Got some new glasses...

...and moved to Washington DC!

When Life is Exciting...

I just don't write blog posts. My apologies. :)

Simple and Wild and Free

The time is approaching. Soon I’ll be back in the cold world, and this one will be a memory. This world, where life rubs up against you on every side, where everything is simple and wild and free.

Bainbridge, Chagrin Falls, Cleveland, Ohio. None of those places are home. Similarly, the world of asphalt and busy people on cell phones, millions of cars and shopping malls, don’t strike a chord in my heart. I miss some people there, but not the places or things.

Here, I never forget that I’m alive. Majestic natural splendor rubs itself all over me, and I fit in as part of creation. But the rubbing doesn’t stop with a jellyfish or a soft sea breeze. Fallen humanity has a very obvious way of rubbing its grime all over you here. Evil is present, and it’s thick. But again, I know my role; and it is a priceless gift to be on the Victor’s side.

Soon I'll be going back. Back to where the air sure ain’t soft and society feels just as cold. I’d like to blame that on all the stupid asphalt, but I think the real problem is the mask. People there have perfected the skill of politely hiding sin and wounds and pain. Evil, too, is more hidden. And it all drives me crazy. I want to tear the polite masks off and find something real underneath.

So I’ve been asking myself: why? Why do I feel like a square peg in a round hole at “home”? And why – though I don’t really fit into Belizean culture – does it all make more sense here?

I think I know why. Good and evil feel more dramatically real here. And knowing my role in this battle, I never forget that I’m alive. I’ve never been more alive.

Part of my soul lives here, simple and wild and free.

Still Alive & Kickin

This here's an update. Yes, yes it is.


[Find out more about my life on Joe's blog.]

Well, I'm back...

Back from a short road trip, which turned out to be an adventurous learning experience. Traveling is so broadening. If done right, it presents you with wildly new experiences, forces you to think (a lot), and hopefully stretches your entire perspective on life. Our trip did just that. We drove for hours and hours over the worst roads I've ever seen and entered another world... A rainforest sprinkled with remote Mayan villages. I found it especially interesting since I'm reading the autobiographical account of Alan Rabinowitz, the chap who started the world's first jaguar preserve in Southern Belize, which was just down the road from our lodge. Jaguar is a story of Dr. Rabinowitz's interactions with the Mayan people - which hit hilariously close to home for anyone who's spent a decent amount of time in Belize - and his wild jungle adventures.

Soon, I'll be back again. Back to Cleveland, and then to somewhere else. That somewhere is still undetermined, so if you will, please pray for God to lead me to the right job. Thanks. :)

Raising the Dead in Me

Twenty-four oceans
Twenty-four skies
Twenty-four failures
And twenty-four tries
Twenty-four finds me
In twenty-fourth place
With twenty-four drop outs
At the end of the day

I had listened to these words countless times, but they didn't come to
life until I heard Jon Foreman explain the circumstances under which
they were written.

There's twenty-four reasons
To admit that I'm wrong
With all my excuses
Still twenty-four strong

Written the night before his 25th birthday, these reflective lyrics are 
sobering yet hopeful.

But I want to be one today
Centered and true
I'm singing "Spirit, take me up in arms with You"
You're raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
And you're raising the dead in me

Pity is Very Underrated

Last night one of my eyes kinda hurt after I took my contacts out, but I figured it'd go away. I was wrong. Instead of curling up in my comfy bed and dreaming the night away, I lied awake for most of the night. The sharp pain that stabbed my eye was almost unbearable. All I could do was lie there. I tried to look at my eye in the bathroom mirror, but that wasn't gonna happen. I couldn't pry my eyelids open when the light was on. It hurt too bad.

Morning finally came, and so did help. One of our neighbors, Dr. McClain, is a retired ophthalmologist from Wyoming. He came over with some of his instruments and - immediately after looking at my eye - made the diagnosis: "you've got an ulcer." He used our computer to look up a few brand names of the antibiotic eye drops that I needed. And then came the joy of finding a very specific medicine in a third world country. As I lied upstairs in bed, my parents called lots...and lots...and lots of pharmacies. None of them carried our first choice antibiotic, but one pharmacy had Gentamicina, our other option. My parents took the boat to town and picked up the eye drops, which I am now using every two hours.

Living at home isn't always a joy ride, but it sure is nice when something like this happens. Soon, when I move out, I'll miss that. Who wouldn't? As George on Seinfeld says, "pity is very underrated." :)

Oh yeah, and the eye is steadily feeling better and opening wider. The ulcer is visible, which is kinda cool, but hopefully it won't be tomorrow.