Reflections

I've been home about four days now, but I haven't really posted anything new to the blog. If you've been following along, you'll probably notice that I've edited some of the posts a bit (grammar, spelling, phrasing) and added photos in-line. But I've "avoided" putting up anything new. Part of it is that I'm trying to take time to settle back in with my family. I also came back to an overwhelming amount of stuff at work.

But there's more to it than that. I've been struggling (and I'm not sure if that's exactly the right word) to put everything from last week into perspective--and reconcile it with my day-to-day life back here in Charlotte. I've told my Costa Rica stories a dozen times or more, but that's just narrative. I'm having a hard time verbalizing the truly important stuff, so I stick with the "on Wednesday we did . . ." kinds of conversations.

The comment that folks made before we left was that "the experience will transform you as much as the people you are going there to help." Huge cliché, but true. Still, the wording bothers me. It was more like the experience shook the foundations of my world view and left me questioning the value and importance of pretty much everything.

I go to work, and it all seems pretty insignificant in comparison. My job is to design software that "transforms healthcare providers' operating performance and quality of practice through innovative patient-safety and workflow-orchestration solutions." That's a noble calling, right? If I'm "transforming" healthcare, that's significant, right? But what about when there really isn't healthcare available? Doesn't it make sense that the priorities should be a little different? Rather than transforming, how about simply providing? In my previous post, I talked about Marjorie, one of our interpreters. She has a little boy who has a number of medical conditions. She has to spend a couple of hours on multiple buses twice a week to get him to a doctor in San Jose. And she's lucky, because she has the resources to afford the bus and a job that provides a flexible work schedule.

And I'm not just talking about Costa Rica; I'm not so naive and uninformed to think that there aren't millions of people in our own country who don't have basic healthcare.

I work with some of the coolest technology out there: automatic workflow-orchestration software that dynamically evaluates and acts upon the status of patients, assets, staff, and rooms based on location, movement, and interaction data received from real-time wireless locating technology. Yeah, don't worry about re-reading that sentence; it won't help. It's the kind of thing I explain to people, and their eyes glaze over. When I'm done with my elevator pitch, they reply with, "So you work with computers then?" Bottom line, it's cool and very challenging. But then you go to Orosi, and most people don't have computers. Many haven't seen a computer. For that matter, most people don't have hot water or even plumbing that doesn't leak constantly and leave water (clean, "gray," or just plain raw sewage) standing on the bathroom floor. Basic plumbing isn't cool or advanced technology, but it's something I sure take for granted--but probably won't anymore. And I can guarantee that my longing for a marble-tiled shower with multiple adjustable shower heads seems pretty silly.

I got back to work, and one of our project managers was concerned about a meeting request I hadn't responded to yet. As I went to meetings and read my stacked up e-mails, I saw that people were all excited (in both the positive sense and the negative sense) about project x or y. But somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to care all that much.

When I was building the kitchen cabinets at La Gaviota Blanca, I worked with a local kid named Johan. He didn't speak any English, and my Spanish was limited mostly to "Donde esta el banyo?" and "Yo necessito burrito." But we were able to communicate, we got the job done, and we had a fun time doing it. Once I showed him how to pre-drill, counter-sink, and drive a screw with the cordless drill, that kid went to town. We had to force him to take breaks. And when the time came to cut the plywood backing, I handed him the circular saw. His eyes lit up, and he was so excited to use it. The cut was crooked and kinda jagged, but that piece of plywood backing was the best part of the entire cabinet. In my opinion at least.

Before we left, I learned a little more about Johan. He's a bright, hard-working kid with lots of ambition. He's a quick learner. He's popular with his peers. And he supports his family financially. Unfortunately, he had to drop out of school to do it. So this bright kid who should be getting an education to make something of himself will probably end up picking coffee for $10 a day for the rest of his life. Lots of bright kids who should be learning about computers, math, science, technology, languages, and the world outside Orosi will probably be right out there in the field with him.

So how can I honestly care if a guy at some hospital doesn't want to upgrade unless the main screen shows patients categorized in a certain way? All I can think is that for ten bucks a day, Johan can go back to school. I spend that much on lunch a lot of days. Where are peoples' priorities, mine included?

A four-hour airplane ride transported me a world away. But the return flight didn't necessarily bring me all the way home.

So here I sit. I'm not sure what the point of this post is, and I'm not sure if it comes across as inspiring, annoying, motivating, or self-righteous. I'm also not sure how to do the "God tie in" to end this post.

So how about this: God blessed me with an opportunity to see beyond myself. He blessed me with a perspective on just how insignificant I--and everyone and everything else--are in the grand scheme of things. At the same time, he blessed me with the understanding that I can make a difference, even it's "only" in the life of a single person. Quite the cosmic contradiction there: utterly insignificant, yet perfectly positioned to help change the world.

It's kinda ironic. For the last several weeks, Jeff Gardner (Threshold's pastor, for those of you who don't know) has been closing all his sermons and blog posts using a specific phrase. Maybe it's what God is trying to say to me right now . . .

Dare you to move.

Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
Everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened before

From "Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot