March 2020

What happened this month?
This month has felt like 3 years. COVID-19 has been the star of the month; bringing with it more media consumption and more anxiety than I have felt in years.

At the beginning of this month, we visited Los Angeles as part of Katie's spring break. If I'm honest, the overall feeling while being there was one of anxiety. It was at the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak (which, honestly now feels so simple). Cases were just starting to appear around the country and specifically in L.A. It's crazy to think we debated not going because there were 15 cases or so. Now an area with less than 500 feels safe.

Part of the reason it felt so anxiety-producing to be there was because of the constant attention to the virus and because we felt so close to it. At that point, there had been 0 cases in MN, which I think made us feel inherently safer. The proximity of everything in LA - people, cars, traffic, etc. - also contributed to the anxiety. It's crazy to think that we were just riding around town, stopping at shops to eat, and generally feeling like, "ah, this ain't so bad. This will go away, just give it time."

It was really fun to see my family and spend time with each of them. Even though I was ready to go by the end of the week, I was still sad to go (per usual). I love my family. I love spending time with them and getting the chance to settle into what feels like a "normal" time at home. I know my family is harder for Katie, but I appreciate the time we get to spend.

Once we got back things really seemed to kick into gear. COVID cases started going up, cities started to shut down, and life got very full here at Bethel. We planned and planned and planned for all students to move out of housing. I was on the phone way too much and in the office way too late. I was stressed and constantly thinking and making quick decisions. Professionally speaking, I was very impressed with myself and others saw that too. I know I can be the type of leader and worker who makes quick decisions and this entire process really brought that out. I worked really well in tandem with Jim, Jodie, Miranda, Alicia, and Dr. Washington. I felt like my input was heard and that I added value to the conversations we were having. If there was ever a doubt in me about leading through uncertain and rapidly changing times, I think I dispelled some of that over the last two weeks. It's hard to believe it's only been two weeks. Again, it feels like 3 years.

The hardest thing for me has been being thrust into a new "normal" where absolutely nothing feels as it should be. I sense a loss of security. A loss of routine and habits. A loss of motivation. Those lost spaces have been filled with anxiousness and worry. I worry about the people I love and care about in Los Angeles. I worry they'll get it. I worry the city will not be able to control it. I worry that too many people are not taking it seriously. I worry and worry and worry.

When it comes down to it, the truth is I am scared. I'm scared for my family, friends, and what this virus is doing to all of us mentally and emotionally. I wish I wasn't scared. I wish I could be "stronger." But this is what I've got right now.

I recently heard a saying on the radio that has, at a minimum, given me a second to pause and breathe. The saying is this:

This will be okay or this will pass. 

The idea is simple: COVID-19 and the numbers, the deaths, the fear, and the worry - it will be okay and maybe not as bad as every.single.article seems to be predicting. 

Or

Things will be heard for a while. People will be hurt and sad and worried and challenged. AND it will come to pass. 

I will never again take for granted a high five, toilet paper, sporting events, handshakes, and much, much more. 

May we be kinder friends, more community-minded people, patient neighbors, and humble learners in the coming weeks and months.

January 2020

What happened this month?

The new year is off to an okay start. We started off the year in California with my family. Unfortunately, there were times where it felt like a lot to be there. Sometimes it feels like we just exist there and there's not a lot of intentionality. My family doesn't do the best at asking us questions or getting some of our thoughts. Honestly, I sometimes shut off my emotions when I go home in order to avoid being hurt or exposed. Still, I always appreciate the time there. I love seeing my grandma, brother, mom, and dad. I love seeing my college friends and just imagining what life could look like if I was there with them. 

I think I get stuck in the idea of "what could be." What would it be like if I was in LA? Who would my friends be? What would our community be? Would we love it? Or would we hate it? Answers I cannot know right now. I dream of life in Southern California while I equally try to enjoy life here. 

This month felt fairly normal overall. After returning from LA we settled back into life at Bethel. I'm proud of some of the changes I've helped implement for Residence Life. I feel like I'm leading well, trying new things, and mostly landing well with the team. 

What did you notice in yourself this month?

I noticed I was a little more anxious overall. I have felt worried about money for most of my life, but that was definitely at the forefront of my mind this month. I just want to be okay financially, but I don't know what is going to help me feel that. Will it be when student loans are paid? When Katie starts working? When my grandma's house is paid? I'm not 100% sure. I worry about my family, specifically my mom, when it comes to money. I want her to be okay and she generally is. The thing that hangs over my head, I guess, is the house. I don't want to lose it. I don't want my mom to be displaced. I want to figure out how to keep it, but I feel like I can't quite start that conversation until Katie starts working. 

I noticed I was anxious about "what's next." I feel like I've been thinking about for over two years now, but it was more present. I've begun researching Baylor University's Ph.D. in Higher Education program and I currently feel strongly about that school. I love the blend of private Christian, yet well respected academically. I love that it's fully funded and sounds really supportive. I love that they're growing, it seems. The only thing I don't love is the unexpected move to Texas. It's certainly not a place I ever considered living. I don't love that it puts us 5 years into a different community, which also means an additional 5 years not in Los Angeles or Minnesota. It could be really good for us, but it could also be quite challenging. 

When I ask myself why I want to do a Ph.D. program, part of my completely honest answer is that I desire the prestige. Is that bad? Probably a bit. But I love the idea of climbing that academic ladder, becoming an "expert" in something, and being able to look back on my life someday and be proud of the academic accomplishments I've had. I also know, however, that this cannot just be for me. What do I want my life to be about? I want to impact students. I want to help students who look like me to believe they can be something someday. I want to figure out how to be part of the solution for Christian Higher Education, and for Higher Ed in general. I feel passionate about the idea that Higher Education can be part of what helps people get out of poverty, exposed to new ideas, and helps create a better life. I want to be able to hold onto this idea as I continue to consider "what's next."

The last thing I noticed about myself was this motivation to exercise. I genuinely want to do it. Sure, sometimes it's a little more of a pain in the ass to do it and I'd rather not. But I know the feeling of not exercising and feeling like a sloth and I do not want that. I feel motivated. I'm feeling pretty okay about myself. I'm excited to see if I can actually continue this streak. I hope so. 

What are you celebrating this month?

I'm celebrating that my brother got a job with the Dodgers. I'm so very proud of him and, quite honestly, relieved. He needed this break and I'm so glad he got it. I think he'll feel motivated at work, motivated about himself personally, and finally be proud to say, "this is what I do." I didn't know it at the moment, but I was feeling really anxious for him to get that job and I'm so glad he did! 

I'm celebrating that finances are coming to the forefront of my mind. Yes, it makes me anxious and worried, but I like that I'm actually thinking about it and trying to make a plan. I feel like I've done a decent job with managing our money the last year or so and I want to continue that. 

Lastly, I'm celebrating Katie and I. I think it's been a little bit of an odd month for us, relationally, Sometimes we have been more disconnected than at other times. But I feel like we are coming along in really knowing each other and being able to communicate honestly. 

Next month I...

• Want to continue to see myself progress in exercising. 
• Want to continue to read daily/weekly. That really helps me.
• Want to continue researching and processing what we want our lives to look like in 1.5 years. 
• Want to find time to reflect and be present. This journal entry has been super helpful. I feel a weight a little bit lifted off of me after writing, which I suppose is the point of this.

Until next time. 

- G 

It Hurts

Once again, the last few days have felt particularly hard for me and, perhaps, for many of you. In case you haven't been following, President Trump sent a series of tweets and, subsequently, has had a series of comments regarding four women in congress (and others) with the sentiment that sounds eerily like "go back to your country." You knew this would send us into a frenzy of hot takes, comments, opinions, and, of course, blog posts. I've waited my place in line and now I'm hoping you still have some space in your mind and thoughts to hear me out. It won't be too long, I promise. 

(sigh) This one hurts. A lot of comments in recent years have hurt. But this one stings because it hits close to home. I come from a family of immigrants (don't we all?). A family that came to this country in search of a better life than the one they had. It was hard. In fact, it was scary and lonely for several people in my family. I'm the beneficiary of hard work and sacrifice. The story I was told growing up sounded a lot like, "we did this so that you could have it better than us." This is not to say that your story is less or your family's life wasn't as hard as mine. I'm just telling you about my family's story. 

Anyway, it's hard for me to read "go back" and "you can leave." To be honest, the President is speaking to people who are very similar to me. Whose families are not white, were maybe not born here, but who have worked their butts off to represent themselves as proudly as possible. 

I've been asked, "no, where are you really from?"

To which I said, "uhh... Los Angeles, CA. Boyle Heights? You've probably never heard of Boyle Heights, right?"

What I was really being told was, "You don't look like me. You don't sound like me. Your skin's definitely darker, therefore, you must not be from here." And, no, I was not misunderstanding this person's intent with his question. When I said my family had origins in Mexico and Nicaragua he said, "Yeah, that's what I meant." (shrugs and sighs, honestly). And more recently I had an experience where someone told me they "unfortunately" lived in a predominantly Mexican community. More sighs. Sometimes I don't even know what to say. 

The hardest thing for me, and I'll end with this, is that disconnection is happening strongly across this country. Just read any social media feed and you'll find yourself bursting with anger.

How could people be like this? What the heck is wrong with us?

I have to admit that I'm probably not that far off, though I wouldn't consider myself a troll. What I mean is that I am also imperfect. I have my views and opinions which are not fully informed. I wish I was better informed, honestly. And I work on that. The truth is that we can all be a little more informed... and empathetic and understanding and nonjudgemental and kind. 

And kind. 

So the last days have felt terrible. I've read too many posts and watched too many videos on how one side of the aisle is worse than the other (and vice versa). What I have come to know over the years, however, is that empathy and connection are not built online (ironically, this blogpost is online). But that empathy and connection are built through stories and experiences. My hope in you reading this is not that you would side with me or change your viewpoints. I bet your views and opinions are solid and based on true experiences. My hope in sharing is that you would read parts of my story and think, "well maybe there's something I just haven't considered yet. Let me look into it."

I hope you feel connected. I hope you feel challenged. I'm hoping to feel these things, too. In the process, I hope you find someone to share your story with. And I hope we all find the courage to grow a little more empathetic, kind, and loving with one another. 

Mostly okay

Like many of us, last week felt like a particularly challenging one. On whatever side of the coin you landed on - Trump or Clinton or somewhere in between - you probably experienced some hurtful words, negative reactions, and overall heaviness. I may not know your particular story or how you arrived on your side of the coin, but I understand your heaviness. I understand the weight of feeling like your voice is not being heard (and yes, I do believe that is happening on both sides).

Last week felt heavy because I was at odds with people I really care about. I felt heavy because I experienced pain and confusion and hurt with people I love. It felt like many people in my circle of influence were either questioning, feeling misunderstood, feeling attacked, feeling devalued, feeling judged, or feeling challenged as we tried to communicate and grasp it all.

Let me tell you, it was not easy to listen last week. For someone who spends a lot of time listening, the last thing I wanted to do was seek to understand. I did not wish to empathize. I did not desire middle ground. There was no silver lining, there was no dialogue. You were wrong and I was right and that was it.

But that was wrong.

I'm sorry. For those of you that I hurt by my quick reactions, my long moments silence, and my rants, I am sorry.

I don't feel bad for feeling what I felt. It was lament and it was appropriate. I don't believe in always shoving our feelings down for the sake of keeping the peace. I don't think that's healthy and I know that leads to bitterness and contempt. I was hurting. My pain was real and my fears were valid.

At the same time, I know I was a lesser version of myself. I was not gentle, I was not kind, I did not love the other, and I sought to speak before I sought to listen. I recently learned that hurt people hurt people. In other words, if I am hurting, it's almost certain I will hurt others. That's not who I want to be.

In all seasons, but in this particular one, I want to be kinder and more understanding. I want to welcome different perspectives more than I have in the past. And I want to be gentle in a world that can sometimes feel so divisive. I really do believe in the power of sharing our stories and journeys. I believe it can build connections and bridges where there were none before. I'm mostly okay. I still have questions and some lingering hurt, but I'm mostly okay.

Home, again.

All the transitions I've experienced this year have been challenging. In some ways I maybe should have expected it, in other ways I could not have foreseen any of it.  

For those of you who I've talked to about my life this year, or the few times I've taken time to write about it, the general theme has been summed up in the word fascinating. 

It's been fascinating to experience my life unfold before my eyes. In general I have noticed that I understand the importance and weight of a season in hindsight. I think it's fairly rare to feel the importance and weight of a season of life in the actual moment. I was able to soak everything in because I knew something important was happening; something of lasting value was in my midst and I had to grasp it with all that I had in me. 

Still, I found that the season seemed to fly by and, like sand running through my fingers, it slipped away a little too quickly. Goodbye's were said, tears were shed, and I found myself saying "I already miss it" probably sooner than I could have actually missed it.

I'm the type of person that gets attached to people, places, and experiences. Essentially, every noun. I always hated the end of the school year, even in high school and college. While most were overly-eager to go get the heck out of there, I often found myself thinking "can't we just hold on a little longer?" I even dislike things like New Year's Eve, oddly enough. Because it signals the end of something, no matter how great or horrible the year was. More importantly, it signals the beginning of something unknown, something new, something with so much potential that it's kind of scary. 

The beginning of something new is a vulnerable place to be. It's like standing at the edge of the water (Ocean or Lake. Thanks Minnesota). It's like standing at the edge of the water knowing that it's going to be cold upon entering and that initially I might say "why did I ever get in?" Slowly but surely, however, the body adjusts and I realize how much I actually love it. Then there are moments of panic when the waves crash into me or when my feet can no longer touch the ground. I feel a slight pull in my stomach. I feel a momentary terror that says "see, you shouldn't have gotten in." But each time, I find my footing, I find my breathe, I ride the waves, and I'm okay. 

Moving to Minnesota changed me. It changed my perspective on the world. It changed how I viewed myself in mostly positive ways. It forced my to rely on other people when I'm someone that doesn't exactly like to do that. Minnesota made me appreciate both the warmth of the sun and the frigidness of the dead of winter. Minnesota helped me understand that, just like the seasons change, we are always in a cycle of becoming. Becoming what? Only you can figure that out. Sometimes we wither away. Sometimes the coldest of nights are when you find the most warmth in people. We come back to life, yes, we come back to life and get to breath in the freshness of spring. 

So I am again at the beginning of something new in a place that is familiar. Adjusting to old streets, old familiar faces, and the hustle and bustle of a place I will always long for. I've been to the coast again and experienced the tremendous power of the waves and the wind on the beach. I've experienced traffic once again where the only question that can be asked is, "Where is everybody going?" 

I find myself here. Knowing full well that I can call multiple places home and realizing what a wonderful blessing that actually is. It is of course challenging. It is in some ways fascinating. It is in many ways wonderful. So I will enjoy being here: home, again. Until I find myself back there: home, again. 

{Lights Out}

 

"God puts out our lights to keep us safe because we are never more in danger of stumbling than when

we think we know where we are going. When we can no longer see the path we are on, when we can no longer read the maps we have brought with us or sense anything in the dark that might tell us where we are, then and only then are we vulnerable to God's protection. This remains true even when we cannot discern God's presence. The only thing the dark night requires of us is to remain conscious. If we can stay with the moment in which God seems most absent, the night will do the rest."

I've been wrestling a lot with this idea of darkness while reading this book called "Learning to Walk in the Dark." The book essentially is asking me this question: How often have I run away (or tried to run away) from something I considered to be dark/scary/lonely/unknown/whatever it is that I fear most?

Kind of like the quote above says, I truly believe God has knocked my lights out this year. The biggest thing in my life has been my transition to MN and Bethel University. It's been hard, lonely, fun, challenging, unique, and so full of the love that cannot begin to explain it. It's the best thing I've done in my young life and I'm so genuinely glad that I'm here.   

The one thing I keep coming back to is the reality that I did not want this.   

I did not want God to pluck me from everything I'd ever known into something completely different, completely outside of my comfort zone, completely strange, something completely dark. 

I had a plan. I had a direction I wanted my life to go in. I had the road map and the sense that I was in control and God slapped it out of my hands and said, "This way."  

I started reading Exodus and I feel like I'm Moses (LOL no, I don't actually think I AM Moses). But I resonate with his response. In the beginning of Exodus, God has heard the groaning of His people and has called upon Moses to be the one to help rescue Israel. God appears to Moses in a burning bush and begins by explaining all that He is. He is holy, He is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, He knows the sufferings of His people, and He wants to set them free from captivity (Ex. 3: 7-10). After explaining all of that, Abraham's first response is not, "Yes, Lord, send me" or "Sweet let's do this."

After hearing directly from the God of the universe, Moses says "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?" (Ex. 3: 11) Moses, understandably in my opinion, questions God's call on his life. 

That's exactly what I did.  

God told me that I needed to move away because there was something out here for me that I needed to learn. God reminded me of His faithfulness & love throughout my life. Yet, my first response was "Who am I?" Who do I think I am? What makes me think that I could actually do this? Who do I think I am if I truly believe I could make it out there on my own? 

What I've truly come to believe is that God heard the groaning of my heart. I longed for authentic community. I longed for growth. I longed to give myself away in for something genuinely good. God has provided all of those things and so much more here at Bethel. He has surrounded me with the most loving RA community I could have ever dreamed of. He has surrounded me with residents who are so fun and light-hearted. He has surrounded me with a staff that has loved me in my hardest moments.  

Most importantly, however, God has knocked my lights out.

From something I did not want to something I can't imagine living without, God has completely knocked my lights out. He took away all sense of direction, He took away all sense of comfort, He took away all sense of my control and said "This way. Enough with the games and enough with the talk. It's time for you to really trust Me and the only way I can do that is by making all things dark."

You see, in a way I feel as if I am finally living and running on all cylinders. It is dark out here, but not always in the sense that is scary. It is dark because I have finally allowed God to take hold of my life (I'm still learning that every day and will continue to learn that all the days of my life) and take me in the direction He knows best. I am still scared, I still have questions, and I often peak out from under this darkness to try and regain some control in my life.

Moses and myself asked God, "Who am I?" In other words, "I'm scared. I don't want to do this. Can it be another way?"  

God response was, "But I am with you." And I'm slowly learning that that is enough.

{Changes}

Chill, it's gonna be okay. 

Hi.

As always, I never write down enough of my thoughts. When I do, though, I feel like they come out quite nicely. If you decide to read this I hope you find something to relate to or learn from. Most of all, I hope you see God's hand in it all.

Moving to Minnesota is easily the most interesting and difficult thing I've ever done in my life. I thought traveling was strange, I thought grad school was kinda hard, I even thought Pepperdine would be the greatest experience of my life. All of those things are true, but this experience - moving to Minnesota - has been all of the things I listed and more.

It's been hard. Moving away from family, friends, and literally every person I've ever known is hard. It's so strange to walk into a church or grocery store and know that literally no one is going to recognize you. There's a zero percent chance that anyone will say, "Hey is that Gus? Whoa long time no see man!" I know that's a strange thing to think about, but I didn't realize I liked randomly bumping into people until there was no one to bump into.

I've definitely missed a sense of home. Leading up to my birthday weekend I was really bummed out because I knew that my friends would have probably planned to go eat Korean BBQ and driven to the beach or something. I was bummed because it was a time I really wanted to be taken care of and loved, but it just didn't feel like that would happen.

Minnesota is also quite different. For one, everything is SO green. Like there are trees everywhere it's amazing. And now they're starting to change color, which is something I've seldom seen, so it looks even more awesome. Another thing I've noticed is just how fast life is in LA. We're always moving back n forth - trying to find the best parking spot, trying to beat traffic, trying to eat quickly so we can go to the next thing - and here things just feel a tad bit slower, which I love. Also, the weather here is so weird. In a 4 week span it went from humid beyond belief to raining to humid again. Now it's cooled down significantly, which I suppose is the deep breathe before the frozen tundra of winter arrives.

Though it has been hard, this move has come with tremendous (TREMENDOUS) blessings. I've met, and now have the honor of working with, some of the most incredible people I will probably ever meet (my RA's). We have laughed so hard, we've cried together, we've created some wonderful memories in just a short two months. Which is also crazy. I can't believe I met these people just about two months ago. Now, I can't imagine my life without them. It's pretty incredible how, I believe, God brings people together in particular places at particular times. We've gone from absolute strangers to absolutely family and it's actually really amazing.

The coolest story I've had so far probably came about a time that I was most down. I was approaching my birthday and I was really missing home. My RA's surprised me with a billion balloons and cake at midnight, which I really was not expecting. The next day they kidnapped me (yes, actually kidnapped me with a blindfold and everything) and took me to breakfast at a place I think I mentioned once to them. The truth was that they took care of me on a day that I was sincerely missing feeling cared for and loved by people who knew me. Because of them, however, I was reminded that all would be well. That God still loved me even though I've questioned many times whether this move was worth it. That maybe there is a purpose for me here even though it still looks and feels foggy. I was reminded that I am loved and that's all anyone really needs to know. 

All that to say, it's been okay. I still miss home. I still miss familiarity. I still miss the CA sunsets and the beach. Lakes are growing on me, though. The beach and lakes are both peaceful in such opposite, but similar, ways. It's weird.

I know God has me here in this particular season with these particular people for some particular purpose that I'm going to eventually figure out.

And that's kind of the way life works, isn't it? We're all just trying to figure it out. We're trying to figure out why things are the way they are and what our role is in it. There's always bumps and transitions and unexpected surprises, but for the most part, we're okay. And on the days when we're not okay, we [ought to] look to others to pick us back up because we're not meant to maneuver through life on our own. 

I hope (and I know) that in 5 years I'll look back and say, "I am so glad I did this." It's the most interesting and difficult thing I've ever done, but it's also one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. I haven't loved every minute of it, but I do love it and that's good enough.