jamie's wanderings

I have a friend that speaks several languages, one heavily accented by the other so that you are sure he's not an American, and I've known him forever. He used to come back to the US armed with a massive map of the tiny town where they live, and would show it to all of us and say, "Please pray for my city." And when Andrew and I wandered to see his part of the world, he took us to the top of the hill overlooking his town and said, "Let's pray". I secretly thought he was nuts. But there's something about what he does, that sticks in your mind and as we crested the hill today, and suddenly Granada was spread out underneath us like a large blanket covering the valley, I thought, "Let's pray." All through our few days away, I unplugged from life as best as possible. I read books watching movies read blogs and all like a drowning woman gasping for her last breath. We had some friends come visit and we watched movies, and swam together and at...

This continues in the theme of important events throughout the last four years. This is in no way in chronological order, but this is just another event that God used in both Andrew and my lives. Two and a half years ago, Andrew and I had been officially voted in by the church to work with the youth, alongside the pastor's wife Esther. One of the young ladies, a doctorate student in the university of Granada, suggested that we attend a youth conference called ContraCorriente, which means, Against the flow. Founded by Pastor Mark Jobe, an American who grew us as a Spanish MK, this youth conference is a sort of mini Urbana or Passion conference, directed at Spanish youth. 2 years ago it was held in a town called Priego de Cordoba, about 2 hours away from Granada in the middle of rolling hills covered in millions of olive trees. We had speakers, music, concerts, workshops and more. We camped that weekend, and our tent and cooking spot because the hang out spot for not only the 5 youth...

In a day and era when fundamentalism is wrong and tolerance is good, Its strange to be who I am. I live in a different country because of who I am and what I believe. I believe God is love and showed us His love in wrapping His Son in space and time. He came, He saw and He sacrificed, so that we could be united together. I live where I live so I can be evidence of God's love, by loving others as much as He loved me. Its a tough act to follow...this taking up the cross of love and walking through the streets every day. Its tough because I have to adapt as fully as I can to a culture that's alien to my own. So, how do I be "100 percent" or as close to it as I can in this culture, but still not be "100 percent" because if I was, that would mean adapting to the sins of this place too. In this place, you use shame and embarrassment as tools to manipulate other people. How do I show Christ's love without falling into their traps? In this place, family is so im...

I called my dad tonight, just to hear his voice for a minute. He was at work, curing cancer. It helps me know that he's still there, even though the phone call got dropped as I heard him talking geeky cancer zapping talk with a co worker. He's a mad scientist, a geek, someone who wears pocket protectors and a lab jacket to work with his name embroidered into the lapel, but he's a wonderful geek, my Dad. He's got a ton of sayings, very quotable, not all of the appropiate, but the longer I live I know the days are longer in the summer cuz its hotter, and I've applied that logic to say, that's why the gas goes up in price, the euro/dollar exchange gets worse, and the food prices go up, cause things expand when they get hot, and since its summer, of course all those things would happen. Somehow Dad and Mom managed to raise us all with massive love and compassion, no matter how much we got spanked, we knew it hurt Dad so much more than it hurt us. I was with my frien...

Oye, hijo mío, el silencio. Es un silencio ondulado, un silencio, donde resbalan valles y ecos y que inclinan las frentes hacia el suelo. Listen, my son, the silence. Is a silence that comes in waves, a silence, where it slips across the valleys, and echoes, and makes all fall fall facedown to the floor. F. Garcia Lorca, My Translation

La elipse de un grito, va de monte a monte. Desde los olivos, será un arco iris negro sobre la noche azul. ¡Ay! Como un arco de viola, el grito ha hecho vibrar largas cuerdas del viento. ¡Ay! (Las gentes de las cuevas asoman sus velones) ¡Ay! The Ellipse of Scream goes from mountain to mountain. From the olive trees, its like a black rainbow against the blue night. AHHHHHHHHH! Like a viola bow, the scream vibrates the long strings of the wind. AHHHHHHHHH The cave people look out their windows...AHHHHHHHHHHH