Getting off the plane in El Vigia. From there it was a 90 min bus ride to Merida.
Posada Guamanchi. I can't tell you how many months of my life I've lived here. It's a great place. Looks tiny from the front, but you'd be surprised. Pleasantly so.
Just an ordinary bus on an ordinary downtown afternoon.
When it comes to taxi cabs, anything goes. And all those people are waiting in line at one of the busier bus stops. (It's not a school bus if it's painted white).
Downtown sidewalk walking. I'm not sure how it is in other countries, but unlike the U.S. there's no sense of uniformity in sidewalk width, height, existence, or obstruction by open manholes or power poles. This is a normal looking section. Sometimes not dying while walking on them is a real art form. Pretty much the only reason why I'm still alive is because other people have pulled me back in from traffic. I'm not too proud to admit it.
The twilight view from one of the Posada balconies. I really do love this city.
I got to have these mountains out my windows for 2 whole years. It sure was nice to see them again. One morning the clouds were particularly dramatic. Who has two thumbs and appreciates teammates with sweet cameras and photography skills? This girl!
And this is what those same mountains look like without the dramatic cloud cover. Behind that tall peak, is actually the highest peak in all of Venezuela: Bolivar Peak (16,427ft).
Cathedral in downtown Merida.
One of the smaller towns up the valley from Merida.
Highland agriculture on our way up the pass to the hotter, flatter state of Barinas for our mid-project retreat.
Jesse and Bethany at Lake Mucubaji (Moo-koo-bah-HE) at the top of the pass. It was chilly up there! I think the Montanans on the team enjoyed a few minutes by an alpine lake. (and Jesse is the one who took these great photos).
High alpine stream. Introvert Emily made a mad dash for the rocks and a little re-charge time.
In the midst of the healing and waiting, I've done a bit of barefoot shuffling up and down the driveway. Exercise and exposure to sunlight are two things I can to do help boost my brain's serotonin production. I'll admit that while I was so exhausted, I did a lot more sitting in the sunshine than exercising. But the attractive thing about barefoot running was that I am still at the point where I'm just toughening up my feet and should really only go for a few minutes a day. It was a perfect fit!
So now I've been doing much better for 5 whole days and I am starting to get a bit more adventurous. My feet are tough enough now that I can handle the loose pea gravel of our lightly traveled street. Over the weeks I've progressed from a patiently standing on that sharp junk, to hobbling, then slow, wincing steps, then a grandma shuffle, and now a normal brisk walk. It is pretty cool! I made it to the end of our street today for the first time. And I had the fun realization that once I get down the 1/10th mile of our sharp street, I'm on a more highly traveled road, which feels like butter. Things might get exciting here soon. So, the barefoot experiment has outlasted the free pedicure at least. Meh, we'll see. No promises, though.
Our team with Keith after a day of sharing on the Geography campus.
Bethany, Keith, Emily. We were all pretty exhausted by this point in the evening. Keith was pretending like he didn't take an overnight bus to come visit. Also pretending like he actually got hot water in his shower. Also pretending like he wasn't about to get on another overnight bus to go back home.
Erin, Emily, and Brenna.
Bethany O., Dave, Aaron, and Grace at Mogambo's restaurant.
Erin, Bethany O., Danielle, Brenna, Leah, and Jenn (front) after a weekly meeting on the Forestry campus.
Me with my very tiny friend Elvia at an outreach Fiesta. I kind of forgot she was up there. I carry a heavier pack when I go backpacking.
Outreach Fiesta. Because it's not salsa or merengue, we'll call it "dancing like white people."
JJ, Bethany S., Luis, Yuliana, Emily, and Wale. They said, "make a face." Check.
Got to love a zoo where you can touch the monkeys. Liability laws? Who needs 'em?
Mid-project retreat....we ran really hard on-campus and took a couple of days to play hard, too. Lots of screaming on the zipline!
Hammock wonderland!
I taught them all the Preston family tradition of upside-down hammock hanging. Bethany took this as an invitation to a personal, cushioned hammock. Joke's on her. It was just a steely mass of muscle. Posture-pedic hammock, I guess.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, Erin would like to demonstrate for you the proper way to apply insect repellent....pay attention. This is serious. She teaches elementary schoolers.
Yeah, she thought that was pretty funny, too. Thanks for your rapt attention, folks. Cookies and chocolate milk for everyone!
Every morning I get up wondering if this is going to be the day that I'm going to be *Ka-BAM!* full of energy and all better. I walk to the coffee pot looking over my shoulder, mostly in a figurative sense, but sometimes literally, expecting the familiar wall of fatigue to hit me. And in the past couple weeks of waiting for these meds to kick-in, that's pretty much how I go about the day.
The past 2 mornings it hasn't been the dramatic *Ka-BAM!* that I was expecting. What I'm experiencing feels more like the soft click of shifting gears on a bike. When I wake up it feels easier to pedal than it did the day before, which is GREAT feeling. And I've been able to stay awake all day and even be functional. Awesome!
In the midst of this I am definitely seeing Emily the Skeptic and the Mocker more clearly. She's always there with the "Yeah, but's..." "Yeah, you're feeling pretty good now, Preston, but how long is that going to last?" "Yeah, God's been good to you now, but..." And the skepticism and lies from the toilet can just continue on from there, if I let them. So I try not to.
But maybe that's part of the lesson that I get to learn, part of the refining that I get to go through in this season? Learning to actively rest in the TRUTH of Who God is. He is good. I've given my life to telling people that, so maybe I should start living it a little more, huh? I know, I know, we'll spend a lifetime growing in our understanding of our relationship with Him in light of His character.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
"give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." -1 Thessalonians 5:18
I read that last night and my heart sank as tears welled-up. They were good tears. Godly sorrow that brings repentance (2 Cor 7:10) sort of tears as I realized that here I am in this sickness complaining. But I've forgotten about giving thanks in ALL circumstances. Sometimes that word "all" can really sting, you know? But it's right there in God's word. And I did a little bit of research. It turns out that in the original Greek "all circumstances," really isn't that bad. It actually just means, "EVERYTHING." I'm making a joke, but the tears indicate that I'm learning a serious lesson. Whether I see it or not, I am called to give thanks. I'd like to be the kind of person who gives sincere thanks. So while I may not see a whole lot to be thankful for in the crevasse of this sickness, I'm going to try giving thanks by faith a try.
LORD, You have assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure. the boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. -Psalm 16:5-6
So, an ironic twist to the new chapter of joy: I am going through the physical symptoms of depression. Some of you might be able to personally relate to this. If you've never been through it, let me just say, it is miserable. It's like slogging through wet cement. Taking a shower is exhausting to the point of being almost painful. I feel so little like myself that I don't even want to engage with anyone because I just feel flat and not myself.Okay, so here's the deal: in January of 2007 (feel free to go check out the blog archives from '07 to get more of the story) I got really sick while I was living in Venezuela. Eventually I came back to the US to try and get some answers I couldn't get in Venezuela. I'll give you the short version of what the Infectious Disease doc said. I got a mosquito-borne infection somewhere in Venezuela and for most people it would have been no big whoop. But my body overreacted to it and actually shifted my brain chemistry. Kinda cool, except it waaay screwed up my brain. The end result is that I am very low on serotonin, just like people that have depression. So, all the same symptoms and same medication. The awesome thing is that it's an easy fix, really. Just some meds that don't really have much side-effect.
I've known since this whole process started that as time wore on the medication would plateau in its effect and I'd have to start taking a higher dose. Not really a big deal, exactly, except the only way I know it's time is when I hit the plateau. Well, I hit the plateau. I'm not sure how long I've been here because it takes a while to figure it out. But I'll tell you this much, they call it a plateau, but it feels more like a crevasse. Crevasse with a capital...well, I'll let you choose which 3 letters of crevasse I want to capitalize and we'll keep this a family place. It's deep, dark, lonely, and I am just waiting for help to arrive. The extra meds should do just that any day now.
One of these mornings I am fully expecting to wake up with those drugs dancing around my brain like some sort of dream team of Shakira meets Beyonce meets Justin Timberlake pretending to be Beyonce and I will be singing some sort of victory song. ("Eye of the Tiger" has been my standard, but it doesn't really fit with the dance crew I've just lined up...could go with Shakira, but her videos don't go with my earlier "family place" comment, so let's go with "Footloose." It's a classic, plus there's this suh-weet video I can put up with it).
The barefoot running experiment continues. Still liking it so far. Breaking in the new "shoes" is a slow process though. I did not have the courage to tell Yong the nail technician about it during the pedicure. She kind of thinks I'm a little crazy already. "You so pretty. I don't know why you aren't dating." Meh. Whatever. And then I asked her for a French tip paint job on the toes and she looked at me a bit horrified, "Your bruises are going to show!" (I have some killer bruised toenails from trail running last month. I figure a battle scar is no good if you don't get a chance to show it). At another point she said, "Make sure you take care of your nails. You runners, always running in too small shoes and coming in with deformed nails." "Oh, don't you worry, Yong. My shoes definitely will not be too tight." As I continue to get my feet adjusted to this whole barefoot concept, there's a bit of toughening-up to do. And I today as I looked at my scuffed up soles, I laughed realizing that I should have been explaining barefoot running to my FEET during the pedicure. If I had, it would have gone something like this: "You see, Feet, right now you are covered in lotion and wrapped in hot towels. But pretty soon you little princesses will be looking hard core. Don't get used to this. You'll just have to take it on faith that whole verse about 'how beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.'"
In the night forlorn, ah, the morning's born, and the morning shines with the lights of love. You will miss the sunrise if you close your eyes, and that would break my heart in two.
-Townes Van Zandt, "If I Needed You."
This new season of joy puzzles me at times. For the past week I have been down and O-U-T with a migraine. Yeah, a week-long migraine. Well, it took Sunday off, so maybe it's holy. But pretty much a week of having zero capacity for anything. Sometimes I could read, or check email, or an all-important Facebook status update. I don't get it. I'm supposed to be taking the world by storm right now. I'm supposed to be raising support like a hurricane and busting my way to Dallas like nobody's business so that I, Emily Preston, can singlehandedly save thousands upon thousands of people from dying of waterborne illnesses, lift them out of poverty and put the Gospel in their hands.
Right.
The thing about these headaches is that they feel an awful lot like a bulldozer attack (no, I've never been attacked by a bulldozer) and the only weapon I have is a little slingshot full of these teeny, tiny pills the doctor gave me. Hey, have you ever tried to stop a bulldozer with a pill? Yeah, good luck with that. Maybe if you are a good thrower. But it appears that, for me, pills are just like any other object: I throw them like a girl. A scrawny girl who is not at the top of her fourth grade gym class, for that matter. *tink*tink* The pills hit the windshield (pretend with me that they get that high) and the bulldozer scoffs in diesel fumes and keeps on a comin'.
I'm not entirely sure why I get these headaches. But I have a couple of theories. First, they are a big, fat reminder that I need God and I need other people. Good grief, did you read that paragraph about how I'm supposed to be taking the world by storm? Productive? Sure. But who wants to be friends with Hurricane Emily? She's just a pride monster. It is a good thing to need help from other people. It is a good thing to be weak and allow God's strength to be shown through me, to me and around me. These verses came to mind this morning:
"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. that is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10
And my second theory has to do with the song lyrics at the beginning of this post. In the night forlorn the morning's born. Let me explain. Last night as I was getting ready for bed I finally started feeling really good. And I started getting really excited about the next day. A few things in particular were getting my blood pumping and my smile muscles working. Call me simple, but I was genuinely excited about the sun coming up. I just wanted to run out of the house and yell "Good Morning!!" to it. But I still had a few hours of sleeping before I could do that. And there I was taking my new headache medication, which means one and a half pills. Tricky. And then I had this ridiculous thought (I kid you not), "Oooh! Maybe this means someone will get me a pill cutter for Christmas!" Are you kidding me?! Who thinks that?! Who gets excited about a pill cutter? Sincerely excited about a pill cutter.
In the brighter moments of the headache, I'd finished reading the book Born to Run, which inspired me to give barefoot running a try. I pattered up and down the driveway a few times that evening while playing fetch with the dog and LOVED it, so I was really looking forward to trying it out a bit more. (Please digress with me and laugh at the irony of becoming inspired to pick up barefoot running while incapacitated by a migraine. Multiply that by twenty because I'm going to have to explain this to Yong, the Korean-Texan-American nail technician when we go in for a mother-daughter pedicure appointment tomorrow. Let's just say either the pedicure or the barefoot running is going to stick around, but it won't be both). I think it's this with the headaches: they are the night forlorn. That long, lonely, painful place that sharpens the vision to see the first shafts of morning light creeping across the sky and sends out the alarm that it's time to grab the cup of coffee and get ready to stand in the driveway and yell, "GOOD MORNING!" to the sun because it's finally coming! And wouldn't you hate to miss seeing it rise? If it weren't for the headaches, I'd be content with sleeping through the sunrise and might take for granted the fact that the sun had risen at all. (If you're rolling your eyes because you think I've gone cliche with the sunrise I'll give you Option B: I would take for granted the fact that somebody got me a pill cutter for Christmas and the simple/bizarre joy of being properly medicated.) And while I am keeping my eyes open in that night forlorn, waiting, it gives God an opportunity to show up in a way that only He can. In my weakness He pulls through and His power rests on me. Shoot, if that's not cool, I don't know what is.
Getting off the plane in El Vigia. From there it was a 90 min bus ride to Merida.
Posada Guamanchi. I can't tell you how many months of my life I've lived here. It's a great place. Looks tiny from the front, but you'd be surprised. Pleasantly so.
Just an ordinary bus on an ordinary downtown afternoon.
When it comes to taxi cabs, anything goes. And all those people are waiting in line at one of the busier bus stops. (It's not a school bus if it's painted white).
Downtown sidewalk walking. I'm not sure how it is in other countries, but unlike the U.S. there's no sense of uniformity in sidewalk width, height, existence, or obstruction by open manholes or power poles. This is a normal looking section. Sometimes not dying while walking on them is a real art form. Pretty much the only reason why I'm still alive is because other people have pulled me back in from traffic. I'm not too proud to admit it.
The twilight view from one of the Posada balconies. I really do love this city.
I got to have these mountains out my windows for 2 whole years. It sure was nice to see them again. One morning the clouds were particularly dramatic. Who has two thumbs and appreciates teammates with sweet cameras and photography skills? This girl!
And this is what those same mountains look like without the dramatic cloud cover. Behind that tall peak, is actually the highest peak in all of Venezuela: Bolivar Peak (16,427ft).
Cathedral in downtown Merida.
One of the smaller towns up the valley from Merida.
Highland agriculture on our way up the pass to the hotter, flatter state of Barinas for our mid-project retreat.
Jesse and Bethany at Lake Mucubaji (Moo-koo-bah-HE) at the top of the pass. It was chilly up there! I think the Montanans on the team enjoyed a few minutes by an alpine lake. (and Jesse is the one who took these great photos).
High alpine stream. Introvert Emily made a mad dash for the rocks and a little re-charge time.
