Hey Friends, this is just a blog full of streaming thoughts that have come my way this week while in El Salvador. I will be without wifi for the next month (At least at normal hours of the day), so this is my last blog for the next month. I will update you all after Honduras! But until then, here is a writing with no specific beginning or end, just thoughts from your friendly World Racer!
I’m staring at a yellow sleeping pad that one of my Squad Mates uses as a floaty in the pool. I’m sipping on a Pilsner Beer and I’m wearing a $5 dress I feel confident in. I’m simultaneously looking at a table to my left surrounded by chairs that were filled only four hours ago by six of my team members as we had a check-in meeting and short prayer time. I’m reflecting on the day and I’m thinking about everything that has happened, and how much is to come even in the next two months. I’m also wondering why it’s so funny that the same yellow sleeping pad that is now being used as a pool floaty was the same sleeping pad I heard pop in India on a floor some night before Christmas with four other team mates from Team Parresia.
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During our Ask the Lord week in El Salvador, He has had me go on lots of walks with Him and He has also given me ample time and space to play my guitar if I want to, catch up with family and friends back at home, and sit on the beach staring off into the distance, listening to the crashing of waves coming in and out. I see the ocean at high tide and I see the ocean at low tide. Sometimes I will walk in the quiet of the morning to sit at the ocean side and stare into the great abyss that is our atmosphere and I will hear rocks bump against one another in clicks and wonder still, how big is our God and how the heck am I here right now getting to do life like this? A completely new lens, like a freedom I’ve been waiting to taste for months — and it’s literally dancing in the wind on my face, in the ocean touching my toes, and it’s in my calloused fingers from playing guitar for hours.
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A group of us decided that we wanted to take surf lessons this week, and I was one of them. My knack for falling continued with the crashing of each wave and floppy Styrofoam long board. My balance was off and my upper body strength was sub-par, but the four times I actually made it to standing position on the board made all the other falls, failed-attempts and wipe-outs worth it. The instructor I was with was a huge help and made everything so much fun. I found myself wanting to stay in the water all day, but my hungry belly called me ashore and it wasn’t until I made it back inland that I felt the exhaustion from surfing for an hour and a half.
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I know this feeling like a distant memory. The sun beating on my skin, the refreshment of an ocean crashing in on me, swimming through the waves, body surfing on in, making sure my two-piece keeps in place. In a hot beach town like the one we’re living in here in El Salvador, I am wet nearly 80% of my day and I adore it. I enjoy watching the surfers do their thing at night time and in the morning if I catch them at the right time. I really like that I don’t have to worry about my hair because it’s either down and wet, down and curly, or up in a messy bun; and I love that I can essentially wear the same bathing suit days in a row and no one cares.
Mostly, I don’t care. It’s liberating.
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Gabie (pronounced Gah-Bee) is a nickname. Her real name is Anna and she is 20 years old. I walk by her convenience store every day to get to the beach and wave with a smile on my face as she sits there all day. I’ve bought a Pilsner from her three days in a row and she speaks very little english. I try hard to communicate, but the language barrier always seems to get in the way. I’m beginning to realize that even just walking by and always smiling can have a huge significance on someone, even if I have no clue if they know the loving God I’ve come to know this year. People know we are Christians by our love — and sometimes love simply looks like walking by, smiling and waving, getting a surfing lesson, inviting local surfers to eat breakfast with us, playing soccer with the police in town, or buying a Pilsner Beer from the same woman every day and building a small relationship.
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Love is shown in universal ways, like hanging out, eating food, sharing music, being aware and fully present with another person, smiling and waving, etc… The way we show love and kindness to others can carry across language barriers that not even we understand, and the beautiful thing is that God does understand. His love is never ending and His love never runs dry. I don’t have to do a thing to make Him love me any more or less. As long as my heart is in the right place and as long as my intentions are at the core of who I am, for pure enjoyment and childlike spirit with my God, nothing else matters, because He knows.
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How do you measure the depth of a human heart? I think about my own heart and the small fraction of people I’ve touched and gotten to know — their hearts — and I get a little overwhelmed with all the emotion. It all seems so big and yet, here I am, just a small little human that looks like an ant in comparison to the hugeness of this ocean next to me and God chooses to see me and deeply know me and do the same with all the creatures here on earth… Thinking of the larger-than-life-tsunami-size of that kind of love makes my mind and heart want to completely explode everywhere and spill forth like a wave I’m riding into shore. The depth of a heart can only be intricately and intimately known by God. We seek to understand each other as best we can, but the truth of the matter is that the only way we are ever fully known is in the presence of God, when we let go of false pretenses and learn how to fall forward a little more into what it is that He has in store for us on shore.
