Real Service, Real Joy

 So I wrote most of this a while ago, but I just thought I would post it now, as the school year is coming to a close.

The week before Spring Break, we had a Palauan "camp meeting," which took place at the Ngarachamayong Cultural Center (no camping involved).  Being there with all the members of Palau's churches was pretty neat, but the speaker was the most amazing part.

His name is Andrew Michell, and right now he lives in the Philippines.  But his story certainly didn't start there.  He used to be a burglar who did drugs and alcohol, and who was the getaway car for a group of robbers.  He talked about a Halloween crime spree that involved robbing everyone from drug dealers to a grandmother who was beaten in the face with a gun and taken into the basement as her house was ransacked.  Andrew went to prison at the age of 16 for a variety of charges including kidnapping and theft.  He was supposed to be in jail for 13 years, but while he was in solitary confinement someone gave him a Bible.  He began reading it, and over the next few years his life changed.  He became a Christian, took high school classes from jail, gave money to charity, and was set free early (after 10 years) because of his remarkable turnaround.

From there, he didn't know what to do, but he prayed for opportunities to help people, and they came.  He took mission trips, taught children in Costa Rica, cared for lepers and mentally ill people in China, and spent five years in an orphanage in Thailand.  He later met the grandmother he had robbed, and found out that she had been praying for him all these years.  She broke into tears when he told her all the experiences he was having as he helped people around the world.  She had already forgiven him, and she ended up petitioning for him to receive a full pardon which allowed him to enter countries that had barred him because of his criminal record before.

I have to say that there's no trace of his past that I could see.  Pastor Michell described how happy he was to clean lepers' sores, and how it even gave him joy to change their diapers.  He told a story about clipping a mental ward patient's overgrown toenails and cleaning the filthy ears of people with no hands...and he was smiling.

It made me wonder if I would be that happy to do those things.  Would I find joy in changing diapers and scraping dead skin from a leper's decomposing feet?  Would I show that much love to a mentally ill man who needed a pedicure?  Sitting there in the audience, looking at the graphic pictures, I realized that I didn't have that kind of attitude.

There was a quote attributed to Mother Theresa that said something like (I'm paraphrasing here),

"The wonder of these acts of service isn't that we do them; it's that we enjoy doing them."

I realized that I don't want to just serve and perform good deeds...I want to have that kind of joy that an ex-convict had as he was set free to do the most unglamorous work for people who were rejected by society.  That's real service.  Anyone can perform an act that looks like a good deed, but not everyone can serve others as a way of life...and love doing it. 

Maybe some people think it's so wonderful what we're doing over here, but we're not really that special.  We aren't any more patient or loving or self-sacrificing than anyone else.  We get tired and frustrated and worn out, and sometimes struggle to remember why we're here.  Especially in these last couple of weeks, we're burnt out.  It makes me think of Joseph saying, "It is not in me" (Genesis 41:16).  We don't have it in us to keep going.  But thankfully, "the Father that dwelleth in Me, He doeth the works" (John 14:10).

I'm glad that we have a God who can give us happiness in doing things that don't seem so attractive on the surface.  And I'm glad He can even change the hardest hearts (and I'm not just talking about Andrew Michell's).  I hope we can all find that kind of joy.

One Month Left

Today is May 5.  In one month, I’ll get on a plane in the middle of the night and fly to Guam, then Hawaii, and then the U.S. mainland.  In a recent staff meeting we were told to start preparing for departure now, and even though I have less tasks to complete than the regular teachers, and I’m one of the last ones leaving Palau, I’m still in that mindset now.  I’ve started going through my things and thinking about what I want to pack.  We only have two more weeks of school, and then there will be graduations and a last Rock Island trip and people will be leaving one by one…it’s the home run right now.

I was thinking about some things I miss about home.  I miss America and all its natural beauty—the aspen and birch trees, the mountains, the spring flowers, the crisp air, the animals, even the Western rock formations and trees.  I miss some of the food (although I’ve been able to eat pretty similarly to how I do at home).  I miss fast internet, and being able to watch videos and use Spotify to listen to music.  I miss some of the familiar places at home—even the stores.  I miss watching the news and feeling like I’m a part of the U.S.  I miss being with family and friends...of course I know that I’ll be seeing you all soon, God willing.

I'll miss these weird plants that grow by PMA...

I'll miss this view...

But I was also thinking of some things I would miss about here.  I’ll miss fresh papaya, breadfruit, soursop, coconut water, and Asian cooking.  I’ll miss the fruit bats soaring around at night like big birds.  I’ll miss skimming over the ocean past the fluffy island mounds with the tropicbirds flying overhead, and I’ll miss getting in the water and seeing sharks, butterfly fish, and giant clams.  And I’ll miss the kids…and seeing the people at church…and being with the group of SMs who have become like family over the year.  I’ll miss going up to the Sanchez house for Friday night vespers and birthday parties.  I’ll miss seeing the Chinese and Korean dorm students talking on the bus on the way to church, and seeing them wandering around at night with their phones.  I’ll miss seeing the Korean tourists with their big floppy hats and oversized sunglasses and umbrellas to keep themselves from getting tanned.  I’ll miss going to Surangel’s and having the employees carry our bags out to the car…anyway, I’ll stop.  I’ll miss a lot, but I’m glad to be going home.

A week ago two former SMs came to visit their kids.  One girl taught 4^th grade, and now her kids are in 6^th grade.  They were so excited to see her—one boy even cried because he was so shocked and happy.  The people here keep saying, Come back and visit, Come back and teach, Come back and stay.  And now, even though I don’t know when or if I’ll ever make it back, it seems a lot more possible than it did before.

Fun with the dorm kids in the rain

Anyway, I’m kind of glad we only have one month left, because now I recognize that time is limited and I’ll try to make the most of it.  I’m looking forward to the end of school, but it will probably be bittersweet because it will be time to say goodbye to most of the kids.  I’ve taught them all at one point or another—that’s about 230 kids—and gotten to know almost all of their names.  It will be weird to think that there will be a whole new batch of student missionaries to take up the torch next year.  I pray they’ll be able to continue and improve on what we did this year.

Where is Elab?

I guess I’d better stop reflecting.  There will be time for that all this month, and after I leave.  But it’s good to get a head start so I can know what I’d like to do before I go.  It will be good to be home, but it will be sad to leave too, so there’s going to be a lot of different feelings.  This year has been hard, but I’ve learned a lot about myself, about God, about other people, about mission life, about school, and about Palau and East Asian culture.  I’ll have so many stories to tell…

One month to go.  Countdown starts now…

I did it!  I finally captured the national bird on camera!  Here it is...the elusive Palau Fruit Dove

A fun day

 Last weekend (April 23) we were told that there would be a "sponsor" event, which meant that our Palauan families had planned something for us.  We were told to go to Coco Beach Resort, over in Ngiwal, but we weren't sure what to expect.  It turned out to be a cool little place--it had a beach, a pool, and two treehouses and a pretend ship!  It was like Swiss Family Robinson or Disneyland or something, and it brought out the kids in us.

We could play on the ship...

Or hang out in the treehouses

Or just relax on the beach and swings

It was nice by the ocean

We had a lot of fun splashing around in the pool

 And of course our Palauan parents didn't want us to starve...so they brought a truckload's worth of food to sustain us.  There was a little bit of everything--tapioca, bananas, bread, pizza, stir-fry, rice, casseroles, kankhum (don't know how to spell it, but it's a green leaf), pastries, cake, cookies, watermelon, apples, grapes, and so on.

The feast

 It was a lot of fun, and when we got to relax later, it helped us remember that we really are on a beautiful tropical island.  I'm really thankful for our Palauan families that cared enough to make a whole fun day just for us.  The lady who organized it said, "This is to show our appreciation for what you student missionaries do in Palau, and we hope you will come back and visit us, and keep in touch when you go back home."

In a hammock...

I don't want to make everyone think we just relax at the beach all the time, because we spend most of our time at school in the classrooms.  But it was nice to just have a fun day with our "families."  God is good, and He has a lot of good people here to make our stay in Palau enjoyable.

This Child...

The town of Koror

It was a Friday afternoon.  School ends at 12:45 on Friday, so the bus usually arrives to take us back to PMA by 1:30.  It was hot and everyone was ready to go home.  I had just sent the kids out of the library and closed up, and I was sitting in the air-conditioned bus, waiting for the teachers to all arrive.  

Then I saw the kindergarten teacher talking to a little girl from first grade.  I had just finished subbing 1^st grade, so I knew the little girl well, and knew that she had tried to call her parents in the library, but hadn’t gotten an answer, and then I had sent her out.  She looked like she was just hanging around now.  Did she have a way to get home?

I went over to where they were talking, and Ms. K was asking if the little girl (I’ll call her Ruby, I guess) lived nearby.  She said yes, and when we pressed further, she said she could go home alone, but we were concerned about her crossing the street in the afternoon rush of traffic.  So Ms. K asked if we could walk Ruby home.

It started out normally enough.  Ruby didn’t seem thrilled to have us with her.  “Why are you following me?” she asked.  We told her we wanted her to get home safe.  She led us through a parking lot, past a park, to the sidewalk of the main road.  

“Is your house much further?” we asked.

“Further,” Ruby said.  “Why are you following me?”  She ran ahead.

“Stay with us!” said Ms. K.  “We don’t want you to get hurt by a car.”

The supreme court is down there where we walked...fortunately it wasn't dark though

Ruby looked back at us with an impish grin, and then took off.  I have to tell you that by experience I know that she’s a very…contrary little kid.  So much so that I think she’d float upstream instead of down if she fell in a river.  If you tell her one thing, that immediately triggers something in her that wants to do the exact opposite.

We tried to jog after her a little, but she just kept running a good 50 feet ahead of us.  Thankfully she didn’t disappear…maybe because we had her backpack which she had slipped out of when I grabbed it to slow her down.  Or maybe she realized we were trying to help.  Meanwhile, we were going further and further down the road as cars whizzed past in the midday Palauan sun.  We walked past the Rock Island Café, the Anthias Café, the supreme court, the community college, the information center…

Finally Ruby slowed down and we caught up to her. 

“Where is your house?” asked Ms. K with frazzled patience.

“Over there,” the little girl pointed across the street.

“Ok, wait with us and we’ll cross when it’s safe.”

Ms. K held onto her almost with a death grip until we had crossed.

“All right, how much further?  Tell us where to go.”

“Keep going!”

We walked down past a few more buildings, past construction and motels.

“Is it much further?”

“Walk!” the six-year-old ordered.

A minute later Ruby giggled.  “Just kidding.  It’s back there.”

Ms. K and I stared at each other.

“This child…”

“Don’t lie to us any more,” Ms. K told Ruby.  “Tell us where you really live.”

A lady driving by said hello to Ruby, and we gazed pathetically after the disappearing car.  “Tell us where she lives…”

Finally we got to a quiet street.  A man driving by waved at Ruby and we quickly asked him if she lived nearby.  He pointed us to the house she was taking us to.  Finally.  We sent her and her backpack inside.

“Bye, see you next week.  Be safe.”

We realized that she probably did walk home alone sometimes.  But all that way?  With all those cars?  We justified ourselves in that we hadn’t known whether to believe her or not.

There was no way to tell the people on the bus where we were, since Ms. K couldn’t get a Wifi signal for her phone.  So we started jogging back.  A light rain fell on us as we ran, two young white girls in polos and skirts, up the main road in Koror with our hair straggling around our hot faces.  I wonder what people thought when they saw us.

“I feel so bad for the people waiting!” panted Ms. K.  “I had no idea it would be this far…I thought she lived across the street.”

“Well, at least we know she’s back safe,” I said.

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of her going back alone and maybe getting hit…I think my heart is too big.  I think of them as my kids…”

I didn’t think her heart was too big.  Sure, we’d gone above and beyond the call of duty, but isn’t that what we’re meant to do?  I just wished that I had that big a heart.  I hadn’t gone because I felt that much love or concern; I had just thought it was the right thing to do.

“At least this will make a good story,” said Ms. K as we rounded the bend and thankfully found the bus still idling, waiting for us.  (The driver was asleep, and so were some of the teachers).  We had been gone about 40 minutes, and might have covered a mile altogether.  I guess everyone was too tired to be very irritated at us, but at any rate we were back.  We roused the driver, the bus shuddered into gear, and we were on our way.

I don’t know what lesson to draw from this episode.  I can think of a few…we’re all kind of like Ruby, running away sometimes from Someone who wants to help us, and acting like it’s a big joke.  No appreciation.  But that Someone keeps coming after us because of love and concern for our safety.  

Or maybe you can just marvel at the patience and care of a girl who took a year out of her life to teach kindergarten on a little island in the Pacific, and who would rather chase a wild child through the streets of Koror than lie awake that weekend wondering whether she had crossed the street safely.  I have to say I really admire what she did on that Friday. (if her parents somehow end up reading this, I hope they're proud).

Whatever else can be learned from that day, at least we came back calling it an adventure.  Soon we were back home, safe and sound.

And so was Ruby.