Dear friends of many sorts,

I believe I have done you wrong. Well, not really wrong perhaps, but I have certainly left you uninformed. I have not entirely ceased from internet publishing, but I have struggled to post the writings on each and every place I have written things in the past. Therefore, I desire to inform you that if you should desire to read things written via my fingers and a keyboard, you can check out the lovely www.missionyear.org/blog/jamesnetherland since it is where my blog has been being written lately. Maybe I'll move some stuff here someday, but I dont know. I'm not too fond of a couple of Xanga features, namely how it tells me how many people are looking. Feeds my pride too much.

Anyways, you should go look there. K, bye, bros and bras.

Alright, let me be honest. Well, I guess you don't have to, but I'm not really sure how you can stop me. I suppose you could stop reading. I would tell you "Bye!" but you've probably already stopped reading. Anyways, I have a confession.

I really don't like myself.

Sure, there are days when I look in a mirror and think "Wow!" (in a good way, though sometimes in a bad way too (like Wow, I need to shave! or Wow, I should've worn a mask today!)) But physical looks are really quite insignificant. It's when I look into a spiritual mirror, when I see who I is inside. I see the guy who doesn't really put others first, who struggles to control his thoughts, who seems to have no clue how to love. I see a fool and a coward, a weak and trivial child. Insignificant. Worthless. He fights to be right. Grows envious when others are funnier than him, angry when they don't listen to his "wise" words. I hate him. "Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death!?!?

"I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord." For in Him, I become a new man; brave, wise, loving, generous, gentle, patient, humble. Pray that I walk as this man, for the love of God and you.

Ok, so I realize this is a little slow in coming. Actually, it's very slow. Also, I wrote it by hand to be typed out later since we are on a sort of technology fast, so the time references in it are a little old. Get over it. Or don't, but I'm not going to fight you no matter what you say. But here goes:

Two weeks in and I feel like I'm walking on water. I'm in the middle of everything, but I've barely gotten my feet wet. (Let me know if you understood that analogy.)

We spent the first few days getting to know those on our team, our squadron, if you will (and even if you won't.) There's a variety of backgrounds, Ryan, the talkative southerner; Blythe, the considerate Canadian; Josh, the dry humored missionary kid; Rachel, the shy crazy one; Nick, the not-so-shy crazy one; Aleksander, the slow-to-speak Norwegian; Grace, the peppy Illinois girls; and Mckendree, the outdoorsy Utahan (Utahite? Utan? Mormon? (don't worry, she's not actually mormon.)) Meanwhile, we were subjected to several hours of informative lecture each day (that just about drove Ryan insane) about how to do this thing called Mission Year. Some was interesting, some was not. Some was fun, some was not. Some was agreeable to me, some was not. It was sort of like a potluck of words and ideas being thrown at my face. I do like potlucks though. The week involved some late night conversations, intriguing discussions with other future Mission Year alumni, and even ultimate frisbee (as any good week should have.) In the end, it was an interesting and educational experience.

But it was not the whole experience. Week two found us back in Oakland. Josh, Rachel, Nick, and Mckendree abandoned us to their home in Sacramento (aka the Sac, Mento (it's the freshest!), or Ra (yes, like the egyptian sun god)) leaving Blythe, Ryan, Grace, Aleksander and myself to begin our task in Oakland (The Big O, O-town, or the Cheery-O (if you're british).) Like the carving of Mount Rushmore, itæs an enormous and detailed task that requires hours of work and thought. But as we carve at this mountain of a city, seeking to refine and beautify it (via it's people), God uses it to carve back at us. Through our daily interactions with each other and the world around us, God reveals to us (well, at least me) our (my) own flaws and foolish thoughts.

So far I've spent my days accustoming myself to my role as a sort of tutor and teacher's assistant at a local middle school. The children there have come froma  largely impoverished backgrounds and have far different lives and mindsets than I had at their age. They also know an assortment of words that I did not know at their age, and will not write here. At least one occasion has already involved those words being explosively directed at me. I'm hoping to use my tutoring as a platform to build relationships that will help these kids grow in Christ. As Brother Don might say, I'm trying to bump them closer to Christ.

Already the experience is teaching me a great deal. I'm exploring lines of thought I had never been able to give serious consideration to prior.

And that's where I stopped writing. I meant to finish it, but never did. Sorry.