Hey friend! - I have a friend-assumption issue.

I spent some time back in good ol' Daviess County in Southern Indiana recently. Whenever I'm home, I like to make rounds and visit some of my favorite people and places. One of those places happens to be the newspaper office, where I held my first full-time job as a reporter. While there, I was told by Todd Lancaster, sports editor, that my blog needs to have some funny in it, not so much serious. Since Todd, one of the funniest people I know, was recently awarded a "Columnist of the Year" award, I thought perhaps I should heed his advice and try it; although, I'm not exact sure written humor is my thing.

I have a problem. Instantly after meeting an individual, I think he/she and I are friends. Even if I don't meet them, if I just read their name on a name tag in a restaurant or store, I remember it and think we're friends. I guess this problem shouldn't surprise me. When I was probably 8 or 9, I told my mom "Every stranger is just a friend you haven't met." (She makes fun of me for that all the time. lol.)

This problem has been the root of some awkward encounters in the past. The beginning of my senior year of college, I met this freshman girl. She told me all the intro facts: her name, where she's from, her major, her dorm, etc. I didn't see her again until the end of the school year, and, strangely, I remembered her name, where she was from, her major and her dorm. When I excitedly stopped her to ask how her first year in the criminal justice program was and if she was living in Morton Hall again the following year, she looked at me weirdly and said, "Good, and no" and walked away. She had no clue who I was.

Then it's always evident that what I perceived as a friendship was just an acquaintanceship when after a person pops into my head, I go to write on her Facebook wall only to find out she's unfriended me. That's happened many times. And every time, it makes me laugh.

And most recently, I was hit with this reality at Walmart. One night while paying for a few items, I had a friendly conversation with the cashier who thought she knew someone in my family. She told me she thought I went to her church and was an artsy photographer. Laughing, I said I'd like to be an artsy photographer and that I go to a different church. As if the friendly talk didn't seal the friendship, I thought for sure the church connection would. I read her name tag and said, "Bye, Heidi! Have a good night!" as I walked way. A few days later, while walking through one of the aisles, I saw Heidi, only this time she was shopping. I started to smile and say hi to her when she made eye contact and immediately looked away. And I realized yet again, she has no clue who I am.

I am absolutely not seeking pity. I actually think it's kind of funny. I'm sure Heidi has loads of conversations with customers every shift, and it's not her problem I have a friend-assumption issue. Basically, I'm coming clean about this with all of you today so you understand this: If I know your name, I think we're friends. :)

I get by with a little help from my friends.

What is it about natural disasters that brings out the best in people? It seems almost odd that something tragic and terrible would bring unity and camaraderie among strangers and neighbors (and strange neighbors). Oh sure, there will always—on this side of Heaven, anyways—be people who are exceptions to the majority. But for the most part, people seem to band together in times of need. And it appears natural, second-nature.

I think about the earthquake in Haiti a few months ago. The world responded. I was proud not only to be an American, but simply to be living and breathing right now on this earth. To be part of a universal society that saw an earthquake completely and utterly destroy a nation and chose to act. The world leaders did not look away burying heads in their own problems (and Lord knows we've all got plenty of them), but rather they responded. They cared. They aided.

While there are many tragedies in which this type of behavior has occurred (Hurricane Katrina in 2005, 9/11, Indiana Ocean Tsunami in 2004, etc.), I choose to downscale to more local disasters.

Visiting Spring Hill, Tenn. this past weekend during the torrential downpours and flash flooding that happened in Middle Tennessee reminded me of the floods that hit my home county two years ago. It was the summer of 2008, and I was actually living in Spring Hill at the time. Back home in Southern Indiana, the northern part of my county was being hammered with rain. Daviess County is a very rural, farming community, and many farmers grow crops near the river. As the rain escalated, people began to prepare for flooding. People in the community helped sand-bag areas and evacuate homes, anticipating the levees breaking.

Being more than four hours away and feeling very helpless, I realized there was nothing I could do to other than solicit prayer, which in itself is far more productive than anything I could possibly do. I sent a message to one of my best friends, who, at the time, was doing an internship with Mercy Ships in Sierra Leone. (Ironically, he's there again right now working full-time for Mercy Ships.) I told Neil about the flooding going on in the community and asked him to pray for the people there.

A few days later, I received a call from my mom, whose natural enthusiasm was magnified. She told me while several people were out sand-bagging, a big truck showed up with a few men who looked slightly uncertain of what to do. They found a deputy (my uncle), and told him they were from Huntingburg, Neil's hometown about two hours away from mine.

It was the mayor of the city and a few other volunteers. Neil had told his mother about the flooding, who contacted someone, who contacted the mayor. And the mayor decided to find others, drive two hours, and help out some strangers.

So I revisit my first question: What is it about natural disasters that brings out the best in people?

I think natural disasters expose the reality that we are all mortal. There is no differentiation between the rich and the poor, the pretty and the ugly, the confident and the timid. Tornadoes don't avoid the biggest homes. Floods don't recede around homeless camps. In the midst of disasters, all people have is each other. And that, my friends, is beautiful. The acknowledgement that life is about people; that situations and circumstances cannot be controlled; that all you really need is love.

When will we grab hold of that beautiful picture of true unity outside of a disaster and live together in community caring for our brothers and sisters? I look forward to that day.

What I live for...

Two weeks ago I went to Terrazas, Mexico.

It wasn't for the first time. I've actually been several times; just not in the last three years. I must say, never again will I let that much time lapse before I return.

There are three churches in Mexico that participate in Christmas party. Individuals from the states go to Terrazas in the fall and take photographs of children in the area who plan to attend the party. They write down the clothing/shoe sizes of the children and an item they wants. The people who do that are typically from a church in the Phoenix area, though my mother has gone in previous years. They then send the photo and information to their church in Phoenix and my church in Plainville, Ind.

That may seem random — Arizona and Indiana, but there is a connection. The mission organization is called Cristo Vive (Christ Lives) and was started by two families in Phoenix, cousins of individuals in Plainville. That's how my church got involved many years ago.

The first time I went to Terrazas was July 2001, a week and a half after returning from a two-week mission trip in Haiti. Strangely, at the time, I thought I'd return to Haiti before Mexico. However, that hasn't been the case. Through several trips to Terrazas, I've built relationships with the individuals at the church there, and they've taught me so much. (I'll talk more about this in later posts: a true, genuine friendship that transcends a language barrier.)

But upon my return, I showed someone in the newsroom this video. Without thinking, I heard myself say,

"I love it. This, this is what I live for."

I paused after that and thought about what I'd just said. I live to worship the Lord. And what was going on was an act of worship, so I didn't find anything wrong about that statement. It just resounded in my heart because, like most people, I'm searching for my place, my calling, my spot in the world.

Christians are called to advance the Kingdom of God. I've had this vision in my head that I must do something huge. Something that would require some radical obedience, making everyone think I'm crazy.

But there I was, a Smalltown, Ind. newspaper journalist in Mexico doing something that I so freely said I live for. It was confirmed at that moment something God had been trying to tell me. My job doesn't have to be my calling. It could be the activities outside of the job that prove the most worthwhile. (Stay posted for more on this thought.)

My ultimate desire is to honor God with my life. That's what I live for, and I won't be mad if Terrazas continues to be a part of that. :)