Friday, November 22, 2013
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
Thursday, November 21, 2013
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
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
Monday, November 18, 2013
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
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
Saturday, November 9, 2013
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
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
Monday, November 4, 2013
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
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
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