"On parenting" revisited

As a fantastic and unexpected conclusion to my time here in Lidköping, I’ve been handed one last teaching stint to wrap up the final months of the school year. I love being back, I love seeing my old students (who are now graduating!!), and I love meeting and interacting with new ones. But man, I’m reminded of why teaching is so hard. Not because the work load is so heavy or because all of the demands placed on you are so stressful. It is and they are, but I find a way to deal with it and remain joyful. No, teaching is hard because it gives you a forecast of what the future is going to be like. Although there are a number of students who give me tremendous hope, there are even more who give me great cause for concern. These students don’t have delinquent tendencies or bad morals - in fact, they often come from good families with solid values. But for some reason, they are unable to cope. With expectations, with pressure, with life - I don’t even know. 

I feel like I sound like a really old person when I say this, but when I was in school, I don’t remember ever hearing of a fellow student getting out of performing a speech or making a presentation or handing in an assignment simply because they had anxiety or stress or whatever. When I was in school, we got the assignment done, even if it meant standing in front of the class feeling really nervous and afraid of totally bombing it. Because everybody had to do it. It was a part of life. 

A few years ago I wrote a post called “On parenting” (http://annikagreco.blogspot.se/2014/01/on-parenting.html) in which I decried the deplorable lack of discipline I was seeing in my students (I may have ranted just a bit…). A couple of years later this hasn't changed, but I've noticed the level of stress and anxiety among students has increased (at least in Sweden it has become a psychological phenomenon). 

Case in point: One of my groups was assigned a speech to perform in front of the whole class with today being the due date. Now I know it's scary and that some people have serious anxiety about getting up in front of a big group and delivering a speech. I get it. I’ve been that person. But it’s part of life! No matter what kind of job you have in the future or what kind of activities you engage in, you will at some point or other have to hold your own in front of other people. A classroom setting is a perfectly soft way to ease into it. But kids these days wig out, they buckle under pressure, they get anxiety attacks and can’t cope with the thought of not being absolutely perfect. God forbid they should fail to get the highest grade or have to display their nervousness for all to see. Of course I'm generalizing, but clearly there is something seriously wrong with the way kids are being raised these days. I am very concerned. 

Which makes me want to go on another rant: 

Parents. You have got. To toughen. Up. Your kids. And when I say “toughen up,” I don’t mean make them sleep out in the cold or beat them with a stick or send them to boot camp (though God knows that could be useful). I mean teach them to handle disappointment, to overcome their fears, to manage their time and prioritize. This is not the teacher’s job. This is your job. Teach them self worth and confidence. Encourage them to aim high and go big, but let them know that they will always be loved because of who they are and not what they accomplish. Even as I write this I feel like it sounds soooo cliché, but clearly there is a disconnect somewhere. Here I’ve got kids who have had six class periods to work on this speech (six!!!) and were given the deadline in good time. And still, several of them just couldn’t seem to get their act together and pleaded with me this morning to let them go next time when I’d already made it clear that because of time constraints we needed to have as many go today as possible. Now I will have to rearrange my schedule in order to give them a chance to give their speech outside of regular class time. I shake my head. 

Teaching is really hard because it gives you a forecast of what the future is going to be like. If we have a generation who can’t cope with pressure, what does that say about the future of our economic system? Of our politics? Of our social and moral fabric? Young people who can’t cope with pressure become insecure leaders who can’t cope with conflict. If you read the history books, you’ll see that an insecure leader is just about the most dangerous thing out there. Start connecting the dots. 

Am I my brother's keeper?

Maybe I’m just feeling fed up with corruption and evil and deception and greed and this is making me more sensitive than usual towards the absurd idiocy of several prominent (Republican) politicians, but I am about to throw a chair through a glass window. Which I know would not be a constructive use of my rage. So instead I’m going to take to the page and try to gather my thoughts. 

First, some disclosure: My political ideology leans towards the right and will probably always do so, even though I would rush to join a more moderate political party if such a one existed in the United States. I am staunchly pro-life. I am also a Christian. I don’t support gay marriage. I oppose abortion. I also disagree with the death penalty. And I hate guns. 

But what I hate even more than the things I just mentioned are inconsistency, injustice, corruption and preying on the vulnerable. 

I have friends, dear friends, who I know disagree with some of the views I’m about to lay out, and that’s okay. I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just really need to say this: Consistency matters. It matters a whole lot. Because without it, we lose our credibility. We lose our authority, we lose our conviction, and with that the ability to fight the evil we profess to hate. 

I am pro-life because I believe that life is a good thing. It is something that is given by God and it is up to us to steward the gift of life in the best way possible. The most basic human right is the right to live. You can argue that education and nutrition and healthcare and free speech and all the rest of it are also legitimate human rights (and I wouldn’t disagree with you), but none of these matter if you’re dead. Hence, life. 

This worldview informs all of my beliefs. And herein lies the importance of consistency. If I adopt a pro-life stance on the issue of abortion because I believe that taking the life of unborn children robs them of their chance at life, that’s admirable. But life certainly doesn’t end at birth. If we who are ‘pro-lifers’ care about not taking the life of an unborn child, then we should also care about not taking the life of a convicted criminal. Not because the criminal doesn’t deserve to die, but because it’s not our place to take away life. Truthfully, there are a number of individuals, and not just criminals, that I would very much like to send straight to hell right now if I could. But it wouldn’t be my place. For those who read the Bible, it says in Romans 12:19 “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.” Additionally, it behooves us to remember that all of us deserve to die; we’re all guilty of wrongdoing in some form or another, but God has chosen to give us life anyway. As long as there is life, there is the chance of redemption. It’s not up to us humans to decide who gets to live and who gets to die. Because I am aware of who I am in relation to my Creator, this is a line I dare not cross. Therefore my pro-life stance cannot support the idea of the death penalty. 

And now to what actually inspired this conniption fit: I applaud, loudly and fiercely, President Obama’s executive move to tighten gun control laws. He’s not taking away our right to bear arms. He’s not even changing any laws. He’s just trying to dust off the ones that already exist. And what makes me so irate to the point of wanting to cry, vomit, crawl under my bed and disappear, and throw chairs through glass windows is the fact that Republican politicians, including presidential candidates (of whom most are professing Christians and pro-lifers!!!!!!) are SO QUICK to point fingers and say that watch out, he’s trying to take away your freedom people! 

Obama wants to 1) require background checks for all gun sellers and get rid of current exemptions (which seems perfectly reasonable and is something most Americans are in favor of anyway), 2) states to provide information on people disqualified from buying guns due to mental illness or domestic violence (I feel safer already), 3) an increased FBI workforce to process background checks (an acceptable expense - and hey, that would even create more jobs and improve the economy!), 4) improve mental healthcare in the US (um yes, please and thank you), and 5) explore smart gun technology to improve gun safety (tell me, how does that decrease my freedoms?). 

So my question is, why all the outrage? How can this possibly be a bad thing? Why are Republicans crying foul? And more troubling to me, why are Christians complaining about losing their ‘freedom’? We have an idolatry problem!! And this idolatry problem has blinded us to the real, sinister enemy. Money and corruption are what’s managing this whole ‘right to bear arms’ debate. The gun lobby has the money, it has corrupted our politicians, and it has planted and fed the seed of rebellion in millions of minds and hearts. Why are we not outraged? 

I am absolutely convinced that corruption is the single biggest threat to life there is. Corruption impedes justice. It preys on the vulnerable. It destroys our credibility. It weakens our convictions. It cancels our authority. It short-circuits the mechanisms that were put in place to make sure people could live their lives well. Why are we not outraged? 

Personally, I would go further and ask why we have allowed fear to rule us? And now I’m speaking primarily to people who profess Christ, who are also some of the staunchest second amendment advocates I know. What has us thinking that the most moderate check on gun laws will inevitably lead to the federal government taking everyone’s guns away (or whatever the hell it is that we’re so afraid of)? That oh-so-holy amendment was written in a time when war was literally being fought in people’s back yards. The point then was to stand up to the tyrant that was England and each person essentially became a soldier in order to protect his or her land. That era ended. Like, a really long time ago. We haven’t had a legitimate war waged on our soil for over 150 years. We don’t need to be soldiers anymore. So how about some progress and adaptation? I really don’t see how we can justify swapping the tyrant that was England for a new tyrant that is the gun lobby and be perfectly okay with that. If we really are Christians, then what have we to fear? “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love and a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7) Could it be that we’ve lost power because of our inconsistency? Do we love enough to abstain from taking advantage of our ‘freedom’ when we see how much it hurts others? And whatever happened to our sound mind? 

At the very beginning of the human story is a pair of brothers, Cain and Abel. Cain got mad one day because he felt God wasn’t respecting his ‘freedom’ to offer whichever sacrifice he wanted, so he took his rage out on his brother and killed him. And when the Lord confronted him, he shrugged and said, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” 

Well people, we have evidently not progressed at all since then. Because here we are, a hundred thousand something years later, asking the same question “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The answer is YES. We have always been our brother’s keeper. No man is an island. We are human beings together. And if circumstances show that a certain personal liberty is being abused over and over and over again to the detriment of society, then maybe we can have some generosity of spirit and say hey, maybe I can be willing to forego this freedom for a time in order to look out for my brother. This is what being pro-life is about, guys. It’s about life. 

On the nature of hope

2015 was a pretty crap year for the world. Terrorist attacks, unhinged migration, atrocious persecution of people groups, alarming climate-change forecasts, wars upon wars in the Middle East, Donald Trump…. 

Fortunately, 2015 was not nearly as mean to me, but it did give me cause to shed (quite a few) more tears than usual. There was pain, disappointment, confusion, constraint, elation, apprehension, optimism, gratefulness, amazement. One of my very favorite lines of poetry was written by Ghalib, a Turkish-Indian poet from the 19th century: “All my self-possession is self-delusion; what violent effort to maintain this nonchalance!” I totally get what he means. Historically I’ve preferred to deny the fact that I’m a very emotional person, but I’m in my thirties now. I just don’t have that kind of energy anymore. So I felt my way through all of it. 

Upon reflection, I think I can condense my entire emotional journey from this past year into one word: hope. 

Hope is a tricky concept. It’s framed as a positive thing, but in my experience, hope inherently implies being stuck in a holding pattern. It implies discontent. It implies restlessness. One of the biggest problems I have with hope is that it hurts. It keeps me impatient. And it keeps me vulnerable. The line separating hope from disappointment is a very fine one. The harder I hold on to the former, the more I risk experiencing the latter. This is not a comfortable place to be in. 

Hope is paradoxical. It is pain, risk, uncertainty. It is also the expectation of something better, which in turn produces joy. Great joy. Exuberantly great joy. In the middle of a shit storm, hope is what keeps me going more than anything else. It’s this expectation of something better that gets me to the other side. Just as great reward necessitates great risk, great expectation necessitates great hope.

Let hope be the defining word for 2016.

International relations

My travels have provided me ample opportunity to study the field of international relations first hand. And when I say international relations, I don’t mean the kind that involve diplomats and high-level meetings, although that would be nice. I’m more referring to the kind that line my suitcase with stories of sometimes humorous, often awkward encounters between myself and other men. 

Scene 1: Awkward dates

One time during an internship in Accra, I was asked out by a Ghanaian colleague. He picked me up and took me to a cafe where we sat and talked for a while. He was engaging, smart and gentlemanly. Or so I thought. Until he suggested we go to a dance club. Where there would be strippers. And in the course of that same conversation mentioned that he had a girlfriend. But that it wasn’t her business to be jealous about his being out with another girl. Needless to say, the date ended sooner than he’d been expecting. 

Another occasion, this time during a trip to Sarajevo, saw me being taken on a tour of the city by motorcycle. A man I’d met on a previous trip wanted to take me out, and since I fancied him I agreed. He was older, worldly, accomplished, intelligent, and smooth enough to make me feel flattered but not uncomfortable with his frank interest. We spent a very enjoyable evening conversing and seeing the sights, and he briefly alluded to a sort-of girlfriend with whom he had hit a rough patch. I remained relatively guarded throughout the evening and deflected his two attempts at kissing me, all the while feeling positively giddy because I couldn’t believe a man of this calibre would be interested in me. 

Upon return home, I googled him and found several article interviews in which he mentioned his children. So this sort-of girlfriend was actually his wife. And they had three children together. This isn’t a detail one simply forgets to mention. Needless to say, I felt tricked and a little mortified. 

I don’t like to think of myself as a naive person, but sometimes I can be a little ingenuous….okay fine, those mean the same thing. Whatever. But what can I say? I’ve never had a reason to expect men to lie to me. And when it does happen, it takes me by surprise. Hopefully now I’ve learned my lesson…? 

Scene 2: Unwanted attention

This is the most exasperating. I really don’t know why it keeps happening, but I’ve had several of these types of encounters. You know, that guy who is either drunk, high, lacking in social skills or simply under the impression that he is God’s gift to women. I could tell you about the guy at Budapest airport who started talking to me, then wouldn’t leave me alone, to the point that he actually missed his flight (he was high). Or the Greek guy working as a tour guide in NYC’s Financial District who wanted to follow me back to my office (he thought he was God’s gift to women). Or the guy who started following me down the street, asking me if I wanted to go grab a pizza. It took several minutes until he understood that I wasn't interested (he didn’t have social skills). I could go on. 

I suspect this keeps happening because I’m just not rude enough. I don’t like hurting people’s feelings and I don’t like to brush people off, so I'll try to let them down easy.... and in the mean time, it's just awkward. 

Scene 3: Feminine wiles 

Just recently I went to Rome for a conference and since I arrived late at night, I had to get a taxi to the hotel because public transport wasn’t an option. Having been to Italy before, I knew to do my research and was informed by the hotel that taxi fare from the airport was €65. Armed with the email in my phone, I walked out to the taxi drivers and braced myself for intense negotiation. The first guy quoted me €75 and when I, in my rudimentary Italian, informed him that I wasn’t going to fall for that one he insisted that there was no way he could go lower. The next guy was a bit more willing to reduce his price, but when I told him I would be paying in plastic he shook his head. Same with the third guy. So I went back in to get cash out of the ATM, and when I returned we haggled a bit more and I finally got him down to €65, though he muttered several times during the ride that the price is normally higher, etc etc. His utterances fell on deaf ears - I had held my ground and I had triumphed. I felt pleased with myself.

When I got to the hotel I asked the receptionist about the price again, just to confirm that I had done right. She informed me that €65 was the price for a taxi arranged by the hotel. Grabbing just any taxi from the airport cost €75. 

Oops. 

When I told the receptionist, somewhat guiltily, that I’d negotiated the price down, she was impressed and said, “Good for you,” with a knowing wink. I do it sparingly, but sometimes it really helps to play the poor-attractive-female-in-need-of-assistance card. In South America and the Mediterranean, that card is gold. 

Scene 4: Fatherly concern 

In my interaction with Africans through the years, it’s become clear to me that it’s very important for them to suss out my marital status. If a young woman is single, then they will by all means feel compelled to help find her a suitable husband. I find this hilarious and endearing, but it can catch you off guard if you’re not prepared for it. At the aforementioned conference in Rome, I spent the first morning’s breakfast next to a very dignified and fatherly Sierra Leonine man who, as we engaged in conversation, asked me about my family, if I was single and engaged or single and available, etc. When I told him how it is, literally his first question was “So why aren’t the guys coming around? You’re attractive and intelligent.” As we proceeded to jointly discuss and lament my marital status, along with the broader phenomenon of strong, accomplished women having a hard time finding someone to marry, he said, “I’m going to pray that you will find a husband.” And he did. Right there at the table. 

Ten minutes before I had to leave for the airport to return to Sweden, another of my new African friends came up to me and asked if he could pose a personal question, “on behalf of a friend.” He wanted to know if I was single, “on behalf of a friend.” I smiled to myself. Because it’s just sweet. I find the fatherly concern touching. 

I’m from India. Where’s my luggage?

“I’m from India. Where’s my luggage?” A lost, somewhat distraught traveler asked me this during one of my shifts at the Málaga airport a number of years ago. I don’t remember being very gracious as I impatiently pointed out that I wasn’t an information desk. I was there to rent out cars, so if he had any unrelated questions, he should go to the information desk right next door. (I didn’t say this in so many words, but I’m sure my sentiment was reflected in my tone.) I hated life at that point and I was fed up with frazzled travelers asking me questions that had nothing to do with why I was there.

Anyways. 

What recalls this particular memory is the fact that his question has kind of become my go-to example of the general disorientation and bewilderment that I myself often feel. Not so much in the sense that I’ve just arrived and don’t know where my luggage is, but in the broader sense of I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m not sure how I got here. 

I don’t say this in a negative sense. Actually, finding myself in situations I have no business being in has kind of become my thing. I feel so unqualified doing the things I’m doing, but I have the most awesome time doing them. From the outside it may look like I stumble indiscriminately into things, but really it’s a series of seemingly random connections that end up not being random at all but divinely orchestrated. I can’t explain how I got here or what the heck I’m doing. But I’m having a marvelous time. And I can’t take credit for any of it. I’m just busy living in the favor of God. 

Favor. Tremendous, unexplainable favor. (By the way, I just recently discovered that my name means favor and grace. No joke. Google it.) 

I’ll give you the short version of what I mean: Nearly three years ago, an acquaintance of mine in Málaga suggested I attend a conference for Christian business leaders to be held in Berlin. At that time I was busy not being a business leader - I was a teacher. But for some reason, he felt I should attend. So I did. I happened to be on winter break that week, so why not? It turned out to be one of the best weeks of my life. Hands down. I had no business being there, but I was absolutely in the right place. (For the full story, see previous blog post: http://annikagreco.blogspot.se/2013/02/some-personality-types-are-just-meant_20.html) 

At this conference I met a German man who worked in leadership development. For whatever reason, he saw potential in me and has since kept in touch sporadically. A year ago he emailed me just to ask how I was doing, and I told him I had recently started grad school, was looking for internship opportunities and did he have any contacts or ideas? He in fact did. He recommended me to one of the executive leaders of World Evangelical Alliance, and this exec, without knowing anything about me other than what he’d heard from my German friend, contacted me and shortly thereafter sent my inquiry to WEA’s New York office. Which is where I spent 10 fantastic weeks this fall (see previous posts “Little girl, big city”).

While at the WEA’s NYC office, I met another member of the leadership team who took an interest in what I wanted to write my master’s thesis on. He said he knew a few people who could lend me insight on the subject matter and that they would all be gathered at a global youth leaders’ conference in Rome in December. He would try to get me in. 

And now I’ve just returned from this conference with my head full of ideas and heart full of hard-to-verbalize emotions. Aside from the fact that I got to sit down and converse with some wonderful African thinkers and doers (my primary reason for going), I got to meet people who are doing some incredible work in Syria and Lebanon in the midst of war and crisis. I feel so inspired I hardly know what to do with myself.  

And this is the craziest part: Back in October, I was gripped with the idea that I wanted to go to the Middle East to see for myself what is happening there. I of course know no one in the region, have nothing to contribute really, I don’t speak Arabic and would probably feel pretty clumsy and disoriented in general (that would really be an I’m-from-India-where’s-my-luggage scenario). But I told God that I wanted to do this and that He would have to connect the dots because I certainly had no clue how to go about it. Guess who I meet at this conference? The national director of a global ministry in Lebanon who, along with his team, is doing a lot of work in the Syrian refugee camps. He told me that the outside world is not getting the accurate story of what is happening in the region and could I come visit them and tell their story? 

Mind blown. Again, I had no business being at this conference - I'm not a youth leader - but I was absolutely in the right place. 

In short, I have no idea what I’m doing or how I got here, and even though this is unsettling for a control freak like me, I’m starting to think I’d never want to live any other way. Not knowing where my luggage is is turning out to be pretty freakin’ sweet. 

Little girl, big city - Episode 4: Translators, delegations and celebrity sightings.

So the UN General Assembly is in session and it’s been causing some chaos as entire avenues have been sectioned off to make way for the Pope, President Obama and other VIPs. I find it annoying all of the security measures being taken to be honest. Does the Pope really need an entourage of six SUVs and 6,000 police? The guy rides around in his little Fiat with the window down. I mean if someone really wanted to shoot him, it wouldn’t be that hard. 

Snipers on the roof of UN HQ

Also, the avenue sidewalks are more crowded than usual with delegates in from all over the world. Cultural differences manifest themselves in a number of ways, including the time it takes to get through a speech or down a sidewalk. Africans don’t seem to be in a hurry ever, and are completely immune to time constraints. I freely admit, I have no idea what this feels like. 

In other news, I’ve been here for six weeks now and I still haven’t seen any famous people walking around. The only celebrity sightings I’ve had have been at the UN this week. I missed seeing David Beckham by a couple of hours which is unfortunate (Instagram informed me of this). But I have sat in the same room as Kaká (the Brazilian fútbol player and WFP ambassador) and Laura Carmichael (the actress who plays Lady Edith in Downton Abbey). Shakira and Connie Britton (actress from the TV show Nashville) also spoke at forums I couldn’t get in to but watched via UN webcast. Normally I’d be able to get in to most seminars with my UN badge, but since everybody and their grandmother is in town for the General Assembly, only delegations and staff are being allowed in to certain events and suddenly I’m much less important than I used to be. It stings, I’m not gonna lie. 

That's Kaká to the far left

I feel I’ve been a little bit negative in my attitude regarding the UN. But there is one aspect that I am sincerely impressed by. Every high-level event will have translation into the six official UN languages: English, French, Russian, Spanish, Arabic and Chinese. This is reasonable and not that impressive until you take into consideration that each of these languages is being translated into each of the other ones. And when there are non-UN languages being spoken on the floor, they also have to be translated into each of these six. Which means we are talking about translators who are translating to and from upwards of five languages. That to me is amazing. For example, one time I noticed the same natively British male voice translating from Kazakh, Belorussian, Russian, French and Arabic into English. How does a person learn all of those languages to such a sophisticated level? That takes years of study and/or immersion in those languages and cultures, which makes me tremendously curious about the lives these UN translators have lived… 

Little girl, big city - Episode 3: An important dinner

As mentioned in my previous post (http://annikagreco.blogspot.com/2015/09/little-girl-big-city-episode-2-united.html), a large part of my role as “UN intern” at the WEA is attending UN events on a variety of topics and writing summary reports that are forwarded to the relevant person within the alliance. For example, if I attend an event on gender inequality, my report goes to the Executive Director of the Women’s Commission, or if I attend a forum on religious freedom, my report gets sent to the Co-director of the International Institute for Religious Freedom. I really like this role as I enjoy writing and I’m gaining a lot of insight into some very important topics that are affecting the global geopolitical and socioeconomic realities.  

In my last post I ranted a bit about the egos that work in diplomacy and foreign affairs. There are a lot of people who are in it for the status and/or cushy job. But I do need to say that there are also a lot of career diplomats, both in and outside the UN, who truly do care about making the world better. There are many people who hold very stressful positions and juggle an enormous amount of complexities and contradictions and continue to do so because it matters. Last night I was able to spend some time with a few of these individuals. 

The entire WEA executive team is in town this week and I got to join them for dinner at a very expensive establishment on Wall Street (http://www.thecapitalgrille.com/locations/ny/new-york/nyc-wall-street/8039) where we were ushered downstairs into a private dining room which used to be a gold vault. I spent the evening hoping it wasn’t obvious that I’d never been in such a swanky restaurant before (I mean, I’ve been to some pretty nice establishments, but this was a whole other level). The food was rich (both in price and quality) and I could go on about how good it was, but I don’t want to make you jealous of me even though you should be. 

Apart from the amazing gastronomic experience, this was a really significant dinner for me personally. Understand something - I am a nobody in this field. But I got to sit next to and converse with some very influential somebodies because I am just busy living in the favor of God. Here’s what I mean: The WEA’s permanent representative to the UN (and the one footing the bill for this splendid meal) invited me to join after having known me for about five minutes. She absolutely insisted. And then during dinner she told me she’d received high praise for my reports from some of the other executives and heads-of-commissions around the world and apologized profusely that the WEA didn’t have enough funding to offer me a paid position upon graduating but that I should send her my CV and she’ll pass it on to some contacts she has in Washington DC and New York. And I’m like, whaaaaaaat!? That’s favor. 

And then the Under Secretary-General of the United Nations and Acting High Representative for Disarmament Affairs, Mr. Kim Won-soo, walked in and joined us. And I’m (very calmly and collectedly) freaking out in my head because I just saw him speak at the UN event on nuclear testing last week and included his statements in my report. To meet the man in person was kind of awesome for me. And as I listened in on the conversation, I realized that he has probably the most difficult and the most important job at the UN right now. With the geopolitical situation as it is, with all of the divided politics surrounding the issue of nuclear weapons and disarmament, and with Russia exerting its influence in the Middle East in increasing measure, this guy is kind of important. If you a person who prays, pray for this man. 

In conclusion, I am a nobody. I’m just busy living in the favor of God. And right now He’s allowing me to make some incredible connections that may be significant in the future. I graduate in June of next year and have no idea what the next step is. Truly no clue. But I am genuinely unstressed about the whole thing because I know that I don’t have to worry. I’m just enjoying the ride. 

The photo is terribly out of focus, but the Under S-G is the man in the middle with the magenta tie.