When you loose faith, listen for the bells

Being the daughter of two Lutheran pastors does not leave you much of a choice in how you grow up. Like most PKs and other "church kids" (kids of council presidents, choir members, alter guild members and general awesome church people) my childhood was spent playing hide and go seek in the church basement, taking naps in the pews, and spending more time with your church family than your actual extended family. I was surrounded by theology all the time, but never felt smoothered by it, my parents created a good balance and were generally great in that way. Where you were going to be on Sunday morning as well as your faith was never questioned. The people of the church weren't just your faith community they were your faith family. It was an environment that I thrived in and that I loved, I knew my place, I was the "Pastor's kid", I was the constant acolyte, I was the Sunday School stand out, and I loved it. All the way through high school I didn't waver, I never questioned my place. But, as us PKs and church kids also know, this doesn't last. Once the time comes to go off to college and leave home, you also leave the rock that you rest your faith on, you leave your church. Suddenly you're thrown the overwhelming task of finding a new church. This is seemingly impossible, you walk into a new church on Sunday and no one knows who you are and you selfishly think that they should. You have a Reese Witherspoon moment of "dont you know who I am?!? I'm the Pastor's kid!"... but then you realize, of course, that the robed wonder in the pulpit is not, in fact, your mother or father, you will not be taking a nap in these pews, or be obligated to stay for 4 hours after everyone else has gone home and flip through the childrens bible to kill time while your parents are in council meetings. You can leave, like every other person there, because you, like everyone else are just another sheep in the flock. It is both liberating and terrifying... and lets not forget that in your mind, no pastor will ever live up to your pastor mom or pastor dad... so good luck with that.
Some will turn to college ministry and spend their college years bonding with a super cool pastor who wears birkenstocks and doesn't "robe up" for service and who is always around for those soul searching moments most of us have in college. Those years in university ministry feed a lot of young people's faith and do a lot of good, but for some they don't quite fit with the pastor's style or the group of people that are the most active Lutheran students, this my friends, happened to me. I spent four years of college and two years of grad school absolutely avoiding the church. I wanted nothing to do with it. I had my faith in God, so why did it matter where I prayed or spent my Sunday mornings... why were my pastor parents freaking out about the fact that I had no church community??
So, feeling lost in almost every aspect of life I turned to change. I turned to YAGM. I'll never forget my phone interview with Heidi and feeling absolutely terrified when she asked the question "so, can you tell me about your faith journey?!" How was I supposed to answer this?? I was the daughter of TWO pastors and I was basically a church dropout! No WAY was I getting into this program, I thought, I am a failure and a fake and they'll see it. So I was honest... I told Heidi that I was currently uninvolved in the church and was struggling to find my place. Well, what I had clearly forgotten was that that was totally ok, that the church has room for the lost and the found. And for reasons unknown to me Heidi and her crew thought I deserved a place among the YAGMs.
Going to the DIP event was terrifying. There were people in our group who did daily devotions, volunteered to give the sermon on Sunday, to organize our church service, who taught Sunday school through college!! Who are these people?? Thats all I could think, the whole weekend was consumed by my inner struggle that I didn't belong, that I wasn't good enough, that these other people were just on another level, a level that I was only on in my dreams. These are the people who my parents want me to be, I thought, and I'm not even close.
The faith journey continued through my year in South Africa and has only picked up steam  since I got back. Instead of being intimidated by the faithful awesomeness that was my fellow YAGM I became inspired by it. I'm going to find a church! I'm ready! I can do this! And I did.... I've found my way to an awesome church community and for the first time in YEARS I feel like I'm back where I belong. I even go to Sunday School! yeah, thats right people.... gone are the days of sneaking in during the sermon and sneaking out during the last hymn. Those days are in the past.
During my inquirers class today, which was taught by the head pastor, I was blown away. This pastor, Pastor Tim, knows his stuff and I probably could have continued our conversation all day. But, what stuck with me the most was when he talked about the church being a faith family. And that when one person looses their faith they shouldn't run from the church they should run towards it, because as a faith family we pick up the slack for each other, we believe for each other. I thought that was so beautiful and a concept I've never given much thought to. He talked about how a student of Martin Luther once asked him, "Luther, if I loose faith what should I do?" and Luther's repsonse was "if you should ever loose faith all you need to do is listen for the bells, and when you hear them run towards them, because there you will find the faithful"
And then it hit me, like a ton of bricks, when I went towards YAGM I went towards the bells. It was the community I needed to remind me of not just the awesomeness of the church but the awesomeness of my church, the ELCA. And with the echoes of the YAGM bells in my heart and mind I am walking towards a different faith community, one that I think, will keep me around for quite a while.

what Mandela means to me

I spent about half of my day today searching different news sites and facebook and any outlet where I might be able to get news on Nelson Mandela. As many people may know the 94 year old former South African president is not doing well at all. In fact, he’s fighting for his life. While I spent my breaks at work searching any outlet I could find I started to wonder why I was so emotional at the news of Mandela’s turn for the worse, I was stressing about his health and dreading the eventual word that he had passed, as if he was my own grandfather. I reached out to friends who had also lived in South Africa, asked them if they were just as upset, luckily for my view of my sanity, they were. It is my humble opinion that everyone should be somewhat upset about the possibility that we may lose one of the greatest human beings in history any day now. It would be selfish of us really to refuse to believe the reality of Mandela’s passing. We all must eventually accept the morality of even our greatest heroes. And Mandela is and always will be one of our greatest heroes. He wasn’t perfect, no one is, but he achieved what most thought to be impossible. He united a broken nation, not only that but he did it using the power of speech and the wisdom that comes with the ability to forgive. He did not demand people to pick up their weapons and fight, only to raise their voices in unity. The South Africa of today is a beautiful place, like most countries there are flaws, but when you think about where they started such a short time ago, it is miraculous to see where they are and we can thank Nelson Mandela for that.

While thinking about all of this today I couldn’t help but be flooded by my memories of South Africa. All day I could hear my kids from the crèche signing the national anthem, I could smell corn being roasted on the sidewalk, and I could feel the hugs of my friends and family who still live there. South Africa and the people I love there have become such a huge part of me but today, while sending prayers to all of them, it took me over. That South Africa, the country and culture and way of life that I feel so strongly connected to can be directly linked to the work of Nelson Mandela. And I think that that is why I feel so affected by his eventual passing. He was instrumental in creating something that I will love and respect forever. So, despite the fact that I am not South African and that I was only able to spend a very short year there, I will still be greatly hurt when the eventual news comes through that we have lost one of our heroes. Not just because I have a connection to his country, but because I have a great and deep respect for his accomplishments, and a gratitude for the way in which he acted in the face of such hateful circumstances. He was the man who after 27 years of imprisonment walked away free and shook the hands of his previous captors and said “I forgive you”. That, above everything is his most powerful legacy. His ability to forgive when he had no reason to.

So, thank you Madiba… thank you for teaching the world how to forgive, thank you for being the architect behind one of the greatest places I’ve ever been to, thank you for the joy you brought to this world. I can honestly say, I don’t know where we as a human race would be without you. I wish you a restful recovery, but if that is not what is to be then I hope for a peaceful passing. After the life you have lived and the things you have done you deserve happiness and peace at this time, because it is the same happiness and peace that you wished for all of your people both in South Africa and around the world. Hamba khale Madiba…

Lesson 1: Expect nothing, hope for everything

The original purpose of this blog was to document my year of service with the Young Adults in Global Mission in South Africa, the tag line was "a year in South Africa and the attempt to become an adult" I think I grew up a lot in South Africa but I am far from grown up. Now I'm back state-side and learning more about life everyday. They say the day you stop learning is the day you die and I completely agree, so I'm going to use this blog to document all these little life lessons I'll be learning along the way...

LIFE LESSON 1: Expect nothing, hope for everything

I've written before about the joys and disappointments surrounding expectations. Honestly though in the last year or so I have decided that having expectations is the absolute perfect way to set yourself up for heartbreak and disappointment. There are, of course, some things in life that you should expect, you should expect to be treated with respect, you should expect the sun to rise, you should expect that Ben and Jerry's to ALWAYS be delicious... but let me get to the point.

Some people may say that hope and expectation are essentially the same thing, but to me they couldn't be more different. If you have expectations you could possibly be setting yourself up for disappointment. When you expect something, you have already made it happen in your mind, the scenario has played out and you just know that that is how it will happen because YOU expect it to. But then, it doesn't quite happen the way you want, you don't get the salary offer you thought or he doesn't call when you thought he would. The sense of disappointment can be much stronger when there is expectation versus just hope. When you hope for something there is room for change, possibility of a different scenario. Hope allows you to be happy with whatever the world throws your way.

I hope this hasn't come off negative or pessimistic in any way cause that wasn't my intention. And you could think that I am utterly full of it. But I'll tell you that this is a huge lesson that I have learned and learned the hard way these last few years; expectation primarily leads to disappointment, but hope, hope is where its at. Always have faith that things will work out, hope that people will come through, and only expect the unexpected.

Life lesson #1.

~ All it took was a weekend by a lake ~

I haven’t written a blog since April of this year. I have not truly reflected on any part of my year in South Africa since then. I sat down to write something many times, starting with a few sentences and stopping. But, I never felt like anything I was thinking or feeling was worth the process to think it out and write it. I was never excited to share anything I was feeling or experiencing. As far as my life in South Africa nothing was feeling new or exciting, it was just my life. Then came the time for the big trip home. To be honest I was ready to go home. My year in South Africa was incredible in many ways, but it was also one of the toughest experiences I’ve ever had. There were people that were hard to leave and things that I knew I would miss, but I felt I was ready to be back home and start being the person I had developed into over the 11 months in SA, I was ready to start working in the vocation that I felt called to. I had moved on… I thought.

After the excitement of being back home and seeing friends and family again began to fade I felt lost. More lost than I’ve ever felt before. I spent most of my days sitting alone in my parent’s house watching TV, filling out job applications, and yearning for something that I couldn’t get a hold of. I had no job, no purpose, no income, either emotionally or financially. I was bored. I told people stories about South Africa, when they asked but for the most part I avoided talking about it, I rarely got past what we called the “elevator conversation”. Basically a 2-3 minute conversation covering the basics of my year: placement, jobs, food, and one word to sum it up, or one phrase like “yeah, it was great… really great”. Then whoever had asked the question would usually respond with “wow, it’s so amazing you went, we’re glad you’re home”…  I was grateful for the compliment and the welcome home but what I was more grateful for was the short conversation. I felt as if my time in South Africa was this weird dream that I was waking up from. It was a dream I was trying to tuck away, appreciate, but move on from. I thought that because I didn’t have this typical, amazing experience, or that in my eyes my experience didn’t stack up to other peoples that it wasn’t worth talking about. I told the basic stories, showed the pictures to those who would look and listen but I never shared the things that were scratching away at me, I never shared the true joys and the true tragedies that I saw and experienced. And no one asked to hear it. I think it came down to the fact that because I had shared that I had struggled and that I was happy to  behome people (myself included) decided I had nothing to process, and that I was “over it”.        

When it came time to decide on whether or not to go to the re-entry event (a YAGM wide event, where all of us from the 2011-2012 year come together to process our years and have amazing dance parties) I had pretty much decided not to go. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to leave my new job for a day because it was new and that I shouldn’t ask for that time off. Truth is I was terrified to go to re-entry. Terrified that I would be the “Debbie downer” of the group. The girl who didn’t have a "good" year, the girl who struggled. After some serious thinking and a push from fellow YAGMs I decided to go. I was excited to see the other YAGMs that even though I had only spent minimum amounts of time with them, meant so much to me, but as far as talking about my year I felt like running in the other direction. But I must say that from the first joyous hug in the airport in Chicago to last tear- filled hug two days later I felt no desire to run, in fact I felt like I was finally ready to share.

Words can’t describe the feeling of seeing all of those people again. There is something insanely special about the YAGM community. We are all so massively different in many ways, but when it comes to the core of who we all are, when it comes to our souls, we are all very much the same. And when you find that bond in a group of people there is no escaping it. There is a feeling of complete comfort. Hugs are longer, holding hands isn’t weird, and randomly crying on someone’s shoulder or laughing until you can’t breathe is total common place. It’s truly beautiful. Our group of 2011-2012 YAGMs are a special breed, haha; we have an uncanny way of going from total goof-balls to very silent and introspective people at the drop of a hat. We know when to let each other cry and we know when to make each other laugh. There’s nothing like it.

I found great comfort in my small group. It was a random mixture of volunteers with a small group leader (usually an alum from a previous year). I can’t say anything but amazing things about my group. It was a totally random group, most of us from different country experiences, but from the minute we all came together we were a family. It provided me with a space to truly open up about my year. To share every high and every low. But, more importantly it allowed me to hear about other people’s experiences to hear their highs and their lows. There were times where as I sat there listening to people talk that it was like I was telling the story, our thoughts, our struggles and our joys were all so similar. I realized I wasn’t alone. And I think that was the biggest and best gift I could have ever received from my YAGM community.        

A major moment for me at re-entry was a reflective prayer service on the second night. It is very quiet, very soulful, very intimate. In true YAGM form there are plenty of candles and singing and prayer. It was after the first full day of discussion and reflection for our small groups and I knew it would all spill over soon. As we all gathered we eventually took each other’s hands, and as we sat there in holding onto each other, the dam broke. After praying alone, praying with a few others and eventually praying with my MUD (South Africa) family tears just began to flow… I cried alone, I cried while being comforted, I cried while comforting others… I cried for South Africa, I cried for all the times I let my struggles get the best of me, I cried for all the people that I would miss, I cried for Lucky, I cried for my fellow YAGM, I cried out of regret, I cried out of loneliness, I cried out of fear, I just cried…

I would be lying if I told you that once I dried my eyes and left the room of candles that I got my act together, the complete opposite in fact. I continued to have random bouts of tears for a solid hour or so after leaving the room where we held our reflective prayer service. People would come up with comforting hugs and words and they would ask “what’s wrong?” but I had no idea… all I could come up with was “I’m just so tired”. And I was, I was exhausted…. I had held so much in for so long and I had finally felt comfortable enough to let it all go, and that process was utterly exhausting.

After a pretty rockin dance party and some sleep I actually woke up refreshed. I felt like I had been washed clean. As if I could compare my rush of tears to the rains that come after the dry season. I was ready to tell the stories I wasn’t ready to tell before. I was beginning to see my year in South Africa completely differently than I had before. I looked at my pictures with new eyes. There was more light in the joys and more meaning in the tragedies. Where at one point there was a feeling of spite, there was now a feeling of appreciation. This feeling didn’t take away the struggles that I faced, didn’t erase all the hurt… but it brought a new power to the positive, and if there is one thing we all know it’s that light can always shine through the dark.

I realized that I shouldn’t hide any part of my story, but rather balance my story. Not just make it about the hard things or just the good things, but share all of it. And that’s what I started doing, and people listened. And I learned that just as I will never forget their stories, they weren’t forgetting mine. And we began praying for the same people and rejoicing in the same joys. I mean, it doesn’t get much more amazing than that. I discovered a new found desire to know as many stories as I could. I had realized that I had been avoiding reading other volunteers blogs, looking at their pictures, or asking them questions because I was scared that I would be jealous of their experience, because for some crazy reason I wasn’t finding the “amazing” in my own experience.

Leaving that group of people was gut-wrenching. I feel like I could have stayed at that retreat center for another week and still not feel like I had had enough. I am finally processing things the way I should have all along. I am acknowledging every part of my experience and I am owning up to it all. And it feels amazing. It is hard and it will be hard to do alone at first, but it’s a journey that was fueled by community and friendship but needs to be continued alone for a while, and then when I come through I will be all that more prepared to share what I truly learned.

I realize how incredibly blessed I am to have spent the time I did in South Africa, to have learned the lessons that I learned, and I am thankful for every joy, but even more-so I am thankful for every struggle. So thank you South Africa, you changed myself and I will carry you with me forever.

To my YAGM community, to each of you who actually read all 2,000 words of this rambling, thank you… thank you for listening, thank you for sharing, that you for holding my hand, and thank you for the hugs. I will be bursting with love for each of you forever.

 

~ A Crossroads ~

Lately I have found myself at a crossroads; a crossroads of excitement and sadness. Excitement at the idea of my return home to the once familiar and to family and friends that I have missed so much these last 7 ½ months. Along with this excitement is the sadness of leaving this place that has become a home. Leaving people that have become friends and family, and knowing that the chances are slim to none that I will ever see them or this place again.

You might think that I am jumping the gun, being excited about going home… “you still have 3 months Elise” is something you may be thinking, and though 3 months can seem like a long time when the last 7 ½ months have gone by in a flash 3 months doesn’t seem like much at all. Time is a funny thing when living the YAGM life. I can’t remember another time in my life when I paid such close attention to the passage of time (except for maybe those last weeks before Christmas as a kid). But, ever since August 26^th, 2011 when I first stepped foot on the South African ground it has felt like I’ve been on a timer. And not in a bad, distracting me from “the moment” way, just in a way that makes you very aware of the passage of weeks and months. In fact, the 26^th of every month has become an important anniversary for me as the anniversary of my first day here in South Africa. This very noticeable passage of time is what has caused this mix of emotions lately, the countdown has started to have interesting effects. Like I said on the one hand I am very excited to see my family and friends that I have missed so much during my time here. But, on the other hand with every “oh my another week has passed” moment I feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving South Africa. One small reason is the idea of leaving my work and projects makes me put unintentional pressure on myself “to do” and “get things done” before I leave. But then one of the kids at the crèche grabs my hand, Samke teaches me another Zulu word, or another CP kiddie makes progress during a therapy session and I realize the real reason for the sadness is leaving the people that I’m surrounded by. There are other things also… watching the sunset over the hills on my afternoon run, the always entertaining kombi rides through Edendale, or the sound of my host brother yelling “food is ready!” from the house at dinner time…. All things I will miss so much come July 13^th…

Soon, however, my worlds will collide… my Mom will be here to share in some of these things! It will be such a great experience having her here, but I think more than anything it will give me the even more valuable resource of someone who saw my life here in South Africa at home in the States. That way when I’m really missing that sunset or my host brother I’ll be able to talk to Mom about it, knowing that she saw and experienced it also. I can’t wait to show my Mom all the amazing things I have seen and introduce her to the amazing people that mean so much to me.

So, for the next 3 months I will be reminding myself to remain excited about the return home but I will not allow myself to slip out of the moment and to ignore the place I am in now, because once those 3 months are up the shoe is on the other foot South Africa will become the home that I miss…

~ To be Christian, do Christian things ~

A huge theme that comes around over and over again for every YAGM is to just “be” and don’t worry about “doing” all the time. They tell us, “we are human beings, not human doings”. This has always been something I have struggled with because my entire life I have identified with what I do, i.e. “I am Elise, the athletic trainer, the master’s student, the YAGM…” you see where I’m going here…  Throughout this process my most familiar titles have been stripped away from me, that of ATC and student and have left me as just Elise. Now, as humans we love titles, so I have gained some new ones like Elise: the American, Elise: our guest, Elise: fellow YAGM and so on. But, I can honestly say that I have never felt more uncomfortable answering the question “so, what do you do??” before in my life. My usual answer (at least for the previous two years of my life) was “I’m the athletic trainer for the GSU softball team, and I’m also getting my masters” I was proud of that answer, I had stories to go along with it, and usually got some impressed reactions, but now…. Here, in South Africa, as a YAGM I dread the question of “what do you do??” because now my answer is “good question, how much time do you have?” it’s not to say that I am doing all that much, but I’m doing a lot of being in different projects and that can amount to quite a long answer. My short answer is “well I have three main projects… (insert three projects)” people usually respond with “wow, cool!” but all I can think is “you have no idea that those three projects are nothing compared to the other things I experience here just riding on a taxi getting to them” but you can’t really answer the “what do you do?” question with “I ride a lot of taxi’s and have a lot of conversations with two year old Zulu children!” So, I have really begun to understand this concept of just being a person, being who you are in this new place, and just being with the people around you, versus this “go all the time… you are your job” doing mentality that is so up front in most of our minds. Saying that, I think that it is important to be both a “be-er” and a “do-er” because if you are only being all the time then that can just lead to unproductive behavior, but if all you do is do then you get more caught up in the identify that your job gives you and not the identity of who you are. For me, being Elise is hugely linked to being an athletic trainer, but it’s not all of me, I’m also just Elise, a girl who loves her family and friends, who likes to paint, who’s terrified a sharks, who’s idea of an awesome Saturday morning is a long run followed by an omelet, an introverted extrovert, and a northern southerner. I am a lot of things and despite the letters after my name, I have come to realize that the most important thing at the top of my resume isn’t the letters after my name but the name itself, because ATC only means one thing, but Ila Elise Anderson… means so many different things, and that comes from just being me, and not doing any one thing.

One of those “titles” that can come with me is Christian, Lutheran if you want to get really specific, or even a step further, an ELCA Lutheran. Isn’t it funny how every Lutheran, almost without fail when they meet another Lutheran will say “wow you’re Lutheran?? Me too! That’s so gr… wait ELCA, or Missouri Senate?” haha I’m telling, without fail… every time, and to all my Missouri Senate friends, this is not meant to be offensive, I’m sure you guys do it too! J But anyway! I’m off my point… Elise “the Christian” was sitting in church this evening and was hit by a thought, and it was “as a Christian… should we be “be-ers” or “do-ers”??”

This thought was brought about because this service I was attending was at this big non-denominational church here in PMB. I was invited to go by a woman I work with at the hospital because she thought I might enjoy an English church service. This is the type of service I usually avoid, the pastor in an untucked t-shirt, his image portrayed on the big screen, and instead of hymns you get a band in skinny jeans jamming out on guitars and drums, singing what sounds like the latest hit from Fall Out Boy but then you realize the subject of the song’s affection is Jesus and not a girl… but after attending the service for the first time last week, I realized there is something to this new form of worship. I mean who was I to judge how anyone chose to express their faith? As long as you aren’t hurting anyone, go ahead and jam on your guitars and drums! But anyway! So I was sitting there tonight, listening to the sermon and I started to think that all these people are expressing such strong feelings of faith and talking about being good Christians, and that God/ Jesus love us even with all our imperfections just because we accept their love and give that love in return. But the only message about love was that of the exchange between God and us (as individuals). Never (at least at tonight’s service, I’m sure this is discussed on other days) was the love between each other talked about. And this made me think; everyone here is being a good Christian here in this space, but what about when they walk out of those doors into the real world? A real world where not everyone agrees with you, where you see injustices, where people make you mad and you have to respond…. What then? That is when it hit me… as people it can be much more important to be rather than do, but as Christians, I believe, that to be Christians we must do things to express our Christian values. We can’t just be Christians on Sunday while we’re around our fellow Christian friends; we have to be Christians every day. And as Christians we have to do Christian acts. I’m not talking about giving “x” amount of your paycheck to a local charity in order to say “I’m a Christian!” (even though, donations are wonderful) But it’s the small things that we do every day that can reflect the values of our faith. The most important request that Jesus had of us was, “love each other as I have loved you.” How simple and complicated of a request is that? But, if you think about what Jesus sacrificed and did and compare it to what he wanted us to do in return, which is to love each other, it really is a small gesture on our part. Now, obviously, God didn’t intend for us to be these big love machines to just walk around handing out flowers and telling everyone we love them even when they are wronging us. If he did he wouldn’t have given us emotions like anger and frustration and sadness. But, what I think was asked of us is to love as best you can. Do the little things to express your love for people, and not just people you know, but all people. Help the elderly lady load her groceries in her car, send a card to a friend you haven’t talked to in a while, volunteer at a soup kitchen every once in a while, help your mom do the dishes after dinner… these are all small things that can add up to a lot. All of these things require taking action, require you to be a “do-er”… God did not intend for us as Christians to just “be” if he did he wouldn’t have sent Jesus down to us to inspire us to follow something, and aspire to be good. In fact, the slogan of ELCA Global Missions is “God’s Work, Our Hands” that screams “be a do-er!” we are sent out into the world to DO as Christians, to DO work while in the process slowing down enough to just be and appreciate the wonders we encounter, in both people and places… it can be a tricky road to tread, finding that line between doing and being.  

This train of thought takes me back to our orientation in PMB, we were sitting in a circle in the little chapel at Lutheran Theology Institute and our coordinator Brian was joking about how he wanted to put a sign above the door the read “service entrance”, that people would read as they left church. It would be there to remind people that the real work begins when we leave the church. Church is a place to recharge your energy, to just be a Christian and focus on you and your relationship with God and your fellow Christians, but once you walk out those doors you better become a “do-er” because that’s our job, to DO good and to BE ourselves. And this doesn’t just apply to Christians, not at all. One of the things that bothers me after someone does something good is they say “well, it was the Christian thing to do” to me that implies that you have to be Christian to do good, which just isn’t true, what people should say is “well, it was the right thing to do”. In this reflection I spoke in the direction of Christianity because it is where I stand now. But, no matter what your label is, this can apply to you, because all of us can relate to the idea of loving our neighbor, and we should all strive to do that in all that we do.

So, I leave you with a challenge… to find the line between “being” and “doing”, because to be the best version of ourselves we must accept all that comes with each of us and not limit ourselves by what we do, but as they say actions speak louder than words. So, the question is: what do you want your actions to say about you?

~ Taking the long way ~

“Well I never seem to do it like anybody else/

Maybe someday, someday I’m gonna settle down/

If you ever want to find me I can still be found…

Taking the long way around.”

My fellow Dixie Chick fans will recognize that little bit of one of the band’s songs called “Taking the Long Way”. I have always related to this song because I always feel like it takes me longer to get to the same point as other people. And like the song says, I never seem to do it like anybody else. I’ve always had my own way of doing things, sometimes it takes me a little bit longer and it may not be the easiest road, but at the end of the day I make it to the end. Some call it hard headed and some call it independent, but it’s just how I do things.

For a long time I considered myself a late bloomer and I guess I still sort of do. It’s taken me a while to get places that other people reached years before. But, over these last few months I’ve done a lot of thinking on this subject and instead of being embarrassed or upset by my last place finishes, I’ve come to accept and appreciate my slow pace. Just like running, sometimes it’s better to be slow and steady then fast. After all, if you go slow… you end up noticing the view.

Now, in some parts of life I think the “figure it out late”, go slow tactic is not great, like for example, realizing right before your Anatomy final that you should have studied a lot harder for the previous 4 tests. But! Here in South Africa I think that my late blooming has paid off. Let me be honest… I didn’t “click” with things here very quickly. It took me a long time to adjust, to feel content with my placement and the projects I was involved in. The experience wasn’t taking the shape that I expected it too, and I was not handling things well. At our first retreat (which was a glorious and welcomed get away) I found myself left behind again, I seemed to be the only one who hadn’t jumped on the train, who hadn’t taken their happy pill, or was the one pickle amongst a bunch of cucumbers, if you will. I was the only one (so it seemed to me) that wasn’t bursting with excitement about their hosts, towns, or projects. I didn’t really have much to complain about, I had a great host, PMB is an awesome town, and I was busy… but something just wasn’t clicking to me. I got a good dose of MUD therapy on our retreat and left feeling refreshed and ready to get on a positive track. And I did! I felt much better about things after our retreat. Things were still up and down however and I was still having difficulties. I remembered words of YAGM alum from orientation… “it took me like 6 weeks to really feel comfortable”… “If you get to the first retreat the rest is golden”…. “you’ll never want to leave South Africa” and all I could think was “It’s been 12 weeks, why am I still struggling?”

Well, in true late bloomer fashion it took me much longer than 6 weeks… to be honest, longer than 12. But, I can now say that I get what everyone was talking about! I am finally feeling great about things here in PMB. I have found a great rhythm with this town; I notice its beauty and its charms on a daily basis. I run into people on the street and in the kombis that I’ve only met once but we greet each other like great friends. I’m invested in some solid projects that I enjoy. I’m now brave enough to get out there and find fun things to do and to ask for lifts home afterwards! I finally feel that sense of community and I feel a connection to the place and the people here in PMB. Now, I’m not saying that everything is peachy-keen, there are still kinks here and there, but that is to be expected in every part of life, no matter where you are… so I can’t really complain.

So, here I am, halfway through my time in South Africa and I’m finally seeing the light. It has been at the end of the tunnel for a while, but it’s within my reach now and I’m ready to grab it and make this the best five months that I can make it…