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.

"Your vocation in life is where your greatest joy meets the world's greatest need."

-Frederick Buechner (b. 1926), educator, writer, theologian

onward...

Brazil was stunning.

I was humbled once again.

And now it's time to re-pack in preparation for our 29 hour trek to Taiwan.

So until I return to earth on Wednesday, consider the complexity of the following scene:

While soaking in our daily rationing of sunlight, Jordan and I halted on the Copacabana boardwalk to watch a male doubles volleyball battle on the beach. Two elements of this match made it unlike any other I have ever seen. First, each player donned a Portuguese tongue (naturally) and a colorful Speedo (not so naturally). Second, and most peculiar, was the fact that this game was being played without using arms!

These guys kicked the ball off a tee of gathered sand to serve. They would then bound the ball off their chest (or perhaps, a side swipe kick) to pass, followed by a steady knee-ball set that always seemed to perfectly lead their approaching teammate. This guy would then leap up, chin to the sky before cranking forward blasting the ball with his forehead to the other side.

.....uhh....awesome!

Brazil....ahhh

My cankles and I arrived in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil on Tuesday after 19 hours of travel. After winding around lakes and through what looked like moss covered mountains, our bus stopped in front of the Everest Hoteis (Hotel)—a mere two minute walk from the beach. This may be one of the nicest hotels I’ve stayed in as part of USA Volleyball—clean rooms, clear water, and free intermittent internet. The food is great (though, it doesn’t take much for me, right?). I will say that my fave so far is the breakfast—the cereal, the MILK, the eggs. Simple stuff, I know—but they do it right.

Brazil is beautiful and so are its people. Boaters and runners and tai chi folks line the streets every morning as we wind our way to the practice gym. In some countries I’ve been, people generally blend together, like there is a distinct similarity that identifies them as Turks or Japanese, etc. In Brazil, however, I see mostly black or olive skin tones, but with many colors of hair and facial features, making it difficult to distinguish foreigners from locals.

I’m also hearing Pourtugeise for the first time. It reads and sounds a lot like Spanish (even some of the grammar rules are the same, like assigning male and female to words), yet apparently locals look at you like you’re crazy if you try to communicate in Spanish, or English for that matter.

Practice-wise, we have been in the gym four times already. Hugh has talked about this being a great learning experience for us as a group. That we expect to win, but we are also focused on getting better. We must expect the battle and keep our heads up and fight in adversity—something that didn’t happen today in practice.

We play Germany on Friday for our first match of the Grand Prix. Puerto Rico on Saturday, followed by the Olympic champs and home team Brazil on Sunday. Sweet. Three good teams to kick this battle off—how cool!

As for me, I’m taking it day by day, drill by drill. Today I got a little better, listened to a new song with Courtney on the bus ride and chatted with her about similar struggles we’ve experienced this summer. I’m so thankful for this day…

Ancora Imparo, people. [I am still learning]