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"'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,' he used to say. 'You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.'" -- J.R.R. Tolkien

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Anchors


It’s more than a bit odd to think that—if all goes well—in little over a week I’ll be in Bolivia, starting a new chapter of my life, if only a 9-month long one.  Despite a summer of preparing, of thinking, of praying, of reflecting, and of moving paperwork around, I still really don’t know what awaits me, what new adventures I’m about to embark upon.  And I think that’s why the word ‘odd’ came to mind; it’s at the very least odd to try and project a week into the future, a month, whatever, when I have hardly anything to base my guesses on.  True, I’ve been to Nicaragua and Mexico, I’ve lived in Spain, and I’ve gone through similarly ‘odd’ feelings of doubt and excitement in preparing to leave for college or a semester abroad.  But for this next chapter, I have only assumptions based on past trips, descriptions sent to me from my work site (which for all I know, I’ve translated poorly), and a handful of expectations scrapped together from what others have experienced before me.  But others’ experiences can not be my own, guesses and expectations are often flung far afield, and what I see in my mind might be a world apart from what I’m about to experience, and certainly not in a bad way.  My default mode, then, is to try and put expectations aside, to focus more on what must be done, on challenges that I will undoubtedly need to overcome.  And while this view may perhaps keep me humble—after all, my Spanish at the very least needs improvement—it still doesn’t help me envision the life I’m about to step into. 

And so, throughout this summer of preparations, of travel and home, of many faces and much solitude, of both great excitement and not a small amount of down-time, I’ve tried to unravel some sort of a framework for my Bolivian excursion.  And two things—pillars, perhaps—have come to mind: uncertainty and the need to wait. 

Uncertainty was a nasty beast that trailed after me throughout the length of my visa process, and a creature I imagine will only continue to nag at me as I seek after the second part of my visa (and begin my life) in Bolivia.  In my typical way, I wanted nothing more than to control the entire visa process, beginning to end, understand every aspect of it, and have it neatly tucked away before the summer really got started.  Seeing as the tiny sticker now plastered to my passport only showed up in the mail last week, it’s obvious I didn’t get my wish.  Yet, as I found myself relying on the help of others, on systems that have been put in place and are beyond my control, and on my own ability to navigate the more bureaucratic aspects of life, I eventually had to relinquish myself to a hardened trust, that, on the one hand, those good people around me would help see me through, and, on the other, if I was meant to go to Bolivia, and God did indeed have a hand in the whole affair, it would all come out in the wash.  And it did, and certainly not before I’d surrendered any hope of having a firm grasp on the process, not before I’d begun to think of back-up plans and ways to refund plane tickets if the worst should occur.  But the uncertainty that plagued the process, and the fear that it brought to life, is a valuable lesson—if perhaps an obvious one—that I hope to incorporate in the next 9 months and beyond.  The world is full of uncertainty; how often do I find myself out of my element, forced to depend upon another person, upon God, upon the very systems that build up the world?  In the end, one thing I can be certain of is this: I’m awash in a sea of uncertainty, in something of a tiny boat, just within sight of both the shore and that nasty storm that’s been following my entire voyage, with not an oarsman or a sail to my name.  But there is an anchor, and my best bet is to toss the thing over the side of the ship and trust that it will hold me fast, give me a chance to get a good look around before I make my next move.  And who knows?  Another boat might just happen to pass by, and we can go on together.

It’s probably no surprise that the idea of waiting was a subsequent fruit of the previous reflection.  Waiting for my visa, waiting to find if I’ll be able to get to Bolivia on schedule, waiting to get started on the adventure itself, to see what I’ll learn and how I’ll grow.  And then the longer waiting—to see Alli again, my friends and family, to ultimately come home, to see what I might be able to do with myself with whatever lessons I’ve learned in Bolivia.  I’ve spent probably far too much time this summer in the worlds of high fantasy and science fiction, whether it be in a Star Wars book, reading some of George R. R. Martin’s saga, watching Legend of the Seeker, or writing my own, slightly ‘out-there’ stories, and I won’t lie, all of these worlds seem rather exciting.  But try as I might, I don’t really expect to become a knight or wield a lightsaber.  I would, though, like to know what great feat I might try to accomplish, what epic journey I might plop into Google Maps to set out upon, what great adventure I might undertake for the greater good.  Unfortunately, no great wizards have approached me as yet about missing magical items or evil sorcerers, and so I’m forced to sit and wait.  Along a more serious vein, I know that sitting and waiting is another opportunity for me to toss that anchor into the sea, to trust—perhaps most important of all—that as long as I keep looking for that place where I am truly needed, discerning my vocation (and taking it to prayer), I will find that place in life that will satisfy those more ‘epic’ desires.

So, it is with these pillars of uncertainty and waiting—perhaps summed up in hopeful yet humble expectation—that I set out to Bolivia.  I have to constantly remind myself that it is this idea of the unknown, and the challenges and joys that come with it, that appealed to me in the first place, the opportunity to grapple with reality in its rawest form.  Because I believe—or at least ardently hope—that it is through this kind of love, this love that desires to seek God ‘out there’ in the injustices the world so often sees, in the ways of life I know so little about, that the unknown can be most readily approached. 

And so I apologize for this moderately confused opening to my blog.  I’ve spent some time thinking about how I want to approach this blog, and I’ve realized in my own journaling that I am far better at (and far more interested in) thinking through writing about the highs and lows of my days then I am at recording the nitty-gritty details of my own life, although I will try and do both.  If I can figure it out, I’ll even try to add some pictures and videos.  I guess at this point, there’s really no telling what form this whole thing will take.  But at least now as I set out, I have in my mind (and maybe you do too) a more complete picture of what’s driving me forward and what may be awaiting me at the end.  I guess we’ll see.