subtraction

An excerpt from K.P. Yohannan's Revolution in World Missions by economist Robert Heilbroner, who describes what an American family would have to give up if they lived like the 1 billion hungry people in the “Two-Thirds World:”

“We begin by invading the house of our imaginary American family to strip it of its furniture. Everything goes: beds, chairs, tables, television sets, lamps. We will leave the family with a few old blankets, a kitchen table, a wooden chair. Along with the bureaus go the clothes. Each member of the family my keep in his wardrobe his oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. We will permit a pair of shoes for the head of the family, but none for his wife or children.

We move to the kitchen. The appliances have already been taken out, so we turn to the cupboards...The box of matches may stay, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt. A few moldy potatoes, already in the garbage can, must be rescued, for they will provide much of tonight’s meal. We will leave a handful of onions and a dish of dried beans. All the rest we take away; the meat, the fresh vegetables, the canned goods, the crackers, the candy.

Now we have stripped the house: the bathroom has been dismantled, the running water shut off, the electric wires taken out. Next we take away the house. The family can move in to the tool shed…communications must go next. No more newspapers, magazines, books—not that they are missed, since we must take a way our family’s literacy as well. Instead, in our shantytown we will allow one radio…

Now government services must go next. No more postmen, no more firemen. There is a school, but it is three miles away and consists of two classrooms…there are, of course, no hospitals or doctors nearby. The nearest clinic is ten miles away and is tended by a midwife. It can be reached by bicycle, provided the family has a bicycle, which is unlikely…

Finally, money. We will allow our family a cash hoard of five dollars. This will prevent our breadwinner from experiencing the tragedy of an Iranian peasant who went blind because he could not raise the $3.94 which he mistakenly thought he needed to receive admission to a hospital where he could have been cured.”

fruit?

October 17, 2010

Merhaba! (A Turkish hello, to ya)

So let’s begin with an embarrassing moment, shall we?

My teammates are so great. One of them, in fact, offered to grab me something—anything—that I might need or want since I’m somewhat stranded at the hotel,. For some reason, my first thought in that moment was: bananas. I want bananas. So I asked her for some bananas.

The next day she comes to practice with a bundle of about seven bananas. So kind! I had failed to mention to her, however, that I like greener bananas. They last longer, and brown spots make me gag. But any banana is better than no banana, so I accepted the browning bunch quite happily.

I happened to be quite hungry that night after practice. So that fact coupled with my intense excitement for banana nourishment had me rushing to rip one out of the bunch as soon as I sat down in the car. It was a stubborn little sucker (I blame the “bruised” ego---bahaha), but I just kept pulling harder. Finally, as if laughing with vengeance, the stem released and my knuckle slammed into my bottom lip. OWW! Despite the swelling, I inhaled the yellow fruit, but was thrown when I was later greeted in the mirror by a fat red lip. Wow—really, Tracy? That darn banana made me bleed my own blood!

I did EAT it, however…so does that mean I won?

Moving on…Well, I suppose I am literally “moving on” (possibly on Monday) from the lovely Limak Ambassador Boutique Hotel to my new apartment! This is exciting, and I can’t wait to pass on some pics. When we took a look at it on Saturday, I did think it was funny that the only hot pink apartment complex in the entire ten mile radius was potentially mine. The area felt safe, though, and was really close to one of our gyms.

Speaking of gyms, on Thursday we played a scrimmage match on cement. Okay, it had some padding over it, but my knees shouted otherwise. Anyway, we won 3-1 against a local Division 2 team, and it was a good chance to work out some kinks. I welcomed my first feedback from our head coach about where he wants me lining up with the opponent middle hitter and how to defend when the setter is front row, etc. I realized that operating inside the USA system so deeply this past year made me forget how different opinions and systems can be all over the world. It is one thing to play against them, but quite another to conform to them.

Yes, coach, I will move up for tips (rotation defense) when their opposite is hitting against a double block (twitch), but I will also continue to have my palms up and my elbows straight! I am determined to keep progressing my newly developed USA techniques, and so far the coaches here haven’t tried to deter me.

Sometimes progression is painful, though—especially when it is of the heart and mind. I am being impacted in such a way by a book that was one of those “why not?” additions to my luggage. I never expected Revolution in World Missions by K.P. Yohannan to be so striking to my spirit. So much so, that I typed up the entire fourth chapter in order to share it with you all (which is not a habit of mine, by the way).

To offer some background, K.P. grew up in a small Indian village. Propelled by the prayers of his mother, he felt called at the age of 16 to join a movement of missionaries in sharing the Gospel to his native, unreached neighbors. Years later, a series of miracles made it possible for K.P. to come to Dallas, Texas, for bible school, and this is where chapter four “I Walked in a Daze” begins [see attached].

This chapter slapped me…multiple times. I’ve seen the Third World from a bus window, but it’s almost the same as seeing it on the TV screen—how most of us Americans encounter it. Do we have any clue how great we have it in the States? I think not. I think: definitely NOT.

I don’t share this chapter to guilt everyone, please hear me on that. I just beg you to consider the reality of detriment that is the norm outside of the favor you and I walk in. We are a blessed people and a blessed nation, and that fortune demands responsibility. I am in the process of seeking God about how He wants me in particular to take action in light of such responsibility, and I’m sure it may look a bit different for each of us.

I would love to hear any and all comments, thoughts, and questions as you open your hearts and begin to process this one man’s shocking confrontation with our home turf.

And speaking of confrontation, please also feel free to share any of your own bloody dealings with malicious fruits.

On with the journey….

eagle-esque

October 12, 2010

So even though I am now “in a Turkey,” it seems that my habits really haven’t changed that much. On this drizzly Tuesday morning I find myself perched in…you guessed it…a coffee shop. Those of you that share in my obsession may be disappointed to know that the one I am in now is indeed a Starbucks. Now, now…In my defense, the coffee is actually not so burnt here, and, really, when there are no other options within my walking radius (be quiet, my “I walked across the USA” brother), this will do just fine.

For the first time I am using a gift from a great friend—a travel coffee mug. It is a deep sea blue that boasts the inscription of Isaiah 40:31:

“My HOPE is in You…those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and now grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

Ironically, a woman did just become faint a moment ago outside the doors of Star-booze. People came rushing in shouting, “Doktor, var?!” (Is there a doctor here?). From the back a woman jogged out the doors towards the fallen woman. The crowd soon dispersed, and the doctor helped the swollen-eyed woman inside for a cup of joe.

I was blessed by the whole interaction. It’s like God allowed me to feel a bit of His heart for His people. When that woman fell, she mattered more to the people around her than themselves. Their schedules and worries were suspended as the call for compassion took over. This, I think, is the posture of our Maker always—ready to lift us up, ready to renew our strength, and calling us to serve our fellow man. If only we would be willing to be a part of what He’s doing and to open ourselves up to the tender leading of His hand.

Hmm….leading. He’s doing that with me here. I’ve had three practices so far with the Kolejliler (Ko-llege ee-lair….I think?) club team. We had a fancy dinner on Sunday night with all the big-wig board members, our team, the men’s volleyball team (Division 2), and the men’s and women’s basketball teams. Yeah, all of them are a part of this club. I was hoping to get to meet the other American who is on the women’s basketball team, but nobody introduced us. I didn’t know exactly who she was, and I was feeling too shy (yeah, me) to poke around to find out.

Anyway, the ladies on my team are cool. I am especially thankful for Nilay (Nee-lai) and Ozge (Ohz-gay), the team captain, who have been extra kind and even goofy! Many of my teammates know English—some eager to practice with me and others too shy to speak. Both assistant coaches, pronounced Bar-roosh and Tai-lan, can speak with me, but the head coach Yusuf communicates only in Turkish. So in practice the young and super energetic Ege (Eh-jay) translates for me.

I still don’t know if I’m staying here in Ankara. I think the tryout is going well so far, but who the heck knows. I feel good about my effort and my attitude and spirit—maxing out on what I can control. I feel like I am making positive connections with the people around me—an overwhelming amount of smiling with “lewt-fen” and “teh-shek-yoo-lar” (please and thank you) always goes a long way, no matter what country you are in!

I don’t know, friends… I can’t help but feel that this trip is going to change me in major ways. I am going to be pushed to discomfort, but as a result of God answering my prayers to go deep into the utmost of Him.

Here’s to being an eagle!

On with the journey…

relentless

[Wrote this a few years ago... the title is inspired by a Michelangelo quote and a small plaque given to me by my brother: Ancora Imparo]

I am still learning

I scream in frustration
I hit the ball out again.
My teammate, my friend
Shakes her head.
I don’t see her do it,
But I feel her do it.

I’m sorry.
I am still learning.

I gather my nerve
I trust He has my heart, my words
I speak into her life,
The wall.
She runs.

I’m sorry.
I am still learning.

They call me.
I’m not here, even though I am.
They write me.
Weeks go by,
I’ll do it later, even though I don’t.
Is that love?

I’m sorry.
I am still learning.

I stand at the podium to offer a piece of my soul.
But I don’t think I should be up there at all.

I’m lonely.
I’m hurtful.
Impatient and brash.

There is still that pride
That swells up my flesh.

I do what I do
When I don’t want to do it.
I am what I am
When I don’t want to be it.

But despite the despicable state of my being,

There is hope.
There is He.
The One that I need.

No copping out.
No Christianese.

I am still learning.

Learning how to be kind
to love
to give
Learning how to receive
to be humble
and confident

Learning how to be patient
to listen
to let go
Learning how to lead
Learning how to follow

How to be disciplined
How to be still
Learning how to write
To speak
To will

I am still learning

How to be a better me.

bubbles

The musty, familiar odor shocked my senses once again as I stumbled off the jetway and onto Chinese ground for the fifth time in my life. We skipped a Thursday (Jan 28th), all while sitting for about sixteen hours straight. My mind and spirit actually relished the focused solitude of that time, but my knees and cankles were pudgy and angry.

Next stop was our hotel in Guangzhou (Gwang-jew). The little area we are staying is referred to as "the bubble" because it is tucked away from the industrial, hurried scene of the city. And because Jenny Lang Ping (my former USA coach and big-time Chinese celebrity) is involved in this venture, it is only natural that our hotel is an actual PALACE. No joke, people. Fountains, cascading staircases, pillars, chandeliers, and many shiny, smiley people. Word on the street is that Jackie Chan owns one of the villas in the bubble. A few of us talked about doing a little "ding dong ditch" to try to find him and see if he really DOES do his own stunts: "Whatchu know about ninjas, Jackie? WAAAHHH!" ....haha, not really.

Tama, my super stealth Hawaiian roommate, and I are loving our AC right now. It's pretty cloudy and humid outside here, and my poor hair is on frizz overload---GEEZ.

Already we have practiced twice and played two matches (over a three day period). We dominated a less-experienced Hong Kong team on Saturday, and then played four sets (finishing 1-3) against the Evergrande Chinese team, who is also our official opponent Tuesday night. Without any sort of scouting report, we were challenged to learn and adjust quickly during both matches. We are also working to stay consistent in our management of the game and in what we can control.

What's also great is that in each match, there was a moment where both sides--bench, coaches, on-court players, etc.--were bursting in laughter! First, Katie K ripped a jump serve to the Hong Kong libero who couldn't get her hands up in time. She dove sideways intersecting the ball with her chest and launching it out of reach for the rest of her team. On contact she let out this deep roar of surprise that echoed in the gym. I mean, we don't speak the same language, but a manly grunt from a small Asian woman as a ball gets rocked off her chest was universally hilarious! She and I and others were still smiling as Katie geared up for serve number two.

The other laughing moment happened with the Chinese team today. Christa and Coley are two of our USA teammates who played with Evergrande for this pro season, so today they were our opponents. At one point we were scrambling to win a rally and someone aimed to hit off the hands of Christa's block. The ball soared out of bounds and the ref gave the point to Evergrande. But our bench wouldn't have it! Pressey especially was yelling for a touch and others on the court joined in. Christa was bounding back to serve, keeping her back to the court. We were watching her and knew she was trying to hide a smile! We kept calling her out--especially Alisha and Megan, her former Penn State teammates: "C'mon, Christa! We know you're laughing!" She finally whipped around beet red and ran sheepishly back onto the court, smiling and glaring at us. The whole gym burst into laughter, and the surprised ref reversed his call. Gotcha!

Many of the girls on the trip are experiencing China for the first time. So it was neat that we got to experience the buzz of market/bargain shopping, as well as experiencing another sort of bubble inside the gates of our US Embassy. The people we met there were very nice and welcoming, and it was fascinating to learn about their nomadic lifestyles (changing locales every 2-5 years) and cultural challenges.

I was stoked to learn about the two churches that are nearby--some even having some Chinese in attendance! Still, though, the rigid government control on religion is very alive. Imagine showing your passport every time you entered a church or prayer group. I also asked about underground churches but, not surprisingly, received zero information.

In terms of specific prayer requests for the people or happenings here, I'm not sure. However, as we were driving today to a ragged, barely lit gymnasium--of which is more the norm in the world than any of these other fancy schmancy gyms we are used to--my heart surged for the people of Guangzhou. From the bus window, I saw the broken buildings and felt the heavy souls wandering about the dusty, littered streets. My Ipod drifted through melodies talking about "everyday people... that I'm no better, and neither are you--we're all the same, whatever we do..." (Everyday People by Nicole C. Mullen). People are pretty broken wherever you are in the world--it's just true.

The Spirit was stirring my heart, and I was grappling with some real questions: How do I pray for a whole city? How do I discover their needs? Is it enough to ask God to make His presence known and to send His servants in to love on His beloved kids in Guangzhou? Then, my whole body was rippled in chills by the close of a different song. A new favorite artist of mine, Jake Hamilton's words hit me like a cold wind: "Break rebellion, send revival! Break rebellion, send revival!" Let's beg God for this in Guangzhou!

My room, 437, is now quiet. Tama did her best to fight off the jet lag again by putting in a DVD, but has finally lost the battle. I can imagine some of the girls doing one last model walk with their newly bought knock-off bag before brushing their teeth. Tomorrow we have a recovery morning before another fabulous round-table Chinese lunch, followed by a solid afternoon practice. Stoked. Lang-Ping herself told me the foot massages at the hotel's spa are pretty spectacular, sooo... Tracy might just have to find out what that's all about after breakfast!

In the meantime, I am one thankful woman. I am in China playing volleyball, donning letters of freedom on my back: USA. I am eating this strange food (and loving it), mingling with life beyond the American bubble, and all the while sharing the richness with others who are my friends and leaders. I play matches and I try to win and give the very best of myself, but I am also very much aware that life and meaning and love are way bigger than all that. I'm just so thankful that God is with me--that I'm not here alone trying to prove myself worthy of breaths anymore. Because of Jesus, I am approved where I stand--no matter how flawed (and that's for REAL). I just want to remain in Him. I can't describe how beautiful and real it is to know God, and I'm so thankful to have the privilege of deepening that knowing forever.

On with the journey...

barriers

I look around this place cluttered with people and coffee cups. Amid the smells of roasting Guatemalan beans and the buzz of churning espresso, there is an undefined need swirling from table to table. Some don’t feel it because they are either immersed in conversation or in a self-imposed urgency to get things done. Others, however, experience this need—either trying to avoid it by perusing written distractions or by just sitting in it, sipping and staring out the window.

The space is open enough and the tables and chairs close enough, but most of the humans here choose to operate inside of invisible barriers. I know I do. I catch myself being surprised by interaction when I come here prepared for some alone time, to read and write and do my own thing.

Despite my chosen introversion, however, I often catch myself, and others, being drawn to the rare occurrence of barriers broken by strangers interacting with one another. Like when that Nebraska couple introduced themselves to me that one time, when “what’s his name” who works here (really, Tracy?) again says hello and nods approvingly at my open Bible, or when the group of young gossiping girls to my left are interrupted by an older woman keen on offering them some crocheting tips.

“You don’t always have to loop it like that, did you know that?” she said.
“Oh yeah, I heard that once…” replied a girl, adjusting her technique.
The older woman beamed.

Barriers broken. People—very different people—encouraged and interacting. It was beautiful. It made my Spirit soar for a moment.

A middle aged man across from me—I’ll call him Glen; he looks like a Glen—rests his elbows on a small table. His necessities are scattered atop the wood—cell phone, keys, wallet. Yet, he doesn’t bother with them. In fact, there is no book or Ipod or computer screen to distract this simple presence of himself. Clutching his cold, nearing empty, paper cup, he fixes his gaze on the unknown through the window on his left. Glen shifts his eyes inside at the people conversing around him, open to a breaking of his barrier, but seemingly unwilling to take the first step. What is he thinking about? What stirs his heart so profoundly that he takes no action to pacify the lonely, silent moments at that table? In the midst of my sorrow for the loneliness his stooped shoulders and tired eyes convey, there is something admirable in his commitment to sip slowly and be still.

And then there’s the dirty guy in the beanie. Lost in his hand-me-down garb, the young man paces around a parked, red-rimmed motorcycle. He stares at the bike, then turns to face the window of the coffeeshop, searching inside as if someone there had some answers or acknowledgment to offer him. The bike steals his attention back, and he walks again to its rear then back up to its front. Another halt. Another search for connection. He doesn’t recognize, however, the three men perched under the umbrella right across from the bike looking at him—shaking their heads and muttering.

I can only imagine:
“Imbecile. What is that guy doing here?” says the guy in the sweatshirt.
The polo shirt guy turns to look.
“Someone should call security,” he miffs. “He probably wants our money and is trying to figure out how to steal that bike…What a bum.”

And what do I do? I catch his eye, hold it for a second, then look away. What does he want, Lord? What does he need? Do you want me to help him—buy him a cup of coffee? How embarrassing it would be to walk out there. I don’t feel like having a conversation, and I’m not even sure that it’s safe for me to do so…and…

O God. I’m such a hypocrite.

begin

I enter into this blog after a rather unreasonable hiatus.

In fact, it could be assumed that the rest of 2009 just wasn't worth writing about. This is not true at all--another example of why assumptions are meaningless.

Cutting the tape into 2010, I want to post more here. I do still struggle with the whole audience element of this thing. Turns out I am more sensitive to self-disclosure than I realized.

But I'll begin this journey with a mix of new thoughts and old thoughts. Whether found in old journals, Word documents, or my current explosion of thoughts, it is certain that I've tapped into my heart. After all, what else would ever be worth reading or writing from? The heart is the source, the center, the geyser from which life does (or does not) spring forth.