The things I think along the streets of Italy....

I love to write. I feel like I have a running dialogue in my head of greets insights and descriptions of the wonder around me. I'm very intimidated by this research project, but I love the feeling of researching a subject and knowing it really well. I just hate sitting still long enough to write it!

I love taking pictures of the world around me. When everyone else is rushing with their destination in mind, I'm entranced by the beauty of the buildings, the people, the mopeds, the flowers and the idiosyncrasies of my environment. Sadly, I am not skilled or equipped to take high quality photos, but I try.

I think all around, I'm maraginally creative. My dad says I get it from my great grandma. She was a real artist, who even made money doing her craft. Come to think of it, I've made a little money too, but I don't know if you can all yourself an artist if you've sold artwork totaling a mere $70.

I wish I could invest my time in getting better at these interests, but for now, my life is consumed with my passions of His gospel, and of helping the world's most marginalized and vulnerable people. As magical a place Florence is, I am haunted by the larger social questions that I think about all the time.

Being here, people have commented on how "lucky" I am to be here. While there are many students on my trip who had this trip handed to them with daddy's credit card, I was not one of them. I worked hard to get here. And yet still, I know full well I do not DESERVE to be here. Travelling and luxury is not something I deserve, although I do work very hard.

I am fully confident that God moved the hearts of influential people to position myself in a way that enabled me to come. I am sure of this. It's not everyday that a professor you hardly know offers to personally lend you $1,500. It's not normal that another professor believes in your dream of a project in Africa that she is willing to support you academically, and boldly attain a grant to cover tuition for this summer. It's surreal to have the director of all things international at Cal St give me a grant after only a five minute conversation. I could go on and on, including financial gifts from friends,support from my family, and other gifts of time and prayer.

(side note: I'm in a cafe crying, A LOT, and the cafe worker just came over saying something in Italian. I think he was asking if the very loud MTV Italy TV is too loud. I smiled, embarrassed by my tears and told him it was ok)

I am so humbled and often feel guilty. I look around at the wealth, and all these places and all I can think of is how blessed I am. I'm so grateful, and still, as I am surrounded by excess, I think of the children I have met in Africa. How is it that I get blessed, and there are people taste simply want to eat, and they are not granted their request? It seems grossly unfair. And I think of all the children with special needs that will never see places like this, will never understand the significance, or will never even care. It hardly seems fair. It is not.

And then, I feel guilty. When a gift is given to you, the giver desires that you receive it with joy. So I say thank You, even though I don't understand.

These are the crazy things that play in my mind all day.

When I was at Urbana, we studied the first few chapters of the book of John in the Bible, asking the question, "who is this Jesus?" Chapter 2 stuck out to me so strongly. In one scene, Jesus is at a wedding and He does an unnecessary miracle. When the wine runs out, He turns water into wine (perfect passage for Italy huh?). It wasn't just any wine, but it was the best wine. This passage shows me that Jesus cares about His kids, their desires, and the details we even ovelook. He Is a God that blesses extravagantly, and undeservedly.

In the next passage, Jesus is furious with the merchants who were taking advantage of the poor and making a mockery of temple. Religious leaders even challenged Him, and He responded with truth. Jesus is a God that cares about truth and about the marginalized and oppressed.

He is not a stoic baby with an angelic golden halo around His head, as depicted in the art all over Italy. He is very much concerned with our hearts. He blesses and fights for the poor. That's my God. All is not fully reconciled in my head, but these are the thoughts I think!

I have lots more to say, but this post has gotten very long! More to come...