I'm Coming Home.

In just about every english class that I have ever taken, I have been informed that a great way to start a professional literary masterpiece is to utilize the "Attention getter!" (so eloquent). All this to say that I am not returning to Lodi. Things like bicycle rides, movie nights, and the Grape Festival (note capitalization), these memories are fantastic. But this is not reality. Reality is now Peru. It has been a month. I have travelled away from my new home for 4 days and returned. I have awoken with a sense of comfort in my room. I've taken one and a half classes and about to start the third (I skipped the last half of the second because I wasn't really enrolled). I'm learning more spanish and reaching out to more people. I'm coming home. Each and every day I am coming home more than the last. 

Apply today

It is incredible to think how many homes we have. Many temporal homes around the world at different times, then finally our last home. Perhaps we experience a small taste of our last home in each of our different houses. This is the second of my homes, so I do not have the experience of most. But there are always people who have more experience or are older. So. I think the thing that comes in a close second to experience is application. With no application experience is useless. Therefore, Apply today.

One night...

So... This one night the girls started wrestling. The guys decided to follow suit. I was listening to Johnny Cash sing old hymns (to which my grandparents probably listened) while crocheting a hat when I was invited to join the bout, twice by two different people. I decided to participate. It was enthralling, invigorating, and uniting. I was inspired by the whole night to write this prose. One may even call it poetry (though it is important to note that it is common to incorrectly label things, especially in our modern culture). Critics, Friends and Mothers, here is my work (and if my mother has told you to read this because it is supposedly the greatest work of mankind, which she often does, don't believe her, but read it none the less).

A Refinement

Two sides, one common goal, both focused uniformly and whole-heartedly against each other. It is sport that needs no accessory, no field, no protection. A struggle filled with antiquity, vitality, and simplicity. One against one, using every force they can summon from every muscle. This struggle is not ostentatious. It is slow and strong. There is no malice in this fight, though many associate the two because of the pride that drives weak men to use their strength to defend what their pride cannot forgive.  They strive to destroy men's bodies when they believe words of reason or insult will no longer satisfy their hunger for vengeance. This is not the nature of wrestling. This is the adulterated use that men most often see fit to use. There is no malice in this fight. There is something natural, something beautiful, something right about using all the muscles in the body to constrain another. The entire body working together, against an active force. Through all of this, comes the man, refined, victorious, perhaps broken, but none the less refined. Despite injuries, despite hardships, despite loss, there comes experience. If that experience is not forgotten, it can be the most valuable reward. So fight, struggle, experience. 

Week One at the Orphanage.

The truth is... I stayed at an orphanage last week (despite not being an orphan). Last week marked the beginning of the Joshua class. I'm not taking that class, but I did accompany them in the class. The class was held at an unopened orphanage about an hour away. So we all stayed the week at this orphanage. The teacher, Kevin Green, started out by saying that his class would be more about the heart than the mind, and so it has been. He is not a great intellectual, but he is a great musician and an excellent teacher of the word of God. His words are powerful, true, and humorous. The man is full of stories and full of love. He brought a few friends to help with the work at the orphanage. The conversations that occurred nightly in the kitchen were serious, insightful and hilarious. Along with the amazing teaching, there were amazing amounts of dust. Dust from the plaster we scraped off, dust from the mountains on either side of us, and dust from the earth (the kind of which man was created). To compliment the dust was the lack of proper showers for the week. To summarize the week, we were dirty. We finished one coat of paint on most of the 

house, and I suppose that next week we will finish the rest. Since I was not officially in the class, I could skip out on the mandatory reading circle. I used this hour and a half to journal, pray, and just be alone. Nice. There was a much needed dodgeball game as well. 

There is not much left to say about the first half of this class. Next week will conclude the course and my first month here. As for now, I'm catching up on much needed rest.