Unnerved.

The rain was falling steadily as I trudged up the muddy hill. Tucking my chin into my chest I pressed myself into the rushing wind as it whistled past me. The fog hung among the towering trees. Darkness quickly approaching. With my head bent, I saw my wide, weathered, weary feet morph into a pair of chunky keens and the grey elven cloak fade into a purple hood. The familiar Lord of the Rings soundtrack score played softly in my mind as I continued upward.

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I am on a journey indeed, but to liken it to the grueling, and grave journey of one Mr. Frodo Baggins would be an incredible overstatement. I just finished The Two Towers and feel like I'm living in Middle Earth. Here in the middle of a creation masterpiece-the redwood forest. At every turn, I am transported to a land of fantasy. I'm engulfed by the beauty of my surroundings and the hearts I'm beginning to know.

I live a blessed life. Let's take it truthful step forward to say posh and privileged. Even as I day dreamed about Frodo's quest today, I was wearing a newly purchased pair of much "needed" hiking pants. My conscience quieted by the Clearance sign above the hanger. And although I am wet, I am only on an hour long leisure hike and will soon return to a house containing dry clothes, a warm bed, and cup boards full of food. I'm not trekking across Mirkwood forest or climbing the steep stair or running for my life in Sierra Leone. I have been given so much, and honestly, most days it just doesn't seem fair.

The reference to Sierra Leone comes from Ishmael Beah's book A Long Way Gone which I just started today. [thank you 2010 reading list] I've been told it is a heavy book. Even discouraged from reading it by a friendly bookstore clerk in the Mission in San Francisco. Everyone has been telling the truth. I cannot begin to wrap my mind, so soaked in safety, comfort and fortune, around the experiences of this man. And there are so many others like him. So many stories of young eyes seeing violence. Of being torn from family. Stories of empty bellies, evil and brokenness. And what am I doing about this? I'm hiking in the woods, wearing upwards of two hundred dollars on my back. It's something that burns deep within me. I feel nauseous as I write this, letting my mind sit in this feeling of frustration and contradiction. My journey is not trying to save middle earth or running from rebels with guns. The biggest journey I'm on is reconciling the life I've been given and the great disparity between it and so many other's lives in the world. But wait, there should be no harmony achieved in comparing my undeserved privilege to the rest of the world. I should be beside myself, angered to action. Praise be to God that I am unnerved when reading accounts of injustice.

But what about this bit about action. What action am I taking?
Where is the biggest need God. Send me there.
This has been the question for a few years now. And as I slowly settle my bubbling heart, I'm reminded that there is hurt all around me. This week there have been several instances striking very close to home, reminding me of this. And sometimes it still seems so small in comparison to the atrocities experienced all over the world. Miniscule compared to the current situation of those in Haiti. And yet it's real here too. For some unexplainable, honestly somewhat annoying reason, I was born into privilege and plenty. So what can I do from here? What is my role in the redwoods, working with school children?

While asking these questions, part of a verse kept coming to mind. "One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving."
You are strong and loving God. Give me your strength and your love to do what seemingly little I can and please, I beg of you, take care of the rest.