my motorcyle diaries

Here in Argentina it is FRIENDSHIP DAY, and it´s a big deal. It´s the day in the year when the most texts are sent, beating even Christmas and New Year. My usual Sunday training run in the park was virtually impossible because of how populated it was, and restaurants have been fully booked all weekend, with people celebrating the day with friends.
I went to a party last night with a group of friends, where, towards the end of the night people went round expressing their gratitude for the friendships in the group.

 I have just read the most amazing book by Bishop F X Nguyen van Thuan who was imprisoned in Vietnam for years for his faith. Whilst still in prison himself, he heard of someone who, on his release from prison, said that he had spent most of his life waiting.

This Bishop determined not to do the same. He would not put his life on hold, but would make the most of every moment. He would use his time in prison to write letters to his churches. The first chapter of his book is called "living in the present moment" and I love these words: "For you the most beautiful moment is the present moment... Live it in the fullness of the love of God. Your life will be wonderfully beautiful if it is like a crystal made up of millions of these moments. Do you see that it is easy?"

With a few minutes to go before I turn 27, it´s nice to be told I look younger than I am (not that I think 27 is past it, but still...). So when a taxi driver today asks me how old I decide to find out how I´m looking for my age:
"¿Cuanto me dás?" ("What would you give me?")
... long pause ... turns head round to carefully consider the matter...

I hate finding myself in a lift with a stranger, while you rise or descend in silence, trying to avoid eye contact, in what always seems to be a never-ending journey.
 
So today, on my long trip down from the 12th floor, when I found I had company in the lift, I decided to make a bit of small talk. The chit chat went like this:

Me: "Do you live here?" (I know, inspired question!)

I´ve just come back from a weekend of visiting my friends from YWAM (Youth With A Mission) in Mendoza, with a new appreciation for the simple things in life. The Mendoza base  is set on a beautiful, rather dusty farm. You are surrounded by mountains, that are a constant reminder to me of the greatness of God, helping to put worries in their proper perspective. I walk on to that base and instantly feel at peace. This is exactly what I needed; to be miles away from the city centre, especially computers and internet; and to get a break from the constant traffic of a big city, from noisy neighbours, from the temptation of checking work emails whilst on holiday.

Life has been a little busy lately.... last week there was an all-night prayer event on Tuesday right in the centre of Buenos Aires, Plazo de Mayo... Straight after that I went into the office, and that same evening got on an overnight bus to Cordoba. We were due to arrive at 10am. We arrived at 6pm, having nearly passed out in the heat on route since the airconditioning broke quite early on in the journey.

It is International "Women's Day" today. This may not be headline news in Britain, but here they make a big deal of it. So I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon to celebrate the phenomenon of femaleness:

"Women are like a box of chocolates", to misquote Forrest Gump... Here are some of the deliciously complex and contradictory flavours of femaleness:

The week before last I visited a men's prison in Argentina. I have been in and out of quite a few prisons now and I always enjoy it, but this was the first time I truly had no desire to leave at the end of the day.

Believe it or not, the prison resembled a monastery, or a church buzzing with God's presence. Physically, the premises were filled with light, the bedrooms in better condition than where I lived for the past year with YWAM (!) and some of the walls displayed artwork of the inmates illustrating the gospel.

A week ago I was lying in bed with an intense stomach ache and headache, courtesy of a nasty bug I picked up in Cordoba. It wasn't just annoying because I had loads of work that I wanted to get on with, but also because I knew that I had one week before I'd be evicted from my current abode. And it wasn't just the pressure of having to find somewhere to live in a week, but also the fact that I didn't really know how to go about it in a foreign massive city. Most places are rented without furniture, for example, and most places require you to provide a signature of someone leaving their own property as a guarantee!!

It's very late but I can't sleep... I'm wide awake in that really tired sort of way. So I thought I would give my neglected blog a bit of attention and maybe declutter my mind a little... please forgive me for returning back to my favourite theme of the last few months: HOPE... This is how I'm feeling right now:

I am balancing on a tightrope of hope. The height is giddying. I can't even think about the fall, let alone look down. It's exhilariting but equally terrifying. The definition of instability. I want to get off; I want to stay on. I am on, whether I like it or not. It feels that this tightrope is part of my destiny. If I fall, and there always looms that possibility, I know there is a safety mat underneath. I know because it's saved me many times before. I might get bruised, even broken, but I'll mend. I'll heal.