Processed

Processed is a funny word. I made a “lifestyle change” this last week as far as the food I put into my body, and with some deeply appreciated help, I’m hoping I can make it stick. And in this fad diet, weight loss crazy culture, I know full well I’m not supposed to eat processed foods. It’s not that I don’t want to. They usually taste delicious, but supposedly they wreak havoc on the body, so I’m trying to avoid them. Anyway, a lot of this is beside the point.

Processed. It means, and I know using the word in the definition is against the rules, but I don’t care, that something has been processed. To get really technical, it has gone through a process. That’s what I have done in the last 20 days. The 20 days I have spent back in the US and not in Nicaragua. I have spent a lot of time thinking about, mulling over and processing my time there, what I learned, how I lived and what it means to me. I worry about my processed thoughts like I do about processed foods. Are they over-thought now and not useful? I think in this case, processed is the way to go.

It’s so hard to avoid the temptation to just say the trip as great when people ask how it was. I don’t know what they want to hear, or how long they have. So I have appreciated the people who have asked specific questions. Like, what was your favorite part, or what did you do? They seem basic, but they force me to say something concrete, something thought out, something processed. Asking how it went is general and my gut reaction is a general answer. But when people ask the seemingly basic questions it reminds that I had an incredible experience being the hands and feet of Jesus to people he loves in Nicaragua. And what I think I arrive at after processing is that I need to love all people like that. It’s easy when they are cute Nicaraguan kids who want to play basketball and get piggy-back rides. It’s so much harder when they cut me off in traffic or complain about circumstances beyond my control at work, but they are still sons and daughters of my King, loved in the same way I am. The same way Anthony, Anna, Wendi, Kessler and so many other friends I made in Nicaragua are.

So, that’s what I’ve come up with so far. Love people the same. Nothing new or overly profound. Well, not until people start doing it. Then the world gets changed by the love of Jesus Christ. I think that’s the goal. So I’ll take my memories processed and keep working on them.

Written on: July 24, 2011

At: Home (Gryffindor Tower)

Listening to: Michael Grimm-I Am Michael Grimm