Forever Nostalgic

Dear Friends,

Another week has gone by. It’s been a week of ups and downs, as I’m sure all can understand. My dad, Kevin Austin, is coming this weekend to speak at the Spring Arbor FMC and at SAU chapel. To say the least, I’m excited. Unlike many of my peers, and not only because I’m a TCK, I really love being with my parents. However, college seems to not be very conducive to proximity, which is rather unfortunate. To my mom, who I don’t get to see for another two and a half months, I say I love you and think of you often.

On a similar, but fundamentally different tangent, I’d like to talk about nostalgia. I, for one, live in a constant state of nostalgia it would seem. By this I do not mean that I live constantly looking back. No. I am constantly sensing a connection with the present and some golden memory of the past.

Today, for example, it was above freezing for the first time in a while. It was raining. Not like in Thailand, but the gentle sprinkling driven by a gentle breeze that Seattlites are surely familiar with. I was walking from a lecture, my senses keen because of the copious amount of sleep from the night before. I was struck, walking back from the lecture, by a sense of utter familiarity and satisfaction. Soon it began to fade, but even in that fading was a certain sweetness. Though the feeling was fleeting, I knew it would come again. It is not for me to know when. It is, rather, God’s subtle gift.

And then there are the times when I am in a situation so foreign and horrid that I long for a time gone by. At the beginning of winter, the novelty of snow was exhilarating. Now…now it is merely snow. When it falls, there is a certain beauty, and the morning after, the freshness is gorgeous.

But when it stays, it magically transforms from a wondrous blanket of unlimited possibilities, into a smothering cloak of colorless death. This colorless thing makes me long for the sticky air of Rayong. For that rare fresh morning in Chiang Mai. Even a simple brisk view of the grey and blue spires in the distance in Marysville. Instead, I am given simply a sad slop of pallid flakes. Oh, how I long to feel that monsoon rain on me again. The sweet sting of the drops smashing into me, and off of me. The beautiful warmth that hints of the cold but never quite manages it.

I know that I cannot be the only one with these longings. So cry out you masses! Cry out for color! Scream for the popping yellow of a ripe mango, freshly cut open. For the blushing pink of an orchid in bloom. Maybe even ask for the deep and solid orange of a Theravadin monk’s robes. Maybe God will bless us with an early spring. At least thats my dream.

Regardless of the color, or the lack thereof, in my life, I truly enjoy the moments of nostalgia I receive. They remind me of those now blurry, gold tinged moments. Not only do they remind me of those golden moments, but they instill in me new ones, hinting at more to come.

It is my hope that God blesses you with a moment of Nostalgia this week, with that warm sense of satisfaction, when your head and heart are both in present, past and future alike.

Yours truly,

Matthias