The Expedition

A friend and colleague shared this poem as we considered how to leave our congregations and say goodbye "well." I don't know if there is a way to say goodbye well to the people who have captured my heart and lovingly pulled me into their family so quickly and fully, but I will try and try again until I have expended enough words on these loved ones. So tonight I share not my own words, but the words of another, more poetic writer... 


The Expedition 

by Anthony de Mello

My time here has come to an end, 

And I think of the days that I have spent in these surroundings.

I see an image of myself as I was when I came here

And I look at my self as I am today

At the close of this time.

I think of the persons and places that have been a part of my time here.

To each of them I speak in gratitude.

And to each I say goodbye. 

Other places, other persons call to me,

and I must go. 

I think of the experiences I have had,

The graces I have been granted

In this place.

For each of these too, I am grateful.

I think of the kind of life I have lived here,

The atmosphere, the daily schedule.

I say goodbye:

Another type of life awaits me,

Other graces, other experiences.

And I say goodbye to persons,

places, 

things, 

events,

experiences,

and graces, 

I do so under life's imperious biddings.

If I wish to be alive

I must learn to die at every moment.

That is, to say goodbye, let go, move on. 

When this is done, I turn to face the future

And I say, "Welcome."

I think of the work that waits for me,

The people I shall meet,

The type of life I shall be living, 

The events that will take place tomorrow.

And I extend my arms in welcome

To the summons of the future.

Hazed and Confused

The haze is getting to us.

Our morning routine typically consists of hauling ourselves out of bed around 10am (it's a rough life), grabbing a few water bottles out of the kitchen, and remarking about the weather.

"The haze looks like it lifted."
"Probably because of the rain."

"The haze is back again."
"Let's not leave the house today."

We have to go into the open-air hallway to get to the kitchen, so the weather kind of slaps us in the face as soon as we break the subpar seal of our air conditioned sanctuary of a bedroom.

We heard it was going to be bad this year. Actually, we heard that it was already bad this year. But we hadn't really noticed. Until recently.  There's a fun building we can usually see on our way to breakfast or the gym every morning. It looks like something out of Sim City and I enjoy imagining someone on their desktop computer controlling everything about Petaling Jaya and Kuala Lumpur - trading resources and building parks.  But lately we haven't been able to see the building from where we live. The haze has gotten much too terrible.

It is blowing in from Indonesia, where peat fields are burning for no real reason.  The burning and subsequent haze is even worse during dry years in Southeast Asia. This is not only harmful for the people living in haze areas (you know, me and the rest of the hundreds of millions of people here), but it is also harmful to the ozone layer. According to a report on Nature.com, "estimated carbon emissions from these 1997-98 fires were... equivalent to 13-40% of annual global fossil fuel emissions at that time."  And it's not getting any better. According to the same report, "in 2013... fires in Indonesia generated atmospheric pollution that exceeded the previous 1997-98 records over Singapore."

How is this happening, you might ask. Good question. It looks like (similar to most bad, harmful things in this world) big corporations and plantations are to blame. Peat bogs are sometimes drained in order to make room for farming and under the right (dry) circumstances, peat will burn indefinitely. Some peat fires have been burning in Indonesia since 1997. See the pretty map below.

Smoke and pollution from Indonesian fires, 1997.

Now I don't know if any of you have lived in a country with this much pollution on top of this much smoke haze, but I might be able to paint a good picture for you.

Below you will see the area where most of my readers live: Ohio, Virginia, North Carolina, and South Carolina.  While there are some places with abnormally high air quality indexes (probably because of factories), most areas hover around the 20s or 30s.  Even large cities don't have terrible ratings (around 50).

Now this picture shows where I'm living in Malaysia. This is updated from yesterday, one of the worst days we have had with haze since we have gotten here. All the numbers are above 100. Which is exactly why my eyes are burning while writing this post in an outdoor cafe. 

Curious about air quality in other places? Click here.

So let's just say the haze is getting to us. Between the phlegm, burning eyes, heavy chest, and coughing - we are about done with the dry season. The good news is that at least Indonesia has apologized for it...

Prepaid Cell Phones & Grace

Ephesians 2:18-22

For through [Jesus] we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

These two verses have been showing up on my Facebook newsfeed a lot lately.  Typically the posts are directed toward conservative immigration reform, but I've been (thankfully) disconnected from American politics for about two weeks now so I have been considering these verses in a different light. 

I am humbled and amazed by the hospitality of the people here in Malaysia.  We have been invited to so many dinners, lunches, and other gatherings over the last two weeks.  People we barely know have picked us up to take us to church and Bible study.  There have been various parishioners who have gracefully corrected our ways of eating traditional meals and were gracious when foods were too spicy for us to endure.  

Even strangers have been incredibly helpful and welcoming to us. One particular story from the past week comes to mind.

We received cell phones from my supervisor when we arrived in Malaysia with the instructions to "fill them up," meaning we need to put more minutes on the prepaid cell card. Totally oblivious about how to do this, we Googled it, hoping we would be able to do virtually everything online for the first few days in-country.  Unfortunately, we weren't able to do anything with our phones online but discovered that we could go to any 7/11 and reload our phones.  

So we went. 

And as if we don't stand out enough as foreigners, we are also probably the only people in the country who don't know how to reload our phones.  So the sweet woman behind the counter refrained from laughing at us, took our money, and handed us the receipt. 

And we looked at her blankly. "So, it's reloaded?" I asked. She pointed to the receipt in my hand and I noticed the long code number printed there. "Umm..." I had no idea what I was supposed to do. 

"I will do it," she helpfully replied.  I handed the phone back over with the receipt and she entered the number, showing me how to reload my phone with minutes.  

Then it was Daniel's turn. For one reason or another, Daniel's code wouldn't go through. It kept directing him to customer service.  So we stood in the 7/11 and tried over and over again. Finally, we went back to the woman behind the counter and asked her to help us.  

The poor woman called customer service, called her manager, re-entered the code, called her manager again, and called customer service again. She was dead set on helping us poor Americans figure out this phone problem. Unfortunately, nothing worked. You could tell that she was just as defeated as we were when we asked for a refund. 

I won't forget that woman. Not because we now know how to reload minutes on our cell phones, but because she was so helpful and so gracious to a completely lost couple in a new place.  She didn't have to stand there for fifteen to twenty minutes trying to solve a problem that wasn't her own.  But she did.  And it made me feel a little bit at home, as if we weren't such silly outsiders in this country.  I don't know why she was so gracious so us, but I am so thankful that she was. 

Running on Fumes

I am exhausted. And I haven't even arrived in country yet. In fact, we are just now leaving Columbus. What is this life?

I am so ready for a new normal.  I don't know what that means yet (hopefully it involves naps), but I am definitely ready for it.  In the past three weeks, I haven't gotten anything close to normal.

We moved all of our belongings into storage.
We couch surfed for three days.
We temporarily moved into a mountain house with our family of twelve.
We got married (yikes).
We moved up to Ohio for a week with my parents.
We packed everything else we own into six bags.
We said goodbye.

And now we are weirdly in this in-between place again of not quite able to move forward and really really wanting to be in Malaysia already! Womp womp. That's the beautiful tragedy of airport terminals, I suppose.

The good news is that our first week of marriage has been pretty cool. We have gone to fancy restaurants, eaten a lot of good food, slept in until late, played with our wonderful dog, and played a lot of Spades with my parents.  All in all, if the rest of our marriage could continue like this (minus the whole living in my parents' house thing), we would be pretty happy.

But we are really ready for Kuala Lumpur.  We might be dreading the 36 hours it is going to take to get there, but we are really ready for the malls, the people, our own little house, a crazy year of internship, and lots of really good food.

And I, for one, am really excited for a new normal.  I am so ready to not be living out of my suitcase anymore. I am so ready to empty out onto the bathroom counter the quart size plastic bag I use to hold my makeup.  I am so ready to put my shampoo on the shower shelf for more than a week. And I am more than ready to sit down at night and say, "this is our home."  Even if it only lasts a few months.

So for now, I suppose I should nap a little bit before we get on this plane to Denver.  Because goodness knows it's only a matter of time before I start to get hangry and grumpy and altogether beat by this travel.  It's going to be a bumpy ride.

And in case you're wondering, here's our flight plan:

Columbus -> Denver -> Los Angelos -> Taipei -> Kuala Lumpur

See you on the other side of the world!

New blog gadgets

There are a few new additions to the right of my blog posts.

The first thing you'll see is a map of where I am at the moment. I want to keep you updated because we will be traveling quite a bit in the next few weeks.

Further down the page, you'll see a link for the Global Service Newsletters. So far I have only received the one for August, but as I receive more, I will post them.

Spoiler alert: Daniel and I are in this newsletter quite a few times! We hope to write for it a few times over the next year. The link is also here: Global Service August 2015 Newsletter

Next, you'll see a form where you can sign up for email updates. You should do it! Because if you've read this blog post, there's a good chance you'll want to read the more interesting ones. And this way, you'll know the minute I've posted one!

Lastly, you will see an option to change this blog into a different language. This is for all of my lovely missionaries who are learning new languages, along with making it easier for people whose first language might not be English.

I'm looking to make this blog accessible and open to anyone who wants to read it, so let me know if there is anything else I can add.

Why Malaysia?

I've gotten a lot questions lately.  They usually follow some comment I make about moving to Southeast Asia for the next year.  So here are a few of them and here are my somewhat vague answers...

So, why Malaysia?

Well, to answer "why Malaysia," we need to ask a few more questions before that.

Why are you moving at all? 

I'm in seminary and it is my third year as a Lutheran student.  In our third year (or sometimes our fourth), the Lutherans are sent out to do an internship for a year.  It is used as a learning experience so that we are able bring those experiences back to seminary for a year and mull them around in community, or go directly into a parish and use those experiences to be better pastors.  We, of course, aren't able to learn everything we need to know, but as we walk alongside a congregation who has a lot of experience forming, nurturing, and teaching future church leaders, we are hopefully a little more prepared for parish ministry.

Why did you choose Malaysia? 

I didn't choose Malaysia, to be quite honest.  No one gets to "choose" their internship.  There is a lot of planning, discerning, and praying that happens before anyone is assigned to an internship site.  We have a director for internship who works with our paperwork and his colleagues in order to place us in the best place for our specific needs and learning goals.  All of my Lutheran colleagues at Southern Seminary were given assignments within the United States- some of them in the Southeast and some of them as far away as California.

What's so special about you? 

Nothing. There is certainly nothing special about me.  I prayerfully decided (with Daniel) to apply for a different internship program that is run by the Global Mission division of the ELCA.  The application process started a few months before the domestic internship process and was a little more extensive.  There was probably ten times the amount of paperwork and an interview in Chicago with the Director of Global Mission.  I wasn't entirely sure what I was getting into at the time, but I knew I wanted to take the opportunity of internship to experience Church in a (very) different context.

Will you be doing missionary work?  Working in an orphanage and building houses? 

Not exactly. Actually, not at all.  My internship will be very similar to all of my other colleagues' internships.  I will be working in a Lutheran church with a supervising pastor.  I'll have all of the usual duties: preaching, teaching, counseling, and visiting.  I'm sure there will be some opportunities in which we might be able to go visit places outside of the city, but that is not what I will be doing regularly.

But seriously, why Malaysia? 

God is calling me to Malaysia for many reasons.  The first one being (I think), is that it isn't going to be easy. The other reasons will reveal themselves over the next year (or several).  But I believe God is at work in this unique opportunity and I could not be more excited about it.

Next Adventures

Daniel and I are trying hard to keep everyone informed about what is happening in our very busy lives. But every once and a while, we will rattle off the next six adventures as if they are just obstacles on the way to the next moment in our lives.  Please trust me when I say that they are not.  The truth is that when people ask, "so what are you doing next?" or "where are you headed?" I automatically (sometimes falsely) assume that they do not want to hear all of the places we are going in the next three weeks.  But maybe they do, maybe they really do care about our crazy lives and the roller coaster that we have only just begun.

So that's what this post is about.  If you really do care about the craziness that is happening in the next few weeks - here it is.

Daniel and I JUST left (two weeks for me, one week for him) internship training with the Global Missions division of the ELCA.  It was a blast, and we learned a lot about the "beautiful secret" things that the ELCA is doing through Global Missions.  If you're interested in these secret or unknown things, just ask me because I have gotten really geeked out about it. We just started a program that focuses on educating women, there's an international leadership program, and there are people all over the world doing really incredible things (like starting a Lutheran church in South Sudan in the midst of a civil war).  

All this to say, Daniel and I are officially a "missionary couple!!"  It sounds so crazy because I don't consider what we are doing next year "mission" work, but it is a pretty humbling title to carry around.  Especially among the other beautiful people who hold that title in this church. 

Right now we are heading to Columbus, OH, where my parents have so graciously kept Cooper for two weeks.  (Thanks Mama and Daddy!!) We will pick him up, love on my parents for about twelve hours, then head back "home" to Durham, NC.  Daniel has one more heartbreaking week of internship down there.  On August 2nd, we will say, "goodbye for now" to our beautiful church family there. It will be one of the hardest goodbyes thus far.  

From there, we will have about a week to pack up all of Daniel's things (and my remaining things) and move them down to our storage unit in South Carolina.  We are excited and sad to say "goodbye" and "see you later" to a lot of our great friends at the seminary that weekend. We are at least very thankful for the opportunity to see some people and get some hugs before we depart for the year. 

Then we work our way back up north to Lincolnton, NC, where we will spend a day with our sisters and visit with Grandma before making the trek up to the mountains of Banner Elk, NC. 

After almost a week of wedding week preparation and vacation in our big family rental house in Banner Elk, 150 of our closest friends will join us for the celebration of Holy Communion and our wedding.  Obviously, that is the event that many people are most excited for.  But I can honestly say that I am just glad that I will finally be married to my best friend.  

After the wedding, we will drive back up to Columbus, spend a week with my parents (honeymooning a bit), then start our very long journey (24 hours of plane-riding) to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia! 

We want to make sure people who care know where we are and where we are going so that they can keep in touch and continue to hold us in prayer. So thank you, for everything you have done in our lives and all of the support you continue to give us.

From Port-au-Prince to Yvon

I won’t tell you it was life-changing. It is far too easy to go back to living my normal, Westernized,  previous life in South Carolina.  It is much more difficult to change.  In fact, I am already back to my normal routine - only to be intermittently interrupted by people asking how the mission trip went.  I have not sold all of my things and I am not running to the pulpit to preach about the devastation in Haiti. 

But now I have seen it - the children and mothers begging for food, the charity from hundreds of foreign countries being auctioned on the streets.  I may not be changed, but I am not the same.  

One of the most stunningly tragic parts of the trip was the ride from Port-au-Prince to Yvon.  We left early that morning and packed into a very small bus for the ten of us and all of our luggage.  As we pulled out of the Methodist guest house compound, it became obvious that I would not be going back to sleep for the four hour ride.  

I was jostled by the symphony of honks and brakes and engines revving at the next intersection.  I was taken by the sights and the sounds all around me.  It was like nothing I had ever seen before.  I was sure that the bus driver had purposely gone through a more depressed part of the city in order to “show these North Americans how good they have it.”  But as we continued down the maze of streets, I realized that every street was the exact same.  All the vibrant colors on the walls of the city were muted by a layer of dust.

There were huge hogs in the drainage canals which were no longer draining anything due to the amount of human and animal waste piled high within them.  There was an obvious difference between the women in the streets.  In Haiti, if you get pregnant you are kicked out of school.  The young women who make it through school and are lucky enough to find a job have a visible sense of independence and pride - something that was very obvious in our translator Angee.  

As we got out of the city, I thought I would get the chance to relax my muscles and take a nap.  We rounded a corner and saw trash piled high, burning.  As we passed our group coughed and  covered our eyes.  It stung my eyes and nose and gave me a deep sense in my gut that I was not going to get any sleep on this trip.  

We passed half-complete construction sites from past service projects and empty promises.  In many places in Haiti, people will build until they run out of money and cannot build anymore.  There is no financing, no hope of asking for a loan for a new house.  Many times, houses are left half-finished with long poles of rebar sticking high into the air.  

As we continued, I started to understand the language of the car horns - the long drawn out of “I’m coming over” or the short burst to villagers of “don’t cross the street” or the tap-tap of “thank you” after passing.  My favorite was the screeching warning to cars as we flew around sharp corners at nearly 80 miles per hour.  (There are no speed limits in this part of Haiti.) 

The glimpse of the ocean between the crumbling walls helped us forget where we were for a brief second.  It is stunningly blue and tranquil outside of the dirt and chaos of the city.  Until you see the specks of people fishing - realizing that their labor is not for pleasure but survival.  

After about two hours of travel we have become accustomed to the rotting or dead animals on the side of the road.  The gusts of sewage washing over you starts to be familiar.  The houses became less  structurally sound as we moved further and further from the city.  They were made out of whatever people could buy, find, or trade - tin, mud, and palm branches. 

We slowly passed by a large market that took up almost the entire street.  Men reached into the open windows of the van trying to sell us bread, water, and sodas in glass bottles.  Others were selling school supplies, diapers, toothpaste, and soap by the box.  I felt a fire rising in my chest like heartburn as I realized that relief from foreign countries and missions were not going to people in need but instead being auctioned off to the highest bidder.  

We continued down the narrow road and as I thought, “surely we will run out of island soon and drive right into the ocean,” we turned onto a dirt road toward the village of Yvon.  

The Start of Something New

I'm 22 years old.  I know, right? I'm young. And so far in my life, I have done some pretty cool things. And I'm super excited about all the cool things I have already done in my life.  I feel successful (even though I'll be on food stamps next month).  I am happy.  Seriously.  I know sometimes it doesn't seem like it, but I am happy. 

And I'm young.  I have a lot to live for.  I have a lot of goals I want to reach before I kick the bucket.  And I have a lot of time to achieve those goals.  I don't always feel that way- I look around to my friends who are forming nonprofit organizations, designing iPhone apps, becoming teachers, and traveling the world and I'm jealous.

I want to be doing those things. I think to myself.  So why am I not doing those things? Good freakin' question. I've never really had a bucket list before, but I think I'd like to start one.

I'm young.  I shouldn't be doing something I hate right now (like CPE) or ever, for that matter! I should be following my passions and creating my own bliss.  I should be leaving the past behind me and living the adventure that is my life.  I should be living the life I have right now. Moment to moment.

So I'm going to start.  CPE ends tomorrow with graduation and I am not turning back.  I'm going to run out those doors and start following my dreams.  This is my public proclamation that this is the start of something new.

I've always been fearful of the future.  I think that is why I spend so much of my energy trying to plan for it.  I try to map out my life and what is going to happen year to year.  Man, that takes the fun out of living!  I'm going to start living in the moment and loving life the way it is.  And if I am unhappy, I will get up and change it.  I know I can do this now because I have felt myself growing up.

One reason I know I have been changing and growing up is what I see in my relationship.  The relationship I'm in right now is the very first relationship in which I haven't been searching around for what is next or what is to become of it.  I am so happy with where I am in our relationship. I'm not worried about marriage or kids.  It's all to come.  For now, we're still young.  We enjoy each other's company and hanging out with our dog and going on road trips.  We love spending time with each other's family and talking about our passions.  We aren't in any hurry and that is so very nice.

I'm going to make mistakes. I'm going to say some stupid things. Maybe get myself in trouble.  But I am also going to have fun.  I am going to follow my passions no matter who I disappoint.  I am going to travel.  I am worth being the happiest I have ever been.

In preparation for Haiti

Most of you know this, but I went to Honduras for eleven days in January.  I haven't been able to go more than about 20 hours without thinking about that experience and how much I want to go back.  I might not get the opportunity to go back to Honduras, but I'm hoping to travel again this January.

The professor with whom I traveled takes a group to Haiti on the years he doesn't go to Honduras.

I am elated about Haiti.

I loved my experience in Honduras so much that I cannot even imagine how much fun I'll have in Haiti.  I just want to hang out with kids again.  Sweat in the sweet heat and giggle with some kids on the front porch of a school.  I've been Googling things about Haiti for the last week in anticipation. 34% of the population is younger than fourteen.  I couldn't be more excited.

Haiti intimidates me.

I don't know how to speak even a tiny bit of French.  And French Creole sounds even more exhausting.  How am I going to connect with people when I can't understand anything? When I can't speak anything?  But if I learned anything while I was in Honduras, it's that laughter and silliness are languages without distinctions.  I might be alright.

My heart breaks for Haiti.

Haiti was the first post-colonial black-led nation in the world.  They endured so much persecution by the Spanish and French over the years that their government has been pretty unstable for its entire existence.  It is currently the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Poorer than Honduras? I think to myself. How my heart breaks for the people there.

Haiti is hurting.

In 2010, an earthquake struck Haiti, killing over 300,000 people and leaving over 1.5 million people homeless.  Four years later, they still haven't recovered.  They may never fully recover.  Their environment is subject to extensive deforestation and soil erosion.  And there is barely enough potable water to provide everyone with enough throughout the year.

Haiti can teach me so much.

Over 95% of Haitian citizens are black.  Over half of the population practices voodoo (although the census says that they are 80% Roman Catholic).  I am so incredibly interested in the culture there.  Not as a specimen of study, but as people I'd love to have relationships with.

I am so excited to meet my brothers and sisters in Haiti.  I'm going to be hitting everyone up for money soon.  It makes me ill to ask for money like this, but these trips are formational and completely priceless to the ministry for which God is calling me.

Roots

When you're a freshman at a big school like Ohio State (or any college for that matter), people tend to ask you a few basic questions:

1. What's your major? (Which will almost definitely change by the time you graduate.)

2. Where are you living? (If they are upperclassmen and/or have older siblings at the school, they will almost certainly have an opinion about where you live.)

3. Where are you from? (The answer to this question will immediately make you interesting or realize common friends.)

My answers to the first two questions were always somewhat basic. I'm thinking of majoring in Political Science. I live in Nosker House on North Campus since I'm in the scholars program (humble brag).

The third question was where I always got tripped up. So I varied it.

"I'm from a small town in Virginia."
"I'm not really from anywhere... my dad was in the military."
"I was born in Hawaii, but I don't really claim a hometown."
"Where do I look like I'm from?"
"Here. Columbus. I've just been gone for a while."

I didn't have a good answer for anyone who asked where I'm from. My dad was in the Army, so we moved around every two or three years until we moved to Virginia in 7th grade. I spent the most time there, but it didn't feel like any more of a "hometown" than did Ft. Kobe, Panama or Ft. Riley, Kansas.

My family was a troupe of wanderers. And I was okay with that. In truth, the most accurate thing I could have said when people asked me where I'm from would have been, "I'm at home at the kitchen counter watching my mom make dinner with the hum of my dad watching football in the background."

Although some of that is still true. I love watching my mom make dinner. I love watching the latest Netflix movie with my parents on the couch with my feet stretched across them. I love following my mom around the house and annoying her by "being bored" while she cleans and does laundry. That will always be my home.

But something strange has happened in the past year. When I was a freshman in college, I was afraid of putting roots anywhere, lest it be an angle for people to judge me. It was better if I was a wanderer and I was convinced that I could not be a wanderer with roots.

"Wickedness never brings stability, but the godly have deep roots." -Proverbs 12:3 

As I started my long process of leaving Ohio in my rearview mirror about three weeks ago, I got to thinking about roots and wings. Was it possible for me to have both? And could I have roots in more than one place? I don't think I would be satisfied if I was anchored to one place my whole life.

I think God has a funny way of filling us in on exactly what we need to know at exactly the right moments. (Omnipotence, maybe?) But as I was saying goodbye on the night before my departure, I knew full well that I could have roots and wings. God had given me beautiful people to help shape me, challenge me, and love me in Ohio. He had done the same thing in Virginia (and apparently they weren't done!) and I have a feeling there will be amazing people waiting for me in South Carolina when I arrive at the end of July.

I want to be able to put down roots in different places. It's okay to. No, I think it is best to. Because no matter where you go, you'll always feel at home. You'll always be establishing new roots while expanding your wings.

Home isn't four walls and a door. It's not a sticker on a map or a destination on a GPS. Home is where you feel loved. Where you feel welcome. Where you want to come back to. Where you can cry and laugh and celebrate. Home is not a place, but a people and a community.

And no matter where I go, as long as I can talk to Jesus, I know I'm home.