There are so many wonderful beaches in the world, but I maintain that the beaches of Kwajalein Atoll are some of the best to be discovered anywhere. My favorite spot to go on a weekend with my kids or alone on the island of Kwajalein is a little place called Coral Sands. I like it because unlike the most frequented Emon Beach, it is not man-made, and has a measure of privacy and more natural surroundings than the beaches closer into the suburban areas of the island. Going to Coral Sands is a bit of a ride, especially with the kids when you are dragging a bike burley that acts like a sail filled with all the important beach paraphernalia from a cooler with water and snacks to beach towels, sand toys, and boogie boards. The kids tend to be slower on their bikes because they are smaller and have to pedal a lot faster to keep up with an adult size bike, plus they love to stop and look at stuff along the way. In fact, on the way to Coral Sands, we usually stop at the Turtle Pond to say hi to our turtle friends and take a breather, and then head on to the beach, but that’s part of the appeal of that beach for me. It’s out of the way of the busier “downtown” area of the island, and just getting there is an adventure in itself. Even when I am on my own, I take my time riding to Coral Sands, and it gives me a chance to clear my head and gets me into a relaxing mindset for an afternoon at the beach.
Upon arriving, there’s a large pavilion with picnic tables, oversized charcoal grills, bathrooms, a water fountain, and a fresh water shower, so it has all the modern conveniences, but yet the beach itself is still very private with shady areas where the trees bend over the almost white sands made of finely crushed coral and the roots from the slightly forested areas hanging down above the beach make fun hiding places for kids or cozy spots for beach chairs for those who want to relax instead of play in the surf. The beach slopes down from the pavilion, and it is fairly open on one side, but the other side is covered in pine trees and their needles which blanket the ground, and there’s a sharp drop off from the trees to the beach that has to be carefully navigated if you want to enter from this area.
Once you get down to the beach, there’s a tree that has a rope swing where children or adults can climb up onto a large root system emerging from the sand, grab the rope as high up as they can, put their foot in a loop at the bottom and swing until it stops, and they hop off or as my boys like to do, swing until you get to the high tide, and jump off to splash into the water below. The other great thing about this beach is the area where you can simply walk up and down and find plenty of hermit and ghost crabs to dance with or catch if you are so inclined. There’s more life to be found at this beach because it is visited by fewer people, except on those occasions when there’s a campout, party or wedding reception, and big bonfires are built safely between the drop to the sloped beaches and the pavilion.
As much as I love Coral Sands Beach on Kwajalein, if given the option, I prefer the beach on Roi-Namur from the Parrot Head Club down to the end of the runway as my number one beach of choice on the atoll. This is a fairly long stretch of beach, but that’s the best part about it. I grew up vacationing on the long, flat beaches of Florida where you could walk for miles and still not see an end in sight, and that’s what I missed most upon first moving to the middle of the Pacific, but the water here is the most magnificent in the world, the clarity and varying shades of blue and green cannot be matched, so to put those two things together, the water and the length of beach to walk upon makes up my perfect beach experience.
Unlike the beaches in Florida, you can see the end of the beaches on Roi, and you can really only walk the entire length when the tide is at its lowest, but it’s enough of a walk to satisfy beach combers, and it’s a truly beautiful stretch of sand which curves around from the famous Parrot Head past several inviting beach shacks built and maintained by residents but open for public use, and finally curving back around the airport runway in a delicious little sandbar and stretch of coral you can walk out onto and often see sharks and other sea creatures basking in the shallows of the low tide. There are several palms and pine trees reaching out to touch the sand as you get closer to the turn at the end, and there’s also some remnants of days gone by where concrete structures of some sort of other, maybe from the days of the Japanese occupation in WWII, lay buried in the sand and now serve as homes for local crabs. One of them looks as if it would be a perfect “hot tub” of sorts if we could find a way to keep the water from leaking back out through the sand in the bottom of the concrete frame, and my boys love exploring it and using their imaginations to “build” things out of them each time we walk that part of the beach.
My favorite beaches consist of quaint little spots, unfrequented by human habitation where you can relax with only the sound of the waves to lull you into an afternoon nap or an impromptu yoga session, and a length of beach to treasure hunt and observe the wonders of nature, and that’s what the beaches of Kwajalein and Roi-Namur provide. I doubt I’ll ever find a better one in any of my future travels, but if I do, I’ll stand corrected and write about it as I have these, so I can remember them and place myself there when I am far away from the shore and needing its calming effects after a stressful day being landlocked.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
August 10, 2010-Letting Go
It’s been approximately 3 weeks today since I last saw my boys. They are still on vacation with their dad and his family in the states. I miss them so much. I called, and they were visiting their great aunt’s house at the time. This is a regular visit they do every year, and it is very familiar to me. One of the things the boys always loved to do there was catch fireflies. Their great aunt’s house is in the perfect spot for twilight firefly catching. I reminded them of that on the phone today. “Make sure you take your dad and catch fireflies out behind the garden.”
This is probably the most bittersweet part of divorce for me, being cut off from the family I was a part of for over 10 years. Letting go of a painful relationship and moving on is healthy, and it’s what needed to happen, but letting go of family who have always been good to you, and of whom you have nothing but positive memories with is difficult. I can no longer experience that family time with the boys as I did before. I know, that’s just part of divorce. You don’t just give up the spousal relationship, you give up the family times, and in a joint custody situation, you give up being there for half of your children’s lives and experiences. You give up control of being around for them 24/7 and accept being their mom for only half their lives. Of course, I am their mom every day, all the time, but I won’t be there to bandage every cut, kiss away every tear, sing them to sleep every night, and catch fireflies with them at every opportunity. That’s been the hardest part...letting go of them earlier in their lives than most moms have to do.
Their lives changed drastically at the ages of 3 and 5, so having a mom and dad who don’t live together may be all they ever really remember, but I remember living with them all the time when they were babies. I remember mornings at the library, pool, beach, and at baby groups with friends before I had to work. I remember taking them on 6 week vacations in the middle of the year to visit with grandparents without having to worry about school. I remember getting up at night to their cries when they were sick or had nightmares. I remember lazy days of sitting and playing potato head or building ships with legos. I remember falling asleep with one of my precious boys beside me watching Baby Einstein right after lunch. I remember turning the high chair toward re-runs of the Cosby Show while feeding my oldest his dinner. He still loves that show. I remember field trips to feed the turtles at the turtle pond and having friends and their kids over for pupus and cocktails after on Saturday evenings.
These are the things I can no longer do with them, and that they probably don’t even remember having done with me anymore. My situation is unique because I am not allowed housing on the base where I reside. Otherwise, I could still continue some of these traditions and family time, albeit every other week and weekend, instead of every day, but I try to make up for that when I do have a place to stay with my kids. I am trying to make new memories and traditions that hopefully they are now old enough to hold on to and relish as I relish my memories of the times with them those first few years of their lives before everything changed.
We now have our Roi weekends full of fishing, camping, snorkeling, riding in the jungle in the golf cart, and geocaching. We have our house-sitting adventures where we get to stay, often at friends’ home, and live as if we are on vacation at home. We have new family to visit and adventures to experience on vacation with my boyfriend’s family, and to tell the truth, the boys have a better, happier mom to share life with than they ever had before.
Although letting go of old adventures and the old life I had with my boys has been harder than I thought it would be, I am so blessed to experience this new life with them and to have met some one who truly loves me in a way I’ve never felt or been loved before to share it with. God is good, especially in the midst of sorrow and pain. He takes the tears of frustration and depression we all experience at one time or another and turns them into tears of joy and deep, deep love. I hope my boys are able to find that kind of love in another one day, but if life throws them a couple of loops first, I know God will be there for them and provide them the love and strength they need to move forward as happier and healthier men just as he’s given me the love and strength to move forward and fulfill my potential and destiny in life and be the best mom I can be to them in the meantime.
This is probably the most bittersweet part of divorce for me, being cut off from the family I was a part of for over 10 years. Letting go of a painful relationship and moving on is healthy, and it’s what needed to happen, but letting go of family who have always been good to you, and of whom you have nothing but positive memories with is difficult. I can no longer experience that family time with the boys as I did before. I know, that’s just part of divorce. You don’t just give up the spousal relationship, you give up the family times, and in a joint custody situation, you give up being there for half of your children’s lives and experiences. You give up control of being around for them 24/7 and accept being their mom for only half their lives. Of course, I am their mom every day, all the time, but I won’t be there to bandage every cut, kiss away every tear, sing them to sleep every night, and catch fireflies with them at every opportunity. That’s been the hardest part...letting go of them earlier in their lives than most moms have to do.
Their lives changed drastically at the ages of 3 and 5, so having a mom and dad who don’t live together may be all they ever really remember, but I remember living with them all the time when they were babies. I remember mornings at the library, pool, beach, and at baby groups with friends before I had to work. I remember taking them on 6 week vacations in the middle of the year to visit with grandparents without having to worry about school. I remember getting up at night to their cries when they were sick or had nightmares. I remember lazy days of sitting and playing potato head or building ships with legos. I remember falling asleep with one of my precious boys beside me watching Baby Einstein right after lunch. I remember turning the high chair toward re-runs of the Cosby Show while feeding my oldest his dinner. He still loves that show. I remember field trips to feed the turtles at the turtle pond and having friends and their kids over for pupus and cocktails after on Saturday evenings.
These are the things I can no longer do with them, and that they probably don’t even remember having done with me anymore. My situation is unique because I am not allowed housing on the base where I reside. Otherwise, I could still continue some of these traditions and family time, albeit every other week and weekend, instead of every day, but I try to make up for that when I do have a place to stay with my kids. I am trying to make new memories and traditions that hopefully they are now old enough to hold on to and relish as I relish my memories of the times with them those first few years of their lives before everything changed.
We now have our Roi weekends full of fishing, camping, snorkeling, riding in the jungle in the golf cart, and geocaching. We have our house-sitting adventures where we get to stay, often at friends’ home, and live as if we are on vacation at home. We have new family to visit and adventures to experience on vacation with my boyfriend’s family, and to tell the truth, the boys have a better, happier mom to share life with than they ever had before.
Although letting go of old adventures and the old life I had with my boys has been harder than I thought it would be, I am so blessed to experience this new life with them and to have met some one who truly loves me in a way I’ve never felt or been loved before to share it with. God is good, especially in the midst of sorrow and pain. He takes the tears of frustration and depression we all experience at one time or another and turns them into tears of joy and deep, deep love. I hope my boys are able to find that kind of love in another one day, but if life throws them a couple of loops first, I know God will be there for them and provide them the love and strength they need to move forward as happier and healthier men just as he’s given me the love and strength to move forward and fulfill my potential and destiny in life and be the best mom I can be to them in the meantime.
Monday, August 9, 2010
August 9, 2010-“Road-Tripping” in the Islands
One of the many outdoor activities, I’ve grown to love since moving to the atoll is sailing. I love it because it takes its passengers to another world without having to spend hours on a plane or in a car. You simply step onto the boat and sail into the sunset, so to speak, and it’s fantastic. Every time I am on a boat and arrive back home in the evenings, I feel like I have been somewhere so exotic and relaxing, and it all took place over only a few hours of one day. There’s one other place on the atoll I feel the same way about, and as odd as it may sound to those of you who are familiar with the islands, it’s Ebeye. I’ve mentioned this spot before in earlier journals. It’s an island less than 5 miles from the range on Kwajalein where the 1,000 plus Marshallese employees and their families reside, commuting to work on the range every day by boat. The boats that come over every hour on the hour from about 5-7 am to get everyone to work are filled to capacity, but going back, they are virtually empty. I am one of the lucky few who had the opportunity to “reverse commute” to Ebeye to work for my first several years on the atoll.
I was a part time English as a second language teacher for the College of the Marshall Islands satellite campus on Guegeegue for over 5 years. I took the last morning boat at 7:10 am over to Ebeye, then we would go by rickety old buses or step-vans, usually donated from the base on Kwajalein when they no longer could use them, down a man-made coral causeway past a number of islands before arriving at the campus of the college on Guegeegue 20-30 minutes later (this sometimes depended on the number of potholes on the causeway on any given day and sometimes on how much the tide has or was washing over as occasionally classes were cancelled entirely due to the impassable wash over of the causeway by the ocean). The ride was rough and bumpy, and you had to watch for rusted out holes in the floor of the bus or step-van as you entered and exited, but it was full of adventure for me, the other teachers, and for the students. It was the only college available to the kids short of moving to the capital of the Marshall Islands, Majuro, which is an hour plane ride away, so it was a great opportunity for them to get a college education they might not have access to otherwise.
Once we arrived safely on campus, I would teach 3-4 classes of English to small classes of 15-18 Marshallese students in louvered window classrooms, which were part of a barracks and recreation building formally build by some branch of the American military for a base of pre-radar operations there. Most recently, I met a former American resident who described what the building was used for back then, and I could picture what it was like in its former glory. What a trip that was! By the time, the college acquired it, the bathrooms, food service areas, and air-conditioning had been stripped, and bare classrooms with chalk and/or dry erase boards replaced all that was there before. I didn’t mind the lack of air-con as the trade winds blowing through usually kept us cool. I didn’t even mind the sound of roosters crowing throughout class time and the occasional visit by a neighborhood dog or cat to English class. It was all part of the experience. I worked, most semesters, only half a day, and I took the noon boat back to Kwajalein to go to my job at the library, and it broke up the sameness of island life for me because it really is going to another world when you leave the base and enter the “real” Marshall Islands. I miss that job and those days...
Now, I work with the Marshallese kids who commute to Kwajalein, but because of that job, I still have the opportunity to go over several times a year to have workshop meetings with the parents, and to take my 4-H Ebeye Citizenship Club students over to visit. When I arrive on the island, which is always full of life and the hustle and bustle of the city, except at a slightly slower island style pace, I can’t help but get a silly grin on my face. In some ways, I feel like I am home. I think that’s because of the people, my friends, who have made me feel so welcome, so appreciated, and so loved, just because I come over to work with them and do what I love.
It feels like I am in a different world and not merely 5 miles from my home on an Americanized military base because it is a different world. There are more than 13,000 people on a small island not much more than a mile long, if that, and less than a mile wide, so you can imagine the chaos that creates. There’s no running water most places, and if there is, you don’t want to drink it straight out of the tap. There’s no effective sewage system or even enough garbage cans to contain the trash, and they have power outages, sometimes scheduled, sometimes not, regularly. Their homes are mostly built out of plywood, pallets, and other wood they could find or savage from those who no longer wanted or needed it on other islands, and it’s very, very overcrowded, not a single palm tree in sight because there’s no room for those anymore. But, the people make do, just as we all do in times of hardship. On the outside, their homes, schools, and places of business may not look like much, but on the inside they are very cozy and well-loved and taken care of, just like the people, they have lots of heart.
This warmth makes it hard for me to stay away for any length of time. I actually will start to miss Ebeye when I haven’t had a chance to go over or be a part of something there. When I consider leaving this place, I worry about leaving these people and the work I’ve done with them, not because what I do is more than a tiny spot in their world or that I will be missed in any great capacity, but because I don’t know how I’ll survive without them. Just like sailing takes me away to another world and relaxes me for a bit, the small island of Ebeye and its people and culture enhance my world more than they could ever know. And after a long, hard day on Kwajalein, a trip to Ebeye soothes my soul. Their spirit of “Iakwe” brings a smile to my face like a rainbow after the storm. Thank you, my Ebeye friends, for making your island, one of my ideal “road trips” on the atoll.
I was a part time English as a second language teacher for the College of the Marshall Islands satellite campus on Guegeegue for over 5 years. I took the last morning boat at 7:10 am over to Ebeye, then we would go by rickety old buses or step-vans, usually donated from the base on Kwajalein when they no longer could use them, down a man-made coral causeway past a number of islands before arriving at the campus of the college on Guegeegue 20-30 minutes later (this sometimes depended on the number of potholes on the causeway on any given day and sometimes on how much the tide has or was washing over as occasionally classes were cancelled entirely due to the impassable wash over of the causeway by the ocean). The ride was rough and bumpy, and you had to watch for rusted out holes in the floor of the bus or step-van as you entered and exited, but it was full of adventure for me, the other teachers, and for the students. It was the only college available to the kids short of moving to the capital of the Marshall Islands, Majuro, which is an hour plane ride away, so it was a great opportunity for them to get a college education they might not have access to otherwise.
Once we arrived safely on campus, I would teach 3-4 classes of English to small classes of 15-18 Marshallese students in louvered window classrooms, which were part of a barracks and recreation building formally build by some branch of the American military for a base of pre-radar operations there. Most recently, I met a former American resident who described what the building was used for back then, and I could picture what it was like in its former glory. What a trip that was! By the time, the college acquired it, the bathrooms, food service areas, and air-conditioning had been stripped, and bare classrooms with chalk and/or dry erase boards replaced all that was there before. I didn’t mind the lack of air-con as the trade winds blowing through usually kept us cool. I didn’t even mind the sound of roosters crowing throughout class time and the occasional visit by a neighborhood dog or cat to English class. It was all part of the experience. I worked, most semesters, only half a day, and I took the noon boat back to Kwajalein to go to my job at the library, and it broke up the sameness of island life for me because it really is going to another world when you leave the base and enter the “real” Marshall Islands. I miss that job and those days...
Now, I work with the Marshallese kids who commute to Kwajalein, but because of that job, I still have the opportunity to go over several times a year to have workshop meetings with the parents, and to take my 4-H Ebeye Citizenship Club students over to visit. When I arrive on the island, which is always full of life and the hustle and bustle of the city, except at a slightly slower island style pace, I can’t help but get a silly grin on my face. In some ways, I feel like I am home. I think that’s because of the people, my friends, who have made me feel so welcome, so appreciated, and so loved, just because I come over to work with them and do what I love.
It feels like I am in a different world and not merely 5 miles from my home on an Americanized military base because it is a different world. There are more than 13,000 people on a small island not much more than a mile long, if that, and less than a mile wide, so you can imagine the chaos that creates. There’s no running water most places, and if there is, you don’t want to drink it straight out of the tap. There’s no effective sewage system or even enough garbage cans to contain the trash, and they have power outages, sometimes scheduled, sometimes not, regularly. Their homes are mostly built out of plywood, pallets, and other wood they could find or savage from those who no longer wanted or needed it on other islands, and it’s very, very overcrowded, not a single palm tree in sight because there’s no room for those anymore. But, the people make do, just as we all do in times of hardship. On the outside, their homes, schools, and places of business may not look like much, but on the inside they are very cozy and well-loved and taken care of, just like the people, they have lots of heart.
This warmth makes it hard for me to stay away for any length of time. I actually will start to miss Ebeye when I haven’t had a chance to go over or be a part of something there. When I consider leaving this place, I worry about leaving these people and the work I’ve done with them, not because what I do is more than a tiny spot in their world or that I will be missed in any great capacity, but because I don’t know how I’ll survive without them. Just like sailing takes me away to another world and relaxes me for a bit, the small island of Ebeye and its people and culture enhance my world more than they could ever know. And after a long, hard day on Kwajalein, a trip to Ebeye soothes my soul. Their spirit of “Iakwe” brings a smile to my face like a rainbow after the storm. Thank you, my Ebeye friends, for making your island, one of my ideal “road trips” on the atoll.
August 8, 2010-Life’s Greatest Joys
A few days ago I wrote about my greatest fear and this afternoon, as I reflected back on the day, I thought I’d discuss life’s greatest joys. I think everyone fears failure, and we all fear death, rejection, and so many other things in life. But joy is more individualized. My greatest joy may be the same as yours or it may be different. For example, one of my boyfriend’s greatest joys in life is scuba diving. He can be having a horrid day and get out there on a good dive and come home relaxed and full of excitement for life again. He simply loves everything about the sport and what he can find and experience underwater. One of my friend’s greatest joys in life is cooking. She loves to talk about cooking, share her dishes with friends, and would prefer to be in the kitchen almost more than anything else. It never seems to become mundane or a chore for her. Like fears, we all have more than one joy in life, but these are examples of the varied nature of our joys.
As for me, I enjoy scuba diving, yoga, reading, and so much more, but my greatest joy is spending quality time with my family and friends. I love being with my boys, seeing their smiles and hearing their laughter. I love having a glass of wine and dinner with my boyfriend’s family while we tell stories. I love getting together with my brothers and their families and my parents and all our relatives from Sand Mountain, eating watermelon and homemade peach ice cream and catching up on life. I love going over to my best friend’s house, crying and giggling and sharing life together until way past our bed times. I love discovering treasures on the beach with my boyfriend and my kids while camping at the beach shack and diving these beautiful tropical waters with old and new friends. These are the times when I feel the most joy, and the one thing that binds these experiences into one is togetherness with family and friends, sharing life’s greatest joys for all of us.
So, maybe I should redefine my greatest joy as sharing other’s greatest joys with them for I usually share my friend’s love of cooking by visiting with her in the kitchen while she cooks and taste testing her food as she prepares it. And I accompany my boyfriend and his friends on dives and glean the most happiness during those dives from seeing the contentedness on his face and the excitement in his voice before and after the dives and swimming beside him under the water so I don’t miss seeing whatever he or I might find to share with each other. I share in my sons’ happiness when roasting marshmallows and finding a particularly cool shell or treasure on the beach. I love to listen to family stories and learn more about these precious parts of myself and my family through opening up my mind and heart to our differing perspectives on life and discovering how our life experiences have shaped us into who we are. Sharing life and love with those closest to me, that’s my greatest joy in life. What’s yours?
As for me, I enjoy scuba diving, yoga, reading, and so much more, but my greatest joy is spending quality time with my family and friends. I love being with my boys, seeing their smiles and hearing their laughter. I love having a glass of wine and dinner with my boyfriend’s family while we tell stories. I love getting together with my brothers and their families and my parents and all our relatives from Sand Mountain, eating watermelon and homemade peach ice cream and catching up on life. I love going over to my best friend’s house, crying and giggling and sharing life together until way past our bed times. I love discovering treasures on the beach with my boyfriend and my kids while camping at the beach shack and diving these beautiful tropical waters with old and new friends. These are the times when I feel the most joy, and the one thing that binds these experiences into one is togetherness with family and friends, sharing life’s greatest joys for all of us.
So, maybe I should redefine my greatest joy as sharing other’s greatest joys with them for I usually share my friend’s love of cooking by visiting with her in the kitchen while she cooks and taste testing her food as she prepares it. And I accompany my boyfriend and his friends on dives and glean the most happiness during those dives from seeing the contentedness on his face and the excitement in his voice before and after the dives and swimming beside him under the water so I don’t miss seeing whatever he or I might find to share with each other. I share in my sons’ happiness when roasting marshmallows and finding a particularly cool shell or treasure on the beach. I love to listen to family stories and learn more about these precious parts of myself and my family through opening up my mind and heart to our differing perspectives on life and discovering how our life experiences have shaped us into who we are. Sharing life and love with those closest to me, that’s my greatest joy in life. What’s yours?
August 7, 2010-Life out of the Ruins
What an awesome day! It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to swim into the depths of the tropical waters in the Pacific and enjoy the treasures of the sea. Today, we dove the anemone coral head near third island off the island of Roi-Namur, had some lunch in the shelter of sixth island (the traditional “boat float” area for the residents), and then we dove the Japanese Zero. The coral heads in the area absolutely teem with life! From the tiniest “Nemo” clownfish hiding in an anemone built inside a broccoli shaped head of hard coal to the baby shark checking out the funny looking creatures swimming around his territory, the diving out here is so clear, warm, and alive, it’s hard to want to dive anywhere else, especially considering the inexpensive cost of diving off these shores versus Hawaii, Australia, or other touristy dive spots in the world.
As for the Japanese Zero, this is a plane that crashed upside down on the sea floor and at some point cracked in half and the back end landed upside down over the top half. It’s in about 60 feet of water, and if you know where to find the landing gear wheel with a rope attached, then that rope will lead you right to the plane. It was my second time on the wreck, but of course, different things stand out in your memory each time you dive it. This time, what stood out most to me was how the sea takes over and builds something new and vibrant in the midst of great tragedy and trauma to the ocean itself and to the world or a least a portion of it. Someone was lost in the plane crash, and we pay homage to that sacrifice. Fortunately, beautiful things have grown out of that loss. All over the wreck, coral has attached itself and grown like underwater flowers to mark the gravesite, fish use the inside of the ripped up metal fuselage as a safe hiding place from their predators, and life continues to grow and develop right on top, beside, and inside the wreck.
There’s one spot out in front and to the right side of the plane that looks like it could be a part of the wing that slammed into the ocean floor and broke off. It is bent and stands up above the rest of the small coral heads, but as you look closer, you see it has become a “man-made” piece of coral for the fish to chow on later. A fairly large coral head has grown right on top of it, so that you couldn’t even move the metal wing piece if you wanted to.
Life out of the ruins. I like that. That seems to be a theme of mine in these journals so far...finding beauty out of ashes and growing stronger despite or through the tough times. The life that Japanese solider sacrificed for his country during WWII can never be replaced, and no one should have to die that way. But the life growing out of, on, and inside that ship is symbolic of all the joy that can be cultivated out of tragedy if you are patient enough to wait for it. Our tragedies can serve to help others find what they need, whether that’s a safe place to rest, gnaw on a piece of coral, or simply to help remind us to hang in there and look for the silver lining in the clouds above.
As for the Japanese Zero, this is a plane that crashed upside down on the sea floor and at some point cracked in half and the back end landed upside down over the top half. It’s in about 60 feet of water, and if you know where to find the landing gear wheel with a rope attached, then that rope will lead you right to the plane. It was my second time on the wreck, but of course, different things stand out in your memory each time you dive it. This time, what stood out most to me was how the sea takes over and builds something new and vibrant in the midst of great tragedy and trauma to the ocean itself and to the world or a least a portion of it. Someone was lost in the plane crash, and we pay homage to that sacrifice. Fortunately, beautiful things have grown out of that loss. All over the wreck, coral has attached itself and grown like underwater flowers to mark the gravesite, fish use the inside of the ripped up metal fuselage as a safe hiding place from their predators, and life continues to grow and develop right on top, beside, and inside the wreck.
There’s one spot out in front and to the right side of the plane that looks like it could be a part of the wing that slammed into the ocean floor and broke off. It is bent and stands up above the rest of the small coral heads, but as you look closer, you see it has become a “man-made” piece of coral for the fish to chow on later. A fairly large coral head has grown right on top of it, so that you couldn’t even move the metal wing piece if you wanted to.
Life out of the ruins. I like that. That seems to be a theme of mine in these journals so far...finding beauty out of ashes and growing stronger despite or through the tough times. The life that Japanese solider sacrificed for his country during WWII can never be replaced, and no one should have to die that way. But the life growing out of, on, and inside that ship is symbolic of all the joy that can be cultivated out of tragedy if you are patient enough to wait for it. Our tragedies can serve to help others find what they need, whether that’s a safe place to rest, gnaw on a piece of coral, or simply to help remind us to hang in there and look for the silver lining in the clouds above.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
August 6, 2010-Riding through the Rain
Some days instead of waiting out the rain, you just have to ride through it. On my way back from Kwaj to Roi today, I stepped off the plane and into the dark, cloudy skies surrounding the island. I debated for a second, only a second, and then decided I could ride my red, high handled Roi bike, which was a Valentine’s present from my boyfriend, through the rain, and I took off. At first, I tried to outrun the rain. Sometimes out here, if you can just get a little bit ahead of it, you miss all but a few drops hitting your clothes and eyes. I’ve called friends at the golf course on one end of the island of Kwajalein from the housing area on the other end to see how they are playing in the rain, and I am told, “it’s not raining here, is it raining there?” We can have a downpour all centered around 1 mile of the island while the other 2 miles stay hot and dry.
It’s fascinating, but today, that was not the case. As I rode, the rain got heavier and heavier until finally, I found myself slowing down and watching the sheets of rain blow in ripples across the asphalt. It was exhilarating. I let out of couple of whoops, enjoying the cleansing drench I was receiving. It made me think of my boys and how much fun they would have riding in the rain with me. They always love it even more when the adults are willing to participate in that type of child like fun with them. And for kids, there’s something about rain and water in particular.
When I ran the before and after school program on the island, I would occasionally allow the last few kids left at the end of a rainy day to play in it. It’s one of the most joy-filled activities I’ve ever watched kids participate in, running and jumping in puddles, sliding and swinging in the rain, making soppy sand pies and getting wetter and wetter by the second. I couldn’t fully participate in this while at work, but I got as much out of it as anyone because it made my heart smile to see them so happy. And I felt that again today while riding in the rain.
It’s the simple things that make the world go around...I remember one year when my mom was struggling to make ends meet, and she had expressed an interest in getting a yard sprinkler to a friend, but it was never something she would spend money on herself because it was not a necessity. So, one day her friend came by with a sprinkler, and that one simple, inexpensive wish being fulfilled gave her so much joy. The little things are what we will remember in the end...an encouraging word or compliment from a friend, a smile or hug from a child who sensed you needed it, a beautiful sunrise or sunset, a scoop of your favorite ice cream, a photograph from a treasured time or memory in your life, these are the things that keep us going when nothing else can. For me today, having lunch with a good friend, hearing my kids’ laughter over the phone, and riding in the rain are the little things that make it all worth while, all the sacrifices, the long work days, the isolation of living on a tiny atoll, and the heartbreaks and challenges experienced to do what’s best for my family and to grow my own character are all worth it because some days, riding through the storm refreshes and rekindles the fire inside of you instead of putting it out.
It’s fascinating, but today, that was not the case. As I rode, the rain got heavier and heavier until finally, I found myself slowing down and watching the sheets of rain blow in ripples across the asphalt. It was exhilarating. I let out of couple of whoops, enjoying the cleansing drench I was receiving. It made me think of my boys and how much fun they would have riding in the rain with me. They always love it even more when the adults are willing to participate in that type of child like fun with them. And for kids, there’s something about rain and water in particular.
When I ran the before and after school program on the island, I would occasionally allow the last few kids left at the end of a rainy day to play in it. It’s one of the most joy-filled activities I’ve ever watched kids participate in, running and jumping in puddles, sliding and swinging in the rain, making soppy sand pies and getting wetter and wetter by the second. I couldn’t fully participate in this while at work, but I got as much out of it as anyone because it made my heart smile to see them so happy. And I felt that again today while riding in the rain.
It’s the simple things that make the world go around...I remember one year when my mom was struggling to make ends meet, and she had expressed an interest in getting a yard sprinkler to a friend, but it was never something she would spend money on herself because it was not a necessity. So, one day her friend came by with a sprinkler, and that one simple, inexpensive wish being fulfilled gave her so much joy. The little things are what we will remember in the end...an encouraging word or compliment from a friend, a smile or hug from a child who sensed you needed it, a beautiful sunrise or sunset, a scoop of your favorite ice cream, a photograph from a treasured time or memory in your life, these are the things that keep us going when nothing else can. For me today, having lunch with a good friend, hearing my kids’ laughter over the phone, and riding in the rain are the little things that make it all worth while, all the sacrifices, the long work days, the isolation of living on a tiny atoll, and the heartbreaks and challenges experienced to do what’s best for my family and to grow my own character are all worth it because some days, riding through the storm refreshes and rekindles the fire inside of you instead of putting it out.
August 5, 2010-My Greatest Fear
Today, I uncovered my greatest fear. More than anything in life, I fear failing those I love, my kids, my true love, my family, my friends, and my God. I fear not measuring up to what is expected of me. I have no solid reasoning for this fear, but isn’t that what fear operates on, the idea that we can’t know the future, that we aren’t perfect, that we are bound to make mistakes at one point or another because no one or thing in life is perfect. Fear is rarely proved rational; it just is. We all have fears, and I never really considered what my greatest fear was until today. I knew that at some point in this year long journaling adventure, I would have to write about hardship, about the challenges of life, but for some odd reason, I didn’t expect it to be within the first week of writing. I was hoping to just relax a little more, to continue along the path of least resistance as I have done most of my life. Most days, I pray for normalcy. That’s all.
Until you have been through it, I don’t think anyone can really say they understand divorce and the ensuing challenges that accompany it. I thought I knew what my mom felt like when she went through it approximately 23 years ago, but I realized upon going through it myself the past 3 years, that I really didn’t truly understand anything. Looking back, how could I? I was 12 years old when my own parents got divorced, but now, at thirty-something, it’s the intensity of the pain that astonished me the most, and to be completely honest, the insensitivity and lack of understanding of those who I believed to be trusted friends. I don’t blame them though. I think putting yourself in someone else’s shoes is one of the hardest and most loving things we can do for each other, to truly try to understand what someone else has been through and how difficult it must be. As human beings, we want to judge first based on our own understanding of right and wrong in the world, based on our own experiences. We are reluctant to consider how the same hardships and tragedies in our own lives would affect us, and my heart aches for that lack of human compassion and support we have for each other, but I attribute this to fear too. We are afraid when we hear about tragic things in other’s lives that the same thing will happen to us. I remember my best friend telling me just that when she learned my parents were getting divorced. “What if my parents do too?” She had a right to be scared. Life is unpredictable and uncontrollable. Luckily, her parents are still together to this day, but you never know what hardships will befall you until they do, and you never know how you will respond until you do. So, that leaves one question for everyone to consider, how will you deal with the biggest challenges in your life?
My grandfather is the best example I have of a human being who always considered the other person’s troubles above his own. When my parent’s divorced, and my dad quickly remarried, you can imagine the “girl talk” happening between my grandmother, mom, and me concerning his inconsiderate and, in our opinion, aberrant behavior, and in the middle of the discussion, my granddaddy said very simply something I will never forget. When there was a lull in the conversation, he commented very casually, “I wonder what he must be dealing with at home right now.” Instead of taking sides and agreeing with us that my dad didn’t deserve our sympathy for treating my mom inadequately, he considered my dad above himself and all of us, as he should have, and made a point to communicate to us that consideration for what he must be going through because surely if we were in that much pain, he had certainly experienced his share too. After that comment, we shut up, but it was not said condescendingly or in an effort to make us feel bad. It was just an observation and a mindset that my granddaddy operated in daily, one of considering others first, just as the Bible said he ought to, and I will aspire to that type of thinking all of my life, although I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to achieve it as graciously as he did.
Life has thrown me a loop today, and there will be many more, I’m sure, but I will attempt to handle it gracefully and with faith, hope, and love, knowing that God has my best interests at heart if I will only trust Him. The challenges of negotiating child care and life with two kids going between two families will continue to be there for many years to come, but I will strive to be the best mom and woman I can be to set an example for my boys of how to live life to the fullest and not stop short of their dreams and potential.
Until you have been through it, I don’t think anyone can really say they understand divorce and the ensuing challenges that accompany it. I thought I knew what my mom felt like when she went through it approximately 23 years ago, but I realized upon going through it myself the past 3 years, that I really didn’t truly understand anything. Looking back, how could I? I was 12 years old when my own parents got divorced, but now, at thirty-something, it’s the intensity of the pain that astonished me the most, and to be completely honest, the insensitivity and lack of understanding of those who I believed to be trusted friends. I don’t blame them though. I think putting yourself in someone else’s shoes is one of the hardest and most loving things we can do for each other, to truly try to understand what someone else has been through and how difficult it must be. As human beings, we want to judge first based on our own understanding of right and wrong in the world, based on our own experiences. We are reluctant to consider how the same hardships and tragedies in our own lives would affect us, and my heart aches for that lack of human compassion and support we have for each other, but I attribute this to fear too. We are afraid when we hear about tragic things in other’s lives that the same thing will happen to us. I remember my best friend telling me just that when she learned my parents were getting divorced. “What if my parents do too?” She had a right to be scared. Life is unpredictable and uncontrollable. Luckily, her parents are still together to this day, but you never know what hardships will befall you until they do, and you never know how you will respond until you do. So, that leaves one question for everyone to consider, how will you deal with the biggest challenges in your life?
My grandfather is the best example I have of a human being who always considered the other person’s troubles above his own. When my parent’s divorced, and my dad quickly remarried, you can imagine the “girl talk” happening between my grandmother, mom, and me concerning his inconsiderate and, in our opinion, aberrant behavior, and in the middle of the discussion, my granddaddy said very simply something I will never forget. When there was a lull in the conversation, he commented very casually, “I wonder what he must be dealing with at home right now.” Instead of taking sides and agreeing with us that my dad didn’t deserve our sympathy for treating my mom inadequately, he considered my dad above himself and all of us, as he should have, and made a point to communicate to us that consideration for what he must be going through because surely if we were in that much pain, he had certainly experienced his share too. After that comment, we shut up, but it was not said condescendingly or in an effort to make us feel bad. It was just an observation and a mindset that my granddaddy operated in daily, one of considering others first, just as the Bible said he ought to, and I will aspire to that type of thinking all of my life, although I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to achieve it as graciously as he did.
Life has thrown me a loop today, and there will be many more, I’m sure, but I will attempt to handle it gracefully and with faith, hope, and love, knowing that God has my best interests at heart if I will only trust Him. The challenges of negotiating child care and life with two kids going between two families will continue to be there for many years to come, but I will strive to be the best mom and woman I can be to set an example for my boys of how to live life to the fullest and not stop short of their dreams and potential.
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