Atmospheres...

(Copied from the scribbles in my notebook...)
"Early morning. Here I am, cozy in flannel pajamas with a cup of steaming Folgers; I'm curled up in Dad's easy chair in his office. Profound Quiet. This has been one of the most suprising aspects of my return. I can sit here and literally only hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, or the occasional neighbor driving to work. World, are you alive? People where are you? In Cambodia there seemed to be constant clamour. Sometimes it sang like a symphony to me, those hot afternoons in the market. Other moments I would have given an arm and a leg for the traffic and crowds to be stilled.

It reminds me of the difference I feel in the spiritual atmospheres from East to West. In Cambodia the light and darkness are in open combat, which made my soul feel overly-aware and busy. It felt like I was standing in an open space during a tornado, and everything that wasn't strapped down being shaken.

In America, I was unprepared for violence of another kind. There is a quieter, more subtle battle. As I sat before the Lord yesterday morning I was trying to put my finger on what I was sencing around me. There wasn't the pressure and resistance I felt everytime I was in the prayer room in Phnom Penh. No, this was... a thick, calloused quiet. It felt to my being akin to bundling up as a child for winter. Mom would make me put on so many layers to ensure my comfort that when I finally got outside to play I would just lay on a snowdrift and feel big, haha. It feels like that here, like I'm wearing a giant snowsuit, wandering around so padded I can barely feel, see, or hear. Do I miss the raw scream of Cambodia? At this point, heck no. But I feel an equal warning against the quieter violence of apathy, and comfort. And I find God in this quiet, if I am still long enough to allow His Spirit to penetrate the layers."

Aside from noticing contrasts, I pretty feel normal being "back." Yeah my mind is swirling with trying to debrief the last 16 months... but thats God's process. And I'm gladly giving Him time. Maybe over the years I've gotten more fluid since my travels have taken me farther.

Seems like everything stayed the same here, and I'm deeply comforted by that. We sat in the diner for pancakes this morning, and everything is familiar. All the same beautiful faces have my heart glowing in warm happy feelings... and there is snow, yes, cold, glorious snow. The scant melting piles are ugly but I love it. And I have to say, hickville has not changed. The U.P. has not changed. My weird neighbors are sitting in their lawnchairs smoking by a bonfire right now. heck maybe I'll go join em. ah, its great to be back.