Day 53.

Today I...

...saw a fire hydrant. It was the first one I've seen; I've been here almost two months now.

...missed the sound of seagulls.

...realized I am going to miss not having a cell phone. It may not be for a while after I get back, but I know that I will get a phone again when I return to the states (I got my first one this last June, just for work during the summer). To be honest, I do miss getting texts and calls -- sorry mother, I know that disappoints you -- but there's a different reason that I don't want a cell phone: I know when I have a cell phone, there will be no reason for me to constantly wear my mother's watch. Never in my life have I had a security blanket, I've never needed a nightlight, but here, that blue fistful of plastic is on my wrist all day and all night.

...learned a lot from the book of John. I've been reading it on the Sundays that I don't understand the sermons (there's one pastor who my sister tells me she doesn't even understand), and I've been getting a lot out of it. As some of you may know, I've been working on re-writing the gospel as if it happened in a modern high school, something that has made the Bible completely different for me. Rather than imagining Jesus about to celebrate the passover, I saw a senior named "J" getting ready for prom, looking at the friends he had grown so close to. Let me show you the scene I see:

There they were, the whole herd of them: J, his pack of twelve close buddies, Lars and his sisters -- Martha and Maria. Some of them had on tuxedos, some of them didn't. The girls were stunning to say the least. Behind them the ocean stretched out its arms to welcome the sighing sun. The slipping warmth reflected on every pore of every face and J saw what he had done, what this love had created; these people weren't servants, they weren't students...they were friends. They had helped him and hurt him, they had fed his love with a love of their own. In a few months they were all going to go separate ways, to separate schools, to separate lives. In a few days he would be gone from this place forever. There would be no welcome home hugs at Christmas, no more bonfires with Ben and Jerry's, no more midnight lake swims for him next summer. This was one of the last moments he had to share.

Just as he thought this, Maria produced an elegant boutonniere for every young man in the group, and an especially exquisite one for J. As they fastened them, J heard Jude grumble, "Stupid expensive roses. Did she not see the homeless man who sleeps in front of the florist shop?"

J grabbed Jude's startled eyes with his own and breathed, "Just leave her alone. She's going to buy these same flowers at my funeral." Jude was perplexed and his eyes dropped like guilt. "Look at me!" J demanded, but his voice broke. Jude thought he could see traces of sobs in J's eyes, but he must have imagined it, for he continued calmly, "The poor will always need you -- right now, I need you."

It says later that Jesus asked God to "take this cup from me", so obviously he had no intentions of leaping up onto that cross. So often we imagine Jesus as a shepherd and a savior, but when do we think of him as some one who needs us? It must have been hard for him to celebrate on that Palm Sunday, knowing that his time with the people he had become so close to was about to end abruptly. I think this relationship is summed up well in in this verse:

John 15:16
You did not choose me, but I chose you.

When I look back on seeds of friendships, it's always interesting to remember the people that I really wanted to get to know. It's overwhelming to think that Jesus thinks that about me.

...smiled at the thought of a nap.

--Hannah