Today is Sunday. It started with one extra hour of sleep. The announcement went over the intercom last night, “All crew: set you clocks back one hour. All Crew, clocks back one hour.” Liberia approaches along with a new time zone. I am now 7 hours ahead of you instead of 6. My morning was calm. I went out to the deck, as usual, and listened to a sermon of Pastor Shelton’s. I feel so spoiled out at sea. God’s work and beauty, his power and majesty are so obvious out here. Constant wonder is inevitable. Scripture is so real. During sermons, I constantly nod “Amen”. The ocean roars in front of me. The sun rips through the clouds dispersing it’s colours with more severity than I’ve ever seen. There’s water as far as my eyes can see. I went up to the bridge yesterday evening with Corinna and Cully. The bridge is where the Captain and the steering wheel are. You have to book an appointment to go up. Cully and Corinna held the wheel and were fascinated by all the gadgets and the fact that they were steering the ship. I guess it was pretty neat. I just went out to the railing and looked over. I was the farthest up on the ship as you could be and looking down was so neat. That’s all I can give it: “So neat”. If you could just think of “so neat” to it’s fullest meaning, maybe you’d have an idea. I called Cully over, nodding for him to look over the edge too. I was practically hanging over when he just glanced over and his eyes got wide. He jumped away, looking nauseous. “No. can’t do that.” He muttered.
“ah man...” I Sighed. “You’re missing it. Isn’t it crazy? There’s sharks down there. Sharks that can tear you apart and there’s whales, bigger than you even know. Right down there, right below us. Man.”
But yes, I do feel spoiled here. That will probably change in Liberia, but maybe not. We had worship on the bow this evening. The set setting as our backdrop. The beauty of the earth, as my favourite hymn goes, is so evident here, especially as we sail and especially when I’m out on the deck, instead in my bed with my head in the pillow, feeling nauseous.
Cully’s doing better. He had to work this morning. We hung out for a couple hours this afternoon as he toyed with my laptop and I embroidered on a white tea towel for my cabin. He seems to be doing all right. He may not be enjoying it yet, as I am, but as long as he keeps his mind off it, he seems to be doing fine. I don’t want the sail to end. It rocks me to sleep at night and provides such a perfect breeze when you’re outside. It’s funny too, how it brings the ship together. Anna said it would. I doubted. But we’re all on this ship. On Friday night there was nothing to do but what the ship had planned. So everyone was there. Last night (Saturday) they set up a huge screen outside, on the bow, and played movies. First was veggie tales, then Finding Nemo, and last, Second Hand Lions. I caught the last couple minutes of Second Hand Lions but was busy saving a bird, before that, who had flown into the ship and seemed confused. I was telling Cully though, that they need to be taking advantage of this ocean that we’re surrounded by. They should be showing something like “Jaws”. The sharks are all of 20 feet away from us. Why aren’t we showing these movies when we’re in the prefect scare you pants off atmosphere?
Well we’re 2 days out. 7 to go. I’m going to go to the Mediterranean Lounge now to embroider with Cristin. My love to you all.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Almost Past the Equator
It’s my lunch break. I sit on deck typing away on my laptop, Josh Groban playing in my ears, as the Anastasis sails across the ocean. This song definitely takes on new meaning with the ocean’s waves roaring in front of me. We’re off to Liberia. Two days ago we left Cape Town behind and should arrive in Monrovia in about 7 days.
Cape Town was a great success. Mercy ship's goal was to get 10,000 people on board through tours and publicity. By the first weekend we were over half way there. By the end of 3 weeks we had reached 17,000. We soared over the goal. 17,000 people toured my boat. It was a crowded home. 17,000 people were able to hear about the work of Mercy ships and witness the lives of Anastasis Crew Members. Volunteers were needed a lot during those 3 weeks to follow tours. There was a trained tour guide who led the groups of 200+ people but they always needed someone to stay in the back and make sure that none of the Cape Townians got lost. I followed a few. People would ask me questions and would look at my strangely when I explained that I paid to be here. They’d wanted to know all about the cause and thanked me for helping people. They wished they could but theres a different calling for each and some arn't able to pack up and leave for a year or 2 or 10. Following a tour was always a pretty energizing activity. I was sort of a celebrity and people always looked so amazed when I explained how I got here and my age. It was fun. I was reminded with each tour the great work that’s been done in this ship. I’ve become very proud of this 50-year-old cruise liner. She stands head and shoulders above the rest of them.
Since we set sail, by the Lord’s grace, I have never been better. I made sure to take my seasickness pill a couple hours before and have been taking them every 7 hours since. The Captain made a point in the pre-sailing briefing, to keep our stomachs full. He warned us about this before the sail to Cape Town but I must have not taken it seriously. I’ve been trying to watch what I eat lately; it’s funny how quickly you can put on the pounds when you leave the cooking of your mother. Yeah, it’s sort of disturbing. But now that we’re sailing I have the perfect excuse to eat all day long. It’s quite fun. I’ll work it off once we arrive, for now I’m fighting the sickness of the sea. So as long as I keep popping the pills and consuming the cookies and chips, I’ll be perfect. Thank you dear people, for all who prayed for this sail and my well being. I asked for prayer a while ago when I found out how badly I sail and your prayers have been my saviour. This sail, if anything, is rougher than the last. Cully hasn't been doing very well. He says he's never felt worse. He showed up at my cabin door, yesterday morning, looking thinner than ever. I hate that others are sick when I feel perfect. He laid in bed all day. I brought him some ice-cold water with wet rags to put on his forehead. I didn't know much else to do. I felt at such a lose. Suddenly my office work seemed so stupid. I knew he had to get something in his stomach that would stay there. If you don't keep eating you'll get sick and once you're sick you can't eat and then you only get sicker. I brought him some rice cakes. I think he may have gotten through one by the day's end. He had stopped taking his seasickness pills, which annoyed me. So I took him pills and made sure he took them every 7 hours. He had to work today and says he's much better, only he has a massive headache and blurry vision. Pray for him please and pray for the others that suffer. I forget how awful it is to be ill by the sea. Though I do remember it is one of the worse feelings I’ve experienced. I remember that. A feeling of claustrophobia comes over you and you just become so helpless and angry.
My office chair is constantly rolling backwards as I slam against the wall and when I walk along the corridors my hips crash into the railings. I was holding my laptop, water bottle, book (to kill a mockingbird), my digital camera, and my bible, along with some random cords, yesterday, walking up the stairwell just as the ship sailed over a massive wave. My body slowed down and I started leaning backwards. I tried to grip with my toes since both my hands were taken. It wasn’t working. My body was tense as I struggled to keep myself stable. Veronique walked by just in time and grabbed my arm, pulling my to my balance and off that cursed stairwell. I’m not able to keep myself steady but the medication makes it so I don’t care. It’s quite wonderful.
It’s Friday night and instead of crewmembers dispersing into town on their night off, we’re all stuck on the ship. There’s this lounge called The International Lounge, which has a coffee place called The Sale Victoria Café. I can see it from where I sit. A line has formed as people anxiously await their caramel late or double espresso. I can see Cully and Signe. They’re running it tonight; filling the mugs and placing them in the thirsty hands of Crew. At 8:00pm, there’s ballroom dancing outside on Aft Deck. I think that should be funny. But as Lani already pointed out, it’s much easier this way to blame any awkward moves on the rock of the ship. I can’t really see trying to maintain rhythm as well has balance. But I may attempt it. It has perfect potential to be hilariously entertaining or just plain awful. It’s a toss up, I tell you. I don’t have my trusty partner here. So that’s already one downer.
Here begins a new journey. I’m on the edge of embarking into a brand new way of life. Monrovia anxiously awaits us, as well as the 500 UN soldiers, our personal security men. Our water supply has yet to be secure. Please keep praying for that. I don’t know what Liberia holds. I know it holds heat. So far the weather in South Africa has been cool and humidity free. Long pants-and-jacket weather. I’ve loved it. It hasn’t been hard. I haven’t been stretched. When I feel the air on my bones now, I can already sense it’s change. We’re fast approaching the equator and as we do the breeze steadily rises in warmth. The tours department is busy planning an “equator” party for the crew. They really do make an effort here for us Crew. It’s pretty heart warming. But yes, a war-ravaged land is waiting for us. The Anastasis looks as a saviour to these forgotten people. Their elections have just ended. We not sure of the results but pray, please pray, that a strong leader was chosen, even a godly one, that will lead this nation to their full potential. The Anastasis can only scratch the surface. God can rip it open. He can show his face there. Pray that he will. I ask you this night to pray for the Anastasis. Pray for our arrival. Pray that God will prepare the hearts and minds of the Liberians for what we have to say and that not only will they be changed physically but that spiritually they will be led to eternal life and begin a personal relationship with the true and living God. Pray that God will be with us, that his presence will be evident and that the Crew of the “Annie” will seek his face daily. Pray that we will not loose sight of the ultimate purpose of this ship and that is to win souls to Christ, not merely to heal wounds.
Cape Town was a great success. Mercy ship's goal was to get 10,000 people on board through tours and publicity. By the first weekend we were over half way there. By the end of 3 weeks we had reached 17,000. We soared over the goal. 17,000 people toured my boat. It was a crowded home. 17,000 people were able to hear about the work of Mercy ships and witness the lives of Anastasis Crew Members. Volunteers were needed a lot during those 3 weeks to follow tours. There was a trained tour guide who led the groups of 200+ people but they always needed someone to stay in the back and make sure that none of the Cape Townians got lost. I followed a few. People would ask me questions and would look at my strangely when I explained that I paid to be here. They’d wanted to know all about the cause and thanked me for helping people. They wished they could but theres a different calling for each and some arn't able to pack up and leave for a year or 2 or 10. Following a tour was always a pretty energizing activity. I was sort of a celebrity and people always looked so amazed when I explained how I got here and my age. It was fun. I was reminded with each tour the great work that’s been done in this ship. I’ve become very proud of this 50-year-old cruise liner. She stands head and shoulders above the rest of them.
Since we set sail, by the Lord’s grace, I have never been better. I made sure to take my seasickness pill a couple hours before and have been taking them every 7 hours since. The Captain made a point in the pre-sailing briefing, to keep our stomachs full. He warned us about this before the sail to Cape Town but I must have not taken it seriously. I’ve been trying to watch what I eat lately; it’s funny how quickly you can put on the pounds when you leave the cooking of your mother. Yeah, it’s sort of disturbing. But now that we’re sailing I have the perfect excuse to eat all day long. It’s quite fun. I’ll work it off once we arrive, for now I’m fighting the sickness of the sea. So as long as I keep popping the pills and consuming the cookies and chips, I’ll be perfect. Thank you dear people, for all who prayed for this sail and my well being. I asked for prayer a while ago when I found out how badly I sail and your prayers have been my saviour. This sail, if anything, is rougher than the last. Cully hasn't been doing very well. He says he's never felt worse. He showed up at my cabin door, yesterday morning, looking thinner than ever. I hate that others are sick when I feel perfect. He laid in bed all day. I brought him some ice-cold water with wet rags to put on his forehead. I didn't know much else to do. I felt at such a lose. Suddenly my office work seemed so stupid. I knew he had to get something in his stomach that would stay there. If you don't keep eating you'll get sick and once you're sick you can't eat and then you only get sicker. I brought him some rice cakes. I think he may have gotten through one by the day's end. He had stopped taking his seasickness pills, which annoyed me. So I took him pills and made sure he took them every 7 hours. He had to work today and says he's much better, only he has a massive headache and blurry vision. Pray for him please and pray for the others that suffer. I forget how awful it is to be ill by the sea. Though I do remember it is one of the worse feelings I’ve experienced. I remember that. A feeling of claustrophobia comes over you and you just become so helpless and angry.
My office chair is constantly rolling backwards as I slam against the wall and when I walk along the corridors my hips crash into the railings. I was holding my laptop, water bottle, book (to kill a mockingbird), my digital camera, and my bible, along with some random cords, yesterday, walking up the stairwell just as the ship sailed over a massive wave. My body slowed down and I started leaning backwards. I tried to grip with my toes since both my hands were taken. It wasn’t working. My body was tense as I struggled to keep myself stable. Veronique walked by just in time and grabbed my arm, pulling my to my balance and off that cursed stairwell. I’m not able to keep myself steady but the medication makes it so I don’t care. It’s quite wonderful.
It’s Friday night and instead of crewmembers dispersing into town on their night off, we’re all stuck on the ship. There’s this lounge called The International Lounge, which has a coffee place called The Sale Victoria Café. I can see it from where I sit. A line has formed as people anxiously await their caramel late or double espresso. I can see Cully and Signe. They’re running it tonight; filling the mugs and placing them in the thirsty hands of Crew. At 8:00pm, there’s ballroom dancing outside on Aft Deck. I think that should be funny. But as Lani already pointed out, it’s much easier this way to blame any awkward moves on the rock of the ship. I can’t really see trying to maintain rhythm as well has balance. But I may attempt it. It has perfect potential to be hilariously entertaining or just plain awful. It’s a toss up, I tell you. I don’t have my trusty partner here. So that’s already one downer.
Here begins a new journey. I’m on the edge of embarking into a brand new way of life. Monrovia anxiously awaits us, as well as the 500 UN soldiers, our personal security men. Our water supply has yet to be secure. Please keep praying for that. I don’t know what Liberia holds. I know it holds heat. So far the weather in South Africa has been cool and humidity free. Long pants-and-jacket weather. I’ve loved it. It hasn’t been hard. I haven’t been stretched. When I feel the air on my bones now, I can already sense it’s change. We’re fast approaching the equator and as we do the breeze steadily rises in warmth. The tours department is busy planning an “equator” party for the crew. They really do make an effort here for us Crew. It’s pretty heart warming. But yes, a war-ravaged land is waiting for us. The Anastasis looks as a saviour to these forgotten people. Their elections have just ended. We not sure of the results but pray, please pray, that a strong leader was chosen, even a godly one, that will lead this nation to their full potential. The Anastasis can only scratch the surface. God can rip it open. He can show his face there. Pray that he will. I ask you this night to pray for the Anastasis. Pray for our arrival. Pray that God will prepare the hearts and minds of the Liberians for what we have to say and that not only will they be changed physically but that spiritually they will be led to eternal life and begin a personal relationship with the true and living God. Pray that God will be with us, that his presence will be evident and that the Crew of the “Annie” will seek his face daily. Pray that we will not loose sight of the ultimate purpose of this ship and that is to win souls to Christ, not merely to heal wounds.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
She's Out of Money and Begging...
I apologize, first and foremost, for not writing nearly as often as I would like and as often as you probably wish to hear from me. I’m going to get better though. I promise.
Our time in Cape Town is coming to a close. These past 5 weeks I’ve been attending a church in a Township. It’s in a city called Gugulutoo. The people are warm and they jump all around when we worship. They always invite us over for dinner afterwards or ask if we want to see more of the town. I enjoy very much their excitement for the Lord’s day. Sam’s been attending a Pentalcostal church. Last week, I wasn’t able to get to mine so I asked him if I could come along with him. We were sapposed to meet in reception at 9am. I was there on time. Sam works till 9 though so after a 30 second shower, he showed up at 9:15. We signed out, swiped our cards and walked down the gangway onto the dock. We didn’t see a landrover waiting for us. Sam asked the security officers if a vehicle headed for Plumstead had already left. They nodded yes. We’d been left behind. I didn’t let it get me down though. We’d find a place to worship, even if we had to walk an hour. We started walking, looking here and there for some sort of church building. A friendly cape townian, with hip hair, and a constant smile stopped us and asked if she could help. We explained our delema and she excitedly invited us in her little VW and drove us to a church planted on top of a hill, surrounded by the beautiul ocean. She said we’d most definitly be able to get a ride back with one of the church members and if not she’d be back around 4. Blessed woman.
So I made it to Church that day. Sam didn’t have to be back in the kitchen until 3, so we had till then to do as we wished. We spoke to the pastor and asked if he wouldn’t mind giving us a lift back to the ship. He was willing but it was too beautiful a day to go back to that ship. A postcard beach was a mere 10 minutes away. My expression must have given away my anxious desire to run through the sand. Sam asked. He wanted to stay as well. So we politly declined the pastor’s willingness and he let us know we could get a taxi easily for 2 ran (35 cents). The sun was out, just bright enough to warm my bones. The breeze refreshed me and made my face happy. I had linnen pants on that day. I still remember how nice it was to walk barefoot on the white sanded beach with loose linnen pants. The locals played two-on-two vollyball and those brave enough, surfed in the freezing shark infested waters. I lied down and put my hands over my eyes to block the light. I had a good rest on that sunday afternoon. This was one of Cape Town’s better days. We were in Camps Bay which is one of the richest areas around. The streets bustled with New York look-a-likes.
Sam asked if I was getting hungry. I turned my head and squinted my eyes. Sure. I would love food. “Oh good. I’m starved”, he answered back. I handed him my change purse and asked him to surprise me with something while I lay there. I couldn’t move from that perfect beach. I felt like I hadn’t seen sun in forever. The sun goes down early here. I get off work at 5 and by 6:30, it’s dark. I love the sun. Go enjoy the sun, I tell you. I will have the sun though in Liberia. I musn’t worry. They say you’re instantly drenched when you walk off the ship in Monrovia. The humidity is that intense. You’re clothes don’t dry either, they say. They stay damp all day and eventually grow moldy. I’m looking forward to this though. I must be nieve.
On the beach, I had become entranced by the vollyball boys. I held my hands above my eyes, blocking the sun, as I strained my neck backwards to watch their game. I lied on my back in perfect contentment. Their sets were perfect, Mr. Steve. They stopped it, set it, spiked it. Stop. set. spike. Every time. They played as a team. Their chemistry was perfection. The oppisite team recieved spikes with matchless ease and beautiful form. I was mesmorized. I knew what I missed. I miss vollyball. I miss my team; my girls. I miss you, pink girls. I loved being part of your game. I miss working together for the common goal. Oh and how satisfying that goal was. How satisfying it was recieve a serve, set it and compleate it with a spike. How beautiful it was to complete that sequence with 3 girls. Oh I miss it. All my encouragment to you girls. Press on. Continue in your training. Listen hard to Mr. Steve. He’ll refine you to gold. Don’t underestimate him.
Sam returned with a bag full of groceries and we sat on the beach smuthering jelly on a loaf of bread. We didn’t have enough money for a knife so tearing the bread and dipping worked just fine. We ate 3 oarnges and finished off the meal with one of the best south african chocolate bars. It had melted by the time we tore into it, so we just sort of scupped it out with our fingers. I was enjoying the meal heartily when I looked over at the boy and said assumingly, “You saved 2 ran, right? for the taxi..” I looked away, assuming I’d get an answer in the affirmative. Sam’s eyes went big and then he put his head down muttering about how irresponsable he was. I thought it was all quite humerous. We were out of money sitting on the most beautiful beach I’d ever seen and all of the sudden my status was no better than the man who had just walked past begging for some of my change. I’d find myself doing exactly that before the day’s end. I laughed for a long time. I think Sam felt bad. For some reason, the thought of us having nothing and having to make a two hour treak back to our ship and possibly having to ask for money or rides seemed so exciting to me. It was like being on “The Amazing Race”. I was pumped. Bring it on. I wore flip-flops, a purse on my shoulder, my bible and notebook in hand and a bag of groceries. I was most definitly not in my walking atire and that would make it all the harder and it would be all the better. We walked for about 60 minutes when Sam started darting over to cars,who were about to leave, humbly asking for rides. He must have asked 5 cars and each had a different excuse. We joked. “What is God trying to teach us, Sienna?”, he asked. I laughed quietly, “That alot of people are selfish and arn’t willing to give anything of themselves for others...” Then I tried to curve the lesson. “No. I think I’m learning how humbling it is to ask for help and the next time some one asks me for help, no matter how much it inconviences me, I’m going to help them.” We discussed different scenerios and played with the different lessons that God was maybe teaching us. I told him how my oldest sister, Brae, always encouraged me and showed me through a daily example to inconvience yourself for others. Brae’s always encouraged me to be giving, whether that means to give of your things or your time, it amounts to the same in the end. I didn’t listen very well to Brae when she would tell me these things at home but I’m learning Brae, I really am. I’m learning to hold loosly to my things and to share with others and I’m learning to willingly help others and I’m discovering the beauty. You tried to teach me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I was selfish. When I see you next I’ll let you wear all those shirts that I never wanted to lend. I’ll let you wear them all and keep them for as long as you want. I’ll give them to you because I don’t want to love my things. I want to love my people and love for my people can be so hindered when I hold so tightly to my things. I want to hold tightly to you, Brae. Not my things.
Sam kept comparing our situation to the parable, in the bible, In Luke 14 when a man prepares a banquet and invites many guests but they keep coming up with excuses. “I haves just bought a field and I must go and see it, please excuse me...I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me...I just got married, so I can’t come.” Excuses. Excuses. It was intersting how many “appointments” people had. They kept saying “No, I’m going to be late for my appointment”. At least that was better then the ones who just looked at us strangley and decided that we weren’t worth words but only looks of disgust. That was pleasent. I decided to toughen up a bit. “Sam, let me ask some people. Maybe they’ll be more receptive to a girl.” A lady and her boyfriend were getting into their car. I quickly assesed the situation. They looked like nice enough people. I made my move; started walking confidently towards them. Half way there I noticed a yappy, rip-your-head off dog in the back seat and knew there was no way I would ride with these people now, but I was to close now and it would be awkard to turn around now. I had to ask, even though there wasn’t a chance in me getting in. Well I guess you could say there response worked out for the best. It made me feel like a fool though. They never actually stopped their car as I politly asked for a lift and as the woman was looking at me very scceptically the man just shot me some get away street-rat look. I had been laughing. I now grumpled along, frusterated and humiliated at my defeat. I wanted to solve the problem. I had failed. Afted asking one more and getting something similar to the rest, I swore I’d never ask for a ride again. The mood didn’t last long though. It was an excellent day. We did make it back to the ship. I had blisters on me feet and I felt like the champion in a reality T.V. series. It was a good feeling.
Crew membres passed me in the hall the next day, mentioning how they saw us walking and were seriously thinking about asking us if we preferred a ride but that we looked happy, so they didn’t. I don’t like to dwell on those things to long though. I’m glad we walked though. It was a long walk, 120 minutes and I’m proud that I compleated it. Sam and my face though got fried. I room with one of the nurses that works on the ship and she told me I was “ENFLAMED”. It’s nice living with a nurse though. She took good care of me. Very good care.
Our time in Cape Town is coming to a close. These past 5 weeks I’ve been attending a church in a Township. It’s in a city called Gugulutoo. The people are warm and they jump all around when we worship. They always invite us over for dinner afterwards or ask if we want to see more of the town. I enjoy very much their excitement for the Lord’s day. Sam’s been attending a Pentalcostal church. Last week, I wasn’t able to get to mine so I asked him if I could come along with him. We were sapposed to meet in reception at 9am. I was there on time. Sam works till 9 though so after a 30 second shower, he showed up at 9:15. We signed out, swiped our cards and walked down the gangway onto the dock. We didn’t see a landrover waiting for us. Sam asked the security officers if a vehicle headed for Plumstead had already left. They nodded yes. We’d been left behind. I didn’t let it get me down though. We’d find a place to worship, even if we had to walk an hour. We started walking, looking here and there for some sort of church building. A friendly cape townian, with hip hair, and a constant smile stopped us and asked if she could help. We explained our delema and she excitedly invited us in her little VW and drove us to a church planted on top of a hill, surrounded by the beautiul ocean. She said we’d most definitly be able to get a ride back with one of the church members and if not she’d be back around 4. Blessed woman.
So I made it to Church that day. Sam didn’t have to be back in the kitchen until 3, so we had till then to do as we wished. We spoke to the pastor and asked if he wouldn’t mind giving us a lift back to the ship. He was willing but it was too beautiful a day to go back to that ship. A postcard beach was a mere 10 minutes away. My expression must have given away my anxious desire to run through the sand. Sam asked. He wanted to stay as well. So we politly declined the pastor’s willingness and he let us know we could get a taxi easily for 2 ran (35 cents). The sun was out, just bright enough to warm my bones. The breeze refreshed me and made my face happy. I had linnen pants on that day. I still remember how nice it was to walk barefoot on the white sanded beach with loose linnen pants. The locals played two-on-two vollyball and those brave enough, surfed in the freezing shark infested waters. I lied down and put my hands over my eyes to block the light. I had a good rest on that sunday afternoon. This was one of Cape Town’s better days. We were in Camps Bay which is one of the richest areas around. The streets bustled with New York look-a-likes.
Sam asked if I was getting hungry. I turned my head and squinted my eyes. Sure. I would love food. “Oh good. I’m starved”, he answered back. I handed him my change purse and asked him to surprise me with something while I lay there. I couldn’t move from that perfect beach. I felt like I hadn’t seen sun in forever. The sun goes down early here. I get off work at 5 and by 6:30, it’s dark. I love the sun. Go enjoy the sun, I tell you. I will have the sun though in Liberia. I musn’t worry. They say you’re instantly drenched when you walk off the ship in Monrovia. The humidity is that intense. You’re clothes don’t dry either, they say. They stay damp all day and eventually grow moldy. I’m looking forward to this though. I must be nieve.
On the beach, I had become entranced by the vollyball boys. I held my hands above my eyes, blocking the sun, as I strained my neck backwards to watch their game. I lied on my back in perfect contentment. Their sets were perfect, Mr. Steve. They stopped it, set it, spiked it. Stop. set. spike. Every time. They played as a team. Their chemistry was perfection. The oppisite team recieved spikes with matchless ease and beautiful form. I was mesmorized. I knew what I missed. I miss vollyball. I miss my team; my girls. I miss you, pink girls. I loved being part of your game. I miss working together for the common goal. Oh and how satisfying that goal was. How satisfying it was recieve a serve, set it and compleate it with a spike. How beautiful it was to complete that sequence with 3 girls. Oh I miss it. All my encouragment to you girls. Press on. Continue in your training. Listen hard to Mr. Steve. He’ll refine you to gold. Don’t underestimate him.
Sam returned with a bag full of groceries and we sat on the beach smuthering jelly on a loaf of bread. We didn’t have enough money for a knife so tearing the bread and dipping worked just fine. We ate 3 oarnges and finished off the meal with one of the best south african chocolate bars. It had melted by the time we tore into it, so we just sort of scupped it out with our fingers. I was enjoying the meal heartily when I looked over at the boy and said assumingly, “You saved 2 ran, right? for the taxi..” I looked away, assuming I’d get an answer in the affirmative. Sam’s eyes went big and then he put his head down muttering about how irresponsable he was. I thought it was all quite humerous. We were out of money sitting on the most beautiful beach I’d ever seen and all of the sudden my status was no better than the man who had just walked past begging for some of my change. I’d find myself doing exactly that before the day’s end. I laughed for a long time. I think Sam felt bad. For some reason, the thought of us having nothing and having to make a two hour treak back to our ship and possibly having to ask for money or rides seemed so exciting to me. It was like being on “The Amazing Race”. I was pumped. Bring it on. I wore flip-flops, a purse on my shoulder, my bible and notebook in hand and a bag of groceries. I was most definitly not in my walking atire and that would make it all the harder and it would be all the better. We walked for about 60 minutes when Sam started darting over to cars,who were about to leave, humbly asking for rides. He must have asked 5 cars and each had a different excuse. We joked. “What is God trying to teach us, Sienna?”, he asked. I laughed quietly, “That alot of people are selfish and arn’t willing to give anything of themselves for others...” Then I tried to curve the lesson. “No. I think I’m learning how humbling it is to ask for help and the next time some one asks me for help, no matter how much it inconviences me, I’m going to help them.” We discussed different scenerios and played with the different lessons that God was maybe teaching us. I told him how my oldest sister, Brae, always encouraged me and showed me through a daily example to inconvience yourself for others. Brae’s always encouraged me to be giving, whether that means to give of your things or your time, it amounts to the same in the end. I didn’t listen very well to Brae when she would tell me these things at home but I’m learning Brae, I really am. I’m learning to hold loosly to my things and to share with others and I’m learning to willingly help others and I’m discovering the beauty. You tried to teach me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I was selfish. When I see you next I’ll let you wear all those shirts that I never wanted to lend. I’ll let you wear them all and keep them for as long as you want. I’ll give them to you because I don’t want to love my things. I want to love my people and love for my people can be so hindered when I hold so tightly to my things. I want to hold tightly to you, Brae. Not my things.
Sam kept comparing our situation to the parable, in the bible, In Luke 14 when a man prepares a banquet and invites many guests but they keep coming up with excuses. “I haves just bought a field and I must go and see it, please excuse me...I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me...I just got married, so I can’t come.” Excuses. Excuses. It was intersting how many “appointments” people had. They kept saying “No, I’m going to be late for my appointment”. At least that was better then the ones who just looked at us strangley and decided that we weren’t worth words but only looks of disgust. That was pleasent. I decided to toughen up a bit. “Sam, let me ask some people. Maybe they’ll be more receptive to a girl.” A lady and her boyfriend were getting into their car. I quickly assesed the situation. They looked like nice enough people. I made my move; started walking confidently towards them. Half way there I noticed a yappy, rip-your-head off dog in the back seat and knew there was no way I would ride with these people now, but I was to close now and it would be awkard to turn around now. I had to ask, even though there wasn’t a chance in me getting in. Well I guess you could say there response worked out for the best. It made me feel like a fool though. They never actually stopped their car as I politly asked for a lift and as the woman was looking at me very scceptically the man just shot me some get away street-rat look. I had been laughing. I now grumpled along, frusterated and humiliated at my defeat. I wanted to solve the problem. I had failed. Afted asking one more and getting something similar to the rest, I swore I’d never ask for a ride again. The mood didn’t last long though. It was an excellent day. We did make it back to the ship. I had blisters on me feet and I felt like the champion in a reality T.V. series. It was a good feeling.
Crew membres passed me in the hall the next day, mentioning how they saw us walking and were seriously thinking about asking us if we preferred a ride but that we looked happy, so they didn’t. I don’t like to dwell on those things to long though. I’m glad we walked though. It was a long walk, 120 minutes and I’m proud that I compleated it. Sam and my face though got fried. I room with one of the nurses that works on the ship and she told me I was “ENFLAMED”. It’s nice living with a nurse though. She took good care of me. Very good care.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Vangie = Evangeline
I was sitting at my desk this afternoon with most all my work complete. And just a reminder, for all of you who have this idea that my job is mearly office work and of no consequence and that I'm not being used to the best of my ability (because I know it's easy to think this), my job is extreamly fufilling. HR is a huge help to the Anastasias Crew Members and lately, I've been able to help alot of them when they walk through our door, and I havn't had to yell for Steven or Cristin. How rewarding it is to be able to do this by myself. My job is very much needed and apprciated here for the life of this ship, so if you worry or doubt, you musn't.
Along with my story...
There were still two hours remaining in my work day but my work load seemed all complete, or that is, all that I felt like compleating was complete. Steven kept waltzing through my office talking of how badly he wanted to bleach his black hair. I tried hard to talk him out of it. I told him his hair was really too dark and that it might turn orange. You just really don' t want to go through with this, Steven, trust me here. He looked at my somewhat discouraged so in attempt to provide some hope, I explained of a friend of mine, back home, who had dark hair and when he bleached it that it worked very well and looked quite good. But Steven, your hair is way darker than Jack's. If Jack had your dark hair, he'd keep it. Leave it alone, I'm warning you. My warning wasn't sufficient. The boy went along with his plan and it happened the way I predicted. He was charged $70 for orange hair. He wasn't very happy. Later that day he had a wedding to attend in the botanical gardens of Cape Town. That night he asked me if I'd heard of Redken and bought a box of black hair color and dyed it back.
I told you that accidentally. I had all intentions of sharing with you my "loading" experience. This week alot of loading has been going on. Equipment and food and who knows what has been hauled onto this boat for the Liberia outreach (we sail in a week and a half!). At different parts of the day, if the loaders need help, an announcment will go over the speakers, "Volunteers needed at the gangway. Volunteers, the gangway". Normally my work calls but today it did not. So I popped my head in Steven's office expectantly and he nodded. Ten minutes later, after flipping the strap on my croc, We found ourselves in an assembly line, hauling boxes down some dark hallway, towards the bow of the ship. For all my belize family members, you know what I'm talking about. I'd suddenly broken into a sweat. I began wondering, intensly, how people do this all day and when I returned to my office, I had a new appriciation for the task in front of me. Twenty minutes later, with this fresh sense of determination, I returned to my work with new zeal.
Well, my title; I haven’t touched on, as you may have noticed. I wanted to start my entry by introducing Vangie but I wanted to end with her too. There were other things I wanted to tell you also so I was forced to choose. To choose between introducing Vangie through a thoughtful conclusion, leaving you with some insights of mine to chew over or to catch you in the beginning with a sharp introduction. I was very tempted to use the introduction but I decided on the conclusion. I wanted badly for you to know of this woman, who’ve I’ve grown to love and I wanted to start off with some snappy beginning about the colour of her hair or the way her hands catch my eyes. Yet as I wrestled back and forth, the introduction wouldn’t do. I want you to remember her. People remember conclusions, I believe, more than they do introductions. Although of equal importance one leave a more lasting and evitable impression. So instead of starting with her, I will leave you with her.
Vangie. Her real name is Evangeline, which I find, in it’s self, a story. There’s something very substantial I’ve found in this woman of 38 years that I’ve grown to admire and become endeared to. Vangie is to Steven what Corinna is to me. No, Corinna is not like Vangie. They’re two completely different individuals. I doubt they’ve ever spoken. I hate to use the word “mentor” because it’s a little too belittling but maybe you’ll understand more of the picture I try to paint. Steven and Vange are always doing things together. You won’t find one without the other at mealtimes and you won’t sense either one feeling a burden by the other’s company because of the apparent generation gap. They sincerely enjoy the other and I appreciate that. I appreciate that ages are being clashed here and that generations come together. The young find company with the older and the older find fulfilment in the younger. I like that aspect of the ship. Steven and Vangie have known each other for three years though so they’re relationship is a little father along than Corinna’s and mine. So maybe I shouldn’t compare, just so you’ll get an idea though.
I’ve found myself, lately, seeking out Vangie at meal times. She told me she likes me. Told me I’m young and maybe a bit naïve but she likes me. I’ll tell her my problems with other people and maybe I should tell those other people but Vangie asks, so I tell her. The other day I was telling her about my work. In my administrative position people tend to talk down to me. And it’s not even that they realize it or mean to, it’s just that I’m 18. The age difference between the facilitators (who I assist) and me can’t help but be apparent. Crew members will walk into my office and ask to speak to an HR representative. I breathe calmly as something like this goes through my mind: I’ve been here for six weeks. I may look small and I may seem inadequate but I’ve been hired to work in HR and I’ll be here for a year! I AM AN HR REPRESENTIVE, DARN IT! Hit me with your questions, try me!! I’M THE REPRESENTITIVE, NOT SOME LITTLE GIRL WHO SITS HERE DOING NOTHING!!! I can’t say that though. I smile unwillingly instead and say essentially that in a more polite order. Other times, crew will waltz right on through my office to the facilitator’s offices, without even stopping to look at me. I’m supposed to filter HR traffic. It’s not that easy when they don’t give me a chance. And then sometimes it’s the mundane things I feel belittled by. And it’s my pride, I know. The other facilitators will ask me to take their trash out or call out to me that their trash cans are full or they’ll give me some of their work, that seems so unimportant and boring, but I need to complete it for them. I know I am the “Facilitator Assistant” so I will go about my assigned duties willingly. I just sometimes know that other people don’t think I’m capable. They don’t even realize that they’re relaying that to me but it leaks through their questions or requests. So it’s hard when the people I’ve been sent here to help hold little trust in me. Especially when I already struggle with trusting myself with the position they’ve gave me, they’re lack of trust is of no help. Vangie knows I’m young but it’s of no consequence to her. She sees me. But she not only sees me, she trusts me and her faith in me in a daily encouragement that I can do what I’ve been sent here to do. For I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. She reminds me that I am able and to not let other’s pre-supposed opinions and judgements intimidate me. I like Evangeline a lot.
When you read this entry I don’t want the focus to be me. I don’t want you to leave your computer feeling sorry for me or only taking from this entry what’s annoying me at this moment. It’s really not s big deal and will quickly pass in time. I want you to see Vangie. I hope that you get to see her instead of me. Don’t worry about this girl. She’s alright. Like Job says, when God’s finished with me, I’m going to come forth as gold. Think about Vangie though and try to appreciate the person she is. She gives people chances and that is something. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t tend to judge by the outer shell but that she gets to the heart and then makes her opinion. That way the opinion is worth something instead of just some critical judgment. I know it sounds cliché but thers something huge to be said for that quality. Yes. I wish you knew her.
Steven turns 21 soon. October 27th. We’ll be sailing and Vangie’s throwing a party for the boy. It’s going to be sweet. 21 isn’t as big of a deal, though, in England. They can drink when they turn 18. So 21, mine as well be the same as turning 19 or 20 but a birthday is a birthday and any reason to have a party on this ship is worth it. We all could use it. The theme is going to be Superheroes. Vange was telling me this and I actually had no idea how into Superheroes Steven was. I went out to breakfast with him yesterday though and was completely filled in. He was disappointed that I hadn’t heard of most of them. Steven knows all there is to know about He man, transformers, x-man, and lots of others that I don’t even remember now, because I’d never heard of them. Vange picked up power ranger tablecloths, blowers, and party hats and batman napkins and spider man suckers and “21” balloons and streamers. She wants me to help her with decorating. So I’m excited about this upcoming party on the Anastasias.
I’m going back to my cabin now. I moved two weeks ago to a new one. Betty moved out and I was invited in. Four nationalities live in this cabin, which we all think is pretty neat. There’s Anna from Holland, Signe from Norway, Tarme from Australia and then me from the States. Tarme’s one of the nurses on the Anastasias. I find that very neat. It really is the most wonderful cabin. Everyone that comes in says so. It’s very homey with warm lighting and soft music, with nice pictures on the wall and flowers on the shelf. It’s tidy and it’s pretty. It’s the cabin that I found refuge in during the last sail and where I heard Eva Cassidy for the first time. And it’s crazy that I now live there. It’s simply a dream. I’ve been making things for it and getting very domestic in this room of mine. Suddenly I’m intent on learning the fine art of cross stitching and I find cook books the most fascinating reading material.
Imagine that.
Along with my story...
There were still two hours remaining in my work day but my work load seemed all complete, or that is, all that I felt like compleating was complete. Steven kept waltzing through my office talking of how badly he wanted to bleach his black hair. I tried hard to talk him out of it. I told him his hair was really too dark and that it might turn orange. You just really don' t want to go through with this, Steven, trust me here. He looked at my somewhat discouraged so in attempt to provide some hope, I explained of a friend of mine, back home, who had dark hair and when he bleached it that it worked very well and looked quite good. But Steven, your hair is way darker than Jack's. If Jack had your dark hair, he'd keep it. Leave it alone, I'm warning you. My warning wasn't sufficient. The boy went along with his plan and it happened the way I predicted. He was charged $70 for orange hair. He wasn't very happy. Later that day he had a wedding to attend in the botanical gardens of Cape Town. That night he asked me if I'd heard of Redken and bought a box of black hair color and dyed it back.
I told you that accidentally. I had all intentions of sharing with you my "loading" experience. This week alot of loading has been going on. Equipment and food and who knows what has been hauled onto this boat for the Liberia outreach (we sail in a week and a half!). At different parts of the day, if the loaders need help, an announcment will go over the speakers, "Volunteers needed at the gangway. Volunteers, the gangway". Normally my work calls but today it did not. So I popped my head in Steven's office expectantly and he nodded. Ten minutes later, after flipping the strap on my croc, We found ourselves in an assembly line, hauling boxes down some dark hallway, towards the bow of the ship. For all my belize family members, you know what I'm talking about. I'd suddenly broken into a sweat. I began wondering, intensly, how people do this all day and when I returned to my office, I had a new appriciation for the task in front of me. Twenty minutes later, with this fresh sense of determination, I returned to my work with new zeal.
Well, my title; I haven’t touched on, as you may have noticed. I wanted to start my entry by introducing Vangie but I wanted to end with her too. There were other things I wanted to tell you also so I was forced to choose. To choose between introducing Vangie through a thoughtful conclusion, leaving you with some insights of mine to chew over or to catch you in the beginning with a sharp introduction. I was very tempted to use the introduction but I decided on the conclusion. I wanted badly for you to know of this woman, who’ve I’ve grown to love and I wanted to start off with some snappy beginning about the colour of her hair or the way her hands catch my eyes. Yet as I wrestled back and forth, the introduction wouldn’t do. I want you to remember her. People remember conclusions, I believe, more than they do introductions. Although of equal importance one leave a more lasting and evitable impression. So instead of starting with her, I will leave you with her.
Vangie. Her real name is Evangeline, which I find, in it’s self, a story. There’s something very substantial I’ve found in this woman of 38 years that I’ve grown to admire and become endeared to. Vangie is to Steven what Corinna is to me. No, Corinna is not like Vangie. They’re two completely different individuals. I doubt they’ve ever spoken. I hate to use the word “mentor” because it’s a little too belittling but maybe you’ll understand more of the picture I try to paint. Steven and Vange are always doing things together. You won’t find one without the other at mealtimes and you won’t sense either one feeling a burden by the other’s company because of the apparent generation gap. They sincerely enjoy the other and I appreciate that. I appreciate that ages are being clashed here and that generations come together. The young find company with the older and the older find fulfilment in the younger. I like that aspect of the ship. Steven and Vangie have known each other for three years though so they’re relationship is a little father along than Corinna’s and mine. So maybe I shouldn’t compare, just so you’ll get an idea though.
I’ve found myself, lately, seeking out Vangie at meal times. She told me she likes me. Told me I’m young and maybe a bit naïve but she likes me. I’ll tell her my problems with other people and maybe I should tell those other people but Vangie asks, so I tell her. The other day I was telling her about my work. In my administrative position people tend to talk down to me. And it’s not even that they realize it or mean to, it’s just that I’m 18. The age difference between the facilitators (who I assist) and me can’t help but be apparent. Crew members will walk into my office and ask to speak to an HR representative. I breathe calmly as something like this goes through my mind: I’ve been here for six weeks. I may look small and I may seem inadequate but I’ve been hired to work in HR and I’ll be here for a year! I AM AN HR REPRESENTIVE, DARN IT! Hit me with your questions, try me!! I’M THE REPRESENTITIVE, NOT SOME LITTLE GIRL WHO SITS HERE DOING NOTHING!!! I can’t say that though. I smile unwillingly instead and say essentially that in a more polite order. Other times, crew will waltz right on through my office to the facilitator’s offices, without even stopping to look at me. I’m supposed to filter HR traffic. It’s not that easy when they don’t give me a chance. And then sometimes it’s the mundane things I feel belittled by. And it’s my pride, I know. The other facilitators will ask me to take their trash out or call out to me that their trash cans are full or they’ll give me some of their work, that seems so unimportant and boring, but I need to complete it for them. I know I am the “Facilitator Assistant” so I will go about my assigned duties willingly. I just sometimes know that other people don’t think I’m capable. They don’t even realize that they’re relaying that to me but it leaks through their questions or requests. So it’s hard when the people I’ve been sent here to help hold little trust in me. Especially when I already struggle with trusting myself with the position they’ve gave me, they’re lack of trust is of no help. Vangie knows I’m young but it’s of no consequence to her. She sees me. But she not only sees me, she trusts me and her faith in me in a daily encouragement that I can do what I’ve been sent here to do. For I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. She reminds me that I am able and to not let other’s pre-supposed opinions and judgements intimidate me. I like Evangeline a lot.
When you read this entry I don’t want the focus to be me. I don’t want you to leave your computer feeling sorry for me or only taking from this entry what’s annoying me at this moment. It’s really not s big deal and will quickly pass in time. I want you to see Vangie. I hope that you get to see her instead of me. Don’t worry about this girl. She’s alright. Like Job says, when God’s finished with me, I’m going to come forth as gold. Think about Vangie though and try to appreciate the person she is. She gives people chances and that is something. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t tend to judge by the outer shell but that she gets to the heart and then makes her opinion. That way the opinion is worth something instead of just some critical judgment. I know it sounds cliché but thers something huge to be said for that quality. Yes. I wish you knew her.
Steven turns 21 soon. October 27th. We’ll be sailing and Vangie’s throwing a party for the boy. It’s going to be sweet. 21 isn’t as big of a deal, though, in England. They can drink when they turn 18. So 21, mine as well be the same as turning 19 or 20 but a birthday is a birthday and any reason to have a party on this ship is worth it. We all could use it. The theme is going to be Superheroes. Vange was telling me this and I actually had no idea how into Superheroes Steven was. I went out to breakfast with him yesterday though and was completely filled in. He was disappointed that I hadn’t heard of most of them. Steven knows all there is to know about He man, transformers, x-man, and lots of others that I don’t even remember now, because I’d never heard of them. Vange picked up power ranger tablecloths, blowers, and party hats and batman napkins and spider man suckers and “21” balloons and streamers. She wants me to help her with decorating. So I’m excited about this upcoming party on the Anastasias.
I’m going back to my cabin now. I moved two weeks ago to a new one. Betty moved out and I was invited in. Four nationalities live in this cabin, which we all think is pretty neat. There’s Anna from Holland, Signe from Norway, Tarme from Australia and then me from the States. Tarme’s one of the nurses on the Anastasias. I find that very neat. It really is the most wonderful cabin. Everyone that comes in says so. It’s very homey with warm lighting and soft music, with nice pictures on the wall and flowers on the shelf. It’s tidy and it’s pretty. It’s the cabin that I found refuge in during the last sail and where I heard Eva Cassidy for the first time. And it’s crazy that I now live there. It’s simply a dream. I’ve been making things for it and getting very domestic in this room of mine. Suddenly I’m intent on learning the fine art of cross stitching and I find cook books the most fascinating reading material.
Imagine that.
Friday, October 07, 2005
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