Even though my long trip was over, I was still kicking and waiting to see what happens next. One of the funny things about those epic movies and novels and all those fantastic stories that touch your heart in life is that you rarely ever get to see what goes on after it’s over. “And they lived happily ever after” is extremely vague isn’t it? The heroes save the world, defeat the bad guy, and then they all go home and they what? Get a job? Have lots of kids? Grow old and fat and mutter things like “When I was your age?” All it says is that they lived happily, and here I was one stage of my life over and planning for the next stage like nothing had ever happened. It’s true that my trip had come to an end, but the journey has only just begun. I’ve lived only a quarter of the years granted to me (assuming I die of old age) and still have many more adventures ahead of me. Even now I still have budding ideas for travels I want to undertake: the English Isles, China, New Zealand, Africa, and especially right here in the U.S. After my Latin adventure it’s a fact that I have visited more countries than I have U.S. states. Kinda sad in a way. There is so much to see and do in this great country, more than a lot of people give credit for. And I look forward to exploring it more when I get a chance.
Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere yet. I expect the next few months to be sort of a transitional period. I’ll work, I’ll save money, and likely do nothing of huge importance, and when I have enough saved I hope to move out and back to Seattle and start anew. A new career, a new degree, a new life. What it’ll look like I’m not entirely sure. But it will happen. As long as I have the people I love in my life and my Lord’s Spirit within me there will be a place for me somewhere.
For from every end there is a beginning, and every beginning a dream.
“And he said take my hand. Live while you can. Don’t you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand.”
