A roller coaster of a journey.

I enjoyed the rides this weekend.  I loved watching my children’s faces.  Watching Alex hold on for dear life and seeing him squeeze his eyes so tight as he began to curl into a fetal position…and then just as quickly as the ride would begin, it was over.  Sharing these experiences as a family adventure is bonding and is joyous.  Living to tell the stories is priceless.

How do you describe to someone what a roller coaster is who doesn’t understand electric power, who has never been in a moving car or and who’s feet has never left the ground.  No perspective of height, depth or speed.  Even a picture does not give a sense of the anxiety that overwhelms me and makes my knees suddenly weak as I’m standing in line and my palms begin to perspire.  My stomach gently flip flops anticipating the loops twisting and the turning and swinging of my body upside down like a cloth doll.   The sense of dropping, falling, flying and the sheer moment of panic when you feel like your going to die…  Perspective.  The discussions afterward carry on for hours.  “My favorite part was when we think we are plummeting into the ground on Goliath, or Tatsu makes me feel like I am going to fall out at any moment.  That one freaks me out!”  Even a shadowing poster picture  of a coaster across from the hot dog stand can release excited terror with just a glance.  How come?  Because we know what the ride feels like.  When we see the picture we have perspective and a memory, a physical body response that without warning can take us on a ride for a moment once again.

I laughed as Shane’s long legs squeezed next to me into the little kid car ride going up and down around the circle.  The spinning force pushed his large man sized body against me and pinched me up against the outside wall, my stomach began to turn and I could feel myself beginning to feel faint.  Entertainment.  So much effort and expense for our amusement. It just hit me as ironic.

The differences in our lifestyles are so extreme, that that I can’t even imagine trying to describe it to my “mama”.  The look I imagine on her face is similar to the face I sometimes see when I try to describe staying in a mud house and in the countryside.  My friends want to understand, they are intent on my words and my stories and give great compassion and often sacrifice to help me.  The same physical responses elicited in the anticipation of a roller coaster even standing in line are the feelings that well up inside me without warning when I think of our precious family, the desperation, the joy, the depression and survival.  My words come up empty.  The poster on the wall and the shadowy picture just isn’t digging deep enough into the consciousness of those who have not been on the same ride.

Beautiful brown eyes, curious and watching me as I move across the mud floor to pick up a basin and small pitcher to wash hands of the guests who have entered.  A child quickly comes and  gently pulls the articles from me as to keep me as their treasured guest.  Such honor and respect they give me for which I don’t deserve, simply they love me for no reason at all. 

Around and around and around, pressure pushing against my chest until I can hardly breath, dropping so fast I sense I am leaving my stomach behind.  Where am I?  Complete black surrounds me for a moment until I shoot up out of the ground and high into the air again.  Up and down and up and down until I am begging for the power behind the roller coaster to stop…please, I’m getting too old for this and I can’t take one more spin and drop!  Sheer elation…that was better than I remembered!  The rides.  Completely birthed out of our culture of excess.  Our need and desire for a new thrill, new excitement and testing the limits of our power and what can be created.  Incredible inventions for our pleasure.  Yes I do love them.

A paint brush for the very first time squeezed between fingers pushing it down firmly into the water and then into the brightly colored water paints.  As the wet pigment on the brush strokes against the clean white copy paper, amazement and bewilderment fill the face that intently follows the movement.  Everyone watching becomes still and and mesmerized by the demonstration.

Crops.  Food.  I think it begins with food.  Hunger stifles creativity, learning and in my American house can bring some grumpy attitudes.  Sharing a meal together can bring peace to a difficult relationship, shows friendship and partnership.  Breaking bread even represents forgiveness and a fresh start.  When food is lacking, starvation follows and the very essence of a beautiful culture looses its luster at best and breaks down at worst.

Building hospitals, schools, factories…big stuff.  What good is it if the people don’t have food?  Buildings can be a source of pride and excitement, a demonstration of a great accomplishment and hope.  Yes.  And for me the prospect of such large endeavors elicits fear.  How do we maintain overhead for on going projects like these?  How do we keep from appearing pretentious? How will we get properly trained medical workers and patients who can pay the bills?  If we have an exclusive school for a few, how do we choose who we accept and how do we keep the elite student from leaving our village once they are finished and provide them challenging work?  How can the workers perform in a factory and produce a product if the food source locally grown can not keep them healthy and full of energy for a full work day?

In my mind I swing and swing and swing, around and around and around until I am so dizzy I can not see straight.  Oh sweet Jesus, please help me to think clearly.  Help me to know what is next.  Help me to focus on what you would have me to gaze my eyes and thoughts upon. 

What should I farm?  What would not compete with the local farms, take a minimal amount of land for now and being something desirable to a palate that has enjoyed traditional foods for years?  Irrigation, containment, protection from the animals and the sheer energy and labor to plant, maintain and harvest this dreamy crop.  Possible?  Yes.  Nothing is ever easy.  Cooperation by my family and friends in the US and in our village.  Working together.  Desire.  Could we have as much excitement in saving lives, in bringing hope, in minimizing starvation as in free falling 800 feet from the sky?  Could we be compelled to come back year after year, to convince our family members to go along for the thrill?

I don’t mean to sound like I am haphazard and spinning in my attempts to help because I believe fiercely that God gives us one step in front of the other and that our efforts, however meager combined with His great power make an eternal impact.  The thoughts, the prayers and the planning that go into the pulling together the details for each and every child, and family member is extensive.

I am convinced there is a perspective that can be learned.  In the same way riding a roller coaster gives new insight into the terror and excitement and thrill of a theme park, sharing a relationship with a child, learning the cast of members in their family and following the setting in which their drama plays out each day can bring a new perspective and appreciation.  Take the journey with me.  Follow the stories of the families, taste the food, visit with others that have lived in such a place.  Allow yourself a moment or two to take the ride to our village, imagine their lives.  I promise you leaving for a moment our culture of excess will give you a ride of your life that can bring great satisfaction.