The Honest Answer

I have a little calendar in my classroom.  Its actually a piece of paper with 10 tiny months printed on it, with little day-sized checks spanning from exactly August 20 to March 24.  

Today we have been here 7 months.  

When we first touched down on the island of Kosrae, everything was brand new and exciting.  I wanted to blog about EVERYTHING.  

"Oh my goodness, the ocean was so warm!  I MUST BLOG."

"Great glory, breadfruit tastes like unsalted play-dough! I MUST BLOG."

"There was a sunset!  I MUST BLOG."

Back then I was a pre-packaged SM sent straight from the wealthy and abundant lands of America, tailored to perfection by the SM department and their community.  I came plowing into Kosrae, toting my little camera and soaking in the culture with the thought "Boy, just wait till the folks back at home here about this!" running through my head all the time.

I see myself now as a tan/burnt dude who goes to eat a care-package pop tart, and decides that its too much work to brush off the ants before taking a bite.

The other day I was skyping my girlfriend Haley Coon, and she asked me the question that I have been terrified to answer.  

"Riv, do you think you have changed at all while you have been there?"

I swallowed.  I could give an "SM" answer, which would go something like this:

Yeah, of course I have.  I have really felt God working in my life to give something back to these locals who don't have anything, but still have happiness.  I've built three churches and started a sabbath school and converted 348 people to Christ and built a well for a village without water and found peace and happiness and realized how we take so much for granted back in the States.  I think I'll probably be a missionary for the rest of my life.

Or I could give my honest answer:

"I don't know."

Maybe as a current SM, I see people come back with these great colorful miracle stories, and can see that dreamy, faraway look in their eyes when you assume they are recalling the hardships they endured back in the wild country of who-knows-where.  And here I am, eating pop-tarts with ants on them.  I had always hoped to develop a legitimate "faraway look" from my SM experience, but maybe that comes later.  Maybe I will see the miracle stories after the fact.  

But after some time to think about Haley's question, here are some little things I can come up with:

1. I go barefoot much more often.  

2. Church services don't seem as long as they used to.

3. I started to like breadfruit.

4. Ants and termites are part of the meal.

5. I can hold about a 6 second conversation in Kosraen.

6. I know how to bake bread.

7. The ocean under the stars never ceases to amaze me.

8. I CAN live without Panda Express (barely).

9. I learned how to say yes to things I didn't want to do.

10. I learned how to say no to things I didn't want to do.

11. I like the taste of lentils now.

12. I've learned that even people living on a tropical paradise have struggles in their lives.

13. I've learned that there are different ways of doing the same thing, and they both work.

14. I can climb a coconut tree.

15. I've started to enjoy the race of trying to finish my potluck plate before getting demanded to go get more food.

16. I'm starting to become a morning person.

17. Swimming in the ocean still scares me a little.

18. I still can't fold a fitted sheet my myself.

19. I've learned that life is delicate.

20. I don't know if I'll be able to eat a meal at home without a side of rice.

21. A cold shower doesn't phase me anymore.

22. I'm starting to learn that God displays beauty all around us, whether we stop and notice it or not.

In about two months, I'll be touching down at the Spokane airport at exactly 8:57 PM on a Friday night.  

Then unpack, pack, summer camp, unpack, pack, Portland nursing school for two years, then real life.

Ugh.

I was reading a wonderful book called African Rice Heart written by Emily Wilkens, a fellow Spokanite and good friend of our family.  Her closing words from the last chapter described her feelings finally touching down back into real life traveling back from Chad, Africa.  She spoke of the feeling of the fast-pace American lifestyle being paraded in front of her as she flew back across the U.S., and sure enough when she landed, everything shook.  

Honestly, I'm kind of terrified of this.  Will I be so different that I can't adapt back into my old life?  Or will I be disappointed at the lack of change I discovered in myself upon returning?  What if I get so overwhelmed by the stress of my new life that I am scrambling to buy the first ticket back to Kosrae?

I have found that the only way to escape these thoughts is to not think of them.  Enjoying the tiny, everyday pleasures have begin to grow into my funny little memorable moments of Kosrae, shaping me and building my little "Kosrae Portfolio" in my memory box.  And on those cold winter nights, I will sit in a warm chair and pull out this little portfolio from my mind and flip through stories and photographs, remembering the grand tales and experiences that seemed so small at the time.  

The gap between March 24 and May 30 is getting smaller everyday, and my memory-box portfolio still has plenty more space.  And if everything does shake when I touchdown at home, that memory box is strapped in nice and tight up there in the attic.

Peace from the tropics,

River