I'm In Philly!
It's almost disappointing to write that knowing that it may be the end of my blogging career.
But all the same; I arrived in Philly yesterday afternoon and I'm currently staying with the Simple way with my choice of couches to crash on.
This neighborhood is such a different world than I have ever been exposed to. I have nothing to do but try and take it all in for what it is and try to discern if I have a place in a town like this.
My greatest hope as I encountered the city lights, was that they would somehow direct some epiphany with a beautiful soundtrack of choral music and a light from heaven that would tell me the next step. Unfortunately, I am just as confused as before.
In a conversation with a new friend here, we discussed God's direction and the form it takes. Sometimes, it is very clear and we know beyond a doubt what is to be done; for instance, my walk. And other times it's more like the choose your own adventure books of childhood; where the options are before you, and it's your choice which page you will turn to. Though I never had much luck with those and inevitably chose the one that led to an untimely death; hmm, I may have to think on that for a while....
But I digress. For those of you who have been following, I just want to give you the reminder that I consistently hold onto; I left with nothing. I have made it half way across the country in just under four months time and was provided for every step of the way. I am alive only by God's hand. He deserves all the credit.
If you are interested in the details of the last three days of my trek (and the reason for the title) you may just have to wait for the...... book? (we'll see about that).
But in the meantime, I just want to thank all of you for entering into this with me. Those of you who were with me in prayer and support, I can't thank you enough for taking the time to be with me in spirit.
I love you all and truly hope to see you all soon, wherever you are.
christopher andrew.
signing off (for now)
Friday, September 21, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Southern Comfort
Okay, you'll never guess where I am.
Go ahead, try.
Come on, it'll be fun.
Give up?
I'm in Gettysburg!
Getting a little redundant isn't it.
Though both fortunately, and unfortunately, this will not be the extended stay that it was last time.
I leave tomorrow.
Time flew by so quickly on my little south detour. I had the most amazing time of simply relaxing. And as I lounged in the pool, ate grilled salmon, and sipped Pinot Grigio on the veranda, I thought, 'Yeah, this is the life of a vagabond!'
The highlight of my time however, was not the luxury, it was family. I can't describe how absolutely reassuring it was simply to be around old friends. A little non-alcoholic southern comfort you might say.
Well not long after arriving in Round Hill, I discovered that there aren't many routes to Philly from that locale, and the best of those options just happened to take me right back to Emmaus. And even this now feels like home!
I had planned on getting a ride from here all the way to Lancaster, which is a good portion of the remaining trip. But it has been a while since I have stepped out into that unknown without knowing where my feet will land at night, and I think it's about time.
So tomorrow morning, I will leave, not by car, but by foot and see where I end up.
For those of you following, you may be thinking that I must be quite well off given my employment in Gettysburg and very few expenses to drain my funds. But except for the eleven dollars left in my pocket when I hitched out of here last week, everything else had been given away. I say this not for my own glory, but so that you may know the full measure of God's provision on the last leg of my journey.
That's all I have time for right now... But I will keep you 'posted'.
christopher andrew.
Go ahead, try.
Come on, it'll be fun.
Give up?
I'm in Gettysburg!
Getting a little redundant isn't it.
Though both fortunately, and unfortunately, this will not be the extended stay that it was last time.
I leave tomorrow.
Time flew by so quickly on my little south detour. I had the most amazing time of simply relaxing. And as I lounged in the pool, ate grilled salmon, and sipped Pinot Grigio on the veranda, I thought, 'Yeah, this is the life of a vagabond!'
The highlight of my time however, was not the luxury, it was family. I can't describe how absolutely reassuring it was simply to be around old friends. A little non-alcoholic southern comfort you might say.
Well not long after arriving in Round Hill, I discovered that there aren't many routes to Philly from that locale, and the best of those options just happened to take me right back to Emmaus. And even this now feels like home!
I had planned on getting a ride from here all the way to Lancaster, which is a good portion of the remaining trip. But it has been a while since I have stepped out into that unknown without knowing where my feet will land at night, and I think it's about time.
So tomorrow morning, I will leave, not by car, but by foot and see where I end up.
For those of you following, you may be thinking that I must be quite well off given my employment in Gettysburg and very few expenses to drain my funds. But except for the eleven dollars left in my pocket when I hitched out of here last week, everything else had been given away. I say this not for my own glory, but so that you may know the full measure of God's provision on the last leg of my journey.
That's all I have time for right now... But I will keep you 'posted'.
christopher andrew.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
On Minor Detours and the Rule of Thumbin'
I forgot to mention the change of course in my last post, so it may come as a surprise to most of you that I have crossed two more state lines and am writing this blog from Round Hill, Virginia.
In God's amazing provision, he has even taken into account my homesickness. And, whereas I'm not exactly back on the shores of Ruth Lake, I am staying with the nearest thing to family this side of the midwest; my second cousin - once removed - by marriage.
Oddly enough, this is not the first time that God has used this wonderful young family in the same capacity.
I had never known of their existance until my second residence in California. When I moved to Yorba Linda, my family suddenly realized that I was living not far from this extended relative. So I looked them up.
They soon became somewhat of a surrogate family for me during my stay in California.. That is, until they moved.
I had lost all contact with them for two years but reconnected just two weeks ago to realize that they were too close to pass up.
Goodbyes were hard at Emmaus. There were a few tears and long drawn out sighs, but the heaviest part of this farewell was not just the leaving, but not knowing when, if at all, we would ever see each other again. But I have a sneaking suspicion that a reunion will come sooner than we think.
Given that my southbound sidetrack was not in the original route, I felt more liberty to explore alternate forms of vagabonding.
I left at nearly 10:30 and planned to walk as far as Thurmont, Maryland without seeking assistance. My feet were already upset by the time I saw the city and I stopped to eat and rest at the Shamrock lounge.
I talked with a young man who had just finished boot camp for a branch of the military. He was awaiting his placement, that was to be decided by the powers that be, and mused about the peace in a situation where he has no control over those major decisions. I related well on that topic.
From Thurmont, I had nearly 75 miles yet to go before I would enter Leesburg (the nearest town to Round Hill). And here's where I grew a thumb.
Though the act of hitchhiking is not dissimilar from my current traveling style, it comes with different expectations. On most of my walking days, rides are just a blessing and a needed distraction from long days on the road. But while walking backwards holding my thumb out in the air, rides are my goal.
I did not get picked up as quickly as I'd hoped, and there was still a good deal of walking to come, but soon enough I was in the passenger seat of a contract landscapers pickup.
A little rough around the edges but a christian with a kind heart nonetheless, he began to tell me the story of the summer after his junior year.
He and his friend had left home each holding $100 to their name. Their goal was Florida and a season of freedom. I could tell as he reminiced that he often looks back on that summer and sees nothing but freedom.
My second ride came just south of Fredrick Maryland and has the face of a 19 year old on his way to worship band practice. I struggled to fit my pack in the back of his minivan trying to fit it around the bike that laid over the seats. When I asked if he was an avid biker, he said "only when the van breaks down."
The van ran like a champ and brought me within 20 miles of my goal where I was soon picked up by two South American mechanics. I walked up to their moving van style truck and heard the passengers beautiful accent as he said "We'll have to share the seat." And crammed inside this tiny cabin, we talked of God and homes and the spanish word for hitchhiker (which I've already forgoten).
After a quick stop by the farmers market to stock up on watermelon we soon found ourselves saying goodbyes in Leesburg.
From there I called my long lost family and sat in a coffeehouse to await the shirttail reunion.
We reconnected with hugs and exclamations and they brought me to rest in their beautiful ranch style home in the lazy sticks of Virgina and at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. This is the stuff of the South.
The people that I will be connecting with in Philladelphia are leaving town for a short trip untill the 19th. So I can't very well arrive before then. I will stay here several days but soon I must begin to plan my route back to lovely Pennsylvania.
Lovin' and missin' you all!
Christopher Andrew.
In God's amazing provision, he has even taken into account my homesickness. And, whereas I'm not exactly back on the shores of Ruth Lake, I am staying with the nearest thing to family this side of the midwest; my second cousin - once removed - by marriage.
Oddly enough, this is not the first time that God has used this wonderful young family in the same capacity.
I had never known of their existance until my second residence in California. When I moved to Yorba Linda, my family suddenly realized that I was living not far from this extended relative. So I looked them up.
They soon became somewhat of a surrogate family for me during my stay in California.. That is, until they moved.
I had lost all contact with them for two years but reconnected just two weeks ago to realize that they were too close to pass up.
Goodbyes were hard at Emmaus. There were a few tears and long drawn out sighs, but the heaviest part of this farewell was not just the leaving, but not knowing when, if at all, we would ever see each other again. But I have a sneaking suspicion that a reunion will come sooner than we think.
Given that my southbound sidetrack was not in the original route, I felt more liberty to explore alternate forms of vagabonding.
I left at nearly 10:30 and planned to walk as far as Thurmont, Maryland without seeking assistance. My feet were already upset by the time I saw the city and I stopped to eat and rest at the Shamrock lounge.
I talked with a young man who had just finished boot camp for a branch of the military. He was awaiting his placement, that was to be decided by the powers that be, and mused about the peace in a situation where he has no control over those major decisions. I related well on that topic.
From Thurmont, I had nearly 75 miles yet to go before I would enter Leesburg (the nearest town to Round Hill). And here's where I grew a thumb.
Though the act of hitchhiking is not dissimilar from my current traveling style, it comes with different expectations. On most of my walking days, rides are just a blessing and a needed distraction from long days on the road. But while walking backwards holding my thumb out in the air, rides are my goal.
I did not get picked up as quickly as I'd hoped, and there was still a good deal of walking to come, but soon enough I was in the passenger seat of a contract landscapers pickup.
A little rough around the edges but a christian with a kind heart nonetheless, he began to tell me the story of the summer after his junior year.
He and his friend had left home each holding $100 to their name. Their goal was Florida and a season of freedom. I could tell as he reminiced that he often looks back on that summer and sees nothing but freedom.
My second ride came just south of Fredrick Maryland and has the face of a 19 year old on his way to worship band practice. I struggled to fit my pack in the back of his minivan trying to fit it around the bike that laid over the seats. When I asked if he was an avid biker, he said "only when the van breaks down."
The van ran like a champ and brought me within 20 miles of my goal where I was soon picked up by two South American mechanics. I walked up to their moving van style truck and heard the passengers beautiful accent as he said "We'll have to share the seat." And crammed inside this tiny cabin, we talked of God and homes and the spanish word for hitchhiker (which I've already forgoten).
After a quick stop by the farmers market to stock up on watermelon we soon found ourselves saying goodbyes in Leesburg.
From there I called my long lost family and sat in a coffeehouse to await the shirttail reunion.
We reconnected with hugs and exclamations and they brought me to rest in their beautiful ranch style home in the lazy sticks of Virgina and at the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains. This is the stuff of the South.
The people that I will be connecting with in Philladelphia are leaving town for a short trip untill the 19th. So I can't very well arrive before then. I will stay here several days but soon I must begin to plan my route back to lovely Pennsylvania.
Lovin' and missin' you all!
Christopher Andrew.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Dissonant Chords Strike Deep
Warning: This post is entirely, and overtly, over dramatic. True to events but hindsight sees it's un-foundedness. Things always look more frightening in the thick of the woods.
Two days after my last post, I panicked.
My heart seized and tensed in preparation for the only response I could muster; flight.
I called my boss immediately that morning, in what felt like a breakdown, and begged him to fire me; to release me from the only contract that bound me to this city.
He would not.
But this place was suddenly too much to bear.
Whereas it is very true that on the the road one faces a brand new set of demons; those dark quiet leviathans of the mind that hide away in everyday noise; it is also true that community offers it's own pervasive trials.
Namely...... integrity, or lack thereof.
Integrity is not a thing forced on the traveling man. When everyday is a new city, a blank slate that I introduce myself to only for the night; there is no one who knows my yesterdays.
In all honesty, I could remake myself every day of the week. Put on a new person, try out a new name, make up a list of grand accomplishment, or hint at a sordid past. And whatever town it happened to be, would not know me, but truly believe in the existence of that other man, the man of my invention.
I don't employ such deliberate deceit as to speak in different accents or say 'hi I'm Rufus' but there is a more subtle deceit that happens when there are no checks and balances, the lie that I'm bigger than my own skin.
Community, then, is the checkpoint. The station at which all of these transparent self-portraits are held against the light, one on top of the other, to reveal what registers, and what doesn't. Am I who I say I am, or do I just spin a lofty tale.
I have been as transparent as I know how in my current post at Emmaus. I had told them my life, my struggles, my shortcomings. They know I am imperfect. But still there was a great panic fearing something more; fearing, maybe, that they would believe it.
And I was stuck under the weight of what felt like the immanent rendering of my true colors.
I was immobile, paralyzed, buried up to my neck in Civil War souvenirs with a face covered in honey waiting for the ants to swarm and pick little pieces of these smiles and poses to reveal what the camera can't see, the one behind the curtain. All my personal propaganda, defenestrated.
Some lines from my journal written moments after my plea for freedom:
"The perfection of ideal shows the convection of the real
boiled down to wicked paste, good for nothing but the
taste, for greed, and glory,
and my own d##m story"
So I took on a fast, not out of reverence, but defiance. I was in the mind to starve myself until God showed his face. I was seething at a Savior who hadn't 'saved' me enough. Almost two full days and I was bitter and sullen, sulking around in corners.
That is, until the picnic.
An entire afternoon surrounded by all of my new friends, set in the park on the most beautiful of days. All afternoon, I did not touch the luscious foods or partake in the games of frisbee and childlike tag, I laid quiet and shaded just outside the picture. But as the sun began to set, my frustrations seemed to dissolve. And I could no longer remember what had gotten me so angry in the first place.
There was so much enjoyment to be had that afternoon; and seeing my friends running about smiling, shouting 'Chris, come play!' there was peace.
God did show up.
God had been there all along.
After all every good and perfect gift comes from Him, and I seem to be in the middle of an endless Christmas.
So were those feelings and fears founded? Of course not. No one had pulled me aside and revealed that I was more wicked than I pretend to be. Though they felt no less real.
There is always a sharpening and revealing when one is in community and it is often hard, but it is nothing to fear or run from. It is only the shaping of who we're meant to be.
But is this not just an example, albeit an extreme one, of that strange relational paranoia that we all feel from time to time; those senses that paint ourselves darkly in light of our friends, enemies, and especially those we admire?
The heart is deceitful above all things.
I'll be leaving Gettysburg soon; Monday morning to be exact. But not in fear with a desire to escape, I leave with peace, and a hope of returning.
Thanks to all of you who are with me in this. I love you!
Christopher Andrew
Two days after my last post, I panicked.
My heart seized and tensed in preparation for the only response I could muster; flight.
I called my boss immediately that morning, in what felt like a breakdown, and begged him to fire me; to release me from the only contract that bound me to this city.
He would not.
But this place was suddenly too much to bear.
Whereas it is very true that on the the road one faces a brand new set of demons; those dark quiet leviathans of the mind that hide away in everyday noise; it is also true that community offers it's own pervasive trials.
Namely...... integrity, or lack thereof.
Integrity is not a thing forced on the traveling man. When everyday is a new city, a blank slate that I introduce myself to only for the night; there is no one who knows my yesterdays.
In all honesty, I could remake myself every day of the week. Put on a new person, try out a new name, make up a list of grand accomplishment, or hint at a sordid past. And whatever town it happened to be, would not know me, but truly believe in the existence of that other man, the man of my invention.
I don't employ such deliberate deceit as to speak in different accents or say 'hi I'm Rufus' but there is a more subtle deceit that happens when there are no checks and balances, the lie that I'm bigger than my own skin.
Community, then, is the checkpoint. The station at which all of these transparent self-portraits are held against the light, one on top of the other, to reveal what registers, and what doesn't. Am I who I say I am, or do I just spin a lofty tale.
I have been as transparent as I know how in my current post at Emmaus. I had told them my life, my struggles, my shortcomings. They know I am imperfect. But still there was a great panic fearing something more; fearing, maybe, that they would believe it.
And I was stuck under the weight of what felt like the immanent rendering of my true colors.
I was immobile, paralyzed, buried up to my neck in Civil War souvenirs with a face covered in honey waiting for the ants to swarm and pick little pieces of these smiles and poses to reveal what the camera can't see, the one behind the curtain. All my personal propaganda, defenestrated.
Some lines from my journal written moments after my plea for freedom:
"The perfection of ideal shows the convection of the real
boiled down to wicked paste, good for nothing but the
taste, for greed, and glory,
and my own d##m story"
So I took on a fast, not out of reverence, but defiance. I was in the mind to starve myself until God showed his face. I was seething at a Savior who hadn't 'saved' me enough. Almost two full days and I was bitter and sullen, sulking around in corners.
That is, until the picnic.
An entire afternoon surrounded by all of my new friends, set in the park on the most beautiful of days. All afternoon, I did not touch the luscious foods or partake in the games of frisbee and childlike tag, I laid quiet and shaded just outside the picture. But as the sun began to set, my frustrations seemed to dissolve. And I could no longer remember what had gotten me so angry in the first place.
There was so much enjoyment to be had that afternoon; and seeing my friends running about smiling, shouting 'Chris, come play!' there was peace.
God did show up.
God had been there all along.
After all every good and perfect gift comes from Him, and I seem to be in the middle of an endless Christmas.
So were those feelings and fears founded? Of course not. No one had pulled me aside and revealed that I was more wicked than I pretend to be. Though they felt no less real.
There is always a sharpening and revealing when one is in community and it is often hard, but it is nothing to fear or run from. It is only the shaping of who we're meant to be.
But is this not just an example, albeit an extreme one, of that strange relational paranoia that we all feel from time to time; those senses that paint ourselves darkly in light of our friends, enemies, and especially those we admire?
The heart is deceitful above all things.
I'll be leaving Gettysburg soon; Monday morning to be exact. But not in fear with a desire to escape, I leave with peace, and a hope of returning.
Thanks to all of you who are with me in this. I love you!
Christopher Andrew
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
