Going Places

The Walmart parking lot is actually rather nice. All those blimey seagulls make it sound like the beach. If I stay focused on my textbook, and stay warm enough as the temperature of the car gradually drops to match the temperature outside, I can forget, for a bit, where I am.

It's more a game than anything else. I don't need to forget. Thursday is my favorite day of the week, after all. I get to participate in class with a bunch of Cornellians and pretend I'm one of them. So far, they haven't picked up on my ruse.

The seminar coordinator is letting me sit in because I'm a graduate student in public health and nutrition. I fit the bill, in title if not in practice. Many of the other students have conducted nutrition-related research internationally, successfully obtained grants, waded through the politics of institutional review boards, etc. They've traveled far. I have too, but I use up most of the sailing wind just getting to the destination. What I do when I get there isn't impressive. A better adjective might be "cute."

Two weeks from now I'll be in the Dominican Republic. My sister is teaching at Colegio Moriah this semester, and I decided to join her over spring break. It's turned into a bit of a personal mission trip. My dentist and orthodontist graciously donated over 200 each of toothbrushes and toothpaste, and I'll be teaching dental hygiene to the kids. I'm not a dentist, but of all the ways I could intervene from a public health standpoint, convincing kids to brush their teeth every day seems semi-obtainable. The director's wife also set up a time for me to give a presentation on basic hygiene/disease prevention to all the women in the surrounding community. I'm a little nervous, mostly excited. I've wanted to experience and work in a developing country since I was 14.

Having the Corning dental community support me, having my church family pray for me and encourage me, gives me wings. Or well, it at least gives me impetus to get out of bed.

This morning was an early morning. Thursday's always are. The key to getting to Cornell is to carpool with Mom. She has nursing clinical in Watkins a few times a week, and she finishes at just the right time for us to drive over the hill to the university together. After dropping her at the hospital, I sit in various parking lots in town from 7AM until I can justify entering the bakery and staying there for a few hours even though I've only bought one cup of tea or coffee. Today it's a smidgen warmer, which makes the morning easier. It also means it's rainy. I blame the rain for making me neglect my textbook. Rain on a rooftop, dripping down the freshly waxed windshield, puts me in the mood to write.

The past few times the mood has struck I've had to ignore it. It's not that I'm too busy, even though life in town with my little sisters and parents, instead of in the country with Grandma, is more frenetic and varied. It's just that I know I'm going to write the same things over and over.

When I was in Minneapolis last autumn, sipping a Cortado in some hipster corner coffee shop, I lamented to Ashtyn about it. Like a proper artist, she responded, "Then keep writing the same thing over and over and over. It's how you grow."

I do know I'm growing. It's just very slow. Too slow - academically, financially, practically - to ever be a graduate student officially enrolled at Cornell. I'm stuck at Liberty, home to another scandalous Jerry. At least this Jerry only made controversial comments that ended in a presidential endorsement, and he didn't ravenously prey on young children. Yes - seen in perspective an evangelical school tainting itself with political activity isn't all that bad.

In perspective, I am very blessed. It's not Cornell, and my program isn't accredited by the PHAB, but it is school. And I am in the position to lend a hand in the DR. Thanks to family and community and school, if they reach back, I'll have the strength to hold tight and not let them go.

That I have the strength to do anything is because of Him. The out-working of my faith is as basic as me getting out of bed in the morning - or not running away to a SoCal beach. That's a miracle. I guess that makes going to the DR a double miracle.

Did I fail somewhere that just getting out of bed is my leap of faith? For others, the leap is more impressive. Their starting line is my finish line. Five denarii to 10, 10 denarii to 20, if you will. I know it doesn't matter and that I shouldn't compare. But so often I pressure myself to quadruple my investment, when doubling is all that is required. Not even doubling - interest. Because honestly, I only have 1 denarius.

It's still a lot to be entrusted with. Viewing my life realistically - not comparing - this degree, this trip to the DR, is a honkin' big deal. I am excited. I get to be with God in a developing country, see how people in such a culture live out their faith, serve with the tools God has given me. I'll get to play with rascally little kids. Hear Spanish and wish I understood. I'll get to visit with my sister, the one who rescued me from life with only 2 brothers. (And then I got rescued twice more by Misha and Sänna, but you know.)

Yes, it will be good, just like this Walmart parking lot. All things are leveled at the Cross.