X: Something X-Treme you've done

I'm a very cautious person.  While my friends speed in the car, I nervously drive the exact speed limit.  When we're outside in the dark and we hear a noise, my initial instinct is to blindly run in the opposite direction.  I'm an anxious person... but I'm working on it!

I've traveled a lot in my short lifetime, visiting about fourteen countries (including the United States).  During each trip, I usually end up doing something quite adventurous that shocks people who know me.  When I travel, it's like I lose quite a bit of my nervousness and I want to experience new and crazy things, like petting the wild cheetah in Kenya or moving in with a European host family and attending an Austrian school for a few days.  I don't mind adventure when I'm traveling, especially when I'm on a mission trip.  Of course, some things intimidate me much more than others.

Two of my worst fears are outside water and heights.  When I say outside water, I mean that I'm not afraid of swimming pools, but I'm terrified of lakes, ponds, creeks, oceans... anything outside that I can't say for sure what's inside.  When my friends decided to go on a canoe ride in the creek near Rebecca's house, it took them quite a while to convince me to crawl into that rickety canoe... even though the water was only four or five feet deep and I know how to swim very well.  I'm just afraid of water.  It's an irrational fear of mine.  (I'm the one in the blue sweatershirt, clinging desperately to the sides of the canoe.)

When I was in Mexico on a vacation with my family, we went to Xel-Ha, an outside water resort.  It's very beautiful with fun things to do like ziplining, hikes, snorkeling, and an activity that literally made me feel sick to my stomach at the name.

The Cliff of Courage.

The cliff was about twenty-seven feet tall, hanging over a lake with dark green water.  My two worst fears, mixed into one.  Immediately, I crossed that off my list of possible activities.  There was no way I would ever take the plunge off of a cliff like that.

My dad is also afraid of heights--perhaps even more so than I am--so throughout the day, we made bets with each other: "I'll jump if you jump," both thinking there was no way the other would ever dare to jump off the Cliff of Courage.  Who would willingly throw themselves off a thirty foot cliff into opaque, fish-filled water?  It was ridiculous.

All throughout the day, I had a queasy feeling in my stomach.  I attempted snorkeling and ended up clambering out of the water faster than I even thought was possible once I looked through my goggles and saw giant silver fish resembling sharks swimming beneath me.  There is no other animal that scares me more than a shark.  I knew what the last activity of the day would be.  I dreaded even climbing to the top of the cliff with the others and looking down over the murky water.

As we began the hike up the cliff, something suddenly tweaked inside of me.  The bet between me and my Dad had spread around our group and everyone was teasing us for our fear.  "I can do this," I started thinking to myself.  "I can show everyone how brave I am.  I can do this."  My fear began to subside more and more until we were at the top of the cliff and I was standing over the edge.

"I'll go first," I heard myself say as I dropped my towel to the ground.  My knees were shaking and I knew that if I stopped for even one second to think about my decision, I would never have the courage to jump into that fish-infested green water. 

I glanced at my dad, smiled at the expression of horror coming over his face, and then jumped.

The fall was quick.  All I can remember is the feeling of, "I'm gonna die.  I'm gonna die.  I'm gonna--" SPLASH!  And I hit the water.  It stung the bottoms of my feet and for a moment, I was sure I would be devoured by a mob of angry fishes.  I scrambled out of the water as fast as I could and then stood on the shore with my fists raised.  Victory!  I had jumped off the Cliff of Courage.  I faced my fears.

Hilariously, my dad never could gain the courage to jump that day.  He was very embarrassed, but just like I was afraid I would do, he waited too long to jump and psyched himself out.

Jumping off the Cliff of Courage may or may not be as extreme as strolling through the third worst slum in Africa or visiting the gas chambers in a concentration camp in Austria.  Perhaps the Cliff of Courage doesn't even seem intimidating whatsoever to most people.  I don't know.  All I know is that in my mind, it's the bravest thing I've ever done.  I faced two of my worst fears and made it out alive.

But do know that I will NOT be doing something like that again.

What is your biggest fear? Have you ever faced it?

Day 24: Who is someone who changed your life for the better?

My best friend Ali has changed my life for the better.

We became friends in the fifth grade, when we were both eleven.  I had just moved to this new school after having previously been home schooled.  I was terribly shy, self conscious, and a little weird.  Ali was the first friend I made at my new school.  Despite how shy I was, Ali stepped forward and befriended me with open arms and a sweet smile.

We've been friends ever since.

Ali has changed my life by encouraging and uplifting me throughout difficult times I've gone through.  I've tried to do the same for her.  Ali is stubborn and loyal, and she always manages to keep a smile, despite some tough situations.

We have a lot of... interesting memories together.  Silly moments, like when we were driving home and thought we saw a dead body in the middle of the road.  Or when we'd sneak to Braum's together without anyone knowing.  Or when we stayed up all night discussing how to end world hunger.  With those kinds of memories, we've become best friends.

I could never ask for a better friend than that I have in Ali.

I'll share a few pictures of our high school years to take your mind off of the awkward fifth grade picture I can't believe I showed you above.  Don't tell Ali. :)

Here we are on the last day of school, Sophomore year.  I don't know why I love this picture so much, but I do.  It's framed right above my computer screen.

This picture is of Ali and I dancing at last year's prom.  During that particular dance, neither of us had a partner, so we decided to dance together.  We were holding each others' arms because we always argue about who is the "guy" in our best friend relationship. 
This is us on last year's TOMS Day Without Shoes.

I'd like to share pictures from the One Day Without Shoes that took place on April 5.  Ali and I couldn't celebrate all day, since we went to a stockyard for a field trip.  I guess we could have gone without shoes during that time... but we weren't that enthusiastic about getting foot diseases.  However, we wore shoes as little as we possibly could and had a great time.

The photograph above was based after a picture that was taken of me and Ali last year on the One Day Without Shoes.  It's become a tradition.  I actually almost wore my Fireflight shirt today, but when I realized that I wore it last year, I was too creeped out.
Ali and I decided to go on a walk, but we soon realized that walking barefoot on gravel roads can be quite painful.  In fact, we could hardly walk at all.  At one point, Ali decided that perhaps running across the gravel street would be easier than walking, but all she managed to do was embed tiny pieces of rock into her feet.  At that moment, we empathized with children who don't have any shoes more than ever!
We managed to take several pictures of each other... some featuring our bare feet and others just featuring us.  I love taking pictures.  Perhaps Ali is right and I am a "Picture Hoarder."  One of these days, you'll see me on that TV show called Hoarders, but all that's hoarded will be on my computer... thousands and thousands of pictures.
There's a tiny park near our house.  It's only about a half mile walk away, although it seems incredibly long when we're traveling barefoot.  At the park, we finally had peace.  When you're swinging, you don't have to worry about your feet touching the ground!

Today I would like to share fifty things that inspire me.  Perhaps they will help to inspire you too.1.) City lights at night, especially during road trips.

2.) Rain-streaked window panes.

3.) The sound of distant thunder.

4.) A crisp, new sheet of paper.

5.) Old lamps.

6.) Eva Cassidy.

7.) Accents.

8.) Swings.

9.) Blue bonnets.

10.) Photos of children in Africa.

11.) The sound that comes from an acoustic guitar.

12.) Old-looking sheet music.

13.) The smell of laundry detergent.

14.) Grassy fields.

15.) Sunsets.

16.) Eyes.

17.) Street lights.

18.) Seeing passion in people.

19.) Charcoal drawings.

20.) Old windows.

21.) Hands.

22.) Old photographs.

23.) Anything black and white.

24.) Piano keys.

25.) Abandoned buildings.

26.) Pressed roses.

27.) Sand.

28.) The faces of very old people.

29.) Movie tickets.  Lots and lots of movie tickets.

30.) The sound of rain.

31.) Baby hands and feet.

32.) Hot chocolate.

33.) Psalm 91.

34.) Window seats.

35.) Eyelashes.

36.) Dandelions.

37.) Very old Bibles.

38.) Puddles.

39.) Music boxes.

40.) Pearls.

41.) Stained glass.

42.) Words in other languages.

43.) Train tracks.

44.) Guitar strings.

45.) Fog.

46.) Clear water.

47.) Flowers.  Any flowers.

48.) Baby bottoms.

49.) The smell of grass.

50.) Eyebrows and the expressions that come from them.


Are you feeling inspired yet?

The other day, I talked about how precious life was and how we shouldn't ever waste it.  Today I'd like to expand on that topic a little more.  Your life is valuable.  You're precious to God.  But there are other precious lives that are vanishing every day, and that's what I'd like to discuss right now.

When I see images of the kids in third world countries who are dying from preventable issues such as hunger and malaria, my heart feels like it's literally splitting in my chest.  The children who have died and are dying from starvation and diseases were never even given a chance to survive.  They've been restrained within the barriers of poverty.  Their deaths were painful and easily preventable.  They died without being remembered.  They died without the world knowing they ever even existed.  It's like they've been invisible.

It really is.  Look at the photograph to your right.  Don't turn away because it makes you uncomfortable.  I want you to feel uncomfortable.  Allow your heart to start pounding in your chest.  Let chills rise on your arms.  Let your stomach churn and your hands tremble.  This child is dying.  If you're thinking to yourself, "Oh, that's so sad," but plan to do nothing more than think about this image for the next few days or weeks or even months, then this child is invisible to you.

If you see the World Vision ads that appear on the sides of your screen while you're surfing the internet and all you feel is a twinge of sadness before you move on to something happier and less uncomfortable, then these children have become invisible to you.  You're ignoring the deaths of precious children who have a Father in heaven who cherishes them and feels terribly grieved when they die.  These kids may not have anyone on earth who cares for them or remembers them, but Jesus Christ died for them too.

A dying child should make you leap from your seat with shock and horror.  It should make you shout, "No!  His death doesn't have to happen.  None of these deaths have to happen.  I'm going to stand up and do something."  Children are dying.  What are you doing about it?

I went to Kenya, Africa a couple of summers ago.  I saw many things that changed my perspective on poverty and sacrifice while I was over there, but an instance sticks out in my mind especially today.  A friend and I were taking some pictures of kids to send to those who sponsor them through Christian Relief Fund.  We would go down the long list of names and ask the kids who would crowd around us, eagerly waiting to help, to find the child we needed to photograph and interview.

At one point, we asked the kids to bring us a little girl.  I don't remember her name now.  I wish I did.  There were many names we read off that day.  The kids grew silent for a long moment until a young girl finally spoke up.  "She died," she told us in a somber voice.  When we questioned her, the girl's response was, "She died from chicken pox two weeks ago."

She died from chicken pox.

In the world today, there are still little children dying from chicken pox.

I remember that moment quite often.  Children are dying from preventable issues every single day without a chance to leave their mark on the world, without a chance to change someone's life, without a chance to learn or experience new things or to grow.  The lives of these children are truly a mist, likes James 4 discusses, but their tragic lives could be made longer than they are now.  We could be making a difference.

James 1:27 says, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress..."  You've probably read that verse before, but take a moment to read James 2:15, 16, located a few verses down.  "Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food.  If one of you says to them, 'Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?"  What good is it?  When you see the images of starving children and feel bad or say a quick prayer for them, in all honesty, what good will that do?  What good is it?  What tangible difference are you making in their lives?

Here's a quote by A.W. Tozer that impacted my perspective on faith and prayer.  "...I believe the problem is that we have been trying to substitute praying for obeying, and it simply will not work... Prayer will become effective when we stop using it as a substitute for obedience."  Here, A.W. Tozer was talking about praying for revival, but the same concept works with praying for God to end poverty.  You may be praying for the starving children, but what are you doing to obey God's law?  What are you doing to help the orphans and widows in their distress? 

I read somewhere that if everyone in the word who claimed to be a Christian tithed 10% of their earnings to the church, then we would eradicate world poverty and AIDS in less than a year.

What are you doing to help the needy?

Every minute, more than 110 kids die from starvation, equaling about 160,000  a day.  Each minute, two kids die from malaria.  Every two minutes, a child dies from AIDS.  What are you doing to try to prevent these deaths and save the lives of these little children?  If you're not fighting for the destitute and needy, then it may be time to reset some priorities.

In the ten minutes it took you to read today's blog article, more than 1,125 kids have died from preventable issues.  1,125 babies who are treasured by the Lord. 

Life is precious.

It's time to stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves.

I found the pictures from this article here, here, here, and here.  

 

Haven't heard of the 30 Days of Kindness?  Click here to find out more.  Just starting?  That's okay!  Feel free to start this challenge right in the middle.  You can make up the days you missed through November, if you like.

Give away a pair of shoes.  This can be extremely difficult for you or very easy, depending on how attached you are to those things you wear on your feet.  Now... you don't have to give away your favorite pair of shoes.  A pair that you've grown out of or don't wear as much as you thought you would will work.  You could even go and purchase a pair of shoes. 

Once I gave away my favorite pair of shoes.  I was in Africa and I met my sponsored girl, Lavin.  I saw her shoes.  They were tattered and ruined.  We were approximately the same shoe size (yes, I have small feet), so I gave her my colorful, favorite pair of Kangaroo shoes and wore sandals for the rest of the trip.  It was worth it.  A little girl now has shoes that fit right.  She can now run and play without worrying that her shoes will fall apart. 

You can give shoes away to a person in need... donate them to a shelter... leave them on a sidewalk.  Do what you feel led to do with your shoes.  All I ask is that you give at least one pair away.  Easy enough, right?

I want to hear your stories!  Leave me a comment and share what you did during today's challenge.  If you have a picture or two, feel free to send them to me.  If you're blogging about today, send me the link and I'll feature it on this blog.

Stay tuned until later today to see what my friends and I did for today's act of kindness.

TOMORROW: Write a letter to someone you admire!

Day 5: A favorite pair of shoes

This topic is difficult for me.  I have several pairs of shoes that I adore.  Shoes and t-shirts are probably my favorite wardrobe accessory in the world, meaning that I have a lot of them... and I don't really have a favorite pair of shoes. 

Chuck Taylors
Out of all of my shoes, I think I have the most pairs of Converse.  Many of them were gifts.  I love Chucks because they express my personality better than any shoes.  I love the different colors and styles.  I even have a pair of "baby" Chucks hanging from the mirror of my car.  My favorite pair would have to be a pair of lo-top black Converse.  They're very comfortable and have practically molded to my foot.  I wear a lot of black with my clothes, so they go with nearly every outfit I own.

TOMS
I love TOMS because they are one-for-one.  With each pair of TOMS you buy, they'll donate a pair to a child without shoes.  These are also comfortable and lightweight.  I have two pair.  I would definitely recommend that you buy a pair of TOMS and help provide shoes for poverty-stricken kids.  I wrote a review of these shoes on an earlier blog entry.  I also celebrate TOMS Day Without Shoes. 

Old Navy flip flops
I wear these all the time in the summer.  I probably have a million pairs.  Not really, but I have all of the basic colors.  I'm not a big fan of the crazy designs.  What I do sometimes though is mix and match.  If I'm wearing a shirt that is red, white, and blue, I'll wear one red flip flop and one blue flip flop.  They're about as comfortable as flip flops get, and $2.50 a piece.  I've gotta say, if you're going to buy flip flops, you need to buy them from Old Navy.  My favorite pair of flip flops is this latest year's style.  They are shiny and a dark gray.  They go with nearly everything I own, and they're very comfortable.  I wear them all the time.

Rocket Dogs
I got my first pair of these with this new school year.  They're black and white and very comfortable.  They actually look good on me, while most "flat-like" shoes don't.  I'm satisfied with them so far.  I think they're cute.  They match several of my outfits, and they can pull off both the casual and the cute look.  I can wear them with shorts, jeans, or a skirt!



Potato Shoes
I got my Birkinstock potato shoes a couple of years ago.  They're the perfect shoes for if you simply feel like relaxing and looking casual.  I love to wear them in the winter with fuzzy socks.  They keep me warm.  Potato shoes have a lot of knock off brands as well, but I've heard they aren't as comfortable.  I love my potato shoes, even though they're not very attractive.  I wear them a lot during the cold months.  I've never had any complaints with them.

 

The outfit I wore for the first day of school is not very "glamorous."  I decided to go for comfortable rather than extremely cute.  After all, a good friend of mine advised me, "Don't worry about what you're going to wear on your first day.  Everyone else is going to be so focused on their own cute outfit, they might not even notice yours."  So I went for a little cute and a lot comfortable.  Best of all, my outfit was completely modest.

Prices and Origins:
Shirt: Old Navy, $12
Pants: Levi's, Kohl's, $40 (although these are usually on sale at the store.  I got them for $31.)
Shoes: TOMS, $55 (Unfortunately, these TOMS are not being made anymore.  Here is the link to a cute, similar pair.)
Necklace: Okay, this was an expensive accessory because it was a gift from my parents.  You can purchase a similar but less expensive pair of pretend pearls for $6.50 at Charlotte Russe.

Comfortable Factor:
Shirt- 9/10
Pants- 8/10
Shoes- 8/10

Total Modest Outfit Cost (not including shoes): $49.50
Total Modest Outfit Cost (including shoes): $113.50

Overall, I was very satisfied with this outfit.  It was comfortable and cozy, and I got a lot of compliments on the blouse.  Nothing was slipping around or too tight, so I didn't constantly have to worry what I looked like.  Even though it was a simple dark gray, I loved the flowery design towards the top.  It was big enough so that it didn't draw specific attention to a certain part of me, but the design was simple and attractive.  I loved the beading.  I'll go ahead and show you a close up picture of my blouse so you can see the intricate beading designs.  Mind you, these pictures were taken after I got home from school, so I don't look very "fresh."

My new jeans were also very comfortable.  They came in "short" size, so I didn't have to get them hemmed.  I also like the way they fit.  Comfortably and not too tight. 

My shoes were old, but they were as comfortable as always.  I love TOMS.  Even though this specific style of shoes is no longer for sale, I'll go ahead and show you a picture of my shoes.  They give facts about "if the world was a village of 100 people", how many would have AIDS, how many would have no shoes, etc.  They're amazing. 

For my hairstyle, I left it down and straight.  I wore some eye makeup, but that's it. 

Perfectly modest, I'm thinking.

Do you like this outfit?  Leave your comments below.
 

Today, I overheard a comment made by a student who attends my high school.  "I'm proud of Texas, Christianity, and the Bible, but I am not proud of America." 

That saddened me.  Sure, it's true that America- like every other country- has issues and corruption within its government and politics.  Since America was established as a nation, we have suffered from various corrupt leaders and stupid choices.  And we shouldn't be proud of those things.  However, is America made up of only Clinton or Bush or Obama?  If you hate war, abortion, or health reform, does that mean that you should also hate America?

Of course not. 

As Seneca once said, "Men love their country, not because it is great, but because it is their own." America was founded with hopes and dreams for a better future and a new reality.  In many ways, our nation has fulfilled its goals.  We offer religious freedom to all.  We've provided jobs and new lives for many people.  We've grown from almost nothing to the most powerful nation in the world.  And there is no denying that we have made many mistakes along the way, but tell me this: what country hasn't?

Have you heard the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater"?  This applies to America. 

The United States is filled with corruption, violence, and hatred.  When you look around you, what do you see?  Do you see men and women being sent overseas to kill hundreds of people?  Do you see thousands of murdered babies?  Do you see the 33,300 people committing suicide every year?  Do you see the moral disintegration everywhere you turn?  Yes.  You can't live in America and escape from the symptoms of spiritual death all around you.

But are you looking for the baby?

"There is no baby," you might say.  "The metaphorical dirty bathwater has transformed into a sizzling acid that consumes everything in its path.  Whatever was left of the baby has already been destroyed."

Not true.  The baby in the bathwater is the morality, equality, and enduring hope that Americans share.  Our country was founded as one nation under God.  We recognize a brotherhood and sisterhood with fellow Americans and we have a unity that not all nations share.  That is the baby.  The baby may be pale and sickly, thin and gaunt, but it has not yet been destroyed.  There is still hope for America.

If you are feeling ashamed and repulsed by America- embarrassed by her fraying edges and rotting core- then what do you plan on doing about it?  If you pull away from the United States completely and refuse to have anything to do with it, then how will anything ever change?  Let me give you some ideas.

Revive yourself.  America is made up of more 307,000,000 people.  When you see the corruption around you, it does not only come from a few rotten leaders.  It comes from the hearts of the citizens of your country... from you as well.  Before you start picking at other people and saying, "this is why I'm not proud of my country," see what you can do to change things.  A revival does need to start in America, but it won't just happen.  It will start with first one person and then another and another.  Why not let it start with you?  Robert G. Ingersoll said, "He loves his country best who strives to make it best."  What are you doing to make your life and your community and your country a better place?
 
Talk about it.  Don't just go around saying, "I hate my country.  America has turned into a bunch of liars and thieves.  No, talk to your friends and loved ones about what you can all do to change the situation around you.  Write letters to the media and to your local representatives.  Start a revival around your community.  Empty talk will change nothing.  Talk followed by actions can change a lot.  Let your voice be heard.

Do something.  If you dislike your government, then change them.  We're a democracy.  You can vote.  Vote for your president, for your senator, for your congressmen... vote for everyone you can to get the right-hearted people into office.  For my readers who are too young to vote yet, encourage your parents, teachers, and the adults all around you to vote.  If you don't like the way the government is treating the poor, then get out there and start serving them to the best of your ability.  If you don't like the way your government handles an issue, then start a petition- contact the media- write letters.  Don't sit back and fume and let it all happen.  Apathy is never the answer.

Pray.  There can be no successful country without God's help.  America was founded under God, but we are falling away quickly.  Pray without ceasing for a revival to occur in the United States.  Pray that God will help open the eyes of the lost and deceived in our nation.    

I hope this article has made you think.  If you are struggling to keep a sense of pride for your country, then do not yet lose hope.  Feel shame about the things that have gone wrong in the past.  Feel anger about the injustices.  Feel sadness for those who have been lost.  But feel hope about your future and strive to make a difference.  I'll end with a quote by one of our greatest presidents.

"I like to see a man proud of the place in which he lives.  I like to see a man live so that his place will be proud of him." -Abraham Lincoln

Have an opinion- agreement or disagreement- about this article?  Leave me a comment.  I'd love to hear what you have to say.

The pictures come from here and here.

-July 15, Wednesday
Amsterdam, Holland -

In a little less than a day, I will be home in Amarillo! I am very excited.

The flight last night was calm and sweet. I fell asleep before we took off and woke up in time from breakfast. Seven hours of uncomfortable, but fairly sound sleep. It was pleasant enough. We had yogurt for breakfast, our first dairy product in two weeks. It tasted delightful.

It is currently 6:00 in the morning, and we depart at 10:00, so we have four hours to do whatever we like. Some of us are considering going out on the rail to view the actual city of Amsterdam, just to have experienced a little piece of Holland. The only concern is that since it is so early in the morning, there will be nothing much to see. I rather hope we do, however, despite the early hour.

I enjoy watching people while I'm in an airport. You can usually tell where a person has originated from simply the clothes that they were. The accents are all fascinating, and you can always find the most captivating people to watch when you are bored in an airport.

Nuns...

Muslim women in full black abaayas...

Africans in tribal dress...

The European chick who doesn't understand the concept of wearing more than a few skimpy articles of clothing at a time...

The stereotypical, overweight, American man who thinks that the overly-colorful sweater he bought at a tourist shop in Prague actually looks fantastic on him, rather than like a watercolor painting he plastered over his wide girth...

An anciently old couple who won't stop holding hands and kissing and looking at each other with eyes full of adoration...

If you have never been to an international airport, these are the wonderful things that you will see, not to mention the European men who enjoy wearing girl pants...

The huge Indian families with 83 ½ children who absolutely demand the right of way in the halls...

The gay couple who cuddle and kiss in front of everyone...

The woman who has sixteen bags, and has half of the staff in the airport helping her carry them...

The American family that is lost and rushing around and looking incomprehensibly at the signs that are all written in German and French and Swahili...

The Europeans who watch them, amused...

The loud choir/youth/middle school class trip group who all wear brightly-colored tee shirts of all the same color, and comment loudly about everything they see until they burst into gales of inappropriately obnoxious laughter and giggles and squealing...

Ahh, airports. What would we do without them?

I am not sure yet exactly where my group fits. Fifteen people of different age, gender, ethnicity, and even American state in which they live. The only common ground for us is Christianity, a longing to assist the AIDS orphans, and a relationship- however so small- with Milton Jones. Jesus and Milton. I am not quite sure how this adds up, but I am sure that I will figure it out someday.

Despite our differences, we are all friends that have a close bond formed by Africa. Really, no one has had much trouble with each other at all. We have all been, at least casually, friends from the start. At this moment, our common bond is that we all terribly, terribly want to skip the nine hour plane ride ahead of us and beam ourselves home, like in some sci-fi creeper movie. I think that would please each one of us immensely.

Earlier today, an American in his late forties went up to me. "Can you speak English?" he asked slowly and deliberately, pointing with dramatic gestures towards his mouth.

I blinked at him. "Yes."

"Do you know where this gate is?" He enunciated his words with great care, motioning towards his boarding pass and then at the Dutch signs above us.

"No, but the Schipold should be over there," I replied casually, allowing my Texan accent to shine through. I nodded towards the signs that marked the time and location for each departure. The man's eyes widened when he noticed my accent and realized that I was, in fact, an American as well. He mumbled a hurried thanks and walked away, obviously embarrassed.

These are the things that make four hour layovers in Amsterdam, Holland, amusing for the bored traveler. Ahh, only three and a half hours left to go.

-Later-

We went shopping for a while. It felt nice to be able to shop and do something so stereotypically American, but at the same time, I felt terribly guilty for spending money on trivial things such as sunglasses, jewelry, and a European hat, when the children back in Kenya can't afford to buy themselves a pair of shoes.

Cheryl treated me and Olivia to two scoops each of Haagen Dazs ice cream. It was such a sweet gesture from Cheryl, and it tasted so good. I chose to eat plain vanilla with hot caramel sauce drizzled over the top. It was lovely.

We sat down and ate our ice cream together, not caring that it was hardly 9:00 in the morning. We reminisced about all of the foods we missed from back home. Mexican food, steak, baked potatoes... we were all holding our stomachs with anticipation by the end of the conversation.

We bid farewell to our Seattle friends, checked into the gate and finally boarded the plane, eager to watch the abundance of movies available in the tiny screens that rested on the backs of the seats in front of us.

This flight is nine hours long, but we will arrive in Houston only three hours later than when we departed. Today will seem much, much longer than a usual day as a result of this. Oh, the joys of jet lag.

-In Air to Houston-

If I lived on a plane, my life would consist of sleeping... watching major motion pictures on eight inch screens... reading The Praise Habit by David Crowder... falling asleep while reading The Praise Habit by David Crowder... eating a perfectly balanced and packaged and cardboard-flavored airplane meal... crawling over people to go to the bathroom... watching movies that I wouldn't ever rent because they really just aren't that interesting... staring at the clock for twenty-three minutes straight, and wishing that I could make time move faster... calculating what time it is in Kenya and in Amsterdam and in Hawaii and in Texas and then back to Kenya... fumbling around in a three by three bathroom stall... sleeping in the weirdest position I have ever sat in before, but that is the only way to feel comfortable enough to sleep... snickering while watching other people sleep in odd positions... listening to the baby in the row behind me scream bloody murder, and thinking, "What in heaven's name was this kid's mother thinking when she took him on this plane?"... and etc.

My mind keeps drifting off to those kids in Africa, and I am beginning to dread coming home. I miss it in Kenya already, and I think it would have been nice to stay longer. My family isn't even home, for crying out loud.

The baby won't stop screaming. I want off this plane.

-In Air to Amarillo-

We had a five hour layover in Houston. Upon arrival in Houston, we were waved through the gate by a flight attendant, who told us with a bright smile, "Welcome home." I couldn't help but grin at her in return, despite my exhaustion. It felt amazing to be back on Texas soil.

Filling out our immigration and customs cards, we all marked down that we had been in farm/ranch land, because if you have ever been to Kenya, then you know that no matter where you go, city or country, you are in farmland with animals. It is simply a part of life for these people. At a church out in the bush, there was even a cow living inside!

The customs people were not happy that we had been in farmland. Some of them pulled me into a room, asking me several questions, including whether or to I had stepped in any manure. "What have I not stepped in?" I thought to myself. "I've worn this pair of flimsy Old Navy flip flops through the slums of Kisumu, where the streets have ankle-deep piles of both animal and human feces. Beat that, people."

It took us an hour to get through customs and security and panicked officials, but we were finally through. We ate lunch at Chili's, and I had a salad- my first salad in two weeks, because lettuce is composed of so much water, and Kenyan water is poison. I also drank my first Dr. Pepper in half of a month. If I ever move to Africa, which I must say is a possibility, I'm not sure how I can live without my Dr. Pepper. It is some heavenly stuff.

We all asked for so many refills of our drinks. Ice is a glorious wonder to us now. I sat at a table with Milton, Barbie, and Christian, and I think that Milton must have had five refills of his iced tea. It was funny to watch. He downed one glass in less than a minute. The poor waiter turned around from serving the rest of us and said in a bewildered voice, "Oh, let me get you another glass, sir."

Everything in America feels so different. The sky looks different. The clouds look different. The air smells a lot different. Africa- Kenya, at least- has a very distinctive smell to it, no matter where you go. Some people were offended by the foreign scent of the air. I, however, didn't mind it all that much. It is a very African scent- polluted, tropical, foreign... with a little hint of marijuana laced through the breeze now and then as well.

People have been rushing, rushing around, which has not been familiar to me at all over these past few weeks. I think back on an African saying, one that the Kenyans take very literally. It goes something like, "Americans have watches, but Africans have time," and it is the truth. The calmness, the serenity of Kenya, is something that I will miss.

I do not want to blend back in with my old life. I do not want to become once again the person who I used to be. I think a little differently now, and I want to remain this way, to live this way. I want to remember the poverty, remember the people, remember their faces- young and old. I can't let myself forget.

I do not want to look upon money as an expendable resource when I know for a fact that there are people 5,000 miles away in Africa who would weep with gratitude if I gave them ten dollars.

I do not want to become part of the daily hustle and bustle that has become so common for the modern American lifestyle.

I want to be able to sit down and truly listen to someone, to cherish the value of both time and loved ones.

I do not want to lose faith over something relatively small when there are those who have lost everything and everyone they have, and yet have the faith of Job, even while they know that they will never have their lives replenished back to where it was before. I want that kind of extreme faith.

I do not want to whine about having to go to school every day when there are those who start walking at 3:00 in the morning to make it on time to a classroom with dirt floors and a teacher who didn't even graduate from high school.

Never again will I use the phrase, "I am starving." Not when there are people who truly are starving and do not complain.

Those who believe that it is not our duty as Christians to feed the poor must go and read the book of James. There are those who need us. Jesus would feed His lambs, and we are His disciples, who should be following His example. How else can we live out Christ's love but by feeding the hungry, fulfilling Jesus' will for the least of His children? How else can they be fed?

James 2:15-17, TNIV, says, "Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, 'Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." I do not want to be the one who says, "I wish you well," and does nothing. I want to be the one who follows Christ's will and feeds the hungry, and clothes the naked, and shares the gospel with those who do not know.

We are His tools.

We are about to land in Amarillo any minute now, and I feel excitement coursing through my veins and rising up within me. I am home. It has been a long journey- one I never want to forget- a journey that has changed my perspective on the world, on my faith, on humanity. I am ready to be home, to share my experiences with those who are willing to listen. I am ready to continue Christ's purpose for my life.

I am His.