Prairie Vacationing

I've been taking tennis lessons all month, and loving it. When I fall asleep I dream of backhands and volleys and overheads. Yesterday at 4 a.m., my alarm woke me from my happy dreams of tennis matches, and I jumped out of bed (well, maybe slowly rolled out), and headed to the Indianapolis airport. As I drove along the winding roads on the hour-long trip north, I was brimming with anticipation. I was going home after nearly a year!

Our plane touched down in Kansas City just about as the sun was coming up. I strode through the plane's exit door with my spindly long legs that were expecting the heat of the Great Plains. Instead it was pretty chilly for this time of year! Nevertheless, I kept onward. I left the gate area, expecting my mom to run and hug me. But there was not a single soul waiting for anyone. Nevertheless, I kept onward. I walked outside of the terminal, shivering. My mom called to say she would be there in 15 minutes. Nevertheless, I kept onward. It was barely dawn, after all.

She arrived after a few minutes, and we drove home to Topeka. I've always loved that homecoming drive--when I returned on breaks during college, when I came back after China, and even now. As we drive west, the view is pretty spectacular. The sky is the most vivid blue in all the world, I'm convinced. The rolling hills and farmland are a hazy green. There's so much open space that you feel a bit freer and more relaxed. Time stands still, and all seems right with the world. How many times have I made this drive now after being in far-off lands?

I look forward to coming home and recalling memories that seem to tumble out of each room in my Mom's house or at each landmark we pass in Topeka. Walking into the "inner-city" high school each morning with my sister, anticipating another school day filled with German, history, math, and drama classes; the old halls seemed alive with a blur of excitement. Playing noisy games of baseball and hockey with the other neighbor kids on our block. Getting scolded by older folks as the same neighbor kids and Andrea and I would race along the grassy back alley between the houses, jumping fences and causing even more noise. Looking for Andrea and finding her high up in the big Bradford Pear tree at the front of the house. Jumping through the sprinkler on hot, windy summer days. Waiting out the storms in the basement with my family as the tornado sirens wailed. Launching stuffed animals off the balcony inside the house to help them fly. Creating obstacle courses weaving around the yard. Drawing the longest hopscotch trail down the street with my best friend. Having nothing but time to play, laugh, think, dream, and grow.

And so I come home to all of these memories, wondering where all the time has gone. Would 6 year-old Laura be happy about what 26 year-old Laura is today? Had I ever imagined I would be a Christian, study several languages, explore Asia, be educated, and love people well because of God's love? A part of me wants to feel jealous about 6 year-old Laura who was so free, uninhibited, happy, and without a care in the world. But then I realize that in my ways I haven't changed too much. I still play, laugh, think, dream, and grow. I'm even freer, happier, and cast all my cares to God. Twenty years later life isn't as simple, but it is still colorful--with added colors, textures and tones. Yes, 6 year-old Laura would be glad.

On that note, I am off to have an adventure with my Mom! Here are some pictures of late. I'll add some Kansas pictures next time!


Evening campfire on a cliff overlooking Lake Monroe.


At my Chinese friends' wedding on an American farm!

Getting back on the horse

In the last post I didn't have much to say, but now I feel like I'm busting at the seams with words and thoughts. It is currently graduation weekend--hard to believe I graduated a year ago! Today it is rainy and chilly, which is opposite of graduation day last year. It felt like the middle of August in a tropical rainforest then.

My doctor referred me to a neurologist, who apparently wanted to test my endurance this week by making me get MRIs for THREE whole hours. She wanted a better look at my brain and spine to try and figure out the bizarre things that still happen to me. Wow, what an experience! It was like being trapped in a cage inside of a cage... Or being trapped inside of a bird cage inside of a ship's deafeningly noisy boiler room. I tried to think of some things I've experienced that have been worse, and there are only a few: being on a China Eastern Airlines (aka "Duct Tape Airlines" flight for 14 hours over the Pacific) and running regressions on statistical software. Yep, that's about it. Oh, and maybe getting hit by a car. Overall, however, it was a great confidence builder, and I felt extreme peace, knowing lots of people were praying. Of course it has been determined I have an absolutely beautiful spine and brain. I wouldn't expect anything less.

In other news, I didn't let any MRIs get me down this week. On Tuesday after work, I went home and thought, "Today is the day." I was determined to ride my bike (for the first time since my accident) that very day. After wheeling out my old bike that had been overhauled since the accident, I heaved it onto the bike rack on the back of my car. That was the most difficult challenge of the evening. My upper body strength is about nil. So I struggled to hoist the horribly heavy bike onto the rack. It had been the easiest thing to do last year, but now seemed about impossible. I silently glowered at neighbors walking by who watched as my monstrously-sized "Giant" hybrid bike nearly devoured me. Nobody realized the gravity of the situation! I HAD to get this mass of metal onto my car and ride TODAY.

Eventually, streaked with sweat and coated in grime, I found success. I was already exhausted and hadn't even ridden my bike yet. But I persevered and made it downtown to the B-Line trail. I parked in front of city hall, ripped my bike off its rack, strapped on my helmet, and slowly pedaled down the trail. It was an absolutely gorgeous evening, and nearly the whole town seemed out and about. I pedaled past ninth street, then eighth, and then reached seventh. I remembered turning off at this particular juncture nearly 8 months ago, and almost immediately getting hit by a distracted undergrad and his blue Saturn. As I write this blog, I paused to glance at one of the latest news stories in the city newspaper. A big story is, "May is Bike Month in Bloomington." Apparently the City of Bloomington is planning on creating a special bike corridor from west to east on seventh street that will be safer for bicyclists. That's the exact route I was on. It seems too little too late.

When I was on my bike ride Tuesday, however, I didn't really feel anything--not anger, sadness, regret, or anxiety. I loved riding my bike and want to love riding again. As I pedaled along the B-Line, I felt like I had come to terms with it all. Instead of the past, I focused on the blossoming trees, the amazing blue sky, and the colorful, cheerful people biking, walking, and running. Everything felt right. I can still bike (even if I'm a little slow), and I have been able to honestly forgive the guy who hit me--all by God's grace. Ultimately, I feel even freer than before the accident.

Although the past 8 months have been among the worst of my life, they have also been the best in many ways. I feel like a very changed person on the inside, especially. I've grown more into who God intended me to be. When you feel so lost and hurt, you have the opportunity to gain so much through the love and strength of God. As the book I'm reading, Disability and the Gospel, points out, I've discovered personally how God is a "lover of the downtrodden, the broken, and the weak." As I've mentioned before, the past several months have been an incredible refining process for my faith, and even the faith of others!

In other news, I had a letter to the editor published in The Herald-Times here in little Btown. I'm passionate about the marginalized and homeless in our community, and I've had several articles published in the paper, but this was the first opinion piece I had with a novel idea about a summer shelter that is needed here. It stirred up a lot of emotions and thoughts, with a lot of people basically freaking out. All the leaders I know in the city, though, loved it. Laura for Mayor!

Few words

I'm sorry I haven't written for a while! Perhaps happily, there really isn't too much to report:

Weather-wise it's still chilly here in southern Indiana, but I'm hoping it will at least warm up by July. Work-wise things are going really well, and we've had a lot of great outcomes with some programs lately. Literature-wise I just finished The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. Wow. Read it if you haven't. Health-wise I'm still getting stronger physically and mentally. The cobwebs in my head seem to be getting swept out, and the aches and pains in my body are becoming a little less noticeable. Activity-wise I'm still volunteering, dancing ballet, going on little hikes, and hanging out with wonderful friends. Future-wise I've started applying to a handful of jobs. No word yet on anything, but I'll keep you posted. I'm open to most any job, preferably in a warm, sunny location. In lieu of a job, I'll accept a wealthy husband.

Since I talk about them rather frequently, I'll leave you with a pic of the church small group I've been a part of since September. We hung out last week at Orange Leaf, the newest frozen yogurt place in little Bloomington. I'm so thankful for them!

Pep in my step

Where has time gone? It's finally April and everything seems much more hopeful now that spring is (supposedly) just around the corner. I think today I even spotted a flower! People suddenly seem more cheerful and I also can't help but being super chipper.

Early last week I left Indiana behind with snow on the ground, and headed much farther south to spend the most marvelous week with Andrea in Florida. It was a much-needed break from work and the constant cold and cloudiness of Bloomington. I felt the old, adventuresome Laura well up inside me as our plane banked over the coastline late at night and landed at the tiny Daytona Beach airport. I think they turned the airport lights on just for our plane's arrival and then switched them off again.

Throughout the week, we went to the beach, read a lot, talked about everything under the sun, watched an old movie, got our first pedicures ever, ate lots of amazing food (mostly Asian, of course), hung out with her friends who have also become my friends over the years, and laughed nearly every waking moment. On Easter Sunday after church we drove up north along the shore to St. Augustine, which is an old town founded by the Spanish in 1565! It's extremely historic and gorgeous. We packed (well, Andrea did most of the work) a little picnic lunch and lounged on a blanket under a little palm tree on a hill overlooking the old Spanish fort and old town. It was a beautiful day, as families flew kites and played games, sailboats drifted by in the harbor, and the sun shone brilliantly. We even watched an Easter parade, which was a first for me. The parade was filled mostly with Easter bunnies and pirates, which was an interesting and amusing combination. It was my first Easter I've spent with any family member since 2004--9 whole years ago! So I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to see her, to be warm, and just to rest. She was a great encouragement to me, and hopefully I was also able to encourage her!

One of my favorite parts was going to Good Friday and Easter service at her church. I have felt very distant from God lately, like my heart was covered in lacquer. Life has just been so... hard. From the sermons and the songs we sang, and the time I got to spend praying and reading my Bible, I felt like a little bit of the ice inside me was being chipped away. Some of the verses from the hymns we sang pierced me to the core:

Because He lives
I can face tomorrow
Because He lives
All fear is gone
Because I know
He holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because He lives

~"Because He Lives"

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.

~"In Christ Alone"

So with a little pep in my step, I returned on Tuesday to Indiana, where it had flurried that morning. That evening I rushed to downtown to the old theater for the "Be More Awards" by the City of Bloomington. The bikers, beach bums, and tourists of Daytona were replaced with Btown's hippies, hipsters, and intellectuals. At this cozy, packed-out event of hundreds of people, several individuals and organizations were recognized for their incredible volunteering. It was an experience uniquely Bloomington. The mayor and our organization's executive director cracked jokes about each other on stage like they usually do, the crowd was filled with a diverse array of students, elderly folks, prominent business people, and all the nonprofit people I've gotten to know over the past 3 years. The recipients gave short, heart-warming acceptance speeches, and there was one woman who used her speech to warn about climate change in a way that made everyone so uncomfortable (now I just keep laughing about it). This particular woman stood on the edge of the stage and commenced to blow a ram's horn, "as a warning against climate change." It was delightful seeing someone who could make the eternally-accepting Bloomington crowd cringe from awkwardness.

In other news, I've still been staying extremely busy with the usual activities: volunteering, church and small group, dancing, and solving everyone's tax issues... I'll leave you with a couple of pictures from this past week's little Florida adventure! Sorry they're mostly of me--Andrea is modest and doesn't like to be photographed. I, however, obviously don't mind!



In my preppy Florida gear.



Amazing sushi!



St. Augustine on Easter.



Little Easter picnic lovingly prepared by Andrea.



My gracious hostess.



Ah! Warmth and sunshine!

Whole

It's always rather humorous and sometimes disorienting how we can make plans for the future, but they often don't work out, or they turn out a lot differently than we could have anticipated. For example, since I returned from China in 2010, I thought I was being prepared to go back and serve in some capacity. And I thought that time to head back would be this fall, as I had the opportunity to live in Guangzhou and teach public policy at one of China's top universities.

But, alas, God seems to have other plans. For the time being, my place is here. My doctors have made it clear that I'm not up to snuff yet, especially since I've started to feel a lot more awful again over the past month. I have come a long ways, but healing is a bumpy road, and sometimes there are effects from series of traumatic events that may only appear months later, and not so conveniently (or maybe it is convenient?) when I'm trying to return overseas.

So now I'm not quite sure what to do, although I don't have to worry about it yet. When my job is finished here in July, an option may be to move to Florida to be closer to my sister. That would be such a novel idea--living close to family! Being with Andrea and in a warmer, sunnier climate may do wonders in healing. Now I may never be fully recovered in some ways, and will always have some physical and psychological scars, but I am trusting fully. Who knows what adventures await? Who knows what relationships the future holds? And besides--Chinese people are literally EVERYWHERE, even in Florida. And maybe I'll miraculously learn to love regular, white Americans...

I don't think the 16 year-old Laura would recognize the 26 year-old one. When I was 16, I had been accepted to top ballet programs, knew I was heading to the East Coast for college, had a column in the city paper, and believed I could do and be anything. When I thought of myself being in my mid-20s, I pictured roaming the globe for the New York Times while speaking several languages, having a marvelous boyfriend, and wearing super classy clothes with a gleaming head of gorgeous hair. Haha. So maybe things haven't turned out quite that way (except the hair, of course), but in a lot of ways, my life so far has turned out better. I may often feel broken and scarred, but I also know that there's more to life than what I can see or feel. And when I feel disappointed and discouraged, which seems to be a lot lately, then I remember the scars of our Savior. He knows. He understands. And someday I will be made whole again.

Not yet home

I still have a vivid memory of trudging up the five flights of stairs to my little humble apartment in China. It had been a long day, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the crushing weight of poverty, corruption, and hopelessness that surrounded me in the country of 1.4 billion souls. I wanted to pack up my things and return home. Then it was like God told me very clearly: "Laura, I don't ask you to change the whole world. I just want you to love and live alongside those I place in your path- one person at a time."

Sometimes I still remember those words that renewed my faith in God's grace and my purpose, when I feel like I'm not doing or being enough. But then I remember I'm loving and living alongside people even now--when I prepare someone's taxes and listen to their stories; when I serve Louisa who thinks my name is "Roberta;" when I hang out with my friends of all nationalities who are dealing with their own struggles; when I share my own stories of struggle, hopes, and challenges with others... So maybe I'm not changing the whole world or even the little town I live in, but that's impossible anyway, and not what we're called to do. We just step out in faith, live our lives to the best of our ability, and invest in those He brings into our lives.

Oh, but some days I wonder how much sadness one can take. When is enough enough? When will it be over? Yes, I have experienced incredible moments of joy, and still do, but so often it seems like the darkness can overwhelm the light. A part of me just wants to rest, take care of myself, heal, put up defenses, build a respectable career, turn inward, and brick my heart off from the pain of the world. But then an even bigger part of my heart knows that I was placed on this earth to be a light and to bring glory to God's name, not my own. I recall 2 Corinthians 3:3: The most important resume or credentials should not be "carved on tablets of stone, but on human hearts."

I agree with C.S. Lewis when he said:

"The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends...have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home."

In other news, please keep my dear 90 year old Grandpa in your prayers! He went in for emergency surgery today, and it's rather serious. Thanks as always!

Life snapshots

Shouting on the phone about spicy hot dogs for all to hear in the middle of Kroger on a busy Saturday morning. Laughter ringing throughout our house during dinners and times of fellowship with close and new friends. Countless conversations of life and financial struggle with low-income people while preparing their federal and state tax returns. Reading brief sentences emailed by my globe-trotting sister in Europe and the Middle East. Flying through the air in ballet class like gravity doesn't exist. Listening to testimonies about how Christ has radically altered lives...

These are just a few snapshots of life this past week. The spicy hot dog episode was related to my volunteering, where I visit a homebound elderly, very hard-of-hearing woman, whom we shall call "Louisa." She writes a list of groceries for me (which includes an impossible to find brand of spicy hotdogs), I go out and get them, and then we just sit and visit awhile. It's sort of similar to the movie "50 First Dates," about a woman who has amnesia, and it's like a first date everyday when she sees her boyfriend. Louisa seems to remember me, but nothing about me, which I don't mind too much. She'll usually ask a refrain of pretty much the same questions each time. It's always 50 First Dates with Louisa. These questions and the variation of my answers include:

Question in a sweet, southern accent, "What are you studying in school?"

Reply in the clearest, loudest voice I can muster: "I just graduated with my master's and am working with a nonprofit."

"Where are you from again? Pennsylvania?"

I automatically reply, "Kansas," without explaining all about Virginia, China... Once I mentioned China, but never again, because she was quite worried about communists.

"Why do you voluntarily visit me, since I'm just an old lady?"

A quick internal reflection about why we do anything in life. "Oh, that's easy. I enjoy visiting you and helping out a little." In my mind, I'm thinking about how I miss visiting my own grandparents, or how I hope that I can brighten her day a bit, or how I secretly pray that someone will show me kindness and care when I'm nearly 9 decades old, or how I really should have been born early last century.

"Do you have any cats?" Louisa asks as she strokes the head of an affectionate kitty at her side.

"Nope, I don't have any pets." I don't explain that I'm actually allergic to the cute little fluffy furballs that are purring contentedly on my lap.

"Oh. Well, maybe when you're settled. Tell me about your boyfriend. You know I met my husband on a train during the war."

"I don't currently have a boyfriend, but I have lots of fun, interesting friends," I say confidently, while wishing I could meet my future husband on a train, too, albeit minus the whole being in the middle of a war part.

"You must have a bevy of beaus! Well, you're still young! You're 20, right?"

"Actually I'm 26." I say that, but feel like I'm lying. I don't feel or look 26.

She expresses a mixed look of surprise, shock and concern. "26? You don't look a day over 20. You'll be glad you look so young," says the woman with pictures of her younger, absolutely gorgeous self plastered on every wall of her house.

Then I proceed to ask her lots of questions, asking more about her soldier-husband, her short career on Indianapolis television, and her experience as an elementary-school teacher.

*Repeat the exact same conversation at least 14 times before it's time for me to go.* Then after a couple of hours of circular, yet pleasant conversation, I exit in a cloud of cat hair and 70 year-old memories that cling to me like a shroud.

Here's to many more years of serving, loving, living, and laughing! I'm so thankful that God has blessed me and most of us with the ability to encourage, help, and teach others, while always embracing opportunities to stretch, grow, and change.


Dinner before the opera at our cozy house!


Hosting 15 women from GFM and church small group for a refreshing evening of food, conversation, study, and prayer!