drudgery bought for them.
After four months out here, I miss my garlic and onions. Certain ‘freedoms’ that the life of slavery buys. I don’t know really where the slavery begins and ends for me. Where freedom begins and ends. The garlic and onions.
Because I have been a christian my whole life, sometimes it is hard to explain my journey. There is no clear line between when I was unsaved and when I was saved. I don’t know if one is any better than the other, the blurred lines or a sharp line. Sometimes I envy the people that ‘got saved’ and are radically different people. That is not me. It seems everyday is a choice between the permissible and the beneficial. Spiritual freedom. With such a religious education, it is difficult to live without trying to categorize things as right and wrong, sinful or allowable. What are my garlics and onions? The things that I leave behind as I pursue my inheritance?
We are in Buenos Aires, which really feels like New York City. We walked past a Chevy dealership, showcasing a Corvette. Is that garlic and onions? How much slavery would that cost me? Is there something wrong with a corvette? Surely owning a corvette would not be sinful. But how many hours would I have to work to own a car like that? What would I have to trade of myself to own that vehicle? Would the girls like me more? Would women other than my wife smile approvingly (maybe flirt a little, affirm I am a man? Oh, yeah, still got it! Its the friggin car, moron). What motivations are at work here? Do I need to drive that fast? Do I need the bragging rights in a conversation with a man whose opinion I don’t value anyway?
Garlic and onions. I don’t believe this is talking about sin issues, which we are supposed to leave behind, but the luxuries and good things in life that we give up to pursue the kingdom. I think about the nice things, the luxuries. I think this is different for a guy than for a girl. I don’t really miss material items. I do miss my dog. I miss my friends and family. Mostly I miss my independance. Having space where I can do what I want to do, with out explaining it to someone else. The luxury of uninterrupted thought. Being able to daydream without either explaining that I am ok or without having to explain what I am thinking.
Do I actually believe that Jesus is coming back? Do I actually believe in a future kingdom? What about a present kingdom? If this is true, than each choice I make must influence that in my life. Or my future. Rewards.
I pondered these and other things as we took the afternoon to ride horses. My horse was a stubby little thing. The peruvians laughed and said “burrito for gordito” (little donkey for the fat guy). Was that supposed to be funny? My “burrito” was full of pee and vinegar and gave me a ride that was less than relaxing (bucking, and kicking, and farting). Aleson was the little guys name, and we were told that he was missing his ‘huevos’. All the horses were gelded, like most of the men I know, so they would be easier to control.
I rode with Josh Daniels from the A team, who I have become good friends with, and a guy named Rusty. Rusty is from Arkansas, and worked as a sports anchor covering the Razorbacks. Rusty is interested in joining the World Race, is 31 years old, and was sent to Peru to get a taste for this bunch of people. Rusty says he is a pretty extreme guy, who is all or nothing, and loves to jump out of airplanes. Rusty’s one fear is going into caves. Josh also doesn’t really like caves, I found out that I also did not particularly like caves when we went to Misol-ha. We all seem a little claustrophobic, but it is good to know that before getting married.
We rode our horses up to a point, where our guide had us get off and he pointed to a hill. He said something we did not understand, so we walked toward the hill and sat down. We figured we were getting scammed, or our guide was missing a permit, because it seemed he was trying to avoid the cops who were parked 50 yards away. After sitting for a while, I realized I needed to pee. I scrambled up the hill, and kept looking for a good place where no one could see me, as people were everywhere. I saw a nice little boulder to water, and was ready to let the stream go, when I heard a woman’s voice, VERY close by. I looked both ways and saw no one. I looked behind me and in the bushes and saw no one. I heard the voice again, even closer and I looked up and saw no one. Then behind another rock, and there she was, I had almost peed on her as she was crawling out of a cave. She looked like Whinnie the Pooh when he got stuck leaving Rabbit’s house. A cave!
So I called for Josh and Rusty. They took their time getting up the hill, as we were at 13,000 feet in altitude, and they were having trouble supplying their hearts with oxygen. I, of course, had a month at altitude already. We crawled through the cave, it was about 30 yards long, and had a 20 foot climb out the exit. I then bumped into Jon Hiebert and Eric Retterbush, and brought them through. I looked for Linnea, who was with the girls, but only found Tana and Shawna, and Tana then also crawled through the cave.
We then rode for another couple of hours. My knees and back, my calves and quads were totally exhausted, and we were pretty happy to get off these horses, when the ride was over.
Oh yeah, last time I saw Rusty was in the airport and he was completely sunburned.
