What's the Point?

I was reading a book by the overweight, self-absorbed, obnoxious guy that always manages to speak directly to me even though we have not met. The book that I was reading was about him and some guys trying to make another book of his into a movie, but really it was about his attempt to make his life into a more compelling story.

After reading a section of this guy’s book that was copied almost verbatim from his first book, I began to think about the story of my life. In this story there is a well developed character, but there does not seem to be a key problem for the character to overcome. Sure this character has many interesting experiences and adventures, but what is the point? What moves the story along? What is the great mission that unifies the life of the protagonist?

I will think more about this as I sit and listen to the rain beating down on the tin roof of our house in the Delta. At the moment there is not much else to do. During the day, Juan Ruiz has to work on work on a boat that he is building to supplement his almost non-existent financial support, and Anita and I are left to cook, and prepare bible lessons for the kids. Anita is staying at the Delta with me and Juan for a few days to teach me how to cook, how to sing Spanish children’s songs, and how to lead the bible studies.


Since arriving at the delta yesterday, I have organized my room, begun construction of a brand new set of shelves, fished, killed a chicken, learned to cook rice, and learned the first bible lesson, complete with memory verse and songs. Who knows what we will do tomorrow.

I do know that I already miss my family, and that I am very much looking forward to Christmas. Maybe I have traveled to much?

How Many Roads

I woke up at 4:45 this morning. That is too early. It is still dark and cold outside, and if it was not for the bitter coffee that my brother Daniel made for me, I would most definitely be falling asleep right now. Atlanta is not as peaceful in the morning as the airport in Anchorage. People here seem a little bit more agitated than the people in Alaska. Maybe this is just a result of my own feelings of agitation.

Last night something finally hit me and I started to feel nervous about traveling to Costa Rica. I remember being a student in the missionary training school down here. I remember always feeling like I had done something wrong. That is how I feel now. For no rational reason, I feel like I have done something wrong and Ana will be mad at me. Maybe this is the result of being under her authority again for the first time in years, or maybe I feel this way because of the stress of leaving my parents again.

“I am tired of traveling. I just want to be home.”

My dad tells me that I am lucky, and that most people never get the opportunity to get tired of traveling.