"it won't always be like this"

it's been a rough season. for various reasons, sometimes all piling up one on top of another in a single day, i've cried more the last few months than probably the last few years combined. often stuck by my side at those times, mandi has heard me assure both of ourselves (admittedly more my own than hers) countless times that it won't always be like this. there is another side to all that's confusing or disappointing or completely catches us off guard. to all that seems painfully slow enough to make us feel as though we're making no difference at all. He knows what He's doing. i firmly believe that, and if i didn't, i would have given up in a lot of ways. i'm grateful beyond words for all the ways God has kept me going. but it's hurt.

tonight after we had our roommate christmas dinner, hope and i were talking about how this christmas feels less like christmas than any other. for me, it's no jodi to be the perpetual source of christmas cheer. no earnestine to snort and snuggle and keep me from getting presents finished and wrapped, or steve to co-dognap her from her "well-guarded" apartment complex after midnight for that matter (let the record show that earnestine IS a dog). almost all the people i celebrated christmas alongside last year, all of whom had in a matter of months become family, are in other countries.

i realized as i was flying home from france on vacation a few weeks ago that i'm homesick for a home i don't have here--the people i love are literally scattered all over the world. it really is a blessing--helps me keep my eyes fixed upward instead of letting roots grow too deep here. but again, it hurts. and at times like this, it hurts a little more.

after our dinner, we gathered around our 3-foot-tall tree to exchange gifts. hope got me some holiday cooking stuff and socks (she's learned me well), and mandi had made me a picture frame decorated with all kinds of things to remind me of life here this season: ticket stubs from a trip to izmir, starbucks, a ptt logo, a picture of ataturk, and, written across the top, "it won't always be like this."

i couldn't have gotten a better present. as often as i've said that (and believe me, it has been often--we've reached the point now where we laugh when we realize it's starting to come out), it's exclusively been a hopeful, optimistic, "this will be over with someday." but as i looked at that frame and tried to think of which picture of the two of us would be most fitting, i realized that there are two sides to that statement. granted, i have next to no idea what next christmas will be like. but i do know that i'll probably be in the states, a place i in ways fear i'll feel less "at home" than here. it won't always be like this. it's not always fun. but the sweetness of the times we nearly lose it laughing at all the things that could only happen here outweighs the misery of the ones we've spent crying because we just can't do this. i've got a ways to go still, but i'm a lot closer to understanding what "joy" means this season.

it won't always be like this. better enjoy it while i can.

and i'm thinking the afore-posted picture, though poor in resolution because it was cropped from a big group picture, may be the most fitting for the frame. and we did not do that on purpose.

he's coming

in roughly 52 hours
(the one on the right)
and he's bringing me a ham.
hamd olsun.


i really do have the best brothers.

on buses

Istanbul Bus,
originally uploaded by here8now.

right now on v-days, brianna and i are learning about the fruits of the spirit--love, joy, peace, patience, kindness...you know, those. in whatever setting, i'm fairly sure there is no more humbling a task than teaching, as God uses it to constantly remind me that, in these matters especially, i may be able to explain something with words to a 10 year old, but i by no means have it down.

so while i teach them to brianna as we sit indian-style facing one another on ashley's bed, He re-teaches them to me on the bus. in the last week, twice.

1. i live on the european side and catch the 129T just before the bridge to make it to my language lessons in asia. this tuesday (by no means all that exceptional), i was running late. i even took a cab to the bus stop to try and save a few minutes. as i sat there waiting...and waiting...and waiting (far past the time it would've taken me to arrive at the bus stop by walking), yet again feeling the pain of rejection as the next bus approaches and i realize that it reads 129K, not T. and i think to myself, "you know, how different can the routes of the 129K and the 129T possibly be?"

answer: very. but i didn't know that when i got on.

so as i was riding from stop to stop (while scrambling to finish a few more homework sentences), that i was by no means getting closer to my teacher's house became abundantly clear, just as the K--NOT T--on my bus's marquee did 20ish minutes earlier. feeling slightly defeated, i got off the bus, hailed a taxi, and told him where i needed to go. after mumbling a few things that i thought i couldn't have understood correctly, but then proved true (we went a little ways and then he got out and another driver got in), we backtracked a slightly embarrassing distance, and i arrived at asli's. at the exact same time as the 129T. and if i'd only waited where i knew i was supposed to for the bus for which i knew i was supposed to wait, sure, i'd have still been 10ish minutes late to my lesson, but i'd have saved myself 12 lira (told you it was embarrassingly far) and probably had a much more enjoyable ride. oh, for increased patience (i know, a dangerous thing to ask for).

2. same scenario, opposite direction. going from language back home. stood outside in the cold (this particular evening, nearly reminiscent of the chicago days). waited for a bus that typically comes every 10-15 minutes for a good 40+. nearly gave up a handful of times (my "surely this bus will get me close" lesson from 3 days prior had stuck). then, it came--the long, green, heated 129T in all its glory. then it passed by. i'm generally not much of a crier, but in that moment, i thought i might. (we're apparently still working on patience)

then, about half a block later, it stopped. i along with 2 fellow waiters scurried over to get on. the bus was so full, i could barely get in for the door to shut. it was undoubtedly the most crowded bus i've ever seen. (that's why it almost didn't stop). and once i got on the bus, the strangest thing i've ever seen on a bus happened.

uncannily jovially, the driver exclaimed (in turkish), "friends, welcome aboard! tonight shall surely be the most beautiful night!" sometimes, bus drivers are in a good mood. usually, they're not. sometimes they mumble (kind of like that cab driver). usually, they just keep driving along and say nothing. but they never do that. and this bus driver not only did that, but he did it every single time a group of people boarded the bus. and it was contagious. EVERYONE was in a good mood. all of us were laughing and joking together about what a funny guy our driver was.

our bus was so crowded that people on other crowded buses were laughing at us as we passed them by on the highway. and, aside from the fairly deranged, i can't imagine that any of the people on that bus could possibly have wanted to be there, myself included. and that's when it hit me--i can all but guarantee that i'm the only person on that bus that knew the Lord. yet nearly all of my fellow passengers were having a great time, laughing and working together to help the bus driver/one another out, "doing everything without grumbling or complaining"--it wasn't ideal, but these people had joy. how much more should i? and do i?


i can say in all sincerity that, among a host of other things, i'm genuinely thankful for all the the time i spend on the bus in this city--God uses it to provide ample entertainment, time to think, finish up homework, read, and pray, for the opportunity to interact with the community here, and, most of all (whether or not i feel it at the time), for the way He uses it to keep shaping my character in an effort to get me ready for that day when i'll see Him face to face.

Dear Andrea,

(and jeff and adeline, should you feel so inclined to read this)

you missed this glorious moment of patriotism
while en route to the motherland:
and we missed you.
sizin seviyorum,
virginia
(in their defense, it could have been accidental.
they did fix it later on)