Two Years Forward

This is crazy! After two years, I'm remembering this blog. Obviously I got caught up in life. Much has happened since then.

Short story? I got a Master's degree and a teaching job. Of course, there are always stories along the way. Perhaps I'll start telling them again here.

I suppose I was a different person then...

Saying Goodbye

June 8th, 2017

Many people may say that the loss of a pet isn't a big deal. I wonder if those people have gotten close to a pet before or if they're simply trying to blow such an experience off. We had to put our dog, Tipper, down today. Now, first off, I've been the one to find most of our pets dead from natural causes. I was sad and we had a small funeral of sorts to commemorate their passing. While in PNG, I watched a pig die (after being stabbed... they had tried for the heart, but I guess it wasn't a direct hit?) It seemed to take forever for it to die. It was a rough experience, but I wanted to know how long death took. Sometimes, it seems like the guy in Chaucer's Pardoner's Tale when the super old guy says that life clings to him like a disease. Who would want everlasting life in a body that grows old and decays?

In "A Street Car Named Desire," Blanche says that funerals are easy, but deaths are hard. I would agree. I had dealt with animals that had died, even people that had passed... things weren't laughs and giggles, but time and life moved on. I suppose I haven't really lost someone who was extremely close to me yet. When that experience comes, I know it will be hard, but being with a soul when it leaves or hearing breaths of a living thing and then knowing the breathing stopped... and their heart stopped... it seems different... harder.

Peter Pan said, "Death would be an awfully big adventure." I'm sure it is, but when I reach the bridge of it, I hope I can gaze at who is on the other side waiting for me and sprint across it with glee. I don't know if dogs go to Heaven, but I believe God blesses prayers of His children... a child's prayer. That's what I prayed. When I was waiting for my sister and told God that's what I wanted... and then a brother... and then another brother... and He listened each time. Yep, I have a sister and two brothers. I didn't have to wonder. I knew... I hoped and had unyielding faith that it would happen. I prayed a prayer that felt like those today. As I felt Tipper was crossing that bridge, I prayed that God would take her to Heaven. That I would see her there. I know He heard me.

After it happened and we were driving back home, it hit me: I have to tell her son. Toby. He's officially mine, but I cried some more. Dumbledore once said, "Don't pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living." He's got a point. The dead have a better perspective. It's like wondering how your next year of life will be and then reaching the end of that year, looking back, and wondering what all the worry was about. We miss those who have gone on. We grieve and wonder what crossing that bridge will be like. But Peter Pan also says, "To live would be an awfully big adventure." With the hope we have, we don't have to worry. We just need to have a little faith, trust, and (if I can change the quote a bit) ...courage to truly live.

Why Tattoos

My Dad still connects tattoos with prison. I'm sure there are others that might do the same or, at the very least, think that a tattoo is wasteful, distasteful, or unprofessional. I admit that there are always stupid reasons for doing things. Anything really. A guy helps the homeless people in his area... because he had to have community service hours. A girl adopts a baby... because she's lonely. Someone gets a tattoo... because they were drunk one night. There are many possible things that bad reasons can lead to. For those of you who wonder about my motives, you can find them here. I try not to make decisions lightly, so if you think I'm just another person going along with a fad, then you haven't taken the time to know who I am.

It started a few years ago. My sister had mentioned that we should get a tattoo together right before I went off to Papua New Guinea. I'd thought of possibly getting a tattoo a few times before, but couldn't come to something I'd like on me forever. When she offered, we were kinda on the way to the airport and thus, no time (along with me not knowing what I would get anyway). While over in PNG, I thought through what might be cool to have and what means something to me. One thing to me can either mean endless possibilities or possibly just mean the one thing. If I'm going to put ink into my skin, its going to mean quite a bit. So I browsed and thought I came up with a few things. A verse or a compass, or perhaps a cross.

 I wasn't set on one thing for sure until August 29th (2014). I'd been frustrated with not knowing what's next, had been having a few family issues, and would get very down (I'm talking "sad", not "dancing"). After everything seemed hopeless, one thing still shined through. It wasn't my self-esteem or my friends and family. It wasn't music or my mountains or my dog or a possible adventure. Nothing but my God would do. Even with God, I had frustrations. Questions not yet answered as to why I still didn't have a direction. Through even these annoyances, I knew that He knew better. I'd had previous experiences that proved (in my mind, heart, and soul) that He was there and was more consistent than anything else I'd encountered (and anything I would come across in this life). If He wanted life to continue, there must be a reason and I would find out why.

I drew a cross on my arm at that instant. For all the weight that this symbol represents for my life, the main reason I drew it in those moments was so I could see it and remember. It was there because the only One I know who can truly push the darkness away is the One who conquered the cross, death, and sin. I'd felt that there was a darkness that threatened to consume my being and who I am. And should I be consumed by it, I would surely be lost in this life. I found the core of who I am: a child of God. Everything else that defines me is either a perk or a flaw. The perks are fun and can stay, while the flaws will be dealt with asap. In those moments, all was striped away except the one thing that can keep me steady: my God.

Thus, I am one that needs a reminder. In seeing this symbol, I remember who I live for and so my reactions to situations change from the self-centered view of Michelle to the bigger picture of what is not seen and eternal. I have the option of drawing it on me each day, but should I ever get to a point where I falter in my faith, I want to be ever aware of my betrayal and thus turn back around. I also realize that this symbol will be visible to others. Free accountability and possible evangelism. However, I'm doing this not because of others.

I have nothing to hide. So why hide Who I belong to? No longer will I have the option of silently drifting into the shadows. No wasting life or hiding. Let me live out loud in love and truth.

"The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not mastered it." (John 1:5) I am His and will glorify His name, because He is constantly saving my life. May I be love and truth to others, and may I never be ashamed, but be bold in shining His light.

It was May 7th that my sister and I went to get our tattoos. I got my simple cross and my compass. The cross for what has already been explained. The compass (with a fleur de-lis and two stars to the north east) refers to many things, but has a verse attached to it. Isaiah 30:21 says, "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, you will hear a voice behind you saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" I do like pirates' freedom and Peter Pan's adventures (the two stars and compass). I love where I grew up and enjoy gazing into the heavens (north east and stars). I like Uncle Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender and how he is a part of the White Lotus (fleur de-lis which also represents perfection, light, and life). But ultimately, I know that I crave God's guidance. His love is wider than the East is from the West (which never ends). He wants me to listen to His whispers and know He's always with me.  I so quickly forget, but He is there to remind me.

I wrote most of this blog post quite a while ago. Perhaps even a year or two ago. I've been having a hard time lately. I'd been getting frustrated and began to despair. God led me to this again, and as I read, I remembered why I have hope. I remembered that God has not left me, but is always here. My heart has been revived and lifted. Praise God! He knows what I need. All of this, from tattoos... or rather, from God.

Under the Radar

I've commented here and there. Some people know, and for many others, it hasn't come up in conversation. I won't just start talking about everything with me when someone doesn't ask. But I suppose I should at least write a bit about my "now."

I'm in Grad school in Milligan. I'm going to be licensed in Secondary Education to teach things like English, Theatre, and Music. Well, those are my goals at least. I started in January and should finish in June or July.

I've learned so much already. I feel like I've improved significantly in my teaching skills, even though I've still got a way to go. There are some classes that I love and some that I loathe. Well, a very few that I loathe. I've liked most.

So there's a short update. Its not much, but I haven't written in so long that this will do for now.

Hungry Hearers

One of the things we got to be involved in (up at Igoi) was sharing a kind of podcast thing that one of our missionaries had put together. The topic of the podcast was on prayer. It was in both Pidgin (the main trade language) and Sob (their vernacular or "heart" language). Usually, if we had something like this in the USA, we might listen to it once and move on. That's kind of what I expected when we told the people about it.

We had set a time for whoever wanted to come and listen. The thing was that it wasn't soon enough. It ended up that a group wanted to hear it sooner than I'd thought, so the missionary that put it together went and set it up. He gave out laminated papers with the Lord's Prayer in the language of Sob on it and encouraged people to hang it up in their house as a reminder to pray and also a reminder of how powerful prayer can be.

 Later, more people (and some of the original people who were there at the first hearing) came in want of hearing the podcast. Some from the first time asked if we could make the program longer (or add other things outside of the podcast) because about 15 to 30 minutes wasn't enough. Thus, we did. This second hearing was right around sun down. We got out lights and held them up so everyone could practice reading, reciting, and remembering the Lord's Prayer from the laminated paper. (Naturally, bugs came toward the lights and would cling to our clothes or get in our faces. Still, the lights shown so people could see.) This had elongated the program a bit, but still, they asked if we could present it on Sunday and if it could be even longer.

At each opportunity to hear this program, more and more people came. On Sunday, I'm not sure how many showed up, but it seemed like just about everyone was there. We would play the podcast for a while and then each one of us would stand up to give our testimony of our faith. To close up the program, the missionary stood up and talked about how important prayer is and how it connects us to God. For anyone that lived in fear from spirits (and many of them have), the comfort of knowing that God is stronger than all of them and that a relationship with Him (through Jesus) lets them not live in fear, but peace... that comfort speaks into their lives.

There are people that are hungry for the word of God. Scripture in their heart language is powerful, and the peace that God speaks into the lives of those living in fear can give them hope and joy. They heard and wanted more. Who will give out the food God has prepared?

Work, Work, Work

While we were in the village of Igoi, we met a lady who suggested that we should go to her house and take a picture of her with her house... so we did. When we got to her house, it had the most beautiful view!

 We sat down and storied a little (as the interns worked more on their language skills). At one point, we discussed different housing in the USA, floods, and homelessness. Anyway, one of the interns wanted to look through her garden (since it was so close to her house) and get a kind of vocabulary lesson of what plant is what. Thus, I attempted to communicate this. (*Please keep in mind that Pidgin is a language with a limited vocabulary so often you must talk around things to get your point across.) So I asked her if she could show us around her garden so we could see what different vegetation there is. She replied that the sun was high and it might cook (or burn) our skin. I explained that we had on something that made our skin strong (sun screen... which we called "strong skin" for the rest of the summer) and so she grabbed a stick and led the way.

 I soon realized that what I thought I'd communicated and what she interpreted were two different things. She put us to work finding and hauling kaukau (a kind of potato/rooted veggie). She got the guys big sticks to put down into the ground and push up the kaukau as we women put bilums (bags) on our heads and would catch and carry the kaukau from whomever found it. "Yu noken sanap na noken sindaun. Yu mas wok tasol." In other words, "you can't stand straight up or sit down. Just work." Even when the bilums were giving us headaches and I tried to tell her we were done, she explained that there was still plenty of room in the bilums.

Never had I ever met a Papua New Guinean like this woman. Usually people were very delicate with us, and even some that acted like we could break if they gave us too much to do. Not this woman. She was more strict with us, but I kind of respected her for that too. And still, after we brought this kaukau back to the house, I opened my mouth again and said that we had some time and could help peel them when she asked. She got out her one knife and we took turns peeling the kaukau. Everything I did in how I peeled it was wrong. I gave the knife to Bre (who held the knife the exact same way, and cut it the exact same way) and the lady praised her for doing it right.

Who knows, but when we were leaving and we gave her our thanks, she hugged all of us (even the guys). Once again, PNG people don't usually hug like this. She was unique, spirited, and a person that I don't think I can ever forget. She was a character and made an impression on all of us. I wonder what impression I leave with others... or am I forgettable? Whatever the case, I am "fearfully and wonderfully made" (Ps. 139:14) and so are you.

Trip to Madang Haus Sik

When we were in Madang town (during the midway part of our trip), we got to go to the "haus sik" (or hospital) with a couple missionaries. One of the things that we (as women) got to see was the maternity ward. We got to hand a few things out to new mothers and soon-to-be mothers. There were even a few twins and a mother that had triplets!

At one point, we got to see the ICU area for premature babies. There were two babies. I'd never seen such tiny infants. One could probably fit in one hand and the other wasn't much bigger. It looked like every effort made by these babies was to hold on to life. Just to breathe seemed like great exertion. I couldn't help asking God to look out for them (which I knew He already was).

I have a hard time with some things like that. If a person is living well enough, there's no turmoil within me. Even when someone dies, I find it easier to cope than when a human being (especially a child) lives with pain or hardship. Still, seeing these small babies grasping at life with all they had made me want to be more bold and live life to the full. Why should we live in fear or waste time being so negative? With so many new lives coming into the world, may we be reminded of the gifts we are given and how great our God is.