A Broken Promise

i don't post many negative (negative may not be the correct word, but i'm struggling to find a more appropriate one) things here, but this post may be a little different.


As i sat nervous and excited on the plane in Jacksonville, i sent up a short prayer, "God, use me, help me to keep my head, calm my nerves. Amen" It was short and simple, yet it conveyed every emotion i was feeling. That prayer was more powerful to me in that instant than any "thou thee thy holy thanks" prayer could every be. Now, don't be confused. i'm not condemning formal prayer, but rather confining its ever over reaching arms within its appropriate cage. Each form of intercession is equally powerful (and heard), but the context in which it's used dramatically affects the earthly impact of the prayer.


The question then arises, does the earthly impact of our prayer really matter? YES.  Let me explain:

In an effort to push the congregation away from their cookie-cutter routine, we're meeting at 5am for a short talk every day this week. What started as a spiritually refreshing and invigorating experience has turned into an ordeal of dread and hate. We were enticed by the efficient yet meaningful service. It was a breath of fresh air amidst a myriad of monotonous church, midweek, and vespers services. Though the service contained not a single word of English, the peace and calm of the morning created a deeply spiritual atmosphere in which we worshiped. It was both earthly and spiritually meaningful to me, but that soon changed. Day three provided me with the nourishment i needed in a brief fifteen minute spiel, again, though in Kosraean, still powerful. What followed then ruined not only that meeting, but also the two days prior. We were jested at and unwillingly given solos (or in my case, laughed at for NOT singing) to sing for next week's Sabbath School . For the next hour and a half the congregation proceeded in practicing a total of two songs. This, though still spiritually received as worship, was earthly detrimental and ill received. Given the correct circumstances (not at 5:15am Sunday morning on our Christmas break), the harm done would have been nil. Instead, i go to bed tonight dreading my alarm; my dreams are filled with foreboding scenarios of tomorrow's practice.


As i told a friend tonight, our situation here in life is delicate. How we interact and present ourselves is not only the biggest challenge, but also the most important part of our interpersonal relationships. Creating an accepting and inviting atmosphere can open the door to many great improvements, but at the same time, harboring an inhospitable attitude can cause a bitter taste in the mouth of those involved.


As i gazed out of that airplane window that morning, watching my last Floridian sunrise, i made a promise to myself, "i will not miss anything from home". The promise wasn't in hatred of home, but in embracing a new life, a new experience, and a new chapter. i'd like to publicly break that promise right now: i miss church. i miss the Sabbath.


Updates: a group rant, a few prayers, and a late night walk to the beach has somewhat soothed (not solved) our predicament. see next blog (maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, possibly next month) for more updates.

Sleeplessly,
Tyler

A Warm (cold) Welcome

This post is brought to you in honor of the SMUCS (Student Missionary Universal Charter Service) month-and-a-half-aversary.

Every Friday we offer to take students to church through our SMUCS (a very made up and unofficial name). This week, though seemingly no different than the last, was special. It was our month-and-a-half-aversary (also very made up and unofficial). In honor of the month-and-a-half-aversary, i was given a special welcome at one of the houses.

i stepped out of the van (a diesel powered, armored tank) and made my way up the makeshift earth steps to the front door.  After taking note of the sleeping dog and hollering "tuwo" (good morning) a few times, i announced "knocking" and opened the door. A sleepy head popped out of the bedroom and shook slowly; "not today" it muttered, and i slipped out quietly. As i closed the door, the kid in the van (kids have a hard describing where they live. i have a hard time describing where they live: "that house after that pothole that's behind that tree and around the corner from that bridge" so i take a guide) raised his eyebrows (asking "yes?") and i quickly shook my head "no". Mid head shake and earthy stair navigation, i heard steps run up behind me and then a tug on my pants. It was in that moment that i realized that these were not people steps, no, they were doggy steps: angry, self conscience, cowardice, and stealthy doggy steps. As his teeth clamped shut on my calf, i spun around on my barefoot heal and let out a deep, guttural growl. The dog immediately wilted, tucked in his tail, and slunk off to his spot in the shade. i turned back around and walked/half-limped confidently (can you limp confidently?) towards the van. i left there a stronger man while the dog wallowed in his shame and shattered ego.


Updates: My little brother has drawn more blood biting me than this dog did. Rabies doesn't exist here. We had 9 non-SDA students in church this week. Thanksgiving was celebrated twice this year, and eaten 5 times (celebrated here and at the resort). Thank you (heh) to everyone who sent us Thanksgiving food in the mail, we threw a great big feast for the Pastor and his family Sunday night, and thank you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the next day as well. Please ignore all grammar mistakes made in the "Updates" section, this portion is exempt from censorship and language filtering. The two students in my class who have the least amount of check marks (check = brought water) are the two that missed the most school due to sickness this quarter. The dumb, heart shape handled mug broke tonight, we celebrated (who makes a mug that you can't hold without getting burnt?). We caved and bought Tasty Bread this week, we have now spent $45.00 on white flour, sugar, yeast, and shortening (<-- Tasty Bread). i've developed a weird habit of waking up for about an hour in the middle of the night, i hate it. i need to write more, i'm falling behind. The rats (maybe cats) are playing in our ceiling right now, the pitter-patter of their paws is oddly relaxing.

Don't mope,
Tyler

Something Emotional

i don't do sappy
This poem is crappy
So i'll make this snappy
(i'm sure that'll make you happy)



Look forward,
don't turn back.
Though disordered,
you can't change the past.

History has been sealed,
but the current is still plastic.
Act fast before it too is congealed,
be unpredictable, drastic.

Take what you're handed,
enjoy the moment.
Be candid,
be adamant.

Spend less time under the covers,
sleeping is for babies.
Do good for others,
and not just ladies.

I just have one last thing to say,
Avoid regret!
Because there will come a day,
(probably today) that missing an opportunity will haunt you until you're old and forget.
and if you do, just remember,
Thanksgiving is always in November.


Updates: Our school has no money, therefore, our electricity will be cut as of today (this blog post is brought to you by Google's "scheduled post" function in the event that the power really does go out). If you find a $100 bill on the ground, its Ryan's (please pray we find it). River, Ryan, and I (combined) ate 3/4lb. of margarine in one meal. Remember those little blue letters the SM department begs you to write at nearly every vespers? Well they're actually pretty cool to get in the mail. No matter how good you think you are at something, someone will always come along and try to prove you wrong, they don't always have to succeed however. There is nothing worse than stepping on a piece of wet rice barefoot, oh wait, there is ONE thing worse... stepping in a puddle of water (apparently we can't pour water from a 5 gallon jug into our nalgenes without spilling) and then walking through a hill of termite poop.

Wee Teecha,

Tyler


PS: we still have power

The Dark Arts of Devil Magic

This Sunday started just like any other Sunday: the pastor's son was mowing the lawn with a weed whacker, the pastor's wife was sweeping the gravel road with a palm frond broom, and we were awoken early by a rooster crow. Little did we know that this Sunday (and Monday and Tuesday) would be a little darker than we expected.

It all started when we got the great idea to tromp through the jungle in search of Uncle Larry's taro plantation. With lofty thoughts of machete slashing and deep forest exploring, we set off on the trail. Not 20 feet in, as we sank waist deep in mud, we began to realize that the plantation was merely a swamp with sporadic taro plants growing in it, so we continued. A quarter mile and an hour later, we found dry ground. Standing before us was the most magnificent climbing tree. It was a conglomerate of thin vine like branches wound together to make a moss covered, matriarchal-esque giant. So, like any swamp wilderness explorer would do, took pictures and proceeded to explore the tree.

Monday morning we again were awoken early. This time it was not by a rooster but rather the local elementary school loudly broadcasting the same song on repeat (for hours). Since it was track and field day at the high school (6 miles away) they deemed it necessary to alert the entire village at 6 am. We attended the events and were delightfully pleased to experience a Kosraean celebratory dance. The dance consisted of a woman screaming and hollering while brutally smashing an umbrella on the ground (We have been told that sometimes the women from rival villages brutally fight on the track. Kosrae track and field day is better than ice hockey!).  Unfortunately our village (Tafunsak) finished second overall for the first day.

Things started getting weird the next morning. At staff worship Pastor, with a very sincere and concerned look on his face, asked, "Did you boys sleep okay last night? The tree that you climbed on Sunday has an omen that visits there. It is a very old legend on the island.". We had not only visited a "haunted" tree, but we had climbed and explored it as well. Later that afternoon BeeWee, one of the pastor's sons, told us that the reason Lelu (pronounced lay-luh) had swept the field on Monday was because they had used black magic to win. He told us that one of their runners was "drug across the finish line as if against his will and ability by an invisible force". Sufficiently creeped out, i said a quick prayer for our protection (although i don't believe in "haunted" things, i do believe in demonic forces that can cause the effects of "haunting" as well as black magic).

As we gathered around the dinner table later that night, the feint noise of celebrations could be heard. BeeWee came running to our apartment ecstatic. Tafunsak had beat Lelu on day two of track and field and had earned enough points to win the overall. Following dinner i stepped into the bedroom and was overcome with terror. The celebrations had turned from cheerful and lighthearted whoops and hollers to terrifying screeches and howls. The shrieks echoed through the swamp behind our building creating the illusion of a jungle alive with demon possessed warriors celebrating a raid on a neighboring tribe.

A few (many) prayers for protection were said that night as i lay in bed (knife nearby) trying to sleep. It was a wild night of dreams and restless sleep, but i awoke no longer afraid, confident in God's protection.

Updates: We have reached the 15 day mark without drinking a coconut, the withdrawal symptoms are ruthless (mostly just dehydration). We have a new surf spot that is deep even at low tide. Thanksgiving is only a week away! Don't take for granted anything that you have, there is someone, somewhere, wishing they had what you have (but by all means, enjoy the things you've been blessed with). Coffee has replaced coconut water.


Pray without ceasing,

Tyler

Lessons from (insert name here)

Once upon a time there was a kindergartener named Jeremiah. Jeremiah was a sweet little boy. One day Jeremiah saw a little chick learning to fly. He wanted a better view, so he climbed up the tree and held his hands out. All of a sudden the bird landed in his hands! What a surprise! Jeremiah wanted to show his friends! Jeremiah climbed back down the tree very carefully.

When he got to the ground, Jim (names have been changed), the school meany, came stomping over with a frown on his face. "Let me see!" he growled. Jeremiah carefully set the bird on the ground for Jim to see. The bird, now very scared, half waddled half awkwardly flew down the sidewalk. Jim spat on the ground and took after the bird. Jim easily caught up to the bird, and in a fit of rage Jim stomped on the bird's feet.

At this moment, our hero, Ryan walked over. With overwhelming compassion he carefully scooped up the bird, found a cardboard box, and made a nest for him, rescuing the bird from Jim's wrath.

This fairytale continues for another 24 hours, a which point the bird died peacefully in his sleep with a belly full of worms and still without a name. The reason i tell this story is not to sadden and depress you, but rather to highlight some spiritual meaning from this tragic tale.

In life there is this meany named Satan. He wants to step on your feet so you can't run away. But there is also a hero named Jesus who is there to scoop you up and take care of you. He wants to take you in, feed you, and nurture you back to health, and release you back into the world to do His work.

There is a second lesson we can pull from this story. When we took in "dummy", he was too shell shocked to eat. No matter how juicy the worm was that we put in front of him, he'd close his eyes and refuse to open his mouth. Jesus is sitting there with a fat, juicy worm just waiting for us to open up, but we close our hearts and think we're fine without his help.


Updates: We have added another facet to our pact, we will now be "ripped, toned, tanned, and flexible". Apparently the punishment for killing the kind of bird we recused (the state bird) is 1 year in jail, or $500 (i'll take the latter please). Yes, we got a tail of the Tropical Storm that hit the Philippines, it was mild. Thanksgiving feast ingredients have been gathered and we are nearly ready to stuff our faces with everything good, now to invite people to help with the feasting.

Stay hungry,

Tyler

A Prayer For Gas and Other Small Stories

Friday afternoon: "Students! If you want to come to my church tomorrow, tell me now and i will pick you up in the morning!" Boom, 3 hands shot up.


As of Thursday afternoon we had at least 2 gallons of gas ($10.50 cha-ching) in our, the Datsun Cablight's Asian cousin, Suzuki mini truck. After an unexpected, last minute fruit run late Friday evening we were back at the now all too familiar and newly comfortable "E". Had i not been consumed with husking, cracking, grinding, and milking nearly 30 coconuts with Ryan (a 3+ hour project), the thought to buy more gas might have crossed my mind, but it didn't. Two gallons of gas should be more than enough to circle this island three or four times, right?


The SMUCS (Student Missionary Universal Charter Service) route was scheduled to take 30 minutes, max. After a "Come back in a few minutes", a quarter mile driveway walk (littered with dogs and puddles), and another no-go, we were 1 for 3 and already at the 45 minute mark. Anther 10 minutes later we'd snagged two more and headed back to grab our "come back later" kid. A full hour behind schedule we arrived safely, late for Sabbath school, and nearly out of gas.


Side note: Dogs here are the most confusing animals. They charge at you like a pack of starved lionesses, but the second you let out a (near silent) growl or bend down to "pick up a rock" they whimper and slink back home


The SMUCS ran three more trips that afternoon. Each time, the passengers and i prayed for the truck to have gas, and each time we made it back without any trouble. A quick assessment this morning shows a tank full of the Holy Spirit and some gasoline fumes.


Updates: River's birthday was yesterday, we ate cake for breakfast, ice cream and fried rice for lunch, and cake and homemade coconut ice cream for dinner (the 3 hours of milk harvesting were worth nearly every second). Today my armpits smell like coconut, i'm sweating coconut oil. The pact has been sealed, we will be "ripped, toned, and tan" by the end of our time here. The audience knows when you don't know the words to the song, no matter how hard you try to lip-sync with the rest of the youth. i had 3 women laughing, two students snickering, and one helpful mother whisper after, "I'll write the words out for you". We met a couple of the World Teach people, AMERICAN FRIENDS!


Never trust island time,

Tyler

Kosraean Non-Fables

"Hey God, i'm back. i've missed our surf sessions.* Thank you for giving me such a cool place to SM. i couldn't have asked for a more intimate and exotic place to talk to you." i quickly peaked through my used-to-be closed eyelids to check for a death wave headed my way. There, looming not 10 yards in front of me, was what i had dreaded; a 7 foot high wall of water itching to grate my freshly sunburnt back on the coral below. Not only was i sitting in too far to survive, housed in this monstrosity of a wave, floated none other than our local, friendly reef shark. My eyes slammed shut, "Oh, and God? I'd love to be alive in an hour for our mid-week meeting. Thanks."

i inhaled one last breath and watched as the shark, not inched, not crept, but forcefully charged towards me. i pushed hard down on the rails, gave a hard kick to the tail, and thrust my body into the board. The wall crested as i desperately tried to sneak under it. As the barrel collapsed, i felt the weight of a few hundred gallons of water slam on my heels. Missed it by || that much.

As i resurfaced i immediately scanned the water for my buddy. No where to be found. "Thank you for the wave save, can i get the same deal on the shark? My mom would NOT be thrilled with me showing up on her doorstep legless. Thanks." i pull my feet onto my board and sit criss-cross applesauce as my eye begins to twitch. With every splash the twitch gets worse. Half of my face begins to droop; falling a little more with every mini-stroke. i'm usually not afraid of sharks, but i couldn't tell if the ding on my heel was bloody or not: i like my limbs the way God made them.

As if sent by God (not just an expression in this case), the perfect wave was welling up in front of me. i slid the board down and began paddling for my life. As i began to stand up, i took one more glance down the face of the wave. Less than two feet under the surface of the water the coral glowed brightly, as if to say, "Fall, let me scratch that itch for you".  With the shark behind me and nothing but a 300 yard, creepy, ominous, and completely terrifying shallow paddle back, i dropped down the wave towards safety, uttering genuine thank yous the entire way back.

*will post a brief story/lesson tomorrow regarding a past experience


Updates: Stepping on a sea urchin hurts. The school picnic was a blast, i spent the day swimming with 60 of my favorite students. i had a birthday, thank you to everyone for the good wishes and packages! We have rats in the ceiling, mice in the kitchen, and roaches in the living room, tomorrow they die. Don't forget to put the SD card in your camera, no one likes watching that video footage. We have 4 weeks in a row of 4 day weeks, 3 down one to go. Sleep more

All animal pests die,

Tyler

Surreal Beauty

There i sat, on a tightly packed pontoon boat, in awe of The Milky Way reaching from horizon to horizon. As the lingering swells lulled me into a sleepy and unsuspecting dizzy haze, i struggled to focus on any one star. Maybe it was my need of glasses, or maybe the daunting task of choosing just one, but my eyes wandered from place to place in search of that one twinkling light that shone brightest. There are many "life" parallels that i could draw from this, but i'll leave that up to the reader's imagination.


As the moon began to peak over the horizon, i gazed at the palms leaning out over the sandy beaches. Inadequate dreams of waking up in your June calendar spread wafted through my head as i pulled my hammock over my face. The most surreal calm settled over me as i let my surroundings sink in; the kind of surreal calm you can't describe to anyone, not even to someone who was there with you.


i awoke to the faintest pitter-patter of rain falling on the leaves overhead. i longed for the lack of stars overhead to be just another dream, but off in the distance i could hear the ever too familiar sound of pouring rain headed our way. The cold drops made their way through my hammock and began methodically falling on my already goosebumped skin. I willed myself to fall back asleep, but was soon aroused by a violent gust of wind as the heavens were opened above me. My heart sank as i reluctantly lowered myself to the ground. As i ran across the beach, i paused to take in my surroundings. A lone lightning strike in the distance lit the beach just long enough for me to see the sheets of rain falling across the sand. Though partially hypothermic, i couldn't imagine a more beautiful scene to wake up to.



It's hard to imagine that in less than 24 hours, the exhaustion and monotony of my every day routine can turn into the most surreal experiences i've had in a long time (maybe the most surreal i've had in a days, but that's not the point).


Updates: Ben Howard is a musical genius, that man's voice is incredible. Trekking barefoot through the jungle in the middle of a monsoon using a machete to cut a trail and then climbing a coconut tree is most fun i've had in days. Yes i know i said we'd play a game next time, but i'm still getting together pictures for you. I'm actually excited about being evicted and having to live in a local house (the local house we stayed at in Walung was the perfect size for us). I had my first fleeting twinge of homesickness. When dealing with kids, always undersell yourself, it makes it easier to live up to and exceed their expectations that way (i don't suggest this for job interviews). Our second 2.5 bag of candy corn lasted an astounding 4 days.


Stay inspired,

Tyler

First-Third World Problems

Every blogger/missionary is entitled to one post where they complain about everything to gain pity from others. Here is mine:


My alarm didn't go off this morning. i had to make coffee during recess instead of before school
Our water is brown from the recent rain so i have no "clean" pants. i had to wear shorts instead
i put sugar in my coffee for the first time here. i over sweetened
i had a discipline issue that took up half of my lunch time. i had to eat during my free period instead
We are a living RedBox to the locals. i spent my free period summarizing and transferring movies
My 40 minute free period went by too quick. i had to eat my ramen before it cooled all the way
i asked a student for a word with the sound "OH" in it. They replied "umbrella"
i asked he next student for a word with the sound "UH" in it. They replied "open"
We made hummus and bread yesterday and left the bowls sit overnight. It was my turn to do dishes
i drove to the store for a rice and toilet paper. We forgot toilet paper
We found oranges at a roadside "half-opened-can" (aluminum shanty) AKA store. They are green 
While we were out, we stopped at the Post Office. No packages
The waves were big so i went surfing. The wind was blowing and the waves weren't glassy smooth
Heavy rain clogs the water debris filter. My shower was like a man with prostate issues peeing on me
i headed to the bathroom to think. River yelled "don't forget a napkin" (remember, no TP?)
i forgot the napkin. i wiped with soggy toilet paper instead (rain came in the window last night)
The Pastor's wife gave us fried fish and boiled bananas for dinner. The fish tasted too fishy






Updates: We have no toilet paper


With love and satire,
Tyler

Living

i've strayed and i've wandered; i've written for others rather than for myself. No more games, no more fluff.


The routine has set in. Life is "normal" now: less discovery, less excitement, less curiosity. Rather than experiencing, my mindset has shifted toward the desire to learn. No longer am i enamored with fried banana blossoms or the way the locals clear land. Instead, i want to find out how to do it for myself. i'm not visiting anymore, i'm living.


Since i've missed some things, i'll do a brief overview to trigger my memories:
PTA meeting: president talked forever, parents said nothing
Stingrays: within touching distance
Sharks:  spotted fins 4/5 nights i was out
Oci: he was sent back to kindergarten, parents got mad, had long conversation, now in 1st grade again
Mt Okat: this 1,526 ft mountain has been added to my life bucket list, will need gear to summit
Electrocution: our stove has a short in the element, we get zapped daily
Birthday party: i have over 75 no-see-em bites on my feet
New truck: automatic transmission stuck in sport mode, revs to the moon
Bread: made our first loaves of island bread
God is all powerful: surfing alone is my favorite place to pray. As i asked God how His week was going, the biggest wave i've seen in a long time broke right next to me. i'll take that as a "I'm fine, thanks for asking"



Next blog will be great; we'll play a game. i'm calling it: "Interesting International Ingredients"



Updates: Ryan learned what what the reef feels like on your back, i learned what its like to clean it. Coconuts are STILL addicting. Iced coffee is a blessing. A pig being slaughtered is a horrifying sound. You attract more flies with honey than vinegar (this applies to parents too). There is a large animal/rodent living in our ceiling (large rat or small cat?). The Jags are having a rough season, but a conference title is still possible (and so is a manned trip to Mars). i'm turning 22 next week, i'm taking out life insurance. Most of the parents think that we are trained teachers (what they don't know is that i don't even have a school curriculum let alone any elementary education training).


If you have another SM's blog that you read, please share it with me. I enjoy hearing about other people's experiences. River is also blogging about our experience on Kosrae. You can read that here.


Thank you for your prayers and reading,

Tyler

Impossible to Fail

After much thought and introspection (3 cups of coffee before bed and the clock at nearly 4am doesn't hurt), here is a painful and heartfelt blog post.

Test week. "The tests designed to be impossible to fail"


Writing test: Those who wrote their alphabet passed and those who did not, failed (the alphabet is written in the board and was pointed at many times throughout the test). The passing grades were then determined based on fine motor skills and attention to detail.

Science test:
Question one - make a COW sound
Question two - draw a circle
Question three - draw a rectangle
Question four - draw a triangle


Bible test: Draw the burning bush that Moses saw in the wilderness (among other drawings)

Language test: write any letter you recognize.....the word is "basket, bah, aaaa, ssss, k, eeeee, t"

Math test: 2 + 2 =   and   6 - 2 = (these proved to be too hard for my students so the answer was then worked out on the board and left there for the duration of the test)



After two days of testing, 50% of my class will be returning tomorrow to retake a test in which they utterly failed. Two students will be sent back to kindergarten (thus is the consequence of sending your 5-year-old to first grade). No test was spared from a student's ability to fail, yet, all 5 tests were also aced by at least two students.




Updates and Advice: A parent's involvement in their child's learning makes all the difference. Don't drink lots of coffee before bed. 5 pounds of candy corn will only last a few days in a house of compulsive snackers (2 pounds have already been consumed in the last 8 hours). The post office closes whenever it wants, not when the sign on the door says it closes. Hot sauce doesn't make very good fake blood, use ketchup instead. Poverty cheese can grow legs and walk. The BBC Sherlock is brilliant, watch it immediately. Rare but genuine compliments are appreciated more than frequent and insincere ones (genuine and semi-frequent are good too: keyword "semi"). Coconut is addicting. Bigger isn't always better, unless it's a fish and it's your dinner. We're still bad at fishing.



Good night/morning/afternoon/evening,

Tyler

The Simple Life

A lot has happened in the past two weeks, yet i still sit here blankly staring at a white and empty screen unsure of what to write about as i kill my fifth flying termite. Meanwhile River is commenting on how dark his bellybutton hair is and Ryan is listening to cows and sheep on Age of Empires. It's a simple life that we lead here.

We've begun to number our reoccurring conversations to save ourselves from that awkward "i think we had this conversation two nights ago" comment. Anything related to Guam is "convo 1" while Canadian bands have been affectionately named "convo 2". And now we're at 7 dead termites. Such a simple life.

In fact, life couldn't get more simple. i wake up with the sun in my eyes, roll out of bed, make a "Tasty Bread -- Mechanically Sliced!" PB&J, stumble to staff worship, start class whenever the bell decides to ring, spend my day frustrated and confused as to how you fail a spelling test with a word bank provided, pass out exhausted, wake up and spend the afternoon at the beach, make beans and rice (River makes rice in the afternoon) for dinner, and repeat. This doesn't mean that our days aren't exciting, but just very simple.

Speaking of excitement, it was put to a vote (silent and unspoken, but still a vote) that the ocean is the most terrifying place on our planet, day or night. Fishing last week i could not figure out where all of the fish had disappeared to. It wasn't me, i wasn't moving. Fed up i turned around to find a better spot. As i turned, there was, 10ft in front of me, a 5-6ft long (yes the water magnifies things and that has been taken into account for this very accurate measurement) black tipped reef shark who had been following me. So THAT'S where the fish went. Much satisfied that it wasn't me who had been scaring the fish i decided to chase the shark. Being the superior human being that i am, he quickly out swam me and was no where to be found. i'm convinced that as he was running he secreted a "fear virus" into the water that i managed to soak up, because the next morning i was decrepit and in bed with a fever (and then the next day and the next and the next as well). One week later and i have regained 5 of the 8 pounds i lost and am caught up on all 4.5 hours of grading.

In other news, the Kosrae government is still open and running fine. Along those lines, i just drank the greatest coconut, until i cracked it open to find out that half of the fruit was rotten and fermented. oops *hic* no wonder it was so good. This paragraph is not political in any way.


And now for the beloved "updates" paragraph:  Surfing at low tide is bad, scraping your toes across the rocks while paddling for a wave hurts.  We are bad fishermen as demonstrated by our machete fishing attempt tonight (River and i caught one each while the locals caught 20+ each). Peanut butter, cold cereal, coffee, and trail mix is cheaper on amazon than on the island (it's $4.50 for a loaf of that "Tasty Bread" and $6 for a box of raisin bran). You can never have too many green tangerines in your fridge, while, one slice of poverty cheese in your fridge will always be too much. Poverty cheese grows and multiplies. Our vegetable seeds (still in their packets) have neither grown nor multiplied. There is a such thing as a 4ft long aquarium fish, i've seen it with my own eyes, and about peed my pants i was so scared (i chased it too, but it disappeared very much like the shark). And finally, don't make plans for your 12 day Christmas break, the youth Christmas program will be scheduled dead in the middle of it.

Enjoy and Happy Sabbath,

Tyler

School Days

It's official, my teaching certificate was hand delivered to me Wednesday morning by Principle Tara. It sits proudly on my desk along with two stacks of student's papers; one to be graded and the other to be filed. Every time my eyes catch those words, "Official Teaching Certificate", inner turmoil arises. i have no training, no experience, and no teaching material, yet i am in charge of teaching these 14 kids the foundation of their life. What the paper should say is, "Certificate of Untrained Day Care Assistant".


My class roster is as follows:
1 - student who is on vacation
2 - students who will not listen to a thing i say, enjoy picking up trash, taking out the trash, sitting in from recess, PE, and computer class, and are well behaved only when threatened by a phone call to their parents
1 - student who does no work, does not speak, stares blankly when asked a question, and has forgotten his homework every single day
1 - student who still does not know their numbers
9 - students who are perfect angels only when the two troublemakers are not in the classroom, but mildly out of control the rest of the time


From 8am-3pm i spend most of my time repeating, "Sit down, speak English, shhhh, why are you out of your seat, do we need to talk to the principle" when what i should be saying is: God is love, 98 - 89 = 9, 'A' is pronounced 'aaaa', things that grow are living, etc. Even though i struggle with discipline on a daily basis (hourly and minutely as well), i'm still sad to see my kids go when the bell rings. In the two weeks that i've been here, the progress made in their ability to listen, learn, pay attention, and appreciate free time has been astounding. No matter how unqualified i feel, i can see that i'm qualified through God.


The frustration of unruly children is overpowered by the enjoyment of seeing my kids excited to see me. Whether its in the grocery store, church, before/in/after class, swimming at night, or just walking down the street, a student is nearby yelling "teecha" and wanting to see what we're doing. Their ability to put a smile on your face makes up for every scowl that they put there during class.


A few unrelated updates: The poverty cheese is almost a third gone already. The boils have been lanced and are healing. Night fishing is happening tonight, booties will be worn. We have met the island dentist and surfed at his house. We sat through a three hour long all Kosraean (not English) church meeting tonight.  Dr Shasta Cola makes the greatest burps. Richard the Rooster has been documented crowing at all hours of the day/night proving our hypothesis that he has a case of severe "island time". Hotcakes are not good, especially covered in peanut butter, ice cream, and watered down syrup.

Good morning USA,
Tyler

Urchins and Boils and Eels Oh MY!

All of my creative juice has been harvested and stolen by 13 grimy, loud, and most importantly precious first and second graders. They must have also stolen my good judgement as well because this week has been filled with choosing danger over fear and safe choices. As a result, this post will be brief and fact based.

Monday afternoon, the bell just rang and the bus pulls up to take our kids. Pastor/Principle/Parent/Provider Tara calls me over to his house. It was a rough day with many misbehaved kids. This can't be good. "Loren called, surf is good, hurry up and go!". (mind you, this could mean anything from 2 foot to 20 foot surf, depends on what they mean by "good"). Hop in the truck and drive 15-20 miles (yes, this little 42 square mile island has more than 10 miles of road) to Malem. Its big. Poor Ryan and River, its big. Paddle out in the rip current, sit in the line-up, oh great this is bigger in person. Matt Simpson whispers "this is only a 4ft swell. oh, and watch out for the shallow section at the end of your ride". Here goes nothing, it gets bigger, start paddling, its even bigger, drop the 10 foot face, almost eat it, saved it, life is good, that was big, line up again, i'm hooked. A rogue set washes through and eats River and Ryan whole (i looked back to see boards flying in all directions). We almost finished the entire night unhurt, thank you God. Remember the shallow section? As I was paddling in for the night i found it, shredded a finger and ended up with a boil on my ankle. But we're alive.

UPDATED on 9/19/13 at 10:50PM: My fingers have begun to sprout boils as well.

Side note, but related to poor judgement: we have acquired something we like to call "poverty cheese". While grocery shopping at ACE hardware last night we purchased a little cheese. Got home and looked at the receipt to realize that he now have $30 worth of American cheese slices in our fridge.

This short post has turned into a long one, so here is the short story of our trip across the reef. River and i set out for a late evening ocean soak that ended up as a barefoot death march. Since it was low tide we decided to walk across the reef instead of soak in hopes of finding stranded fish. Instead we found creepy snake like anemones, poisonous eels that stalked us, large sea urchins (River found one with his foot), very large hermit crabs, random locals appearing from the ocean, and a miriad of other creepy crawlies. The sea is a different place at night. Quote of the night, "Do you know what I don't like? This moving grass". i poked the grass as these words were flowing from my mouth and out popped a foot-long eel. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, so we're going again tonight.

We're alive,
Tyler

The Deep Dark Sea

Once upon a time on a small secluded island, three men lived alone (in their apartment). These men were students by profession, teachers by day, and brutal hunters by night. They did not choose this life, this life chose them. Forced to eat white rice and ramen at every meal (or maybe just dinner) they became protein deprived cold-blooded animal killers.

Day after day (Wednesday-Friday) they braved the 200 yard walk/swim/wade/crawl/shuffle across sea grass, coral, and rusty kitchen knives to reach the edge of the world: the deep dark sea. Donning snorkel gear and vicious, pronged spears they methodically (sporadically) stalked their prey deep into the ocean, to no avail. The sky looked bleak for these daytime hunters. Not only had nothing been caught but the daily storm would turn the usually blue sky pitch black drowning their snorkels with sheets of rain making it nearly impossible to see or breathe.

One fateful day by some stroke of luck (major luck), two of our heroes speared something I'll call "an aquarium fish". With mighty force these two-inch (no joke) fish were pierced with hardened stainless steel. Deeply compassionate, the hunters snapped their necks and slid the fish into their pockets. Victors they were, satisfied they were not.

Upon hearing that fish sleep at night, the men, against better judgement, again waded deep into the dark sea. This time the sky was not lit by sunlight, but rather a partial moon and one semi-waterproof headlamp. As they waded out it became apparent that this could quite possibly be an elaborate prank made up by the local people to. Was it worth it? Were they too far in to back out now? The answer was a resounding and unanimous yes.They pressed on.

With the luck of a unlucky pygmy Irishman, these meat-hungry (as opposed to blood-thirsty) men had seen nothing more than sea urchins, eels, and sea beetles. With a local teacher's, Nelly, words "be back before midnight otherwise 'they'll get you'" ringing in their ears they hung their heads in shame and headed back home. Wading still, a glimmer of fish scales caught their eyes. A spear was shot and and a cry let out "I got one!". Just then the light flickered twice and went dark. This was no prank, this was a nightmare.

The story continues but its not much worth telling. The light came back on, they caught a second fish after kicking it (fish really do sleep at night) and they proudly walked to their house to cook them up. Heads bashed, necks snapped, gills removed, gutted and de-scaled, There is nothing better than knowing that what you are eating was locally and organically raised just for you to find.

More stories to follow,
Tyler

Basic Skills

My class's combined weight of 14 kids is probably only 625 pounds. But those 625 pounds outweigh me by miles. What these munchkins don't know is that i was blessed with the energy level of at least twenty 1st graders. That being said, i'm exhausted and it is only lunch time.

The exhaustion may stem from more than just the 1st and 2nd graders though. This morning at the odd hour of 5:30 (try explaining odd numbers to 5-7 year olds (also odd)) our mysterious phone of mystery rang (missiontotheisland.blogspot.com). i laid in bed wishing i hadn't stayed up until midnight the night before writing, and hoping i could make Ryan or River get the phone, but before we had the chance the phone finally stopped ringing. Then the rooster crowed and the phone began ringing again. Two more times this happened before i finally got up and unplugged it. "unplug the phone" was promptly added to my list of things to do before bed along with "kill the ants", "check the sheets for geckos", and "tell mom you are alive".

These small inconveniences have yet to come close to overshadowing how much we are blessed here. We have yet to starve (came close but Pastor took us to ACE hardware where we stocked up on white rice and beans), run out of water (more specifically drinking water, last night we had no tap water for showers, flushing the toilet, or washing dishes), die from heat exhaustion (mid 80s at 100% humidity isn't THAT bad), or be washed away by a typhoon. What we do have is an amazing community on a beautiful island surrounded by clear blue water that is teaming with VERY fast fish that sleep at night according to the locals. Add "fish for protein" to the list of things to do nightly.

More stories later. For now i'll be praying my way through language class. Add "pray furiously" to that list as well.

Dramatic Structure

Exposition:

This is a blog for my memory. Someday when i am old and decrepit, laying in the nursing home bed, rotting with Alzheimer's and melanoma, my kids will read me these stories as i reminisce of "the good old days". Until then, enjoy a part of my mind.


Rising action:

My decision to be here was not mine. It was a process of nudging, prodding, and ultimately brute force. i know i just said the choice was not mine, it was. God was out to get me, but He just needed me to make the leap. Once the leap was made, nothing else was in my hands. God was in control.


Climax:

i chose to go to Kosrae not knowing anything about the island, the mission, or the people. A good conversation with River one night in the Atlas and a night of fitful sleep and deep prayer had me sold. i signed up that day, never to turn back.


Falling action:

As the months passed God made it clear that i was headed in the right direction. my paperwork was done in just over a week and a half, i got a raise at work to help pay for the SM trip, and i fund-raised nearly all of my goal. The path could not be any more obvious.


Denouement:

After 26 hours of travel and 2 days on Guam, my flight for Kosrae was in the air; no turning back. It was teacher or bust, except that bust wasn't an option. God wanted me here and it happened. Now to find out why.