Living on the Cusp

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It's been three years since I started attending the Orthodox Church. In any other story, I would actually be Orthdox after that long; I would've normally gone through about a year of catecuminate, and would've been chrismated (instated, in a way) into the Orthodox Church. I would take the eucharist every week and participate regularly in confession.

But our lives haven't been normal.

Between study abroad, getting married, and moving to Japan, this hasn't been able to happen. But man alive. The road has been (and will continue to be) riddled with challenges to becoming Orthodox, but it has been a beautiful journey to say in the least. The Orthodox Church is gracious in allowing the non-Orthodox to still participate in most traditions. This sounds like a given, especially for a Protestant believer, and many see closed communion as exclusive and somewhat elitist. But the Orthodox believe when we commune, we become one with Christ and a sole body with each other. We are not just communing with Christ, we are being brought together. To commune with someone who does not yet adhere to Orthodox beliefs would be to live out a unification that doesn't (sometimes doesn't yet) exist.

Anyway. Though I am not Orthodox, I still get to participate in many events and traditions throughout the year, and in any given Orthodox Church, we are welcomed with open arms more than I've experienced in many other places. My husband and I have been able to experience Orthodoxy (although me not to the fullest), and slowly study and reflect on what it means to be Orthodox.

I am thankful for the preparation.

The real challenge, for me, is also something that I love about Orthodoxy. In many parts of the world, including the US, it's the best kept secret. I didn't even know Orthodoxy existed until a few years ago. It's a world out of the spotlight, and that allows it to operate well. But this also means that Orthodoxy isn't in all places, and that there isn't a given demand for it. I am thankful that Orthodoxy exists in Japan (thank you, St. Nicholas!), but in the military? Less so. I wish I could just dive in to this Church, but what I also need is day in, day out community.

For now, this means having one foot in the Orthodox world and one in the Protestant one. This often means a constant internal struggle. In some ways, and unfortunately so, these two churches either have differing approaches or are on completely different paths altogether. This is not to say that the core is not the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But beyond this core, if things are constantly different, it can be challenging, especially if you're trying to dive into a particular one.

But I was encouraged at my last Protestant women's event, and God is reminding me that it is (in fact!) ok! It's hard to explain, and I don't think I'll try in print, but the Protestant church allows me to continue to fall in love with the Orthodox one. It's like both are in agreement about my future, and are thus passing me from one to the other. Protestantism is letting me go and pushing me with its fingertips, and glory be, it feels good in my heart.

 

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Jelly Bellies

We visited Baltimore last weekend and checked out the National Aquarium. Admission is a bit pricey, but by the end of the day, none of us were griping about that. Well worth every penny. By far by favorite part was the jelly exhibit. Goodness, those things are so cool. And even if you try, you can't take a bad photo of them.

Upside Down Jellyfish

These guys were tiny!

 

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Honing Some Skills

I'm trying to piece this whole Africa thing together and nine days out of ten, it's incredibly overwhelming. I'm at a point where the disadvantages are at the front of my mind the majority of the time, and inadequacy starts to settle in. I don't have what it takes. Yet. I couldn't walk into Africa and tell it to hire me to show tourists around its lands and parks. Not yet.

We're trying to think more constructively about this. I have more to gain, more to do before I take a step of action and physically go to Africa. Since I'm a random white foreigner trying to work abroad, we're piecing together skills that I can hone now that I will (or may) need a leg up on either. First Aid. Bartending. Japanese Language. French Language? Networking. Knowledge on Wildlife Taxonomy, Ecology, and Behavior. If we prepare me adequately, I'll be ready to be taught in the field.

Current lesson: firearms.

Many safari companies require a rifle certification. I'm not sure I could fight off a lion with my bear hands to ensure the safety of some safari-goers (maybe I should look into extreme cagefighting?). I would need a scare tactic, and a rifle is some good insurance.

So in the meantime, we're going to get me comfortable handling a weapon. This, my friends, is when it's beneficial to be married to a Gunnery/Ordinance Officer. Score. We went over the four rules of gun safety until I was blue in the face, and made plans to go to a gun range.

I've only been shooting once in my life and I only remember one thing about it: I was terrible. I was an awful shot. So going into the range yesterday, I wasn't expecting much from myself. I started a .38 caliber revolver and did pretty well. When I switched to a 9 mm pistol, I think I had a special moment with the gun. How romantic. I got familiar with it, raised it, and shot the X for the first time. WOO! I put the gun down immediately, and caught my breath. It was so exhilarating. My husband rushed up because he thought I was overwhelmed by the recoil. But I stopped out of little-girl-jumping-around excitement. It was a tiny hurdle overcome. Yes, Africa is far away and I have my work cut out for me. But at least I can shoot a gun. I can hit the X. And I did better than I thought I would. Hopefully, I'll be saying that a lot in the next few years.

Baby steps will get me there. The slow preparation is painstaking, but the small victories will pull me along.

 

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KWS Rangers

Courtesy of: Capital FM News

I keep up with the African Wildlife Foundation news feeds, and since it is Kenya's Golden Jubilee year marking 50 years of independence, they have commended Kenya for its commitment conserving landscapes and wildlife.

This article brought me to nostalgia when it mentioned one of Kenya's main conservation initiatives, the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS). This is their all-things-conservation-and-wildlife force. During my semester of study abroad in East Africa, we worked with their rangers while doing research. They were essentially our bodyguards while we were in the bush, and I came to immensely appreciate how KWS works and how serious they are when it comes to anti-poaching work. KWS rangers are freaking soldiers. They are the cops of bush law enforcement. They have to graduate from an intense program, carry rifles and flares, and are mostly very large men. During my first experiences with the KWS, my only thought was, Holy crap! It's like a war, protecting wildlife against the bushmeat trade and harvesting of horns and tusks.

My favorite ranger, Raymond, was a big old dude who was committed to his work. I never felt unsafe in his presence, even spending days walking among elephants, giraffes, snakes, and at one point, a very pissed off wildebeest. Whenever we encountered elephants, he would get very serious and quiet, and he would be very direct in leading us to safety. This guy knew what he was doing. My research partner, Jackie, was always the one to ask exactly what was on her mind, and for every KWS ranger we worked with, it was "Have you ever killed a man?" (accompanied with a rugged cowboy voice, of course). Most KWS rangers would say yes - though they never initiated gunfire - and wouldn't be able to tell us how many people. It brought to light the gravity of this wildlife-people tension, and made us feel pretty somber.

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Homebody

When life moves you around a lot, it's easy to get confused. Don't get me wrong, I know exactly what I want and where I want to be. But it's not what I would've initially expected.

This winter, I traveled from Yokosuka, Japan to Yokota. Then it was back to Yokosuka and on to Tokyo to fly from Narita International Airport to Minneapolis/St. Paul via Guangzhou, China and LAX. The next five weeks were a refreshing whirlwind - seeing family, catching up with long-time friends, enjoying holidays - and it's clear that Minnesota is my home. During that time, I bounced back and forth between there and my other familiar and alma mater town, Madison, WI, for a friend's wedding festivities. We are now in the middle of a 4-week stint in Dahlgren, Virginia. Minnesota was a fantastic time, and I was filled to the brim by people I can't wait to live life with again. Someday.

But I miss Japan.

I miss the culture. I miss the tight spaces. I miss some of the little things. I somehow even miss being a minority. It sobers you. I miss the trains, and I miss the convenient stores. I miss my neighborhood, though I can communicate with only one of my neighbors. I miss the way it feels. I miss taking out trash every day. I miss biking everywhere. I miss our tiny little house and our ornery cat. He's bothering someone else for now.

I guess what I'm saying is that Japan is truly home now. But just for now. And you know, that feels nice. To know we are able to make home where we are. And to actually feel pain for not being there, though it's not Minnesota. How strange, that a place 8000 miles from our hometown with a culture so vastly different from the one we were brought up in, can make us fall in love with it.

Lessons from C.S.

My husband is a hero. Back in June, my dearly beloved MacBook crashed, taking all of my precious documents with it. I'm not exactly tech savvy, to the point where I don't even understand all the possibilities. But Curtis came to my rescue without me asking and had my hard drive taken out and cased. My various documents are now all converted to iTunes and ready for upload on my iPad.

Lord knows I love that man.

One of my rediscovered documents was Chapter 6 from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity on the topic of marriage. Guh, it is so good! I keep it as a reminder of the bigger picture, of who we are in marriage and the beauty of how it was designed and is orchestrated. It is refreshing to read something this wholesome when I am too often reminded of some of the modern-day views of marriage. To me, many are incomplete and superficial.

Here are my favorite quotes from C.S.:

The Christian law is not forcing upon the passion of love something which is foreign to that passion’s own nature: it is demanding that lovers should take seriously something which their passion itself impels them to do. And, of course, the promise, made when I am in love and because I am in love, to be true to the beloved as long as I live, commits me to being true even if I cease to be in love. A promise must be about things that I can do, about actions: no one can promise to go on feeling in a certain way. He might as well promise never to have a headache or always to feel hungry.

Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go.

But, of course, ceasing to be ‘in love’ need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense - love as distinct from ‘being in love’ - is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God.

‘Being in love’ first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it.

[on the longevity of being in love] This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go - let it die away - go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow - and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time.

What Am I Doing Here?

I know exactly what I want to do when I grow up.  Yes, as a 25-year-old, I still have some growing to do.  I thought this clarity would be freeing, and it often is.  Whenever I am tempted to compare myself to someone else and their professional path, I can easily go back to thoughts on what's mine.  It's then that I realize that there's nothing to compare, since I don't want their professional path anyway.  

But there is still so much struggle.  How to get there.  How to make my time count towards it when I live overseas.  How our future kids may factor in.  I'm in the lull.  I'm not even sure I should call it a lull because the preparation matters too.  The balance between waiting and reflecting and searching and constructing and acting is difficult to find.  Should I always act and think later?  What are the actions?  There's no particular right set of stepping stones, but I still long for some guidance.  That's the thing, it's all on me.  Even when others offer advice, I am unsettled.  Because I need to start.  Or keep going.  The process needs to be mine first.  

Sometimes I long for convention.  I want to give up and find a normal job and live a normal life.  Just to find stability or feel like I'm an adult.  But then I say that out loud and want to slap myself.  

So here I am.  Living in the process.  Finding some sort of way, and feeling like a late bloomer.  Frustrated and frantic at times.  But full of peace and yearning in others.  Impatient with myself, but glad to be on an unorthodox and organic path.

Cheers.

Between the idea

And the reality

Between the motion

And the act

Falls the shadow

(T.S. Eliot The Hollow Men)