Take My Life

Take my life and let it be
consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
Take my moments and my days,
let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands and let them move
at the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet and let them be
swift and beautiful for Thee.

Take my voice and let me sing
always, only for my King.
Take my lips and let them be
filled with messages from Thee.
Take my silver and my gold
not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect and use
every power as You choose.

Here am I, all of me.
Take my life, it’s all for Thee.

Take my will and make it Thine
it shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart it is Thine own
it shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord I pour
at Your feet its treasure store
Take myself and I will be
ever, only, all for Thee.
Take myself and I will be
ever, only, all for Thee.

Here am I, all of me.
Take my life, it’s all for Thee.

A look Towards the Future…

I’m writing this on my lunch break at work so this will be brief. This blog isn’t finished and I promised myself I would write something to start bringing it towards completion. In the past few weeks this summer I have been working on finding my way back to Cape Town for a semester starting this January. While my plans are still in the beginning stages, I am looking forward to the opportunity to go back. Staying in a new place for 3 weeks is really just a tease. I only began to get a taste of the South Africa lifestyle and, now that I’m back in the United States, all I can think about is going back to the Western Cape.I feel like there are a lot of things I have left unfinished in Cape Town. I’ve met so many amazing people and have felt so compelled to help those in need that I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. I need to go back. I’ve got the travelers itch and, at this point, I feel like the things I have to offer to the people of Gugulethu are much greater than what I have to offer to people here in the United States.If I get back down there next semester, I will attempt to study at the University of Cape Town. I will take a few classes at UCT and, hopefully be able to do some kind of research or internship for academic credit that would revolve around fighting poverty in the townships. I have to admit that the reason I would go back to Cape Town wouldn’t be wholely academic in nature. I want to go back because I’ve seen how people live there. I’ve seen the hope and determination they have, and have seen that even though some people there live with nothing, they have more than the average american could ever hope for. And that’s not a statement that I can elaborate on. It’s just something you come to understand when you experience what all 17 of us have. I have contacts at the JL Zwane center, contacts in Cape Town, knowledge of the University, and a family in Gugulethu who called me their son from the minute I set foot in their house. If these facts don’t inspire hope, I don’t know what will. With that said I think I will leave it there for now. At this point, going back is still a dream floating around in limbo. But I am doing everything I can to explore the option.

 

 

Meanwhile, Back in Minneapolis…

Today is day 2 of being home. After about 30 or so hours of battling airport security, shifting luggage from one suitcase to another to avoid overweight charges, and attempting to stay awake for a prolonged amount of time in order to get back to Minneapolis time, I have arrived safely back in Saint Louis Park. I would have blogged yesterday but I’m still very jet lagged. Aside from the sensational feeling of jet lag, I feel a little jaded (that seems to be the buzz word of the last couple of posts). I’m still in that stage of bewilderment because I feel like so much has changed in my life but the suburbs and everyone in them is still the same. It’s a feeling I was prepared for, but being prepared for something and actually embracing it while it occurs are two different things. My blog has become a little sloppy towards the end as I’ve grown tired of writing, but I feel that there are still many things that need to be said.

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Everyone I’ve talked to has told me they are excited to see pictures from my trip. That’s understandable. But I am just stricken by this sensation that my pictures don’t do justice to what I’ve experienced. The old adage that a picture is worth a thousand words doesn’t seem to ring true in my mind. I’d much rather have people sit and ask me questions about my experience or ask about my blog than show them pictures. This day in age, everyone knows what a slum looks like. Modern technology and it’s pictures have permeated across the intellect of everyone I know. We’ve all seen magazine articles or documentaries about how difficult the lives of the people in the slums are. Unless you are a Pulitzer prize winning photographer, I really don’t think watching a slide show of pictures is going to serve to explain the experience very well. Sure, a few pictures are a must, but pictures never explain the abstract thought and philosophy of an experience.

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I think one of other major reasons that I feel so jaded is that I’m really not sure what I want from people upon my return to the United States. I determined earlier that the purpose of this trip was interpersonal growth. I’ve certainly achieved that but how do I share this with others? I feel like much of what I have learned isn’t anything that can be put into words (or pictures). In fact, I think that much of what I have learned hasn’t even been realized yet. Given these assumptions, what is appropriate for me to expect from everyone else? What am I expecting or hoping for from everyone else? I probably should have given these questions some thought before I left so I could prepare better for coming back. I really wish there was just some way that I could bottle up the emotions I experienced studying in Gugulethu and Cape town to give to everyone.

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Right now I’m sitting at Starbucks writing this blog, and I’ve just had an epiphany. This post has gone all over the board, raising question after question but I feel that whimsical writing best captures my thoughts so please bear with me because I think I’ve conjured an answer to one of my previous enigmas. This study abroad experience is not about pictures or blogs. It’s about the emotion. It’s about the intense feeling of pain for the people in the townships contrasted against their regular dancing and joy as our group ate at various houses each evening. It’s about the bonds developed between me and my roommate, and the personal stories I shared with others during the past three weeks. It’s about how I felt anxious before leaving, or angry when I heard about the perils faced by my host brother. In fact, it’s even about how I’m feeling jaded right now. Yes! That is what it’s about! I want people to understand how I felt and why I felt it. Those other things, pictures and blog posts, are just tools for others to use to come to understand these emotions.

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Is it reasonable for me to expect others to understand how I felt during the experience? Probably not. Emotions are perhaps the one thing that makes me who I am and not someone else. But if it really is about my emotional experiences there, I can finally begin to understand why it is so difficult coming back from an experience abroad.

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It is probably of equal importance to understand that people will not understand my emotions. Often times my feelings will sway me one way in a circumstance yet my mind tells me I should be feeling a totally opposite way. Sometimes even I cannot justify my own emotions to myself much less to other people.

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I’ve always been intrigued by the question of why. Why can’t people understand you when you come back from overseas? If my perambulations are correct, then I can start focusing on how. How can I share my emotions with you? How can these emotions be communicated?

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It appears that I’ve answered one question but have simply been led to another subsequent one of equal importance. Such is life, though. As long as I can communicate to whoever is listening to me that I want him/her to understand how I felt, then perhaps the comprehension gap can be closed at least a little bit. So, if you do see me and want to hear about my experience, please, don’t ask to see pictures, don’t ask what the best part was (it was all great), but please do ask me how I felt about certain experiences, because that is what I want you to understand.

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