Good-natured indulgence and casual acceptance are not forgiveness and love but an expression of indifference and sometimes hostility. Real love and forgiveness mean caring enough to be hurt, caring enough to put ourselves in others' shoes and sharing their guilt as if it were our own. Real love and forgiveness are costly--not in the sense that the guilty party must squeeze them out of the injured party but in the sense that the injured party genuinely sympathizes with the guilty and shares his or her pain. 

(Shirley Guthrie, Christian Doctrine pg, 260)

Forgiveness is a theme that continues to bop about my life in conversations, in my readings and in my personal relationships. It can be hard to forgive and it is often to easy to pretend like you have forgiven. I hope to be more intentional with the forgiveness that I hand out with my words and my actions. I hope to not allow my forgiveness to make me feel powerful. I pray that by being forgiven I can humbly forgive others. 

A wise friend shared with me, from her personal experience, that it is important to forgive but in forgiving guarding one's heart must not be forgotten. Just because one may forgive another does not mean that trust has been re-instituted. 

Forgiveness is hard but forgiveness is necessary.

One day

I meant to write this post last weekend. I have meant to write a lot of posts but my mind has been swimming.

July 25th, 2006 is a date that will forever be ingrained in my head. That single day was the catalyst for so much change in my life and I am not sure that I can really illustrate this through my writing. On July 25th, 2006 I returned from a five week mission trip in Ireland and England with 15 other people who quickly became some of my closest friends. After five weeks of a tight-knit family setting I was quickly plunged back into the shallow, materialistic world that I called home for so long. I was nervous to be back and I was sad to have left my new found family behind.

On my way home my phone began to ring. It was my new friend's brother giving me a call. That was the first day that we spoke to one another independently of his sister forcing a phone in my hand and forcing me to. He called because he "just felt like he should." We spoke for a bit and then I lost service. I quickly found myself to be home and heading to the beach with some of my friends. We strolled up to another friend's house and that is when we started to hear tons of sirens blaring down Highway 1. Within minutes my first day home quickly turned sour.

The first news we heard, about a half an hour later, was that some students from our high school had gotten into a crash down the coast. As the night continued on details were being texted, emailed and called around to everyone. By the end of the night we had the final details. Ryan Fields and Alex Robinson had died and the three others in the car had survived but were injured-- some in critical condition.

I had to push that phone call from my friend's brother to the back of my mind and switch into friend mode. We all did. We all had to be there for one another in a way that most of us had not had to do before. The next few days was filled with paddle outs, memory sharing and the numbing of emotions that we were not yet ready to share.

Little did I know that my friend's brother and I would talk every day from July 25th to October and then we would finally meet. And then date. And still be dating, now, three years later. I also entered into my senior year of high school. My final year. I was so done. I was so excited to move on to Seattle and get away from that small town that did not get me.

And now here, today, when I am about to embark on a new adventure to Nicaragua for the next nine days I cannot help but think how when I return my life will be so drastically different. On July 25th, 2006 I had no idea what that date would mean to me three years later. I had no idea that I would remember the date and use it as such a time marker. What will August 9th mean for me? I cannot wait to share that with everyone in my life!

Rest in peace Alex and Ryan. You will always been in the hearts and minds of your friends and family.

July 25th will never be forgotten in this heart.

Culture and Community

Poem and Illustration by Shel Silverstein

Culture and Community might be two of my favorite words. I know that the Hispanic culture that I was lucky enough to grow up around and within holds community and family on a platform that most North Americans simply do not. I give credit to this community-oriented culture for my lack of understanding personal space and always wanting to have people around.

What I do not understand is why I absolutely love this aspect of Hispanic culture when there are other members of my family who do not have the same passion about this part of our culture as I do. All I know is that I love having people in my space and I love being in other peoples' space. But maybe this also has to do with the fact that I love people. I can honestly say that my biggest passion is people.

So, I got to thinking about this again in my Cultural Anthropology class on Monday morning. My professor was telling a story of two American women living in Brazil. One of the women had to travel frequently for her job which left the other woman alone for a few days. The woman who was left at home looked forward to this time that she would have alone--some time in her own space by herself. But, when her Brazilian neighbor saw her roommate leave she would send her daughter over within minutes. The daughter would knock on the door and tell the American woman that her mother sent her over for the night so that this woman would not have to be lonely while her housemate was gone. The mother was offering her own daughter to a neighbor so the neighbor would not have to be lonely.

I think more like the Brazilian in this story than the American. I hate being alone because I do feel lonely. I do not get peace or relaxation from being alone. It actually makes me anxious and sad. I would love for my neighbor to come on by and keep me company of I were alone.

Later that night my roommate said a funny thing that seemed to wrap up a lot of my thoughts for the day. As she was closing the door (so we could avoid those that are campaigning for student government) I made a remark about how I hope that we would not miss someone who would want to stop by for a bit. To this my roommate replies, "Yeah, but anyone who we love or loves us would come in anyway."

Beautiful.

That is the way that I want to live my life. I want everyone to walk in when they want, stay for awhile and share their day or sit in silence with me. I want to feel, experience and embrace the communities and cultures around me. I know that some people need their space, but I much rather share my space with those people God has put around me--whether I know them or not.