I stood in front of that little
church in awe of the emptiness that stood before me. In all of my travels, no
place seemed to have a more profound effect on me than that little alcove of
the Navajo Reservation. My soul felt refreshed - and my heart felt lighter. I remember
my senses being excited by the smell of grass painted delicately by a light
rain, a gentle wind on my face combatting the heat of a coarse summer, and the
sight of nature unblemished by man. The simplicity of that place made me yearn
for a shedding of my worldly trinkets and burdens. I stuck my arms out in an
attempt to grow myself – as if in making myself bigger I would be able to soak
in even more of the desert wilderness. I stood there and communed both with God
and his creation for a long time. It was only when I was interrupted by a long
haired man breaking over the horizon that my arms returned to their side and my
mind was brought back to reality. The impact of our conversation that day would
only come fully to fruition last night.
-CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR LAST
YEAR OF COLLEGE- That was the title of the email I got last Thursday. I had
been telling people that this was my last year at university for quite some time,
but I don’t think I believed it. In all honesty I wasn’t sure if I would
finish. This was never because of a lack of ability, rather because I didn’t know
if college was for me. I spent my first year in Wichita Falls as a recluse
making me stingingly unhappy. I ran away from that emptiness in the form of a cross
continent voyage, and as a result my perspective of the world was completely altered.
Inadvertently, this new vision made me despise the bureaucracy of college and
the unspoken American law that in order to amount to anything, a college
diploma was a necessity. In so many ways I returned here with a lightened heart
– but in so many ways I returned here with a furious anger. Abroad my value was
measured by my abilities. No one asked to see a piece of paper before I taught
a classroom of special needs children. Abroad no one asked me for a resume as I
assisted home healthcare. Abroad no one cared that I was 20 /21 at the time.
When I got home, I felt like I was being tortured by school just for the sake
of being tortured.
I’ve almost done it though. I
submitted to the necessity, and I will soon be allowed to reap the benefits of
my perseverance. And while to many this would be exciting, I find myself
desperately confused and stressed. I have to keep asking myself - what’s next? I’ve
had a tentative plan that I’ve used for motivation to get me to this point, but
is that the right plan? Am I selling myself short and taking an easy route? In
American vernacular, I think it translates into – What will I do? I’ve been wrestling with this. It’s taken a
toll on me to the point where just about everyone I know has asked if I’m doing
ok this week. Kids constantly ask each other what they want to be when they
grow up in fun and excitement – and now for the first time I have to ask myself
with more serious intent.
My poor girlfriend has attempted
to carry me along these last few days, constantly reminding me to pray and seek
providence. She’s offered bits and pieces of encouragement, but more than
anything she’s appeased my arrogant desire to constantly hear my own voice. She’s
sat and listened to me more or less engage in conversation with my inner Josh
for the last couple days. Finally, last night as she mediated for both the
physical and mental Joshua, I had a profound break through. The image of the
long haired Navajo man dashed into my mind, and I was called back to
perspective.
When he broke the horizon, I
decided to sit down. Many of the Navajo I encountered in the interior of the
reservation seemed skeptical about my presence initially. I admired them for
constantly guarding their hearts. They were slow to speak, and cautious of
revealing themselves. Many would awkwardly stand around me, as if feeling my
heart and intentions, and then slowly warm up to me. Being a more outgoing type
A person, this was very hard for me. I had to learn to be reserved, and I found
that sitting down put the ball in the court of my new acquaintances. He finally
reached me, and we exchanged hellos. More than most, he was particularly quiet.
While he could have walked into the church to meet his friends, I think he felt
obligated to stand there, and conversation came slowly. Eventually though,
after discussing the rain, and the nice temperature, the door was opened to
proceed to friendship.
When meeting fellow students in
college, three questions always precede the conversation: (1) What’s your name?
(2) What’s your major? (3) Where are you from? I’ve found now that I’m slightly
older, when meeting new people these questions have been modified to the
following: (1) What’s your name? (2) Where are you from? (3) What
do you do? So, based off my normal formula, I asked the man – What
do you do for a living? I’ll never forget the face he gave me. It was that very
face that brought me back to my senses yesterday. He was confused. He was somewhat
put off. He felt belittled. He looked at me and asked – What do you mean?
With dark brown eyes and long
black hair he went on to tell me that he had a few sheep, he did pottery,
painted sometimes, and liked to go on walks. At this point I became confused
and pressured him again thinking that we merely had a miscommunication – No, I’m
sorry! I meant what’s your job? I hurt his feelings. He thought I was talking
down to him because he didn’t have a 9
to 5. He was very content living day to day. He explained if he needed money he’d
make a pot or paint a picture and sell it as AUTHENTIC NATIVE AMERICAN ART. He
wasn’t concerned about a career or living the American Dream. He was concerned
with living. He was concerned with staying sober, loving his family, and
following his new Christ whom he accepted three weeks earlier. Then he asked me
what I did…
What do I do? I responded thusly:
“Well, I go to school, teach special needs gymnastics, I like to watch tv,
read, play video games, hike, hang out with friends, I’m a missionary right
now, I write, I like to cook, sometimes I workout BLAH BLAH BLAH. And then he
responded to me in the most incredible way… He smiled, tilted his head, and as his
long hair fell over his deep weathered face he said – No, what do you do?
I thought about this last night.
I am so concerned with doing something, that I’m not really doing anything. I’ve
been feeling the way I have because I feel like I need to climb some imaginary
ladder. I have been convinced by the world that I need to make x amount of
dollars, start an IRA, find health benefits, squeeze in a family, raise a
couple kids, and provide an excessive amount of worldly goods for me and my
own. I felt sinful and sick last night as I referenced this memory to Monica. I
brushed it aside to pick up this morning and digest it a little more. I need to
take a step back and look at what I have. I don’t need any more stuff. I already
have too much. I have a job that truthfully is really great, even from a
financial aspect. I have a great family. I have a great girlfriend. What I don’t
have lately is the peace that comes with being thankful.
Today I’m not thinking about what
my title will be. I’m not thinking about a profession, a future house, or a
salary. I’m thinking about the weather and how nice it is. I’m thinking about
my God and how great he is. I’m thinking about my family and how blessed I am.
What do I do? Well, today I just move one footstep at a time and make sure I
stop to breathe in anything beautiful. I live for the first time in a week.
What do you do?
