photo by Ryan Detzel

While eating dinner tonight I was suddenly rushed way back in time to when I was 7 or so years old.  I was living in Portland, Indiana and signed up for Judo classes.  I was excited.  What 7 year old boy wouldn’t be excited to punch and kick and prove his “manhood”?  The day of the first class came.  It was in spitting distance of our house, so Mom walked me there.  I clearly remember sitting in a semi-circle with all the other students while the instructor was talking.  I don’t think it was more than 5 minutes and I was already crying.  I missed my mom, even though she was sitting in the room during the class.  What can I say?  I’m a momma’s boy.

I’m not sure why this memory came into my head.  But it got me thinking of how much has changed since then.  Its been over three months since I’ve seen any of my family.   I know this isn’t a long time compared to other situations, but for me its a long time.  And I’m doing ok with it.  But I hated change as a kid.  I would dread it, worry about it, fear it.  Now in some ways I crave it;  I fear the status quo instead.  Its amazing how things change.

This is obvious to me in the differences between living here in Kathmandu and Cincinnati.  I’m living with a new family.  I’m traveling new streets.  I’m eating new foods.  I’m seeing things completely different, because I cannot look at them with the same eyes as those with which I see things in Cincinnati.  Sometimes the differences scare the snot out of me.  Other times, I sit back and think, “How sweet is this.”  But no matter what the feeling, I know I have changed.  And I know that God has allowed for these changes and has led me here.