Carpe Diem

They served us french fries for dinner last night. That was epic. I realize more and more at each meal how many choices we have available to us in the states. In Italy, they have pasta with every meal. Then a meat, a potato. Salad. Done. At home, pasta is only a genre of food. We have tacos, burritos, huge meal-sized salad, burgers, chicken, tons of veggies, barbecue, pie, dip-n-dots, shish-kabobs, funnel cake. It's overwhelming. I plan to not eat any form of noodle for August and September. And if I have to, it has to be in a thick meat sauce like the Italians have never seen.

On a totally different note...I have been thinking a lot about the choice side of friendships, and the choice side in all of life, really. I have thought for a good while that as Christians we put too much emphasis on protecting ourselves. But we cover it sneakily by saying that we are protecting each other, when really we are simply scared. Matt Adair, my pastor in Athens, has asked our congregation a couple times how different would our lives be if we really believed the gospel. That's not a new thought at all, but every time I hear it I have to stop for a minute to think about it.

I think that if Christians believed in the gospel, the entire element of protection would fall away from relationships. (I'm not talking "guard your heart" here, if that's what it sounds like.) There wouldn't be hesitancy in loving each other. Not just in dating relationships, but in friendships and families. You never see Paul holding any love or honesty back from the churches in his letters because he is afraid that when he leaves they will crumble. He knows they won't. I think that is how friendships should be. Because if we don't love now, and seek each other out now to encourage, and really know each other deeply, when will it happen? It won't. So forget the whole idea that we should only tell a few people what we are deeply struggling with or deeply in love with. Because if our lives are really about other people and not about ourselves, then there is no need to keep quiet. To be reserved.

Share. That is what I am saying. Not deep dark secrets. But if I admit to someone once a week the reality of my doubt, chances are that person will be encouraged. And I'll feel a sort of relief. And that is a church. Everything I have learned lately that has meant something to me has either been out of Romans, or out of the mouth of someone around me. And if those people weren't willing to risk exposure and share their thoughts with me I would be...I don't know. Less. I would be less.

This all stems from my fear of not having enough time. There. I said it. But I think I'm more because of it. For the first 2-ish years of college I was the queen of putting a guard up. But I can't do that now. Because there is some reason I am where I am. There is a reason I have PSC. There is a reason I am in Italy. And my time is not my own. I learned that this year when I finally understood that my anger over being sick isn't really justified. Some people say it is when they are trying to encourage me. But I know that it is a lot better than what I really deserve. My time is not my own. But more than that, my story is not my own. I lost the rights to it when I became a Christian. How great is that?

I have to give back. That is the only way I can justify the incredible gift of being....here. Alive. Healthy.

Oh and the picture above is our fifth roommate, Jacopo. Brit and I adorned him with eyes and a bowtie. But he supplied the personality. Katie and Liza are slightly frightened by him, which makes it that much better.