Jet Hyped

I'm back in America safely. And I'd like to think that I'm the opposite of jet lagged right now...I'm definitely jet hyped. I can't sleep and it's definitely 3:45 in the morning. In India it's 4:15 in the afternoon.

I can't stop thinking. Sometimes I really despise my wandering mind. You know what's consuming my thoughts right now? Let me just be honest...I'm wallowing in a little thing called euphoria. Not only am I back home safely but I just experienced the true vastness of God's love to an extent I never could have imagined.

All of my biggest struggles in life have to do with my inability to utterly and truly believe in the depth of God's love...for me. People tell me time and time again and I've read it countless times, but I've never been able to truly absorb it...until now. Going to India and getting to witness the inescapable vastness of our God's love has changed me. And I just feel like dancing. But it's now 3:54 in the morning and there are three sleeping girls a wall away from me...so I can't possibly dance...so I'm writing, my second favorite thing to do.

I just gave the most overwhelming and passionate speech about my trip. It was powerful enough to convert atheists into believers. It made people weep. And it ended with tons of people begging to be monthly donors to the ministry of YoungLife...the thing is...it was all in my head. I'm hoping to be able to talk about my trip at my home church in Riverside on Sunday and I've been going over it in my head a lot because I'm not much of a public speaker and I want it to be perfect. I want to truly convey all the emotions, the sensations, the lessons I learned in this place called India.

I've mentioned how being in India is humbling but I haven't broken down exactly why...I'm sure you all could slap together some pictures in your head that might begin to explain it. You've seen movies. You've listened to people give speeches about the missions of World Vision and Compassion. You've seen the infomercials. You maybe even bought some Toms so that a child in an impoverished village could have a pair of shoes. But until you've been there, you can never really know. I know you hear that all the time. I was in the same boat. I thought hearing about it was sufficient but the Lord has broken me in a way I desperately needed.

I've spent the past year of my life wallowing....dwelling in the darkness of my family, sulking in my unworthiness, believing to my utmost ability that no one could ever love me the way that I love them. Devilish talk. And for an entire year I ate it up. I remember writing in my journal on the plane ride to India. I asked God why? Why would he take me to such a dark and depressing and poverty stricken place like India when I was already at my lowest point in life. What could I possibly deliver to the people of this place? How could I demonstrate the love of God when I wasn't feeling it myself?

God's just chalk full of surprises though. He knew that I needed to experience the vastness of His love and that taking me to a country on the other side of the world was just the way to do it.

My whole life I've wanted to be a writer. I'm obsessed with words and their ability to simply emote. I've always wanted to be able to put words together in a way that will empower the consumer of my delicious creations. I have an insatiable appetite for books and the worlds they allow me to plunge into...all that to say, this is my meager attempt at conveying the joy I experienced in India. Time and time again Jami, my pseudomom, has reminded me that I can't let my familial circumstances steal my joy. The word joy is so simple, and yet so complex. Most people equate it with happiness. Even the dictionary puts the word happiness in the definition...well at lease the Mac definition does. But over this past year I've discovered that I can play with happiness. I can pretend that I'm happy. All you have to do is put a smile on and people think you're happy. But there's no messin' with joy. You either got it or you don't. And this past year I lost it. I think it got hidden in a bottomless bushel basket. What is a bushel basket anyway?

Joy is more than just a facial expression. When you have it, it seeps out of your body. It's like every pore and follicle on your body has opened up and there's joy slithering out all over the people you surround yourself with...but it doesn't actually slither, because snakes slither, and snakes don't promote joy...joy flutters, it floats, it shimmers, and it glistens...and when someone's got some joy inside them, everyone's gonna know. Joy is overwhelming, it tries to just be whelming but since that doesn't exist, it simply has to overwhelm you, because that's what joy does. It takes everything over the top. It's sort of like your body becomes one of those big giant bubble wands and God is just blowing big bubbles of joy through you...and they pop on everyone who's near you...sometimes God blows the bubbles really far though and they land in places like India. And you begin to truly understand that God really does have a plan, a purpose, a simple desire for our petty lives. We are his marionettes and I'm more than happy allowing God to pull my strings. As long as He keeps pulling the one that's attached to my heart. The one that calls me to the broken children of the world.

I'd like you to understand that you can be broken..and still have joy...in fact, I think it's necessary to be broken beyond repair in order to fully grasp the depths of the joy God has for us. Calling the children broken doesn't automatically imply that they have no joy. The broken children of India are the ones that discovered the bushel basket with my joy in it and gave it back to me. I know I'm getting a little carried away with the metaphors here but I don't know another way to help you fathom this euphoria that I'm wallowing in at, now 4:34 am.

The kids of India, my English students, actually ended up teaching me more than I could have ever taught them. They taught me that joy is inherent. It's a seed God plants inside us and our circumstances have the ability to grow it or kill it, depending on how we perceive them and react to them. The children of the YuvaLok primary school live the direst of lives yet they continue to emit this joy that is pandemically contagious. Don't get me wrong, I definitely wanted to wring some of their necks due to some of the disastrous moments they made me endure, but their joy stained me.

And now I'm back. Back in this cold, self-absorbed nation known as America. And as good as it feels to be back, I can't help but fret. What if my joys runs hiding again? Smiles are scarce here and true joy is even harder to find. Good thing I'm moving to camp in two weeks ay? From one spiritual high to another. :) No but really though, I'm embarking on a mission...an endless game of tug of war in which I desperately fend off the little devils trying to steal my joy. Devils of insecurity, unworthiness, angst, and despair.

So I hold onto my end of the rope tightly, winding it around my wrists and tucking it under my arm, digging my heels into the ground.

I already miss India and so I sit at 4:54 in the morning listening to the glorious and ample melodies of my new Bollywood CD.

Jami I got my joy back! And I'm still jet hyped. Tomorrow is going to be rough.