So I just have to share the highlight of my day, because, let's face it - I'm pretty excited.
About a month ago, just before I left to go home, one of the moms on the ship asked me if I would consider teaching a ballet class for her five-year-old daughter. I was totally surprised because, come on, I haven't done ballet for years and I've certainly never taught anyone - much less little girls. But I agreed to think about it, and spent the next several days considering the logistics in my mind. Where would we do it, when (my schedule changes every week!), what all would they be able to do, how would I know what to teach them, where would I get the music from, could I gather my dance stuff from home, how could I get fabric to make the little skirts the mom suggested . . . etc. etc.
While I was at home, a miracle happened. My mom had agreed to fund fabric for tiny pink sparkly skirts for the girls, but I didn't know what else they would wear. The day before my brother's wedding, the mother of the bride said to me, "I mentioned your ballet class to a friend of mine; she's cleaning out their school's old costume closet and wondered if she might have anything you could use!" She just so happened to have a stack - like, eight - of brand-new leotards, just the right sizes for the girls I planned to teach, so she gave them to me - along with several yards of pink and yellow satin and six silver tiaras. Can I say that I was excited??? (Side note: when I was a kid I had this idea that missionaries were super boring people, but in that moment I was thinking, "WOW, I love being a missionary!!!" If I had had the means to easily provide those leotards for myself, I never would have had that awesome and impossible blessing!)
Last week, the mom who had asked me about the class helped me draft and sew two little skirts for the girls (out of the satin - we're now saving the sparkles for a really special occasion) ;-) and today I had a practice class with her daughter. (Next week I'll start with all six girls, but I wanted to do a runthrough just with one.) She looked totally, totally adorable, wearing a black leotard, white tights, that little pink skirt, and a grin painted from one ear all the way to the other. We had some balancing challenges with the ship rolling (we're sailing right now), but we danced for half an hour, and when we were through she wanted to start all over again. :-D I think I'm going to enjoy this. :-) Yeah, so I'm not such a great dancer myself, but at least I have a little experience and these girls don't care if my jete looks awful. :-)
"Second Sight"
After one full day here in Sierra Leone, I am . . . amazed. Seriously - in the Caribbean there were so many breathtaking beaches/waterfalls/forests/flowers/natural phenomenons, but here the beauty is in the people. I never expected to ever go to Africa and I never understood what caused people to love it so much - I mean, dirt and poverty aren't so exciting, are they? But - I've heard people say it before and never understood - the people are so beautiful.
During the whole voyage we had training from a South African couple, and one thing I noticed that he said frequently, when he was trying to emphasize a point, was, "Do you hear me?" or "I hope you're hearing me." In other words, "I hope my words are doing more than existing - I hope they are really penetrating your heart and mind. I hope you hear me."
Similarly, people want to be seen - their existence confirmed, their humanity and worth acknowledged. That's something missing in many western cultures - certainly in my own. I know - I've waitressed for four years - how easy it can be to look at a person, to speak to them and interact with them and even serve them, without ever seeing them.
After supper tonight my ship family went for a walk to get into town a little bit - but we got no more than a quarter of a mile past the ship, because first one, then another of us would hang back talking to someone and the whole group would have to wait. :-) Always people were trying to get our attention in various ways, and the kids! My ship sister, Miriam, started talking to one of them when we left the ship, and by the time we had walked down the street and back, there were at least 25 of them walking with us. They wanted to talk to us, meet us, hear our names and tell us theirs, hold our hands - when we ran out of hands, they'd hold our arms, my skirt, whatever they could just to be close.
If I was sitting at home hearing someone else tell about a similar experience, I would nod and smile and think I understood because I had heard things like it before. And I would have been (and have been for many years) completely missing the point. Because it's not just about a nice "missionary" story, it's about real people, created by God, who look in your face and ask you to see them.
During the whole voyage we had training from a South African couple, and one thing I noticed that he said frequently, when he was trying to emphasize a point, was, "Do you hear me?" or "I hope you're hearing me." In other words, "I hope my words are doing more than existing - I hope they are really penetrating your heart and mind. I hope you hear me."
Similarly, people want to be seen - their existence confirmed, their humanity and worth acknowledged. That's something missing in many western cultures - certainly in my own. I know - I've waitressed for four years - how easy it can be to look at a person, to speak to them and interact with them and even serve them, without ever seeing them.
After supper tonight my ship family went for a walk to get into town a little bit - but we got no more than a quarter of a mile past the ship, because first one, then another of us would hang back talking to someone and the whole group would have to wait. :-) Always people were trying to get our attention in various ways, and the kids! My ship sister, Miriam, started talking to one of them when we left the ship, and by the time we had walked down the street and back, there were at least 25 of them walking with us. They wanted to talk to us, meet us, hear our names and tell us theirs, hold our hands - when we ran out of hands, they'd hold our arms, my skirt, whatever they could just to be close.
If I was sitting at home hearing someone else tell about a similar experience, I would nod and smile and think I understood because I had heard things like it before. And I would have been (and have been for many years) completely missing the point. Because it's not just about a nice "missionary" story, it's about real people, created by God, who look in your face and ask you to see them.
Water, water, everywhere . . .
I don't think as quickly as I used to. I used to have all kinds of ideas flowing in and out of me so quickly, but now the deluge has been reduced to a trickle. Mostly I'm more interested these days in what I am doing, rather than what I am thinking, and I'm pretty sure that's good. I'm pretty sure that for me, it is progress in a good direction. I'm studying in James, where in the first chapter he emphasizes the importance of not just hearing truth, but actually applying it practically and living accordingly. It's important, yo.
Anyway, I thought it might be interesting to provide a description of our Atlantic crossing – maybe it's interesting. :-) We left from Dominica after some major complications regarding a tax that Customs threw at us at the last minute – basically they were just trying to gouge us, but they were insistent and we couldn't leave until we had reached a conclusion and been cleared. We had planned to leave mid-afternoon, but instead there was a high-drama meeting on board that lasted all night. Finally at almost midnight, they reached some sort of a temporary consensus and I watched on the webcams from my bed as they left the ship and we were finally able to leave.
We have had wonderful weather for the most part – so many people have been praying and I am so thankful to them and to God, because bad weather in the middle of the Atlantic would really have been traumatic for me, I think. We have also been generally spared from seasickness, which is fantastic. My friend Elly, who usually gets really sick, bade us “goodbye” the day we left – not expecting to see much of us for the duration of the sail, since she usually just spends sails curled up in her room. But the next morning, and every morning since then, she's been up and around, feeling fine. Many other people are the same. Whether due to good medication, the ship's constant movement in Dominica which sort of prepped us for the sail, or sheer providence, I couldn't say, but it's definitely a blessing.
I've been working in the pantry, washing dishes. It's been great – it is overall so easy and we have fun. For me it doesn't even really feel like work because for me, work is equated with being in the book fair and dealing with lots of emotional stress – working with difficult people, etc. Hanging out in the pantry with happy people still feels kind of like vacation for me – it's such a nice break!!! Sometimes it turns into a complicated juggling act, though, thanks to the ship's rolling. I generally unload and sort the clean dishes, and it's entertaining. Today I was there by myself, so the big game was timing my steps in between the rolls. For example, do I have enough time to slide across the dish pit, put away this silverware tray, and hurry back in time to catch this tray of dishes before it goes careening backwards into the wrong side of the dishwasher??? Slippery floors + lots of wheels + constant tilting back and forth = a CHALLENGE. :-D
The stairs are another fun place to deal with the motion. In addition to walking into the walls and handrails, you also get to deal with significant changes in gravity depending on whether we are moving upward or downward. If you start when the ship is headed up, you just FLY up the stairs, no problem. But six seconds later, suddenly your feet turn into lead and the effort is just hardly worth it any more. Initially when walking around the ship I tried to act normal – walking in straight lines, not varying my speed, etc. But it's much easier actually when you just make friends with the movement and work with it. So when climbing the four flights of stairs up to the dining room (or the six to the top deck, or whatever), I usually RUN . . . and then stop. RUN . . . stop. I know I look like a weirdo, but it takes a lot less energy, which is a hot commodity when we are sailing and every normal daily function becomes more difficult.
A highlight for me was the night I had a Southern breakfast with the other U.S. Southerners on board – scrambled eggs, cheese grits, cornbread muffins, chocolate chip pancakes, hamburger steak (okay, leftover hamburgers from the night before), and sweet tea (its appropriateness for Southerners outweighed its inappropriateness for breakfast). :-D It had kind of an off-kilter feeling to it all, because of course it just wasn't the same as a big breakfast back home, but for the ship, where everything comes from the Netherlands, has to be gathered by creative means, and frequently requires substitutions for the key ingredients that we don't have, it was pretty impressive. Many people here hang out with people from their home country a lot – the Latinos have their preferred table in the dining room, as do the Asians, the Dutchies, the Russians, the Brits, etc. - but the Americans don't really hang out together. I don't know about others, but in the beginning I avoided being in a group of Americans because Americans already have their own stereotype and I didn't want to fuel it by becoming cliquish.
Other things I've done while sailing across the Atlantic Ocean:
- slept under the stars (didn't get much sleep, but it was still AWESOME)
- sewed a skirt - long enough that I can wear it in Muslim countries
- helped cook a Russian meal, and
- eaten raw fish – twice. (and NO, I didn't like it!)
Anyway, I thought it might be interesting to provide a description of our Atlantic crossing – maybe it's interesting. :-) We left from Dominica after some major complications regarding a tax that Customs threw at us at the last minute – basically they were just trying to gouge us, but they were insistent and we couldn't leave until we had reached a conclusion and been cleared. We had planned to leave mid-afternoon, but instead there was a high-drama meeting on board that lasted all night. Finally at almost midnight, they reached some sort of a temporary consensus and I watched on the webcams from my bed as they left the ship and we were finally able to leave.
We have had wonderful weather for the most part – so many people have been praying and I am so thankful to them and to God, because bad weather in the middle of the Atlantic would really have been traumatic for me, I think. We have also been generally spared from seasickness, which is fantastic. My friend Elly, who usually gets really sick, bade us “goodbye” the day we left – not expecting to see much of us for the duration of the sail, since she usually just spends sails curled up in her room. But the next morning, and every morning since then, she's been up and around, feeling fine. Many other people are the same. Whether due to good medication, the ship's constant movement in Dominica which sort of prepped us for the sail, or sheer providence, I couldn't say, but it's definitely a blessing.
I've been working in the pantry, washing dishes. It's been great – it is overall so easy and we have fun. For me it doesn't even really feel like work because for me, work is equated with being in the book fair and dealing with lots of emotional stress – working with difficult people, etc. Hanging out in the pantry with happy people still feels kind of like vacation for me – it's such a nice break!!! Sometimes it turns into a complicated juggling act, though, thanks to the ship's rolling. I generally unload and sort the clean dishes, and it's entertaining. Today I was there by myself, so the big game was timing my steps in between the rolls. For example, do I have enough time to slide across the dish pit, put away this silverware tray, and hurry back in time to catch this tray of dishes before it goes careening backwards into the wrong side of the dishwasher??? Slippery floors + lots of wheels + constant tilting back and forth = a CHALLENGE. :-D
The stairs are another fun place to deal with the motion. In addition to walking into the walls and handrails, you also get to deal with significant changes in gravity depending on whether we are moving upward or downward. If you start when the ship is headed up, you just FLY up the stairs, no problem. But six seconds later, suddenly your feet turn into lead and the effort is just hardly worth it any more. Initially when walking around the ship I tried to act normal – walking in straight lines, not varying my speed, etc. But it's much easier actually when you just make friends with the movement and work with it. So when climbing the four flights of stairs up to the dining room (or the six to the top deck, or whatever), I usually RUN . . . and then stop. RUN . . . stop. I know I look like a weirdo, but it takes a lot less energy, which is a hot commodity when we are sailing and every normal daily function becomes more difficult.
A highlight for me was the night I had a Southern breakfast with the other U.S. Southerners on board – scrambled eggs, cheese grits, cornbread muffins, chocolate chip pancakes, hamburger steak (okay, leftover hamburgers from the night before), and sweet tea (its appropriateness for Southerners outweighed its inappropriateness for breakfast). :-D It had kind of an off-kilter feeling to it all, because of course it just wasn't the same as a big breakfast back home, but for the ship, where everything comes from the Netherlands, has to be gathered by creative means, and frequently requires substitutions for the key ingredients that we don't have, it was pretty impressive. Many people here hang out with people from their home country a lot – the Latinos have their preferred table in the dining room, as do the Asians, the Dutchies, the Russians, the Brits, etc. - but the Americans don't really hang out together. I don't know about others, but in the beginning I avoided being in a group of Americans because Americans already have their own stereotype and I didn't want to fuel it by becoming cliquish.
Other things I've done while sailing across the Atlantic Ocean:
- slept under the stars (didn't get much sleep, but it was still AWESOME)
- sewed a skirt - long enough that I can wear it in Muslim countries
- helped cook a Russian meal, and
- eaten raw fish – twice. (and NO, I didn't like it!)
On "bonding" . . .
When I came, one of the things I most wanted to learn was how to love more easily, not being so choosy about the people I let into my heart. Now I wonder what that means.
When my friend Alison left, it was really hard on me - my first "ship" goodbye – because I genuinely cared about her. It was the point at which I was forced (for the first time) to really consider what I want my relationships here to be like. I remember my ship father, Des, commenting around that time that he really doesn't have a hard time with goodbyes anymore because there have been so many – so many teams he's been on that have now moved on, so many people in his life for a short time. But I didn't entirely like that, because something inside of me shook a tiny fist and wondered, “If you genuinely love a person, shouldn't you be sad when you are separated from them??”
Here we are overwhelmed with relationships, and it's really hard sometimes. We have “bonding” opportunities with 400+ people on the ship, plus unlimited “meaningful conversation” opportunities with the people in each port (with the potential for long-term relationships – I already have a few email/facebook buddies from the countries we've been in ), PLUS we each struggle, by varying degrees, to maintain the relationships we left at home. And every new relationship we make is clouded by the knowledge that, if we really open ourselves up to that person and allow ourselves to care about them, the inevitable consequence is miserable pain when we have to say goodbye, probably never to meet again. And how are we supposed to deal with it? As one of my friends who has been here awhile commented, “I've just quit making new friends.”
Funny how he's learned the opposite of what I wanted to learn here. But even as I consider that somewhat calloused comment, it makes me reconsider my original goals. I am only capable of deeply caring about and investing in a limited number of people. In the past, I limited the number of people in my life to approximately the number of people I was able to love. Now when there are so many “opportunities” on every corner, I've found that “meaningful” conversations often mean much less. We can spend lots of time together, have lots of fun, have great, open, honest conversations without even cracking open our hearts. It's really hard sometimes.
Today was one heck of a day. On the one hand, it really sucked, but on the other hand, it was so good because it was real. One of my friends here had a truly terrible day and got hit with way more abuse than anyone should have to from a visitor. And we sat and talked about it all tonight – some really crappy things – but you know what? I really, genuinely cared (real me, not the person I wish I could become) and she shared what was really, genuinely going on in her life. I know it sounds so unremarkable, but it was real and it was good.
That's not conclusive – these days, nothing in my life is conclusive, and it drives me crazy. (It's also why I post so rarely on here – because my thoughts are so fragmented that it's hard to have anything to say except the tiniest random thought. Also it's hard because my English is falling apart here! But that's a different matter . . . ) But it's what I've got for today. And at least it's a start on figuring something out for a change.
When my friend Alison left, it was really hard on me - my first "ship" goodbye – because I genuinely cared about her. It was the point at which I was forced (for the first time) to really consider what I want my relationships here to be like. I remember my ship father, Des, commenting around that time that he really doesn't have a hard time with goodbyes anymore because there have been so many – so many teams he's been on that have now moved on, so many people in his life for a short time. But I didn't entirely like that, because something inside of me shook a tiny fist and wondered, “If you genuinely love a person, shouldn't you be sad when you are separated from them??”
Here we are overwhelmed with relationships, and it's really hard sometimes. We have “bonding” opportunities with 400+ people on the ship, plus unlimited “meaningful conversation” opportunities with the people in each port (with the potential for long-term relationships – I already have a few email/facebook buddies from the countries we've been in ), PLUS we each struggle, by varying degrees, to maintain the relationships we left at home. And every new relationship we make is clouded by the knowledge that, if we really open ourselves up to that person and allow ourselves to care about them, the inevitable consequence is miserable pain when we have to say goodbye, probably never to meet again. And how are we supposed to deal with it? As one of my friends who has been here awhile commented, “I've just quit making new friends.”
Funny how he's learned the opposite of what I wanted to learn here. But even as I consider that somewhat calloused comment, it makes me reconsider my original goals. I am only capable of deeply caring about and investing in a limited number of people. In the past, I limited the number of people in my life to approximately the number of people I was able to love. Now when there are so many “opportunities” on every corner, I've found that “meaningful” conversations often mean much less. We can spend lots of time together, have lots of fun, have great, open, honest conversations without even cracking open our hearts. It's really hard sometimes.
Today was one heck of a day. On the one hand, it really sucked, but on the other hand, it was so good because it was real. One of my friends here had a truly terrible day and got hit with way more abuse than anyone should have to from a visitor. And we sat and talked about it all tonight – some really crappy things – but you know what? I really, genuinely cared (real me, not the person I wish I could become) and she shared what was really, genuinely going on in her life. I know it sounds so unremarkable, but it was real and it was good.
That's not conclusive – these days, nothing in my life is conclusive, and it drives me crazy. (It's also why I post so rarely on here – because my thoughts are so fragmented that it's hard to have anything to say except the tiniest random thought. Also it's hard because my English is falling apart here! But that's a different matter . . . ) But it's what I've got for today. And at least it's a start on figuring something out for a change.
per your requests . . . :-P
OH LOOK. It's a picture of my AWESOME hair. :-P Whew. This isn't the lady who actually did it, but she was one of the ladies who I hosted at dinner that night. They have been hair braiders for 15+ years, working in a little pavilion where all the tourists can walk right by and see them. I ended up being really glad I had gotten it done . . . I had a headache for two solid days, but it was fun getting to hang out with Margaret on her turf instead of mine, asking her questions about her family, seeing how the women interacted, and so forth. When I got there, she introduced me to several people as "her friend from the ship" . . . many of the women there had made friends on the ship - as the crewmembers' hair could attest to. :-P Let's just say that it looked better on some than on others . . . I had at least six different people look at me and then just burst into hysterical laughter. I liked that the most, because I felt like it was genuine (because it was exactly how I felt about it). Anyway. Enough jabbering about a silly hair style. :-D
And there was light . . .
So, the Bahamas were wonderful . . . the people were super friendly and I loved getting a taste of the city as it really is, not just through the eyes of a typical tourist. I had one awesome day of exploration and several awesome conversations with people who came on the boat. Often I was quite confident that I got way more out of it than they did. Which just makes me wonder again, "God, why did you really send me here?" :-)
Tonight is our second night sailing. Since we obviously don't have work in the book fair, tomorrow I will be working as an Angel (cleaning staff), which means I have to get up SUPER early and I don't have much time, but I wanted to tell this first. :-)
For some reason I went outside tonight - I don't remember making that decision, but somehow I ended up outside by myself. All the big lights were off, so the only light was what was shining on the water from the ship's windows. The stars were fabulous, and I saw this one that was so bright and twinkly that it appeared to be changing all different colors. I stood there for a while, musing about how neat it is that the only lights for miles around were us and the stars . . . when suddenly I looked down at the waves we were churning up and . . . are they sparkling? What? Is that light in the water? Am I seeing things?
I ran inside looking for someone to enjoy it with me and the first person I saw was my Korean friend Woo Young. I said, "Woo Young! Come see!!!" and he said, "What, glowing plankton?"
GLOWING PLANKTON. I think I might have heard of such a thing sometime in the past, but that's totally different from the feeling you get when you suddenly realize that the waves are producing their own light. The flying fish are fun. The huge sea turtle I saw last time was exciting (and I hope we didn't run over it and kill it). :-P But glowing plankton? Now that's just AWESOME.
Tonight is our second night sailing. Since we obviously don't have work in the book fair, tomorrow I will be working as an Angel (cleaning staff), which means I have to get up SUPER early and I don't have much time, but I wanted to tell this first. :-)
For some reason I went outside tonight - I don't remember making that decision, but somehow I ended up outside by myself. All the big lights were off, so the only light was what was shining on the water from the ship's windows. The stars were fabulous, and I saw this one that was so bright and twinkly that it appeared to be changing all different colors. I stood there for a while, musing about how neat it is that the only lights for miles around were us and the stars . . . when suddenly I looked down at the waves we were churning up and . . . are they sparkling? What? Is that light in the water? Am I seeing things?
I ran inside looking for someone to enjoy it with me and the first person I saw was my Korean friend Woo Young. I said, "Woo Young! Come see!!!" and he said, "What, glowing plankton?"
GLOWING PLANKTON. I think I might have heard of such a thing sometime in the past, but that's totally different from the feeling you get when you suddenly realize that the waves are producing their own light. The flying fish are fun. The huge sea turtle I saw last time was exciting (and I hope we didn't run over it and kill it). :-P But glowing plankton? Now that's just AWESOME.
Bahamas!
I think on Wednesday I am going to go get my hair braided. Braided. In those tiny cornrows that look so silly on most white people that generally only tourists get them done.
Here's why though.
Today I hosted some local people for supper . . . I was somewhat skeptical about it because it was my first time to do that, and because they kind of invited themselves (slash, very pointedly asked me for an invitation). It ended up being a really nice time and I enjoyed it very much. They told me they had been braiding hair in a booth outside the cruise line terminal for seventeen years, and they told me that I really needed to come and let me braid their hair - as a gift, as a favor, for no charge - as many ways as they could think of to say it. :-) My first reaction was to just laugh it off and not take them up on it - I think it would look ridiculous on me and make me look like a total tourist, plus it hurts!! But eventually (after they had mentioned it multiple times) I decided to go for it.
Bahamas culture is really unusual in that it is such a tourism culture. Every single day, thousands of people arrive in the morning and are gone by the evening. Thousands of others come spend their vacations at all-inclusive resorts, which they never have to leave unless they really want to. Odd as it may be, Bahamian culture is kind of "imported," and this is the way they are accustomed to interacting with people like me.
I think afterward I will feel enthusiastically amused . . . and I'll probably have one heck of a headache. :-)
Here's why though.
Today I hosted some local people for supper . . . I was somewhat skeptical about it because it was my first time to do that, and because they kind of invited themselves (slash, very pointedly asked me for an invitation). It ended up being a really nice time and I enjoyed it very much. They told me they had been braiding hair in a booth outside the cruise line terminal for seventeen years, and they told me that I really needed to come and let me braid their hair - as a gift, as a favor, for no charge - as many ways as they could think of to say it. :-) My first reaction was to just laugh it off and not take them up on it - I think it would look ridiculous on me and make me look like a total tourist, plus it hurts!! But eventually (after they had mentioned it multiple times) I decided to go for it.
Bahamas culture is really unusual in that it is such a tourism culture. Every single day, thousands of people arrive in the morning and are gone by the evening. Thousands of others come spend their vacations at all-inclusive resorts, which they never have to leave unless they really want to. Odd as it may be, Bahamian culture is kind of "imported," and this is the way they are accustomed to interacting with people like me.
I think afterward I will feel enthusiastically amused . . . and I'll probably have one heck of a headache. :-)