I finally fumbled in the right digits to call home, and in talking with my mom I stumbled into the perfect metaphor for what DTS is and how all of you readers can understand what we’re all going through. Ok, so remember when you’re young and you went to summer camp? and it was great and fun and you stayed in a room or a tent or a cabin with a bunch of different kids, and you did lots of fun things and it was better than how your summer was going so far, but it seems to go by way too fast, and so by the end of the week you have to leave and you think to yourself: “I wish summer camp just went on forever.”
DTS is perpetual summer camp. That idea of a weeklong summer camp, with the adjustments necessary to make it work in a 5-month timeframe. By saying this I don’t mean to trivialize it; we spend 4 hours a day in class and have various other activities and chores, and we’re always up to great stuff and it seems like the Lord is constantly working in us and through us and changing us, and life is abundant in this place. Every week so far God’s broke me or changed me in some meaningful way. The way I described it in my journal is that it’s similar to how muscle is built. it’s not merely piled on; by working out,you’re actually breaking down the current muscle, sending your body the message that what you have isn’t strong enough and you need better. And it’s sort of like that, because in this environment you inevitably come up against every weakness in you. Having to be loving and joyful and peaceful and patient and kind and good and faithful at all times takes work. and God doesn’t seem to be in the business of patching your flaws, but instead it’s like he’s pulling all your baby teeth so that the big teeth can grow. and until you let him do it the big teeth start to come in and mash down on the nerves of the baby teeth, driving you crazy.
There are a lot of things that are easy to get over for the first week or so, like those inconveniences you deal with at summer camp; not being able to text all your friends, not being able to go to the store and buy the things you’re used to, the slight feeling of homesickness. and when you’re gone for a week it’s ok. but when you’ve been gone for a month, and you have no idea what’s going in the lives of just about everyone you care about, and you have 20 square feet of personal space, and you never, ever have any privacy, the quaintness that was so endearing at first doesn’t necessarily lose its’ appeal but it at any rate loses the sense of novelty.
On saturday I ended up going to Chinatown with Grace, buying the most expensive glasses of water we ever paid for (Look at the menu before you sit down, kids.), and we went to church. and because I went to church on saturday, it meant that while everyone else went to church on sunday, I had three floors of the NRTC to myself for a few hours. It was delightful. I listened to about an hour of the previous’ week’s Prairie Home Companion on the internet that wasn’t bogged down by the din of 20 laptops, and I played it as loud as I wanted, and I went for a walk around the triple-pond of the ramsong campus. I had a bowl of rice for 20 baht at a cafe. I would sing as loud as I wanted, prayed out loud, and made thump noises on all of the bunk-beds, and played folk songs as loudly as I wanted on a borrowed guitar. and it was my sabbath, and it was delightful. and then in a slow trickle, everyone was back, and my privacy faded, but that small amount of time was enough to reconstitute my sanity. When I first got here I rationalized a lot of the inconveniences I would put up with as temporary things that I could deal with because it was just a few months and soon I would be done and I would have a nice big room and I could make my own food and do my own grocery shopping. Except that that attitude was completely wrong, and inconsistent with the fact that we as humans seem to be built for community and interdependence. Even if I don’t go off and join some commune, even having a family and living in interdependence with other people means that a lot of these inconveniences are going to be relatively permanent themes in my life. and I’m learning that. And I’m learning to wake up in the morning and love feeling tired and a little sore, and to joyfully eat a breakfast that’s been lovingly and questionably prepared for me. (Side note, our kitchen is frequented by the goats, Clive and Lewis, along with the occasional cat and lizard, and has the sketchiest oven and dishwashing protocol I’ve ever seen. the fact that I’ve only gotten sick once is a minor miracle.) And I’m learning to love people even though having to put up with them on a daily basis can be a consistent challenge. And I’m finding that I’m up for it. That it’s worth it. That I can love and miss everyone back home so much, and yet not be filled with any regret or heartache because daily God confirms that this is where I am to be for this season in my life.
Another thing that makes it perpetual summer camp is that it’s september 20 and it’s 8 in the morning and it’s 82 degrees. And it’s slowly sinking in that for me there will be no autumn. no falling leaves, no flannel weather, no scarves, and that the sweat that collects on my back with every walk to the market will still collect in november. and that makes me miss home, just a little bit. and more than anything the thing I’ve loved about fall in the past few years is that fall meant I didn’t have to worry. May was 2 semesters away, and my life was decided for me for a time. and I don’t have that this time around. I have a flight booked for leap day, and after that I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. and it’s sort of exciting that way, but there’s a part of me that wants control and wants to make sure everyone back home doesn’t think I’m being completely irresponsible, and that doesn’t like asking people for money, and wants stability. I was given a piece of advice, though, by one of my teachers. “The most responsible thing you can possibly do is follow God, even when what you’re doing makes you uncomfortable.”
“Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
Jesus answered, “I am the way.”
John 14: 5b-6a
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