Franklin´s Question of the Month!

So, back in the office in Chicago, there´s this guy named Franklin Ishida. He´s pretty cool, and for lack of a better title, I´ve labeled him "Monthly Newletter Guy" in my head. Every month, he sends us a question to ponder for your reading pleasure in our newsletters. So, without further ado, I bring you September´s Question of the Month Entry!

It probably won´t surprise any of you who know me that I did not get off the plane in Buenos Aires without baggage other than just my suitcase, backpack, and guitar. I also brought with me ideas and expectations, hopes and fears, and a certain sense of doubt and uneasiness. Moving to Ghana for a semester was difficult; it took me an awfully long way from home and left me a white American in black West Africa. However, I had well-defined purpose and structure - I went to class (well, kinda), and when time allowed, I traveled to lots of incredible destinations.

Here, however, I really didn´t know what I was getting into. This was partially furthered along by my last-minute placement change; I at least had a vague notion of what would be going on in Bariloche. Montevideo, however, was a totally new creature, one more unknown in a sea of unknowns. It really wasn´t until the day before I left to come here that I figured out where´d I´d be working, and it wasn´t until this past week that I got a schedule nailed down.

That´s not the way I normally roll with things. I like plans, schedules, and general order. I would make a GREAT Swiss citizen in that regard. However, that´s not the lot that I got handed this time around, and that´s OK. It´s a chance to grow, and that growth has already started. For better or worse, my schedule has a lot of breathing space in it. That´s been another concern of mine - how do I fill up the chilly Uruguayan nights and my two days off while still living simply and within my stipend? Some things just fell into my lap - the Waldensian church choir on Tuesdays and the Waldensian church´s young people´s gatherings on Thursdays. (Note: Pastora Wilma´s husband is the pastor at the Waldensian church, hence my being involved with their activities, too). Other things, too, are predictable for me - lots of reading, cooking dinner for myself whenever I can. Then, there are the surprises - playing guitar every day, playing chess with Martín, the philosophy student who lives in the church with us.

I feel a bit like I´m on Mount Moriah sometimes, desperately hoping that God will provide something for me before it´s too late. And, just when I start to think that maybe the sort of existential crises that are bred by boredom aren´t that scary, there´s a ram kicking about in the bushes. It was probably there all along, but I had to learn to how to see it first, to have open eyes to the table that God has set for me, and for all of us, in this world.

Now that I´ve sounded mopey, it´s worth saying that these thoughts, and the sense of uneasy restlessness that comes with them, are not an everyday thing, and they get weaker as my time begins to go on. I think the most defining moment of my time here so far came on my first Friday here. Every year, the neighborhood that´s home to La Obra holds an afternoon-long street fair for the kids of the neighborhood; every school and after-school program participates and makes games for the kids to play, there´s music, the little store on the block does great business, and in general, everyone has a blast. This year, the fair fell on a particularly warm day, the beginning of the little heat wave they just had here. It was a glorious day to be outside, but a warm one. I stood down at La Obra´s little game section for a while, and eventually decided to go get a bottle of water and sit in the shade for a while. As I was sitting on the sidewalk by the store, watching literal hundreds of kids go by, some laughing, some talking, all of them enjoying, I saw a few of our kids from La Obra walk past. They were clearly having a great time and, South American pop music blaring in the background, I had an epiphany. I realized that I was in the right place at the right time, that nobody else could be sitting on the sidewalk, drinking water, watching the kids from La Obra playing games and dancing in the street, but me; not because I´m something special in and of myself, but because it´s what God called me to do. Here´s hoping that moment is a sign for the year, a hope and a promise to cling to when maybe the days aren´t so sunny and filled with laughter.