So I am lactose intolerant. Either that or I am a hypochondriac - like my sister, grandfather and his mother. Though slightly unsure of my status, I do believe that my body is going through some sort of strange metamorphosis. In to what? I'm not sure. I am really crossing my fingers that I do not become one of those annoying customers who forcefully request if there is dairy, whey, egg whites, peanuts or anything that had a face in their soup du jour. Please do not mistake me, their inquiry is entirely valid, it just seems a bit neurotic and excessive; something you roll yours eyes at. And that is just enough for me to want to avoid it.
I am sipping from a hot cup of ginger tea in my local town center Starbucks in hopes to alleviate reoccurring stomach issues of the week. I've just purchased a french press for my uncle's birthday - their third press sale from me in the past twenty or so days. Aaron, a barista who for months played multiple albums of Mariah Carey constantly and spent a recently ceased silent animosity towards me, made a joke that all of their merchandise goes to me. This is hardly true but humorous because they often sell their treasured syrups and scarce Kenya presses to me - usually at a partner discount too! I believe I know every barista there by name and I'm there so much I often wonder of what they think of me, who they think I am. Because I know the way of the barista: the smile, the speak and the weird vocal projection whilst calling out drinks at the bar. I really want to know them and I am closer to this than before. Maybe this is something God thinks I should do. Maybe this is a small part of being a lovenvoy. Could I show God's love by tipping? By being intentionally interested in conversation? By leaving before they close to save them awkward, "10 minutes left"? By remembering their names?
I am not sure, but I think so.
I do know that I am so glad to exist here, in this specific place and time. I feel privileged to know and to be known: I am in Christ. I am a member of a family. I am a friend. I am a collector of memories and rhythms, wisdom and knowledge, lyric and verse. I feel like these statements appear annually in my writing, a need to reestablish my identity and align myself to the person I am meant to be and whom I represent.
On this note, I feel drawn to share a bit about my recent conversations with Kenny through several revelations and heights and even fireworks. This is what he wrote to me:
"...if you really want to learn and grow into the person you need to be, you're going to have to learn from other pastors...I get the feeling it's something that is vital for where you're going and maybe something you should think about"
I appreciate this because it is true. I also appreciate this because I am prone to pride in who I am, disregarding a lot of methods, style and wisdom from great leaders and caring pastors because of some latent fear of losing myself to these things. And yes, maybe this could be a problem in excess, but really Kenny is right. And I haven't put my finger on it but I believe it is somehow tied to strange competency, identity and fulfillment issues. Though these are prevalent issues, these things all seem to fade away when I remember that I am in Christ and in Him I am truly, viciously and extraordinarily Landon
Fucking Ajimura, lovenvoy to the nations. If Christians only remembered.
I guess through all of this I still come to the same place with the same conclusions. It is my aim to be a lover and a prayer in all essence, in all truth, all in Christ Jesus, for all of my days.
And I believe this is it.
