A Long Way to Go

Never a dull moment at the Copy Center.

We had a man come in today to work on one of our Xerox machines, and he had some interesting things to say. He was working on the printer and I was putting some brochures throught he folding machine (one of the coolest things that you can do at the Copy Center). He asked me how in the world I could be wearing a jacket, and he was sweating. I told him that I thought that the work he was doing was a little more difficult than what I was doing.

• "I guess it's just my large, superior male mind..." At first I just laughed it off, thinking that he was just joking. But then when I turned back to what I was doing, I realized that he hadn't been joking, and I started to get a little angry. The way that women are viewed and talked about as inferior is a new arena of thought for me, and this is one of the first times that I've really gotten angry about a comment that someone made to me. But, as my criticism of this is new, I was able to let it go.

But then another wind of ignorance came blowing through.

• "Anthropology. That's an interesting subject.... Maybe you could explain to me why those people blow themselves up." I don't know much about Islam, but I tried to explain to him what I did know. So when I told him that I thought that it was really a small sect that believed that if they died a martyr they would automatically go to heaven, he proceeded to tell me that he didn't believe that. "It's a part of their culture." And when I explained that I had heard that most people didn't actually agree with it, he responded with "Well, those are the people you call 'secular Muslims.'" Really? I never knew...

Yet another wind of ignorance. He asked me how many languages I could speak, and I told him that I had taken Spanish in high school, one semester of Chinese...and that's when he stopped me. After talking about how hard Chinese must be, he asked another question:

• "Now, what is that language like? I mean, is it caveman-like?"

Wow. That is definitely NOT something that you say to an anthropology major...or to anyone who has any interest or love of culture at all. And, unfortunately, I don't think that his views are in the minority.

Yet another reminder that America has a long way to go. And for the first time in my life, I think I'm willing to stick around and be a part of helping us along.

Finding Neverland

I just finished watching "Finding Neverland."  If you've never seen it, I would suggest renting it right now.  It is by far one of the best movies that I have ever seen.  And it's a little difficult for me to describe why.  There's just something about it.  In the movie, Peter, one of the main characters, describes the play "Peter Pan" as magic.  And I guess that's it.  The movie is magic.  

I think I've always known that there is this hidden place, like Neverland, that is just for me.  A place where everything is right, where I'm free.  A place that is beautiful and glorious and timeless.  And even though I know that such a place exists, I don't think I've ever actually been there.  But there is something about the magic in this movie that almost takes me there.  

And it's not just this movie that brings me nearer to this nameless place.  I sometimes get a hint of it in a song, or a sunrise, or a child's smile, or in a painting.  The beauty in those things reminds me that there is something even more beautiful that I haven't yet seen.  And it's when I experience these things that I long to go to that special place.  I long to shake off all of the vain and empty things in this world and go to this place where I was created to be.  But no matter how poignant the movie, or how beautiful the song, sunrise, smile, or painting, I can never quite get there.  And I'm just left wondering what it's like...

This is something that I wrote after I got back from Vietnam, and it was the first time that I ever put these ideas into words:

"I left Vietnam early, and got home just in time to see the caterpillars.  Now, home is not my house, or my town, or Chapel Hill, or North Carolina, or even the US.  Home is this place that I go to sometimes, and it's beautiful.  The sky is the perfect shade of blue, the grass is green, the flowers are bright, and there's not a cloud in the sky.  There's a tree on the hill, and the soft wind sings a symphony as it blows through the tall grass.  Whenever I go there I feel like a kid again, without a care in the world.  And I'm alone.  But not alone, exactly.  There's someone else there, too.  But I can't see Him.  I can't touch Him, or smell Him, or hear Him.  But somehow, I know He's there.  Somehow, everything that I see is Him.  And everything that I touch, or smell, or hear, is Him.  Every breath that I take... is Him.  And it's only when I lay there in the grass under that tree, taking it all in, it's only then that I realize that this is where I belong.  I am loved, and this is home.  He is my home."

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My heart is longing for a great escape

It's threatening to flee this crowded space

Something's telling me to jump

but everything else says no.

I've a restless spirit inside of me

And it's threatening to fly away with me

To a place I've never been before

But a place I almost know

So, I'm about to make my great escape

Leaving behind this crowded space

Something's telling me to jump

And this time I'm gonna go

And that restless spirit inside of me

finally taking flight, set me free

to a place I've never been before

but a place I almost know...

"One, we are religious. Two, we are right."

A quote from Terry Fox, former pastor of Immanuel Baptist Church in Wichita, Kansas.

The religious right: A buzz word that shows up most often in election years. Also the group that supposedly was one of the most important voting blocs in the 2004 election, often given credit for handing President Bush the White House for four more years.

Way to go. Obviously, that's worked out real well.

But, maybe not. I guess that depends on how you look at it. If you're thinking about the issues of gay marriage and abortion, which apparently are the two issues that will either have the angels singing or send the world straight to hell, then maybe the last 8 years weren't a complete waste.

But that's not how I look at it. What I'm looking at is a world where people are dying of hunger while others are falling off the wagon of yet another diet plan. What I'm looking at is a world where I hear more people complaining about outrageous gas prices than worrying about the effect that the exhaust from their over-sized SUVs is going to have on the lives of their children and grandchildren...and maybe sooner than we all think. What I'm looking at is a country that is running scared from terrorists, and instead of trying to solve the problems at hand, we're shooting at everything that moves...that has a darker shade of skin. What I'm looking at is a country that is ruining its image and influence abroad as it wages war and threatens war, forcing our neighbors to accept our agenda or face the consequences, and calling it "freedom." What I'm looking at is a country where, in the same day, one family decides not to go to the doctor because they can't afford it, while another buys another BMW, and no one seems to have a problem with the contradiction.

But, worst of all, what I'm seeing is a Church unwilling to change, unable to see beyond what single-minded leaders are saying should be the issues of our time. What I want to know is, when was it decided that the key issues on God's mind were abortion and gay marriage? When did He tell us that He cared more about whether or not a gay couple could have a joint bank account than the kid in the hood who is denied a good education because all the money goes to the school that the rich kid from the suburbs goes to, or the man working two jobs but still can't afford health insurance? When did He tell us to care about the unborn child and do everything to save it, but to make the starving child in a slum in Nairobi second, third, or even last on our list of priorities? When did he tell us to spend all our money on bombs to destroy our enemies (they're all heathens anyway), and not to worry about the droughts and the natural disasters and the air pollution (the earth will eventually fix itself...plus this gives Me extra ammo to punish this sinful world with...hey, it worked on New Orleans)?

When are we going to wake up and look around?! Our world is in trouble, and we're too busy arguing over the morality of a couple of US laws to do something that could actually affect change.

What would it look like for the Church to stop being the moral police and actually start living out an holistic gospel? The fall of man was about so much more than a couple of humans breaking a rule, and therefore the cross of Christ is about so much more than making us behave. That fateful day in Eden did more than destroy our relationship with God. It destroyed our relationships with each other and our relationship with our planet. When are we going to see that? And when are we going to start living out the FULL gospel in our lives, in our nation, and in our world?

"It doesn't hurt here..."

Disclaimer: If you're looking for a pick-me-up, stop reading now.

I just watched the season finale of House. I don't know how many of you watch the show, but Amber, one of the more recent main characters, died at the end of the episode. It was an extremely unexpected death. One of those deaths where you're searching for someone to blame, hoping that it will console you. But in the end, nothing can ever bring the person back.

Death seems to be following me lately. And I'm not saying that to make light of it, or to ask for any kind of pity. It just makes me think about things, about life.

I got the news about Eve Carson while I was studying abroad in Vietnam. I didn't know her personally, but I have friends who did, and others who had a hard time dealing with her death. And even though I was half a world away (quite literally), I was affected by it more than I would have expected. It was one of those things that just made everything around me stop. That even took my breath away, though just for a moment. And for a while, not much else seemed to matter. There's something about the news of death that takes the blinders off. All of our striving and all of our distractions lose their meaning, and life seems like a much more serious thing. I couldn't even begin to imagine how her friends felt, how her family felt. It is literally impossible for me to imagine how it would feel to lose someone in such a sudden and tragic way. All I can think is that the pain must be unbearable.

A couple of weeks later, while still abroad, my Granny passed away. It was the first day of a 10-day tour through central and northern Vietnam, and I was at a hotel in Hoi An. Vi and Phuong were heading out to check out the town, and I wanted to check my email before I went out to join them. An email. That's how I found out. My mom had a hard time getting in touch with me by phone, and so she finally just had to send me an email. More than a day had gone by since she passed away. More than I day that I just continued with life as usual, and she was gone. There I was in the lobby of a hotel in Vietnam, reading an email about the passing of someone that I loved. And I wondered, what am I doing here? Why am I not there? Why did I not get to say goodbye? Why couldn't I be there for my mom while she was grieving the loss of her mother? Why is now the second time that I've been out of the country and been unable to be there for my family when someone significant died? Kevin came down to check his email, and to let me know that they were about to go explore, if I wanted to come. What was I supposed to do? My Granny was dead, and I was here. I was here, where no one knew her, and really, no one knew me. I needed to cry, but where? And for how long? I didn't just want to sit in my room all day by myself, but I didn't want to go gallivanting around Hoi An like nothing had happened, either. I just wanted everything to stop. I wanted everyone to disappear. I wanted to be completely alone. But that wasn't possible. Life doesn't stop for grief. And so, neither did I. I went to my room and cried for maybe 30 minutes. And then I went out with Kevin and Phat. I got measured for a jacket and a pair of pants. We rented bikes and rode to the beach. The only thing that really made the day any different was that Rylan stopped for a second to tell me he was sorry for my loss. I never really got to grieve. Sure, I cried a little bit throughout that week. I cried my first night home, almost a month after she had passed. And today, more than 2 months later, I was walking by a cemetery and saw a gravestone that read "Franklin," and I sat down right there on the sidewalk and started crying again. Partly because I wish she were still here, but mostly because I wasn't here to see her one more time before she died. Because I wasn't here for her funeral, and I wasn't here for her family. And those are things that I can never get back. Opportunities missed forever, no matter how much I might want things to be different.

A couple of weeks after I got back from Vietnam, my friend Meredith called me to tell me that our friend Lori had died the night before. It sounded almost like a joke. No, she was only 22. 22-year-olds don't just die. She had invited me to go with her to Africa this past Christmas break, to visit her family. If I could have afforded it, I totally would have gone with her. A little while after she had gotten back from the visit, apparently she hadn't been feeling well, and thought she might have contracted malaria. One night, she called her parents, and apparently was in so much pain that she could barely talk. Her friend took her to the hospital that night, and they tested her for malaria, told her it would take 10 days for the results, and then sent her home. Her housemates found her the next morning, and she had died in her sleep. Now they know that she had malaria, an infection, and a couple of other things as well, and her body couldn't handle it. The doctors think that she went into a coma around midnight and then died around 4am. It took a long time for all of this to sink in, and I'm not sure that it really has even now, several weeks later. I went to her funeral. They had an open casket. I could barely look at her. It just unsettled me too much. She looked too much like she was sleeping. It seems like a lot of people think that seeing the person makes it finally seem real. It's not true. It almost made it seem even more unreal. She's lying there, asleep. She's going to wake up. Any minute now...
I wasn't really sure how to react to it all. We weren't very close, but she was still my friend, and a girl my age. When I didn't feel very upset about it, I felt guilty. And when I got really shaken up by it, I wondered why. I cried when I told my mom, but not for long. I cried all through her funeral, and I cried myself to sleep that night after it was over. There have been so many times when I've seen someone who looks like her, and for a minute I almost believe that it really is her. And then I remember...

Just last week, a girl was hit by a bus and killed right here at UNC. She was an exchange student from Scotland, and was going home in a week. The irony is unbelievable. One more week, and she would have been home with her family and friends. She would have been back in her country and her culture. But instead, she crossed the street at the wrong place and the wrong time, and it was all over. Her family and friends are never going to see her again.

A young woman, and most people would say the last person who deserves it, is taken in a senseless murder.

An old woman, a woman who I've known my whole life but now feel like I barely knew at all, taken slowly by a disease of her mind.

A young woman, who I regret not spending more time with, taken suddenly in a way that no one could have predicted.

Yet another young woman taken in a single moment, just before being reunited with family and friends.


What does all this mean? How do we even begin to process this? How do you grieve for someone months after they've passed? How do you grieve for someone who you can barely even believe is dead? How do you process a death that you find completely unfair and entirely premature? So many questions, but not really any answers.