Class Dismissed

Today I taught the final writing and rhetoric class for the students at the University. Seems like only yesterday that they were staring at me wide-eyed and full of wonder, thinking that I was the guru of the gerunds. I’ve done the best I can. It’s in their hands now to revamp the newsletter and take their writing to where they will it. The students shared some generous words of appreciation for my time spent with them. It felt bittersweet to walk out of the classroom for the last time. They’re a quality group of young men and women.

Another blessing: my malaria-infected American companions were released from the hospital today. They received their final medications and hit the road this morning. I will admit that I had a great time hanging out with them yesterday (I daresay, it felt like I was finally doing ministry). I visited them in the afternoon and went back at night, bringing my iPod. I played “remember that ‘90s song” with the typhoid-affected girl, shuffling through hits spanning alt-rock and hip hop genres. She especially became excited when I played Vertical Horizon’s “Everything You Want.” I asked her to recall where she was when this song was on the airwaves. After twenty seconds of concentration she lit up, glowing like a Christmas tree: “6th grade dance, and the boy I had a crush on asked me to dance to this song.” Amazing...within every woman is that girl who still gets giddy when she recalls those pure moments of young love. She then requested some classic rock, so I put on AC/DC and told her to visualize her body rocking the malaria out of her body. Her friend thanked me as I was leaving; apparently her spirits were pretty low (especially being sick so far from home) and the music really lifted her up. Praise God.

I am a “Martha” who was forced to become a “Mary” this summer. The word patience comes from the Latin verb pati, which means “to suffer” (go figure). Most of my pastoral work has been to simply sit and receive whatever the daily experience the Lord offered, rather than (my preference of) actively getting hands-on with the people. It’s been a “desert of patience,” you could say. Yesterday felt like a reward for my trust—“active” ministry to my ill sisters in the hospital.

I now enter my last weekend and last Sunday Mass in Sierra Leone (and last volleyball game—thank you, Lord). I can remember sitting on the plane when it touched down in Africa on that first, pitch-black night. I had a lot of fear in that moment, questioning what I had gotten myself into. Now I’m wondering—-when I get back on the plane next week—-if this African experience will seem like a dream. It has certainly dragged at many moments, but these two months have passed in the blink of God’s eye. And what will I bring back with me? Will I fall back into old routines and habits, forgetting the simplicity in which I lived here? Will I continue to surrender to prayer in moments of loneliness or boredom, instead of filling it with busy-ness or technology? I don’t know…but I do know that God loves us too much to let us stagnate in mediocrity. Cheers to that.

-Bob
written 07/14/11