moments

i have been contemplating again... daydreaming a little, reliving moments in my life. i thought i would write some of the down (and share them in this very public forum). not all my moments are happy, significant, or inspiring. they are just moments that somehow have significance for me...

calling
it was not one exact moment in time, but a collection of experiences that solidified my calling in life. it was the month of november 2005, and i spent 12 hours a day at the mkar christian hospital seeing patients, doing rounds, reading xrays, and then falling, exhausted into bed every night. the gravity of HIV astounded me, the abuse of women angered me, the abandonment of children broke me. but the joy in bridget's face as she hugged her pink balloon moved me, the tears of an infertile woman drew me in, the children's songs and games made me laugh; and i knew without a doubt where i had to be personally, professionally, and spiritually. i knew i was called to work in hard places that i would loathe and love at the same time. many "moments" collected in a calling.

gelatto
and on to something lighter! much lighter! October something, 1996. Lost in Venice, Italy with 4 friends looking for a cheap place to eat which we didn't find. i decided to get icecream for supper - cappucino gelatto- from a place about to close. i don't think i have ever been closer to ectasy. i was so engrossed in relishing this gift from the icecream gods that i almost walked/fell into a canal. and then began my love affair with anything and everything coffee flavoured.

fear
people always ooh and aahh when i say i have been to nigeria - "isn't so dangerous?" or "won't you get kidnapped?" i can say i have rarely had fear there - even when highway police officers have tapped my window with their machine guns (only for me to turn to look and then they wink and offer me a life of bliss with them).

the MOST fear i have every experienced was in innsbruck, austria in december of 1996. i took a late train from budapest to this "idyllic" mountain town. i arrived at 2am, expecting there to be a nice little warm waiting room (most stations i have been in europe have these) that i could fall asleep in until 7 am, and i would then head to a hostel, before going snowboarding for the day. well, innsbruck had no such wonderful little room. so i had to hunker down in the cold, drafty large entrance. there were a few other sober people there, so i thought i would be in good company. it was not long before the local drug addicts descended... one man in particular scared the daylights out of me.

the next part is not a delusional dream of mine - it was real. this man, on some pretty unbelievable drugs and alcohol, was smashing his empty wine bottles on the floor at the other end of the station. he then made his way to me, all the while screaming what i assume to be disturbing things in german, and snapping a large rubber whip-like thing on the ground. his beard came to his xyphoid process and had dinner still stuck in it. he had on what looked to be a large costume from the "sound of music", complete with a very large cowbell tied around his waist (his other friends had similar outfits on). he ran up to me, and on and off for 3 hours, waved broken wine bottles in my face, snapped his rubber whip at my feet, and topped it off with a few rings on his giant cowbell, all the while screaming and singing at the top of his lungs.
i told Jesus i looked forward to meeting him that night, but hadn't expected to die at the hands of a psychotic whip-snapping, cowbell ringing, drug addict. i literally sat there imagining what my parents might write in my obituary!
well, i made it through the night, went to the hostel at 6am, slept in a 6 footx 6 foot temporary plywood porch with another tourist (who spoke no english), slept at the hostel until 8am, then caught a bus and went snowboarding all day in the austrian alps - thankful to be alive. (i ended up cracking a rib after catching my front edge but that is another story/moment)
that was a very long moment...

?poverty?
the first time my idea of poverty was flipped on its head for me was september 1996. i was travelling the transylvanian countryside with 15 other north americans, being hosted by the most gracious, humble, and grateful people i have ever met. by social and economic standards, they were poor, impoverished, "lacking" what many of us "developed" people consider essential. they had lived through the hell of Chouschecu's regime, but were grateful to be alive, to be free. They praised God. (praised God after that hell? wow) my understanding of poverty was kicked in the butt. they may have been "impoverished" in material things, but i was equally, if not more, impoverished in the gifts of gratitude, hope, humility, contentment...
thank you hungary, thank you romania

rockies
every time in drive into the canadian rockies (jasper, alberta especially), i have tachycardia. my heart beats faster, my breaths become shallow. i am always in awe, always astonished, always grateful that such a tiny human being such as myself was made to enjoy such grand showcases of God's imagination.

those are a few moments. more to come. (if you haven't noticed, these are more for me, than for anyone else - a personal journal so that in case i have dementia one day, someone can read them to me;-) )