Angel is one of my best friends. He
happens to be engaged to another one of my best friends, Joy.
They're in love and it's beautiful.
They light up when the other one walks into the room. They put each
other first. They can't keep their hands off of each other. If you
ever need a reason to hope, spend some time with the two of them.
Apparently though, Angel used to be
quite the ass. I didn't know this version of Angel. I've only ever
known the version of Angel that buys extra slices of pizza and then
walks the neighborhood to see who looks hungry.
The conversation quickly turned from
the two versions of Angel into a debate about the types of events in
our lives that change us.
See, Angel went to Morocco two summers
ago. One of our friends thought that going to Morocco changed him
more than if he went to visit family in the Dominican Republic. Our
other friend thought that poverty is poverty is poverty and exposing
yourself to the world will change you, regardless of where you go.
The debate lasted about three hours.
Nobody won.
That conversation has resounded between
my ears ever since.
I've spent the past few weeks looking
at my own life and wondering which places, which circumstances, which
conversations, which relationships, and which moments have had the
greatest impact on my life.
What broadened my horizons the most?
What awakened my soul to beauty? What kindled the wonder within me?
What taught me to turn my head towards grace and mercy? What made my
hands need to create?
Obviously, it's a combination of all of
the good, the true, the beautiful, the success, the failure, and the
ugly in my life experiences. It's holistic. Obviously.
But even so, I can look back at
definitive moments that shaped me. I can look back and see my life
hinge on one moment and forever alter the course of what was and what
would be.
And even still, I can look back and see
that I have consistently been changed over time without an event in
which to give credit or blame.
I ponder all of these things on the eve
of the eve of my journey to Kenya for the summer. I sit in the
still of the night in the comfort of my sister's home knowing that I
will soon be thousands of miles away in a world I've only ever
imagined. I think of how having my family has given me the
foundation to leave. I think of how this new experience will alter
my view of the world from here on out.
I wonder without answers.
I don't know.
I don't know if Morocco would have
changed Angel more than The Dominican Republic. I don't know.
I don't know if Kenya will change me
more than Latin America, more than the Middle East. I don't know.
I do know, however, that I have been
changed. I know that I will be changed. I know that that comes with
a responsibility to see my community, my neighbors, my school, with
eyes that are awakened to love. I know that all of my experiences are in
vain if I don't live in a way that extends dignity to the man that
sleeps outside of the deli by my house. I know that if I forget all
that I experience so that it never touches my daily life, then I
don't deserve to go in the first place.
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