full circle or paying it forward

When I was young and in high school a college student made me her friend. She invited me to bonfires at her friend's cabin. We went out for coffee. She was sweet, and she laughed at the things I said. She taught me about life. About boys and about God. Inadvertantly, I think. Or thought then.

Then I grew up. At least, halfway. I worked with the youth group. Went to junior high girls' birthday parties. We danced ballet in my driveway. Walked to Pinky's in big groups for ice cream. Some of them, I invited to hang out with my friends. And I drove them all everywhere.

One of those girls has now taken my place. She told told me tonight that sometimes she's not sure when to act like a junior higher and when to be the adult. I told her I always just acted like and idiot. I get that from my dad. Then she told me, laughing at the realization, "I really thought you were my best friend."

And I knew that she got it. That she wanted to be, and was going to be, what that college student was for me, and what I was for her.

That is how you raise up a generation. Glory be to God.

Election Day

I am twenty-three years old - in six days. I work at CAT with numbers and engine parts I never thought I'd have to understand, and I listen to NPR's The World every day on my way home. Marco Werman hosts. But he's in London now, which is too bad because I like his voice. He's covering the election.

There is something about walking on a chilly, drizzly day to cast your vote. When I left, the streets were black from the wet, and my umbrella pattered. My boots are too big - they thudded all rubbery, but it was the only sound above the rain. And something about being twenty-three too. As if people don't expect you to care. But you wow them. Because you do.
Even the air looked blue in the November twilight. The color of rain. And the color of cold. Leaves stuck to everything like they were pasted on, and my hair frizzed the moment I put down the umbrella.

Something solemn too. More than just a drive by. Than a roll down your window and place your order through the speaker.
Like everything else we do.
It is a walk. An every step, every block walk, in an oversized pull-over in the rain.

My town is small, and so there is almost never a line. I shut the curtain behind me. Read each candidate's name. Even the judges and governers who weren't running against anyone. I voted on everything except the amendement. Because I wasn't sure. And I didn't want to be wrong. And then it was done. I put my sticker in my pocket so I wouldn't lose it.  Walked into the same blue night, each step and block home. And I prayed for whoever wins.

From my time with Jesus tonight...

"No Christian has a special work to do. A Christian is called to be Jeuss Christ's own, "a servant [who] is not greather than their master" (John 13:16), and someone who does not dictate to Jesus Christ what he intends to do. Our Lord calls us to no special work - He calls us to Himself. "Pray the Lord of the harvest," and he will engineer your circumstances to send you out as His laborer."

"The key is in following the Master's orders - the key is in prayer. "Pray the Lord of the harvest..." In the natural realm, prayer is not practical but absurd. We have to realize that prayer is foolish from the commonsense point of view."

I believe God is calling me to himself. He is calling me into prayer and a deeper relationship with him in response to my cries for guidance and wisdom. He's showing me the path, and the path is Himself.

Around the Bloc

I haven't had a lot of time to read lately, but I recently managed to sneak in the memior-like stories of Stephanie Elizondo Griest in her book Around the Bloc. If you are interested in travel and inter-cultural relationships I would highly recommend it. It is the true, honest experience of a young traveler. I also had the opportunity to sit in on a skype interview with the author today (wow!!). She's very real and down to earth, which is reflected in her book. Here is an exerpt I found particularly true to my own story:

"Stesha," Valera said softly, "soon you are going to be home in Corpus [Texas], near the ocean. Vcyo budet klassno." Everything will be cool. He popped the top off the champagne and poured a tasting into three flutes. "Here, it is very difficult to live."


"That's the difference between America and Russia, isn't it? There, it is easy; here it is hard," I summed up what people had told me since the day I arrived.


"Legche znachit luchshe," he said as he raised his flute. Easier means better.


"Ne vsegda," I ventured as I clinked his flute. Not always.


"You know, Stesha, it took me a whole year to get over the transition from America back to Russia," Elena offered in her quiet, nonimposing way. "But I can't tell you how strong I feel inside now."


"What caused that, do you think?"


Elena looked out the window a few moments before responding in a steady voice that swelled with pride.
"Wisdon." She smiled, then downed her flute.

A little poetry for you...

Here is a poem I stumbled upon probably a month ago. I'd never met a poem that came close to doing justice to the experience of a bicycle. This is not perfect, but it is nice, and inspired a few cycling poems of my own.

Machines by Michael Donaghy

Dearest, note how these two are alike:

This harpsicord pavane by Purcell

And the racer's twelve-speed bike.

The machinery of grace is always simple.

This chrome trapezoid, one wheel connected

To another of concentric gears,

Which Ptolemy dreamt of and Schwinn perfected,

Is gone. The cyclist, not the cycle, steers.

And in the playing, Purcell's chords are played away.

So this talk, or touch if I were there,

Should work its effortless gadgetry of love,

Like Dante's heaven, and melt into the air.

If it doesn't, of course, I've fallen. So much is chance,

So much agility, desire, and feverish care,

As bicyclists and harpsicordists prove

Who only by moving can balance,

Only by balancing move.

A few things...

God is doing too much to fit into a tiny, little blog post. And I'll admit that I'm a little tired, and worn out. I've been sick for almost three straight weeks. It is wearing me down - I can't wait to be home this week.

The girls that I live with are a gift from God. He planned this out, I know it. We have shared so many tears, so much joy, and so much life stuff that I can't even believe it has only been three months that we have lived together. I am so blessed to be a part of each of their lives.

I've been nannying for a family since September. Two little girls - an almost four-year-old, and a little baby just under a year, I think. She's such a chubs! And always happy :) They are so special to me. But lately the 4yr.old (Em) has been acting up. She'll get really pouty and tell me she is grumpy, but if I give it time she'll usually come around and we have lots of fun.

Last week I asked her why she was sad and pouty and she told me that she misses her mommy. She said "she never plays with me anymore. I miss her." It broke my heart. We talked about it for a few minutes and I tried to tell her that her mommy loves her so much, and that I know she plays with her still. But she told me that mommy never pushes her on the swings anymore (which explains why she cried when we swang at the park the week before and she said she wanted her mom). I know that she is only 4, but I feel like there is something going on, and I want so badly to help. After we talked I grabbed her and put her and the baby on my lap and she said "can I cuddle with you?" So we sat and I sang to her. It was just so heartbreaking. And I'm not really sure what to do about it. But I feel blessed and grateful that God brought me to this family. I am so lucky to be a part of their lives. Advice and prayers are always welcome :)

And now to the actual point of this post: I've uploaded a few new poems to my other blog (corytravels.blogspot.com). Check it out if you're interested (cough, dad, cough) :) If you want to view it, you must be invited by me so shoot me an email, cjuchems@gmail.com.

A real update

A while back I sent out a plea for prayer to some of my strongest allies in life and faith.

I was struggling with some sin, and some temptation, and I was struggling alone. I felt distant from the girls I live with - too distant to talk about it - and didn't know where else to look for support. I knew and felt that my life with Christ was taking some serious hits because of this solo act I was trying; I was simply at a loss.

Living a Christian life alone just does not work. I've tried, thinking, 'I can manage' or 'It will only be for a few weeks'. But weeks turn into months, and I slide into easy, comfortable living. With no one to challenge or encourage me, every part of my life suffers.

Letting my allies know what was up was the first step in reclaiming my freedom in Christ that the world had been so subtly staking out. I'm convinced this is something I will have to continue to do for the rest of my life. Christianity is a battle.

The love and encouragement I received from everyone was overwhelming. I cried with every message remembering and praising God that I really wasn't alone. Because of these friends I found renewed courage, and saw the hand of God working out the details of change.

I prayed with my roommates, and we shared our hearts. I sucked it up and emailed a church leader about joining a small group. I asked a North Park faculty member to pray for me.

It isn't perfect, but I'm moving into places where I have accountability and real, honest fellowship.

I am most excited about the small group from my church. Brenda and I went for the first time a few weeks ago and felt instantly at home. They spoke about things that are so heavy on my heart, and they welcomed us like family. I'm really looking forward to growing with these people and learning from them and their wisdom.

And since picking myself up from the sticky gum of self-pity (or rather, being lifted up by my brothers and sisters), God has been reminding me of his desire and command for me to share the gospel. It's been on my heart, and I pray it continues to be.

Just last weekend a good friend from Romania stayed with me for a day and a half. It was so great to show her the city (she'd never been to Chicago! or the US!) and to catch up on the three years since we'd last met. And it was great because God was not going to let her leave here without me sharing about Him. I asked her who God was to her and was able to explain my view of God and what He means to me. So awesome.

Thanks to my allies who pray for me, and love on me like no one else does. And thanks to my God for his unceasing faithfulness. I'm growing, and I just wanted to share with you all my joy and excitement.