If this was an audiobook, now is the time i'd tell you to close your eyes and imagine with me the scenes that are about to unfold. Unfortunately (and maybe fortunately for some), my voice will not be narrating the following events. In light of this minor problem, do your best to block out your surroundings and put yourself in my shoes as you read. What we experience on a daily basis is extraordinary, but our brains cease to process the routine information after the first few interactions. Let the following bi-weekly event be an example:
Late again, i run down the stairs, sprint after the truck and hop in. i nod at the passing church member or neighbor, wish that Ryan had driven around that puddle instead of through it, and then settle in for the drive to ACE for groceries. More head nods, some glares from a few protestants, two speed bumps, and we're on our way. i spend most of the trip staring at the surf, wishing either the swell was a better direction or the tide was high/low depending on the spot. When i can't see the waves, a few words and stories are exchanged between me and River. At ACE we run through our list, add some things not on our list, and spend too much money. We hop back in the truck for the ride back. About 100 more head nods and we're home. Simple.
The beauty (and ugly) that i'm surrounded with has been lost to the streamlined routine of life. Allow me retell the story as if it was my first time experiencing the trip:
Late again, i struggle locking the door. The deadbolt doesn't quite line up. I fiddle with the door as Ryan and River amble down the road in our toy-like mini truck. The lock finally slides in and i turn to run down the stairs. i'm careful to not trip down the extra tall first step, reach out for the deck above and swing down the remaining 4 steps being sure to duck under the chiseled out headboard that is still a few inches too short. Grabbing onto the burnt red four-by-four i spin around and then off the foot tall cement base; right into a puddle. Barefoot, i sprint across the gravel drive skimming above the worn out concrete that is now merely left over congregate. Hopping over the newly formed puddles i take a flying leap into the back of our moving truck to join River as "captain". Ryan is left driving because he is the only one who still has a valid drivers license (sucker). The pungent smell of flowers hits my nose as we pass the bushes in front of our coconut tree. The aroma is a mix between a bold gardenia and the sweet smell of pancake syrup. It is quickly overtaken by the smell of burning leaves with the faint, lingering stench of trash. Holding my breath as we pass, i give my usual nod and "len wo" to June and he returns with his predictable blank stare. i make a comment to River about how June never acknowledges us, he agrees, turns, and waves at Nelly-Sonia (one of his students) as we pass. Ryan hit three puddles that could have been avoided if he had just turned left, right, and then left again, but at this point, what's one more bump when the driveway is filled with them?
As we turn onto the main road, River and i head nod a few more times at the myriad of Neth family members sitting under the tin roofed "bus stop" that is actually just a place for them to sit and talk. We're then met with the condescending death glares of the protestant members who are just getting out of a church service (at 3:15 on a tuesday?). i do my best to grin and nod at each person we pass, but the judgement of a hundred women in ill-fitting (thankfully) local dresses is nearly enough for me to take the next plane home. After making our way through the herd (yes, contrary to what you thought in high school English class, the author does have a deeper meaning to their selection of words. Please read deeply into this) of people, Ryan, with copious amounts of protest from our 660cc truck engine, accelerates to our typical and blistering, cruising speed of 55kmph. My eyes bounce from the ocean, to the abandoned cement structure that used to be someone's home, back to the surf, and then to a local walking alongside the road. i nod as we pass, mutter "len wo", and proceed to duck quickly as a coconut tree branch nearly slices my face. We pass a small roadside stand; no green beans or papaya today.
The drive continues peacefully as we near Lelu (lay-luh). Ryan honks to pass a slow car, women are out sweeping leaves in their yard, a few people are cutting their grass with a weed-eater, and there are children playing in the middle of the road. The sights are picturesque, as if you were living inside of a National Geographic. The landscape and culture we live in here is like paradise, but i want to let you in on a little secret: where you live right now is paradise too. Take a moment to step outside (or look out of your window for the feint of heart). The weather, the geography, the people, and the culture you're in at this moment is amazing. The intricacies of your surroundings go unnoticed to your routine programed brain. For the sake of efficiency, you're missing out on the small nuances of your day to day life that make your life special. This week, pay attention, look, smell, feel, hear, experience something "new" that may have been there the whole time.
Updates: i need to blog more. School is in full swing again (a little routine is nice). Construction has started on the school! i'll be working on a short video to send to GMM (Guam-Micronesia Mission) as a report on our progress: woo. SPEAKING OF VIDEOS: we finally uploaded a video of Kosrae. Watch here. i'm wearing a hoodie and have goosebumps, acclimation is complete. Had a sore throat for 2.5 weeks, nothing a little amoxicillin can't fix. Thank you to whoever donated a complete collection of NatGeos to the school here (or Sam Robinson), our kids LOVE them (if you know who the donor was, thank them for us).
Enjoy your surroundings, keep exploring,
Tyler
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
The Cost of Simplicity
i'd awoken that morning sweating profusely, head pounding, body aching. My low grade fever from the day before had progressed to a full on raging inferno. i got up to turn on the fan; no electricity. For eight hours i lay awake, drenched in sweat, unable to find comfort and rest.
The congregation closed their evening worship with "How Great Thou Art", and i sat, slumped weakly outside, shivering as the cool breeze passed by me, feeling too sick to join them. As i sat there, i intently watched three geckos methodically catch insects as they flew towards the light on the front of the church. It was a curious thing. Not a single insect that flew into that light came out alive. No longer masked by the darkness of night, the light illuminated the bugs as they flew closer to the tin roof entrance. Without fail, the winged fiend would take a kamikaze dive bomb straight for the awaiting tongue of the the geckos below.
The simplicity of the gecko's life intrigued me. Their sole purpose in life is to eat, poop, and have offspring. How nice it seemed to not have the worries of being a human. i was envious. They didn't have to worry about sickness, or the hours of grading they'd procrastinated on. There was no church infighting or competition to deal with, no long worship meetings, no lesson plans to be made, no laundry, dishes, or housework. It was black and white simple.
The longer i sat, however, the less i desired their lives. The simplicity i craved came at a price, one that i'm not willing to pay. While i was procrastinating on grading, i was out surfing, snorkeling, camping, paddle boarding on Christmas day, climbing the tallest mountain in Micronesia, getting SCUBA certified, and paddle boarding fifteen miles around part of the island. While i worry about the church's interpersonal struggles, i get to hear their natural born talent of singing filling the church. Making lesson plans is in preparation of having my students back again, and the chores are something i'll take for granted in a few weeks as our house is torn down and rebuilt. The complications we face are the price we pay for having the enjoyment of life. To lead a life on autopilot defeats the purpose of enjoying the world that was created for me. As much as i'd like for my "hardships" to go away, i'll gladly keep them around if it means that i can continue exploring and adventuring through life.
Updates: i'm sick, yay. SO MANY PACKAGES, SO MUCH SUGAR. i picked up seven boxes today and we had twelve boxes a few days ago, thank you to everyone who has taken their time and money to send us something. Surf here was triple overhead a few weeks ago, on a completely unrelated swell size, i got my first barrel of the year. i'd also like to thank a guy named Jake for giving me his surfboard, thanks Jake. While many of you enjoyed a white Christmas, we enjoyed the ever predictable 88 degrees and sunny, best gift ever? Our church is suffering from family feuding (partly cultural? mostly each family just wants their family to benefit the most), prayers for them please. School starts Monday, is it weird that i'm excited? Only five months left, time is about to fly. The builder is scheduled to arrive in just 17 days!
Please share my blog with your friends, Kosrae is relatively unknown and we'd love to get the word out! Also, i've added an email subscription box on the right side of the page so you can be informed by email when i post an update! ---->
Live complicated,
Tyler
The congregation closed their evening worship with "How Great Thou Art", and i sat, slumped weakly outside, shivering as the cool breeze passed by me, feeling too sick to join them. As i sat there, i intently watched three geckos methodically catch insects as they flew towards the light on the front of the church. It was a curious thing. Not a single insect that flew into that light came out alive. No longer masked by the darkness of night, the light illuminated the bugs as they flew closer to the tin roof entrance. Without fail, the winged fiend would take a kamikaze dive bomb straight for the awaiting tongue of the the geckos below.
The simplicity of the gecko's life intrigued me. Their sole purpose in life is to eat, poop, and have offspring. How nice it seemed to not have the worries of being a human. i was envious. They didn't have to worry about sickness, or the hours of grading they'd procrastinated on. There was no church infighting or competition to deal with, no long worship meetings, no lesson plans to be made, no laundry, dishes, or housework. It was black and white simple.
The longer i sat, however, the less i desired their lives. The simplicity i craved came at a price, one that i'm not willing to pay. While i was procrastinating on grading, i was out surfing, snorkeling, camping, paddle boarding on Christmas day, climbing the tallest mountain in Micronesia, getting SCUBA certified, and paddle boarding fifteen miles around part of the island. While i worry about the church's interpersonal struggles, i get to hear their natural born talent of singing filling the church. Making lesson plans is in preparation of having my students back again, and the chores are something i'll take for granted in a few weeks as our house is torn down and rebuilt. The complications we face are the price we pay for having the enjoyment of life. To lead a life on autopilot defeats the purpose of enjoying the world that was created for me. As much as i'd like for my "hardships" to go away, i'll gladly keep them around if it means that i can continue exploring and adventuring through life.
Updates: i'm sick, yay. SO MANY PACKAGES, SO MUCH SUGAR. i picked up seven boxes today and we had twelve boxes a few days ago, thank you to everyone who has taken their time and money to send us something. Surf here was triple overhead a few weeks ago, on a completely unrelated swell size, i got my first barrel of the year. i'd also like to thank a guy named Jake for giving me his surfboard, thanks Jake. While many of you enjoyed a white Christmas, we enjoyed the ever predictable 88 degrees and sunny, best gift ever? Our church is suffering from family feuding (partly cultural? mostly each family just wants their family to benefit the most), prayers for them please. School starts Monday, is it weird that i'm excited? Only five months left, time is about to fly. The builder is scheduled to arrive in just 17 days!
Please share my blog with your friends, Kosrae is relatively unknown and we'd love to get the word out! Also, i've added an email subscription box on the right side of the page so you can be informed by email when i post an update! ---->
Live complicated,
Tyler
Sunday, December 22, 2013
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
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
Sunday, December 8, 2013
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
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
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
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