Slowly I am going through my pre-Thailand checklist...
-purchase good Swiss Army Knife - CHECK
-line up CouchSurfing hosts for when I first arrive in Thailand - CHECK
(P.S. - CouchSurfing is one of my favorite things... check out why: http://www.couchsurfing.org)
-make a prayer rope to begin a routine of saying the Jesus Prayer (Eastern Orthodox tradition that I appreciate) - CHECK
-vaccinations and medications - CHECK (I think?)
-make plans with Thai friends - ONGOING
-write long-term plan for teaching ESL - NOT BEGUN
-practice bowed psaltery, so I don't make all the IDPs' ears quiver with the equivalent sound of a five year old on bagpipes - ONGOING
-unpack - ONGOING
-organize - ONGOING
-pack - does this really have to happen?
-study for the GRE - seriously? I've been saying this for several summers in a row: #1 Reason to Study Overseas
-write first "update" to my e-mail list to check that all e-mails are correct and working - CURRENTLY PROCRASTINATING BY WRITING THIS BLOG
In the meanwhile, if you would like to be on my e-mail updates, please send me your e-mail address, and I will add you. My internet access will likely be quite limited, making a lot of individual e-mails challenging. However, there are things that I will not be posting in this blog that I will be e-mailing.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Some of you may know, but it has been my intention to take some sort of "retreat" for several years. Since the events that shaped my life between my first year of college and my sophomore year, I have craved silence and solitude. I have wanted to simply get away and pray, to listen away from all the distractions and noise that my daily life fills up with.
Yet for the five years in which I have experienced that longing, each summer I have faced the reality of not being able to fulfill that dream. Perhaps it was good for me to not be able to, because it became imperative that I introduce silence and solitude into my day-to-day life. I created shorter mini-retreats for myself on the weekend, in which I would choose not to socialize. I would choose not to play music or watch television many, many evenings after school, embracing instead that silence which is both frightening and healing. I think I've learned a lot about the discipline of solitude. We don't all get to be monks, and we don't all have the freedom to disappear for a month, but we can make the choices to retreat for minutes or hours at a time (I must admit, this is much easier for me than for my friends who are married and have children).
This summer, however, something beautiful and different has finally happened. I am finally retreating. My heart soars just writing these words, because it has been so good and healthy. It is not complete, because I still see people, but it is what I have longed for. I am at my family's mountain cabin (near where my dad works), and I have my days to myself. In the last two days of solitude, I have hiked along Roan Mountain's balds, strolled along this mountain neighborhood, played my psaltery to the wind, and most importantly spent a lot of time in deep silence--the kind of silence that fills you with love and mercy. It has been too long since I had the space to simply breathe in creation all around me, and I feel myself returning to who I am supposed to be. I feel the weight of having been so tough for so long while teaching drop off, and I remember who God is and the smile that comes from silent communion with God.
Today, after only two days of solitude, I will be returning to High Point to spend time with family (the only time that would work for them) and then once again coming back to the mountains on Saturday. There is something ironic in the broken up way of my retreat. I dream of the monks who disappear for weeks at a time, but that's not the real world for me. Family, friendships, commitments, etc. are, and those too demand their time. As my days in this country come to an end, I would not for any reason neglect those people that I will soon miss very much. So I find myself on the middle road--balancing retreat with relationships... and I appreciate this strange in between. As I retreat, I hope I become a better listener, and I hope I value the people with whom I interact better.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
I suppose to all those who've begun reading this blog again, returning to North Carolina deserves a post.
My two year commitment to New Roads, Louisiana is over.
Even typing those words feels strange. How could it be that I will never again puzzle over how to help BL make friends? or CJ to count backwards? or TD to control his anger? or TB to be brave going home everyday? From this point on, I have no further control over their education. I cannot change whether their next teachers think they're smart or not. I cannot control whether they feel safe at school. Even as my focus needs to steadily turn increasingly to preparing for my work along the Thai-Burmese border, my mind falls ever out of habit on the names and faces of my community in New Roads. I have so many hopes and dreams for them, and I pray that their lives will be full of teachers who also carry their hopes and dreams.
Returning to North Carolina is also something. I haven't spent an entire summer here in five years, and I haven't spent longer than a summer here in eight years. This prolonged returned (such as 2 1/2 months feels to me) carries the added weight of all the bittersweet memories from past summers, when old friendships still provided laughter, conversation, and activity. That is not to say in any sort of melodramatic way that there is none of the above now. Certainly I find laughter, conversation, and activity through my parents, brother, and family friends, but things have changed, and time spent here is now a lot quieter and emptier than ever in times past. I suppose that's the thing about growing up and leaving. Some things you can never return to.
ON A SIDE NOTE: I will be sending out the first trial "update" e-mail for my list for while I'm out of the country to make sure all the e-mail addresses I've collected are correct. If you have not given me your e-mail address and would like to be added to my list, please send me your e-mail address asap. Thanks!
My two year commitment to New Roads, Louisiana is over.
Even typing those words feels strange. How could it be that I will never again puzzle over how to help BL make friends? or CJ to count backwards? or TD to control his anger? or TB to be brave going home everyday? From this point on, I have no further control over their education. I cannot change whether their next teachers think they're smart or not. I cannot control whether they feel safe at school. Even as my focus needs to steadily turn increasingly to preparing for my work along the Thai-Burmese border, my mind falls ever out of habit on the names and faces of my community in New Roads. I have so many hopes and dreams for them, and I pray that their lives will be full of teachers who also carry their hopes and dreams.
Returning to North Carolina is also something. I haven't spent an entire summer here in five years, and I haven't spent longer than a summer here in eight years. This prolonged returned (such as 2 1/2 months feels to me) carries the added weight of all the bittersweet memories from past summers, when old friendships still provided laughter, conversation, and activity. That is not to say in any sort of melodramatic way that there is none of the above now. Certainly I find laughter, conversation, and activity through my parents, brother, and family friends, but things have changed, and time spent here is now a lot quieter and emptier than ever in times past. I suppose that's the thing about growing up and leaving. Some things you can never return to.
ON A SIDE NOTE: I will be sending out the first trial "update" e-mail for my list for while I'm out of the country to make sure all the e-mail addresses I've collected are correct. If you have not given me your e-mail address and would like to be added to my list, please send me your e-mail address asap. Thanks!
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