MS

Soooooo I've been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.  The irony is deafening.  I made such an idol out of sports and exercise but now I have an autoimmune disease that will inevitably leave me disabled someday.  It is just another pride lesson.  Fitness is not that important; well at least as important as I made it.   But now I will use my experience and knowledge to combat and delay the effects and symptoms. 
Somewhere in the middle of January, I woke up to a very strange feeling in my left arm.  The whole thing was numb and tingly, all the way up to my spine and up my neck.  I had lost some feeling in my finger tips and my trapezius, a large shoulder blade muscle, was completely dead.  It would not engage/fire whatsoever.  That bothered me but I was stubborn.  I didn'ttttt need no docccccccc.  Right.  I finally went a couple days later and this guy said it was a pinched nerve.  Ok sweet.  They gave me a steroid shot and some pills.  This definitely helped reduce the inflammation of the nerve endings, which moderately relieved the symptoms.  But more time passed and it still wasn't getting completely better, so I went back.  They took my co-pay and five minutes later told me I need an MRI.  They kept asking me what my pain was on a scale of 1-10.  I was like, 'zero, maybe a one.'  It was uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt.   Being stubborn again, I did not want to pay for it.  I finally got an MRI and not 30 minutes after they called me to tell me the bad news. 
In the meantime I started going to a chiropractor I know from church and he has done wonders.  The MS I have comes in waves, so I'm currently still recovering from that relapse.  Before I went and saw him, I couldn't even really play basketball.  My coordination was shot in my left arm, which meant I couldn't dribble or catch a pass.  What bothered me even more was when I did a simple test that I used to do on clients.  You stand on one foot, stick your arms out, close your eyes and try to touch your nose with both middle fingers.  I did that test and with my left arm I touched my chin, instead of my nose.  Having my back worked on a couple times a week has had unbelievable results.  I'm certainly not back to what I was on the court, but I'm a lot closer.  Before I couldn't even touch the rim and now I can grab it with both hands.  And I can catch the ball again.
There is no cure for MS and no one knows what causes it.  It is more prevalent in females but it usually shows the first signs between 20-40 years old.  The drugs are pretty powerful.  And expensive.  I'm supposed to begin treatment soon.  Some of the pills you take and they last for months.  Others require you to stick yourself every other day.  I'm not worried.  Bring it to me.  I'm about to play the cards I've been dealt with a smile on my face.  There is no sense crying and whining about things you can't change. God has a plan.  Romans 8:28 says,"²⁸ And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who^[a] have been called according to his purpose."  That's all I need to know.
It has been interesting to me the response I have gotten.  The people around me are definitely more concerned than I am.  My attitude is kind of like, 'ahhh whatevs.'  I love the people in my life and greatly appreciate their support, but I'll walk away from someone super concerned I just told and be like, 'yeesh, I'm not dead.'  Unless you knew me really well or watched me hoop, you wouldn't even be able to tell.  My neurologist gave me a bunch of packets of different drugs I could take.  If there is one thing I hate, it's anything that would fall under the category of paperwork.  I don't want to look at that junk, reading through all the side effects and such.  Just tell me what I gotta do and I'll do it. If she wants to know what I feel like I should do, I'll be like, 'you're the doc.  You tell me.' 
The only thing I'm apprehensive about is my commitments later this year.  I would like to show up able to do the things I said I could physically do, as well as the person my references made me out to be.  I do not want to have a relapse in the midst of a tour or disaster relief. But like I said, I'm not worried.  I mean by rights, I am fallen, I am a sinner and I completely and fully deserve God's wrath. It's only by the grace of God I'm even alive, let alone fortunate enough to function as well as I do.  And heck, it's about time something bad happened to me.  I'm soooo blessed.  I've had every need my whole life taken care of, I have two college degrees, a wonderful family, awesome friends, my parents aren't divorced, decently fit, I can see, I don't go to bed starving, etc.  Life was just too easy. I'm not arrogantly saying I want bad things to happen to me because I was too awesome before.  I'm saying I have been fortunate enough to never have been through rough trials.  I feel like that has made me soft.  I can't wait for all the lessons I'm going to learn and how I will grow through this ordeal. 

"Learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t live long enough to make them all yourself."
Eleanor Roosevelt

The Butterfly of Matamoros

I made a friend during my Spring Break in Mexico.  He was there Monday-Friday, remodeling the room with Z and I.  You can see him in some of the pictures on the previous post.  He was 24, married and not living in the greatest situation.  He dropped out of school in first grade and currently is unemployed.  He lives in an area similar to the dump that I talked about in another post.  He is very skilled at construction and the types of things that we were doing, so Z understandably decided to go get him.  He of course doesn't have a phone so we had no way of getting a hold of him.  We just hopped in the truck and started driving to where he lives, hoping to run into him.  That lifestyle of doing things that way fascinates me.  It's so different than the on-time culture that I'm used to.  We got to where he stays but there was no sign of him.  Z asked some of his neighbors if they had seen him. Nothing.  One thing I've noticed in foreign countries is people just chilling.  Or maybe it's an urban thing.  People just stand or sit by the road, doing nothing.  I don't know if they are relaxing or life has them in a state of despair and they don't care about anything nor improving their situation. 

If I didn't know Spanish, there is no way this connection would have been made.  He knew maybe 10 words of English, just things he had picked up.  He was probably one of the biggest factors in my development of Spanish that week.  In the house I stayed in, we spoke mostly English.  But of course, I still spoke a lot of Spanish just in general, at church, on the street and such.  Working with this guy was great.  It wasn't a loud environment, there weren't any disruptions or other people to deal with; it was just him, Z and I so it was perfect to practice Spanish.  When he got tired of this gringo stumbling through Spanish, he couldn't just walk away; he had to converse with me.  I had plenty of time to stop and think about my sentences and I was having whole entire conversations about his life.  It took a couple days before he got used to actually trying to help me and slowing down his words so I could hear better.  One day we had like three straight solid hours and after that convo I was feeling pretty confident.  At the end of the week, I was definitely multiple steps ahead of where I started.

Andddddd now, I'm back down.  I think this trip has put me at peace with my Spanish.  I hate wasting.  I don't want anything to go to waste: money, half a napkin, a trip somewhere, etc. I think one of the reasons I was a personal trainer for too long was that I didn't want to waste my degree.  Naturally I felt the same way about Spanish.  It put me on edge.  But now I'm cool with it.  I know I'm not good at it.  People that don't know Spanish hear it and they think I'm good at it, but that doesn't mean much to me because they don't know any better and can't understand what I'm saying.  In order to be fluent you have to have an intense need to learn a second language and/or you have to be immersed.  I'm completely open to serving in a Spanish-speaking country someday and re-learning.  It would not be difficult for me to practice and build off the base I have developed and start again.  But for now, God has me here.  And with that said, I do not have the motivation, desire, or perseverance, nor time it would require to put several hours of work into being fluent.  Before this trip I would not have been able to say or feel those things. 

Back to Matamoros.  My friend and I had fun, exchanging banter and such.  He never remembered my name, which is hard for them to pronounce anyways, so he just called me 'gringo.'  That was the very first thing he said when he saw me, 'gringo!!'  I don't mind; I was just surprised at his forwardness.  The general disposition of Hispanics towards Americans is one of timidness or indifference.  A lot of them are just flat scared but he had no fear and I liked it.  All week he would randomly just say, 'gringo, gringo, gringo.'  It was funny.  I started calling him 'la mariposa de matamoros,' which means butterfly.  Or he liked to sing with the radio so I stole a line from a guy I used to work for and asked him what he did with the money his mom gave him for singing lessons. 

As I got to know him and hear his story, I just really felt for him.  The only way he had to make money was to smuggle weed across the river to the States.  He made about $200 to swim 'mota' to Brownsville, which is a lot of money to someone like him.  He said he's never been caught but gringos have seen him three times.  He knows it is wrong and smoking it everyday is also wrong.  And he knows he runs the risk of being put in a US jail for two years.  But it's such easy money and it is difficult to find other ways to earn money.  I thought it was ironic that my tax dollars are used to keep him out of my country and here I was being friendly and using my resources to help him.  The only way he can get around outside of walking or grabbing a ride, is to take the bus.  He said he needed to get a bike but couldn't afford it.  It didn't take me long to offer to buy him a bike.  He didn't really take me seriously at first, or even for a couple days, but I was completely serious, especially since 'bicis,' like most everything else, are cheap.  I've been wrestling with the idea of handouts and how it doesn't help a person learn to work hard for themselves.  But I got to know him and felt obligated to help him because I knew he was trying, not to mention I witnessed his work ethic all week, while we were working.  And he didn't ask for it, I offered.  On Friday we finally went to the market and got him a bike.  Z told me that I should let him buy it because as soon as they see my white skin "they'll want a million pesos instead of 800."  I laughed as I was used to this.  So after going to a couple places, Z found an all but brand new one for 700 pesos, which is about $60.  $60 is almost nothing to an American but now he has a way to get around, to go look for jobs, to go buy groceries, etc.  He was definitely grateful.  I prefer to give when a need arises, rather then when they beg or plead for help and money. 
Then we started talking about God.  He wore a hat and had a tattoo of St. Jude so that's where I started.  I told him if I was going to buy this bike, he needed to go to Z's church and he agreed to.  Then I asked him if he had ever had a bible and he said he didn't.  At this point, I was already in the mindset of I do not belong in the realm of Espanol, so I knew I wasn't going to really need or use my Spanish bible anymore.  I brought it the next day and gave it to him.  I totally thought it would collect dust but to my surprise, he came back the next few days telling me he had read Genesis 1, then chapter 2.  He had never owned one and was definitely interested in reading it.  I then immediately thought about how I didn't even considered whether he could read or not, but in prison he got six months of schooling.  We talked about God and I explained that you can't pray to St. Jude and Jesus.  He agreed.  We had good talks.  I do not know what will come of that, but hopefully a seed was planted. 

I own a car.  And a Macintosh computer.  And tons of other things.  Why?  Why am I so blessed?  Why was I born into the American middle-class, which puts me among the richest 5% of the world?  I'm beginning to lean towards calling it cursed, rather than blessed.  It has made me soft.  I have never had a need that wasn't provided for me.  I have little idea what real struggle is like.  I feel like I would fit in much better with that type of people. 

I love Texas.  I really do.  It has been wonderful to me.  But the longer I am in this American culture, the more obvious it becomes that I do not belong here.

 

“No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another.”
― Charles Dickens

 

Mexican Style

I've always wondered what the difference was between 'ghetto' and 'redneck,' when referring to something ill-constructed or thrown together to hold it for a while.  If a car is missing a door and instead has wood paneling, is that ghetto or redneck? 

Well I now have a third word to throw in: 'Mexican.'  There were multiple times when we just found a way to make something work, with safety, codes and 'proper procedure' all but going out the window.  For example, one time we couldn't find the mop, so Z just got the broom, put a rag over the end and bam, we had a 'Mexican style' mop. Or we didn't have a mechanical way to stir the mortar, so we got a thin stick or pole and started stirring by hand in the five-gallon bucket.  I'm a person who likes to work.  I loved it.  I loved that unless I buckled down and stirred hard with my hands and my own human strength, instead of pushing a button, the mixture was not going to be made.  At first Z didn't believe me, that I think like that, that I like to go back to the basics and do things 'old school.'

Then we were using a tile saw, which requires a water pump. Water has to be constantly put on the diamond blade or else it immediately gets too hot, sparks, and damages the machine and your piece of tile.  Well, the pump wasn't working, so we poked a hole in the top of a water bottle and started squirting simultaneously.  Where I come from, that would not fly, for one man to do that alone.  Or another time we were working above the stairs and had trouble getting up into the corner.  Of course, we didn't have a convenient Little Giant adjustable ladder, so they threw down a quarter inch piece of pliewood and put one single 2x4 under it.  That was definitely Mexican Style. 
I loved it.  I hate rules.  I hate regulations and being told you can't do it this way or that way.  We had a job to do, we figured out how to do it and we did it.  I'm not saying I hate rules, like a troublemaker hates rules.  I hate rules for the sake of rules.

Z was an awesome guy with quite a testimony.

I saw very few vehicles that you wouldn't see in the States.

Then we went to the dump. Well they call it the dump because it is where the dump used to be.  The people that live there are called squatters.  They just put a 'house' on a piece of land until someone tells them to leave or demands they pay for or rent their squattage.  I've only seen a more desolate situation in Guatemala.  I'm talking about dirt floors, four walls made out of wood and two pieces of tin for a roof.  We partnered with a missionary group and some local teens to bring them some food and clothing.  I know some people will say that handouts are just a crutch but the bible teaches if we see some of Jesus' sheep that need fed, we are to do it.  So that's what we did.  The saddest part was how many kids didn't go to school.  At first I just assumed they could not afford it but on my last night I found out that Mexico, like the States, has public education.  The negligence of these people irritated me.  How are your kids supposed to climb out of this cycle of poverty if they don't have an education? 

So I'm glad I saved my tax refund.  As I posted, I was going to use it for selfish purposes.  Then I decided I was going to buy a lady a car.  No lie.  I give her a ride to church every Sunday and her two boys a ride to youth group on Wednesday nights, with the church people-mover.  So I got to know her a bit and found out how she hated not having wheels, struggling to get to work and not being able to pick up her kids.  One time I saw her son walking back from tutoring after school, because he had no other way to get home.  This school isn't just down the street; it's a couple miles away.  She said she was looking to buy a car for around $1,500 and asked if I knew of any.  My first thought was to just give her my car.  I've thought about that lifestyle in general but I've realized how it would force the people around me to sacrifice, just to keep me afloat.  Then one day I was walking around the neighborhood, after a run, and I walked past a 1998 Lexus for sale for two grand.  I called the guy, got some more information and it seemed about perfect.  He said he couldn't sell it right away but I was interested.  I didn't have that much money, but God provides; I'd figure that out later.  I was seriously going to do this, until I found out that weekend that she bought a car.  Sooo I'm pretty glad I didn't buy the car right away. 
I was frustrated.  Here I was, ready to give more than my tax return, but the opportunity slipped away.  However, I reminded myself, it wasn't about how the gesture would make me look, but about her getting a car, and that's what happened.  I'm glad that opportunity slipped away, because a couple weeks later, I was able to bless people who needed my resources more. 
During my week in Mexico, Z and I mainly focused on one room.  I'm not going to say the church is in bad shape but it needs a lot of repairs.  I loved being around this congregation, because they put more importance in the people than in the aesthetics of their building.  We cleaned the room out and laid tile.  We also put in a small section of a wall, but they didn't have money to do that, on top of the tile, so I gave him the money for it.  Halfway through the week, I was like, heck, what am I holding back for?   We ran out of money to finish the tile job, so I was going to get some more money but I got like half of my tax refund and just gave it to Z and his ministry.  Then when he was taking me to the bus station to leave, I told him that if he ever was in a jam for money or needed anything else, to just tell me.  Sure enough, not a week later, he let me know that they needed $400 for gas to go on a mission trip 12 hours away.  I had a check in the mail that day.  I love being needed.  But it seems no one ever really asks for help. 
Growing up in the Midwest, the issue of race has always been centered around African-American people.  So living in Texas and especially on this trip, it has been very interesting for me to learn about the Hispanic influx and the racial tensions and issues there.  Naturally, as a Spanish major and a person who has been on two mission trips to Latin America, I have a heart for the people.  I really got to see, that past the food, the culture, and such, we are really not all that different. 

 "It's not about you." -Rick Warren

Sleepless in Downtown Dallas

As I have said before, I really struggle with patience.  I was talking to Z's wife about this last Friday and she wisely warned to be careful about praying for patience, because God will surely give you tests to develop your patience and character.  Lo and behold, that's what happened.  Saturday, my last day in Matamoros, was a slowww day.  I loved this trip, but whenever I get close to departure, I get on edge and anxious.  For example, in college, on Friday afternoons when I was going home for the weekend or a break, everything stopped. I figured out the earliest time I could leave and dropped everything to make that happen asap.  I never could understand people who would just hang out for a couple hours and just leave whenever. Sometimes I'd even skip class.  So my bus was supposed to be leaving early Sunday morning and I spent most of Saturday just waiting.  And waiting.  I laughed to myself, realizing what was taking place.  It was a test.  But little did I know it was nothing compared to what would ensue the next day.

My ticket said departing Matamoros, Mexico Sunday March 17th at 9:30 am and Z had me there by 8:45 am.  This bus did not even show up until after 10:30 am. Next we headed for border patrol and customs to cross the border.  As always there was a long line of cars and we just inched forward.  Then we got to the station on the US side.  The cars went to the left and got checked individually but since we were on a bus, we had to go to the right and we had to get off and take our stuff to get checked out.  There was also another bus, so I'm looking at this long line of people, with only one guy checking us one by one.  We finally got back to the bus and everyone had put all their stuff in a line on the ground so the dogs could come and sniff all of them.  Z's wife had wonderfully packed me lunch but they took my apple and wouldn't even let me eat it.  All this was taking forever, but since it was my first time I just assumed it was normal.  We finally got completely cleared, allowed to reboard and left for Brownsville, the city right across the border. By now it's past 12:30 pm.  We were supposed to leave Brownsville for Houston at 11.  So there were several people waiting on us to arrive, that were headed for Houston.  But Greyhound overbooked and like 15 people couldn't even board!!  I couldn't believe that.  They already had to wait almost two hours, to find out their wasn't even room.  I felt bad for them. 

This was the Greyhound Express which means it has minimal stops.  But two guys asked/demanded to get off halfway because they didn't realize it was express.  So if it wasn't one thing it was another.  All this caused us to get to Houston at 7:45 pm.  I had a connecting bus from Houston to Dallas at 6 pm and they told me it already left, along with another one at 7:30 pm.  Awesome. So they tell me I have to wait for the next open bus at 12:45 am.  I just wanted to go home, but I didn't have a choice.  Luckily they found me a seat at the 10:15 pm bus to Dallas.  Ok, sweet.  But there's one big problem: I had planned on taking the train from downtown Dallas to Carrollton once I got back to Dallas, but the train stops running at midnight.  So I wasn't sure what I was going to do. 

Through all of this, old Mills would have been pouting and whining and complaining.  I wouldn't have considered the fact that there was probably knowledge and info I wasn't aware of that was causing all of these things. I'm not saying I was devoid of any annoyance but I approached the situation with a much more spirited attitude and a demeanor that there isn't a point to cry about something I can't change.

We roll into downtown Dallas at about 2:30 am.  When I got on this bus in Houston, I knew there wouldn't be much opportunity to sleep, so I tried to get some rest.  Nothing doing.  I did the nodding-off, waking-back-up-every-ten-minutes thing for almost an hour.  That was literally the only shuteye I got all night. 

Taxi.  Yeah, that's it.  I'll take a taxi.  I wasn't even sure there was taxis that late at night but there was.  They were waiting outside the door of the station, in your face.  They told me it'd take $43 to get me that far.  Heckkkkkk no.  I just came from 600 miles from Mexico for $44.  I wasn't going to spend $43 to go 21 miles.  The train started again at 4:57 am.  I decided not to wake anyone up because by the time they got up and got to downtown to get me, it would have only saved me like an hour of time.  So I just had to wait for 5 am.  In the meantime I hung out with homeless black dudes smoking weed.  I asked one guy about the train schedule and as I was walking away he said, 'Hey I got some of that bud.'  No thank you.  I told him I'm already happy.  Later he asked where I was coming from and when I told him about my mission trip, he apologized for trying to sell me Marajuana.  I was going to give one guy some money because he sleeps on the train but didn't have enough for a ticket.  He got caught up with someone else so I just went back to the bus station to rest a bit because it was chilly and windy outside.  It was packed so I had to sit on the floor.  While this urban late night experience was bizarre as a whole, I'm glad I did that because I met some interesting people.  As I have said I love meeting new people, I just had never done it at 3:45 am.  So then I took the train to Carrollton at 4:57 am.  More waiting.  I just wanted to go home.

I got to the Carrollton station at 5:45 am but it is still almost two miles from my house.  By now it is starting to get light out.  So I start hoofing it.  I know a quicker way through a small construction area, so I hopped three fences and kept on trekking. I've always wanted to do that.  6:15 am and the front door!  I made it, after 21.5 hours of traveling.  I wanted adventure and I got it.  I shaved, showered, ate some breakfast and was out the door at 7 am for 5th grade on less than an hour of nodding off.  So one long waiting game was over and another one was starting.  Now I just wanted to go to sleep.

I'm glad it was an easy day.  These were good kids.  I could not believe how 'with-it' I was.  I mean my academic thought-process was hazy but I was definitely able to function.  Then I got home at like 3:30 pm.  I decided since I was feeling okay, to not take a five hour nap because that would jank my sleep schedule up.  That lasted about twenty minutes.  Just like momma said, it hit me.  I woke up at like 7 pm and got in bed.  I woke up at 5:30 am after like 13 hours of sleep.  Who says you can't catch up on lost sleep?  I did not set my alarm and I couldn't remember where I put anything.  I was a bit disoriented but I was good to go. 

I just have a personality that wants everything to happen right now, but the world does not turn on Mills time.  I want to cross everything off the to-do list and move on to accomplish the next task.  I asked for patience and I got a 21.5 hour test where I could do nothing to change what was happening, followed by a full day of work, waiting to hit the sack.  Be careful what you wish for. 

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”
― Albert Einstein

My Favorite Shoes

One day there was a kid that came over to help clean the outside of the house I was staying at. I think he said he was 19.  Z noticed he was wearing shoes that were way too small and not appropriate for the work he was doing, not to mention they were girls' shoes. I was a bit disappointed with myself later that I didn't catch this.  In the picture you can see half of this black pair of shoes sticking out.  Earlier in the week Z had asked me what size my shoes were because his brother and someone else needed some. He asked me because I had explained how much I hate American culture, it's materialism and that I was ready to give and serve in any way that was needed. But unfortunately my shoes were too big for those people.  Most Hispanic people hardly make it to my shoulder.  This kid was the first and only Mexican I saw that was taller than me.  So when Z pointed out that he clearly needed shoes and would obviously fit into mine, I hurried excitedly to my room to get my shoes and took them to him. It's usually difficult to get me truly excited but I was amped because that is what I came to do.  He was definitely grateful and immediately sat down to put them on, along with some new dry socks Z had fetched for him. It was such a good feeling, especially since it was a sacrifice to give those away.  It makes me want to just take all the shoes I can find, and anything else, to pass them out.  I'll be ready next time.  Now I'm in the right frame of mind and I'll have a better eye for need. 

 

I loved those shoes. They were my favorite because they were comfortable, versatile and durable.  I've had them for at least three years and they served me well. Now that I'm not walking all over campus, I only used them lightly so they were going last me a long time, on top of the miles my bro and I already put on them. They were hand-me downs, or as I like to say hand-me ups, from my brother who is a year behind me. Those shoes have been through almost everything and they match whatever I put on. I've even dunked with them on. The point is it was hard to let them go. It would be expensive to replace them with shoes as good so now I have to come up with something else. No way I'm buying shoes, so I'll probably just have to wear old/dirty running shoes or wait until my bro has more hand-me ups. Whenever I look at the floor of my room in Texas, it always bothers me that are three pairs there, on top of basketball shoes, boots and old running shoes in my car.  How in the world is it okay for me to have six pairs of shoes, when some people don't have any? Or when this dude was wearing girls' shoes, girls' shoes that didn't even fit?  

Dang. It's Saturday March 16th and as I am typing this we are getting ready to go to two birthday parties.  I take a shower and get ready to leave.  Then I absentmindedly go to put my shoes on..........and they're not there.  I smile to myself.  All I have to wear is my old worn out work shoes, dirty with paint on them.  I'm not a person who really cares what people think but I'm tactful towards other cultures, so I hope I don't offend anyone.  It's not 30 minutes later and I'm already feeling my sacrifice.  Heck yeah. I wouldn't have it any other way.

"There's only one way into the Kingdom, and that's death." -Leonard Ravenhill

I Do Not Believe in Vacation

I got back from serving in Matamoros, Mexico Sunday night.  Well, it was sort of Sunday night.  But that's a story for another post. Anyhow, I spent my Spring Break in the far northeast corner of Mexico, helping remodel a church, among other things.  The contentment, satisfaction and happiness that I feel as a result of this experience is vastly greater than any joy I could have derived from blowing that whole week and that money to bring pleasure to myself.  Of this, I'm more than certain. The bible makes it quite clear, over and over, that to give of ourselves is gain but to seek gain only is to suffer an insatiable greed.

"It is more blessed to give than to receive."-- Acts 20:35

“One man gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty.” – Prov. 11:24

Pastor Gerardo and I

None of the walls were straight, so that's why we started in the middle. 

We went and handed food out in this area of extreme poverty.  You can see the shacks that they live in.

Our time on this earth is short.  The amount of people who need Jesus, out of more than seven billion, is astronomical.  The desperation of their physical needs breaches on the urgency of spiritual ones.  There is no time for galavanting about to relax and enjoy ourselves, doing whatever feels good.  We have not the time to go sight-seeing, taking it easy and treating ourselves to the local cuisine and entertainment.  There is no way I can justify taking a break from the mission and call to discipleship, commanded of me by the Lord Jesus Christ.  If I'm going to spend money traveling, very close friends/family and/or serving had better be involved.  Vacation is expensive and I'm not okay with spending that much money on myself.  On top of that, when you go serve in place that is different, as a missionary and not a tourist, you will still experience the culture. 

There is a popular place for partying and young people, just off the coast of Texas, called South Padre Island.  I took the bus to Mexico and subsequently I met a lot of different people.  Time and time again, traveling gringos and Mexicans in Matamoros alike, had a hard time understanding my agenda.  They all just assumed I was a college student on Spring Break, heading south to live it up.  The hardest one to explain it to was probably the customs/border patrol officer, when we were crossing back in to the States.  "Okay son, so what were you doing in Mexico?" "I was, uhh, helping to remodel a church and uhh, serving the people there." He just looks at me.  I was the only white person out of two charter buses.  He scanned my body language for any sign that would betray my story as false.  I guess he decided that people just don't something like that up and let me through. 

I remember about ten years ago my family went on vacation to Nashville.  I love my family but I remember I did not really enjoy that trip. We went to museums and various places, experiencing the culture of the Music City.  Now I see my discontent stemmed from the lack of action.  I'm a person that does.  I cannot stand to watch life pass by in front of me, doing nothing, just standing on the sidelines as a sightseer. I will never go somewhere simply to be a tourist ever again. 

In the summer of 2010 before I was a Christian, I studied Spanish in Costa Rica.  It was a wonderful experience that holds lots good memories as well not so good ones.  Probably the biggest thing I regret now is that I used that experience for vacation.  I'm appalled at how much money I spent, just to have a good time and experience all the things the beautiful country has to offer.  Instead of serving and getting plugged into a church, I went with my 'friends' to a different beach every weekend, to the clubs, to house parties, etc. I didn't hesitate to regularly go out to eat to try new plates of food.  I was totally in the godless secular mindset of 'you only live once.' Most people seldom get to travel to other countries but I had a whole summer and I wasted it!!  Instead of working to positively influence those around me and working to serve the community around me, I only fed the goal of pleasing myself.  Nothing that I did, nothing that I bought, nothing that I experienced lasted more than that moment.  But if I had died to myself, served and gave my resources to help those less fortunate, that would have lasted forever. 

Vacation for the sake of vacation will never happen again.  I'm fortunate that the nomadic life I have chosen to live has taken/will take me to lots of different places.  This summer I'll be all over the States serving and after that I'll be in California serving.  Obviously that life is not for everyone.  I just think we should rethink self-indulgent 'breaks' and 'relaxing' and instead consider serving somehow, someway.  The more we pour ourselves out for others and the benefit of the Kingdom, the more He pours into us.  I'll take that method of re-energizing any day over sipping a drink relaxing on the beach, watching the sun set in a foreign country. 

"Virtue-even attempted virtue-brings light; indulgence brings fog." -CS Lewis

Matamoros/Guatemala

I had not been at Greenville for a whole month when I decided to go on a mission trip.  I had never left the country or done anything spontaneous that would have fallen under the category of 'out of my comfort zone.'  It was an adventure that opened my eyes to a lot of things and the experience as a whole definitely changed me. It was amazing to see these poor people who had next to nothing, so much more content with life the most Americans.  I've cleaned every plate of food since that summer and my whole view towards life was altered.  It was the start of my love for Spanish.  The trip planted a seed in me that has now developed a heart for serving.  Before Guatemala, I ordered the same thing every time I went to a particular restaurant.  I never wanted to try anything new.  Now, it's the opposite.  I almost always order something I haven't tried and am constantly hungry for new experiences in general. I love trying anything and everything new. 

It is not difficult to come to the conclusion that my experience abroad in a poor country affected me much more than any difference I made.  I'm not saying I didn't have any impact. Along with my group, we did lots of different things.  My small group in particular worked with the livestock and agriculture aspect of things.  

But I have been left questioning short-term mission trips.  I am very grateful for the people who financially supported me; they helped me raise like $1,800 to go on the trip.  .......Eighteen Hundred dollars!!!?!!  I was there for a mere twenty days.  What could possibly have been done with that money?  The American dollar will go far in a poor country like that.  Now I'm not saying I think we should always just sit at home and throw money at a problem.  Jesus clearly says to 'go and make people of all nations.'  I just think we need to be more deliberate in weighing the costs.  I don't remember the exact numbers but I read an article once that talked about how it cost 13-ish college students over $30,000 total to spend three-ish weeks on a mission trip to South America.  The leader in the South American country could not help but comment on how that total was over half their yearly budget.  In most situations it is better to financially support the people already serving there and the mission they have worked so hard to build.  There are often complaints about cultural insensitivity and unintentional tampering with the spiritual component, already put in place by full-time missionaries.  I'm a big believer in building a relationship with a person as you walk them through what it means to give your life to Jesus; not show up in their life for a couple days and then hit the road, usually never to return.  It is an issue I wrestle with a lot.  If money is involved, which it almost always is, I'm on the side that says don't spend it.  If I'm going to drop big bucks on plane tickets and such, I better be serving for months or years, not days. 

I was so happy when I an opportunity to go to Mexico recently came up.  I was at home on winter break and my high school siblings were talking about Spring Break.  Then I realized that as a substitute teacher, 'hey, I have a Spring Break!!'  So I set to work immediately trying to find a way to serve during that week.  I was so excited simply at the potential possibilities of a whole entire free week. Very soon after, on a whim I ended up visiting a good friend of mine from college.  Side note: if my December travel plans had transpired the way I originally wanted, I would not have had the opportunity to visit this friend, or others for that matter.  Anyways, he told me he had a good friend in Mexico who runs a ministry!!  I was so excited.  It is in Matamoros, just across the border from Brownsville in the deep south of Texas.  I emailed him immediately and he was very welcoming.  I am stokeddddd, for several reasons.  One is the opportunity to do manual labor.  Not everyone understands this but there is just a feeling of satisfaction that comes from a hard days work, that you cannot get anywhere else.  Ever since I left the midwest, those opportunities are not common for me.  Secondly, I have the opportunity to go serve in a foreign country for very cheap, especially compared to going to Guatemala.  I bought a round-trip bus ticket for $88 and I leave Saturday morning.  I'm also excited to see the rest of Texas.  Besides coming and going to Texas, I have only left the Metroplex once, which is kind of embarrassing. Anyways, this is a mission trip much more up my alley: no rules, no insurance forms, no touristy side trips, no paperwork, no asking people for money, no super-easy volunteer work, etc.  No fluff, just Jesus. 

Whenver I mention the name 'Matamoros' no one has anything good to say about it. The place is rife with drug cartels and gang violence.  However, it is not as bad as it used to be and America media, without a doubt, blows it out of proportion and sensationalizes everything.  Anyways, as I said in my hitchhiking post, I do not think we should just toss ourselves to the wolves.  But when I read the bible, it is clear that as Christians, we should not be afraid of danger or to suffer.  If missionaries just said, 'ah it's hazardous and risky.  I think I'll pass,' how would those people ever be reached?
Paul was not afraid to go wherever God was leading, no matter the cost. In Acts 20:20-24 he says,

"20 You know that I have not hesitated to preach anything that would be helpful to you but have taught you publicly and from house to house. 21 I have declared to both Jews and Greeks that they must turn to God in repentance and have faith in our Lord Jesus. 22 And now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem, not knowing what will happen to me there. 23 I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me. 24 However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."
And in 1 Peter 4:19, it says, "19 So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good."  I'm not saying we need to find dangerous places and blindly run to them.  But if that is where God is calling, we should have courage and walk boldly with faith in His will.  I'm totally ready to get out of the concrete jungle and get away from this comfortable easy life.  I think we spend way too much time in our affluent and cozy lives, as well as our safe jobs and safe churches.  I can think of no better way to spend nine of my free days.  Let another adventure begin. 

"The only fatal thing is to sit down content with anything less than perfection."
-CS Lewis 

Are You Really a Christian?

I thought I was. I thought for sure I was.  I wish someone had asked me if I was really a Christian and challenged my beliefs.  

I grew up in the church.  I went to church camp.  I went to various conferences in middle school and high school.  I didn't cuss.  I didn't smoke.  Whenever people were watching, I'd pray before a meal.  I attended church.  I owned a bible.  I didn't sleep around or drink.  I went to a Christian college.  I didn't really hang out with other kids who did 'bad' things.  So I assumed I was good to go.  Heckkkkk no.  I was about as lukewarm as it gets.  It is embarrassing to think about how far I was from Christ but still would represent his name.
One time I got called out.  These people didn't even know they were calling me out.  My freshman year of college, I was telling these guys about Every Man's Battle, a book on dealing with male temptations in a Christian manner. They said later that really surprised them because I never talked about Jesus and I just didn't seem to carry myself like a Christ-follower.  Seldom have I been as bothered in my life as I was then.  I've since realized that I was just following rules but I didn't even have a set of beliefs to base them on. I was just doing it so I'd come off like I had it together.  

While it's not all about us getting into heaven, these are some good verses to think about.

Matthew 7-True and False Disciples

²¹ “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. ²² Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ ²³ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

Luke 13-The Narrow Door

²² Then Jesus went through the towns and villages, teaching as he made his way to Jerusalem. ²³ Someone asked him, “Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?”  He said to them, ²⁴ “Make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to. ²⁵ Once the owner of the house gets up and closes the door, you will stand outside knocking and pleading, ‘Sir, open the door for us.’  “But he will answer, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from. ²⁶ “Then you will say, ‘We ate and drank with you, and you taught in our streets.’  ²⁷ “But he will reply, ‘I don’t know you or where you come from. Away from me, all you evildoers!’²⁸ “There will be weeping there, and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham, Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God, but you yourselves thrown out. 

Jesus makes it quite clear that many people who think they will make it, definitely won't.  Old Mills definitely goes in that category.  Heck, who am I to say even now I will make it through the narrow door? 

So what makes someone a Christian?  How does one know they are a Christian? How do you know you are saved? I think it starts in Matthew 16: 

²⁴ Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ²⁵ For whoever wants to save their life^[f] will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. 

He says we must deny ourselves.  I think that clearly means we are to leave behind all pleasures of this world.  I mean if you didn't know Christ, would your life look about the same?  I think we just gloss over 'take up their cross and follow me.'  Are we ready to drop everything, especially our old lives?  In Luke, he says, 'make every effort.'  Am I making every effort?  Are you making every effort?  Is sitting on your duff watching the tube, 'making every effort'? 

 Have you truly given your life to Jesus?  Have you truly turned your life goals into His goals?  Have you submitted your dreams and aspirations, surrendered your wishes and wants, to His will?  Do your financial gifts to Him put a strain on you?  How often do you do things, to serve others, for which you get nothing in return?  What is the true purpose of your life? When's the last time you stopped to help a homeless person or someone with car trouble, stranded on the side of the road?  How often are you studying His word? How much time do you spend in prayer with God?  

Just because you go to church, just because you believe in God, just because you help your friends move, just because you give 10% of your income, just because you don't swear, does not mean you are a Christian.  

I challenge you to look at your life.  I challenge you to ask yourself if you have really sold out for Jesus.  He certainly never called us to be comfortable. How comfortable are you?  How easy is your life?  How much do you sacrifice? There should be nothing easy about being a Christian.  

What you think about and fill your mind with is who you really are.

Introverted

I always used to pride myself on being an introvert.  I thought really extroverted people were annoying and just wanted attention.  I also used to find it irritating when people would call me shy.  I think that word does not describe me what-so-ever, save very specific and uncommon situations.  In my opinion there are roughly two types of introverts: shy ones and reserved ones.  I would definitely call my personality reserved.  A reserved person is not scared of public speaking; they just sit and watch a bit before volunteering ideas.  In high school and college, I seldom raised my hand to offer my thoughts.  That wasn't because I was afraid of what people would think; usually I simply didn't think the discussion was of interest and didn't apply to me.  

I never used to care to meet people.  I did not like meeting new people at all, especially since I didn't see the purpose.  I didn't like being in uncomfortable social situations.  Since I never bothered to meet new people, I never really developed those skills, until more recently.  And as I have delved into the joy that is meeting people, I have realized more fully how selfish I really was.

I'm not going to sit here and say everyone who is introverted is selfish.  But for me, it was selfish.  I preferred to sit in my comfortable bubble.  I didn't think these people I didn't know had anything to offer, anything of benefit to me.  I'd much rather have been by myself.  I preferred my own company, most of the time, to others.  To God's children.  

I definitely 100% think we all need recharge our batteries.  For introverts, that usually involves time alone.  But for this introvert it was excessive.  I wanted to do everything alone.  Most people weren't worthy of my time.  I hateddd group projects.  I hated having my grade depend on people who were not as good as students as me.  I'd say roughly a third of the time in my life, I just told the rest of the group that I would do the whole thing, just so it would get done the way I wanted.  I did many things by myself.  I lifted alone, I did my homework alone, I listened to music alone, etc. 

All the personality tests I ever do always spit out that I'm a lion, leader, dominant or something similar, so I always thought it was interesting that I was also an introvert.  I'm very curious as to how a leader can be introverted.  I think I kind of figured it out.  

I love meeting people.  I'm getting decent at it.  I have to be honest though I'm much better at it when I can kind of corner them.  For example, I went to a local mega church to check out their young adult service.  It had over 100 people in their twenties, loud music, lights, just a very social atmosphere and I didn't do very well.  Contrast that with the homeless shelter I volunteer at and there is usually only three or four other workers there, at most, that I haven't met.  And I eat that up. I'm not used to being the more forward person, the one who introduces themselves to everyone and asks all the questions.  I love learning about people, asking where they are from, what they do, where they went to college, etc.  I have made such an effort at it recently that it all starts to run together.  I can't remember most of any of their answers from the questions I asked, the first time I saw them and I kind of feel bad.  And dumb when I ask the same questions again.  

I just never knew what I was capable of.  My demeanor will probably always be introverted but I can definitely be social when I need/want to, especially now that I see how enjoyable it is, on top of how vital it is to carry out His mission.  I can totally be a leader and deal with many different types of people; I just need time to recharge the batteries and I'll be good.

Are you part of the solution or part of the problem?

AmeriCorps

Sooo I'm going to spend a year in Sacramento, serving on AmeriCorps.  I do not like to tell people about things I'm going to do, until it's actually happening.   What I have planned, often does not indeed come to pass.  For example, I was sure I was going to study abroad in Australia or that I was going do a sportswriting internship in San Francisco.  As I always say, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.  Well, now AmeriCorps is not just an idea; I officially got accepted.  Well unless, my fingerprints reveal a rap sheet full of criminal activity.  

I left Lifetime Fitness in the middle of October 2012.  One can hardly call what I was going to do next, a 'plan.' Looking back, it was kind of dumb to quit, when I didn't even have another job lined up.  But that is how much I hated that job.  It ended up working out because I was able to spend those weeks in between jobs, painting and working on the house.  Anyways, one day I googled 'loan forgiveness.'  As I'm typing the word 'googled,' spellcheck is all over it.  I thought it was 2013; googled and texting should be 'real' words by now.  Anywaysss, lots of stuff came up.  One that stuck out to me was PeaceCorps.  This greatly interested me, for obvious reasons: traveling abroad, serving and putting a dent in my loans.  Buttt with a little research, I found out that they only help out with specific loans, that I did not have.  So I looked at AmeriCorps, which in a nutshell, is PeaceCorps stateside.  They give you $5,500 towards loans from the government after you complete your service, with a $4,000 stipend, all before taxes.  

The more I looked into it, the more and more I liked the idea.  Same thing: going somewhere new, serving and putting a dent in my loans.  The main difference is I wouldn't be abroad.  But who cares.  I prayed about it and decided to put an app in.  What did I have to lose?  The more time went by, the more it seemed like a good idea. I'm always careful not to let my excitement about something grow too much, because this world will disappoint you, but I was looking forward to the possibility.  It almost seemed too good to be true.  After jumping through a few more hoops, my application made it through the first round.  So then I was just waiting to get placed.  I got some killer references from some guys I spent a lot of time working for back home and I'm sure they made me look better than I actually am.  Waiting.  And waiting.  It had almost been two months and I still hadn't heard anything.  One of my biggest weaknesses is my impatience.  I want everything done now.  So I started looking for ways I would spend my fall in 2013.  And then, more than two months after I was first accepted in, I found out I made it into the Sacramento Program.  I start in October and I'm pretty excited.  

I get bored easily.  Too easily.  I think I will always be a nomad of sorts.  I can't fathom spending the next 40-ish years of my life, waking up and doing the same thing I did yesterday.  Heckkk no. Once I have mastered a task and the challenge is gone, I'm ready for something else.  So this works perfectly.  It is a change of pace and it's a commitment that is not too long.  

People commented that I could probably get a good job and 'come out ahead,' because after taxes, serving on AmeriCorps you make about  $350 a month.  Well it wasn't just about money for me.   I love to see new places, I love try new things, I love to meet new people, but most of all I love to serve.  I love serving and I really love working with my hands.   I also would love the minimalist lifestyle.  It's one thing to force myself to have minimal budget but quite another to live that way because you have no other choice.  Heck yes.  

I was slightly hesitant about immersion.  I think about all the times I have been immersed in a sinful climate: sports' locker rooms, Costa Rica, Lifetime Fitness, Illinois State, public school and they all negatively impacted me. Of course, I hadn't given my life to Jesus then, but it is definitely worth thinking about.  I mean I guess I can't assume that everyone in my group will not be believers but as always I prepare for the worst.  I definitely think we should step out of our comfortable lives where we are surrounded by other Christians and I definitely make an effort to do that.  But I am really praying about an intense ten months.  I'm going to be in close proximity with 10-14 other young people.  We will spend  everyday together.  When there is a natural disaster nearby and we drop everything to go work there, then it will really be close quarters, sharing all the same living spaces, bathrooms, etc.  So I just want to make sure that I'm prepared for that.  

People rarely succeed unless they have fun in what they are doing.
    -Andrew Carnegie

Man-made Pleasures Will Not Quench Your Thirst

I no longer enjoy the things of this world. I feel out of place in this culture, in this society. Now that I have put those thoughts into words, I can see how they might look like something someone told me to say, or just simply saying what sounds like the right thing. But that's not it at all; that's really how I feel. I'll get to the 'out of place in this culture' thing another day, but for now, I'll talk about worldly things.

It grows more and more obvious. It's a progression and I am thoroughly enjoying it. The worldly things I used to enjoy are falling away. I used to enjoy pro sports. I used to enjoy metal concerts.
I used to enjoy action movies. I used to enjoy following the Minnesota Vikings. Now if someone asks who my favorite teams are, I might mention Plains, but other than that, none. I used to enjoy ESPN.

I used to enjoy classic rock. I used to enjoy traveling, simply for the sake a trying new things and making myself more well-rounded. I just wanted to be able to say, 'I've been to this many states' or 'I've been to this many countries.' I used to enjoy making people feel stupid with sarcasm.
I used to enjoy being in the presence of pro athletes or 'rock stars.' I used to enjoy beating people at any competition. I used to enjoy PTI. I used to enjoy writing sports articles. I used to enjoy being taller than people. I used to enjoy going to exotic car shows. I used to enjoy having four times as much money as I do now, just to feel comfortable. I used to enjoy reading fiction. I used to enjoy excessive exercise to make myself toned and fit. Now, these things more or less bore me. I'll watch a movie, that I used to be one of my favorites, and now I'll hardly find it enjoyable. I'm not saying I'll never watch a ball game again or enjoy a good game of pickup basketball but those things are no longer my life, my everything.
The longer I am a Christian (almost four months), the less and less I enjoy the things this world has to offer. I can see now why I made them such a big deal; why 'normal' people make them such a big deal. It's because that's all I had. All I had was playing sports, lifting weights, watching sports and other things I enjoyed. That was all I had to 'make myself happy.' That was all I had to live for. What an empty, flimsy, broken foundation! What a pitiful and sad life. No wonder I was so bitter. No wonder I was so cynical and dissatisfied. All of those things were fleeting, only pleasing for a short time. I was so hungry for something more and I tried to fulfill those desires with the same things as everyone else; the same typical worldly pleasures, things that won't last.
Placing so much importance in things that I can't take with me, got me nothing but severe discontent. I mean, think about it: how foolish, how inane is it, to base how well your day goes or even your mood, on things like if your favorite sports team won or not? How well your stocks did? If you get to watch your favorite show? This world will not satisfy you. It might please you for a minute, but it won't be there for you. It will take a lot more than it will give.
 To me, now that I'm on 'the other side,' depression is not baffling anymore. Before, depression always confused me. I mean yes, if a loved one dies or something else traumatic, that made more sense. But other than that, I never could figure out how, as well-off Americans, one could let themselves get so down. But now I get it. If one didn't know Jesus and had no purpose, no peace and nothing to live for, of course that would be depressing! I don't think I realized it before and definitely would not have admitted it , but even I was moderately depressed. I wanted something more, so much more. I didn't know it then, but now it is obvious that until I finally found Jesus, this life is meaningless. Serving others in the name of the Lord is the only way you will ever find true satisfaction on this earth.

 Vance Havner quipped, “Christians, like snowflakes, are frail, but when they stick together they can stop traffic. -Rick Warren