This post brought to you by cookies. {Wednesday Files}

My life for the weeks before Christmas has been fueled by cookies.  First there was the Great Food Blogger Cookie Swap (which was awesome).  Then there was cookie making for my coworkers.  And finally there was the Gigantuous Cookie-Making Fundraiser of 2012.

Remember when I told you about my students and their response to so many of my loved ones losing homes during a typhoon?  Well, it touched me.  Deeply.  Here were little people so eager to help, to do something.  They offered their money; they offered their toys.  When I shared that we couldn't really send toys to people overseas without houses, they offered something bigger: their annual Christmas gift exchange.

Yes, they gave up their gift exchange for people they didn't even know.  Instead of buying presents for their secret pal, they decided to take that $5-$10 and use it to make cookies.  To sell.  To raise money for those in need.

Beautiful, isn't it?

And so we set out to do that.  We made cookies, I found family and friends to buy a box.  Then they wrapped, packed, and shipped the cookies, along with a homemade thank-you card, to everyone who helped them.  The cookies might have been a little lopsided, and the boxes were definitely a little haphazardly packed, but they did it.  And in the end, they raised $1,650 for the little island of Peleliu!  Yes, you read that number right, One thousand, six hundred fifty dollars.

WOW!  What the hearts of these young ones can teach us if our big, grown-up hearts are willing to listen...

Waiting to Exhale (Typhoon Bopha)

It can all change in a blink of an eye. 

Or in the eye of a storm.  A typhoon to be exact.

These pictures were taken a week ago, out on a little tiny island named Peleliu.  You might know this name from the Battle of Peleliu (the bloodiest battle in the Pacific during WWII), but I know this name because my heart lives here.

See, this little island with its just-a-few-hundred inhabitants and I have a deep love history -- one that started ten years ago on a service trip and has developed over the years with me actually getting the chance to live and teach on a nearby island.  Sure, I taught and lived and laughed and loved in Koror, but my heart lived in Peleliu.  During that year I visited about every three weekends. And after I moved back home I have been blessed with the chance to return several times.

This island has seen Christmas presents exchanged, piggy backs given, me attempting to eat the head of a fish (and failing miserably)... I have shared "my" island with friends from here in the States by bringing them out with me on service trips, and most recently (last week), I shared this island with my husband.

Like I said, we have a deep love history.

And the people?  They aren't just friends.  They are family.

So imagine my terror upon hearing last night that a typhoon -- no, wait -- a SUPER typhoon was heading to Palau, aimed straight at Peleliu.  

Quickly I googled, just to confirm that they had evacuated the island.

They had not.  

In the past, typhoons have come close, but usually just went around the country of Palau, so really, why did they have any reason to believe this was going to be any different?

But when your houses are clapboard and tin, and your elevation is an average of 10, you have a serious reason to be concerned in the face of a hurricane.

So I waited for news.  A Palauan friend added me to a group where updates were being shared on Facebook.  Some good news came in: several of my friends had left the island.  But not everybody.  The rest were holed up in old WWII bunkers, left behind by the Japanese.

So I waited some more.  And then I went to sleep.  Because really, besides pray and worry, worry and pray, what more could I do?

I woke up early this morning to hear the next set of news: most of the houses had been damaged or destroyed.  

But no word about the people yet.  

Nobody knew.

Instantly the tears started coming.  And then my body began to shake.  Uncontrollably.  The last time I had something like that happen was the day I found out my mother had passed away.  "You don't know yet," I kept telling myself, "they are probably OK.  No news is good news." The tears slowed, but I could not stop shaking.

How could I have just been there last week, and everything was fine?  When my husband and I got in the boat to leave, my friend was crying.  "Stop crying," I pleaded with her.  "This isn't goodbye, promise!"  But as the boat pulled away and our friends couldn't see us anymore, my tears started to come.  We knew it would be years before seeing each other again, and so much can happen in years.  We just didn't expect so much to happen in days.

In 2003

News was slow to come, and so I waited.  And I prayed.  And I tried reaching out on Twitter, Facebook, anywhere...

The problem with having an island so tiny that it can be "your" island is that new sources don't seem to care/know what is going on there.

Finally, a friend that I had tasked with letting me know the moment any news came in sent me a message: tons of damage, no deaths.  

Oh!  The relief that washed over me.  The tears came a little again, but this time with jumping -- and no shaking.

I still have not heard what all the damage is.  I still don't know who was present on-island and who made it off before hand.  I have no idea what they went through nor what they will go through to rebuild.  But I do know this: as of right now, everything points to LIFE. 

Houses can be rebuilt.  Schools will be repaired.  These are important things, YES, but they are not the MOST important thing.  So although there is still a lot to be done, and a long road ahead for our family out there, they are alive to walk that road.  Amen!

(A glimpse of the damage from Bopha, in Koror.  Still no pictures/official word from Peleliu.)

//source//

The Rainbow's End (Palau)

No internet or cell phones.  T.V. and radio, nope.  Shoot -- for several days we didn't even have a watch with us.  What time is it?  Well, the sun is up, guess it is day time...

That's how we spent the past ten days.  Well, that and swimming with stinger-less jellyfish.

Yeah, I'm kinda obsessed with the jellies.

I am also kinda obsessed with Palau in general.

This little island nation captured my heart for the first time in 2002 when I went on a mission trip during college.  We laid a waterline for an outer island village, population 300 or so.  It was hot and sticky and I thought surely Hell could not even compare with the heat, but that did not keep me from falling in love -- with the beauty and more so, with the people.

So a year and a half later I packed my suitcases and moved out there to teach 4th grade.  And it was the most amazing experience.

I have had the chance to go back to visit a couple of times since then, but this time was different.  This time I was taking my man with me.

Palau could no longer be "my" place, but it was time to become "our" place.

Days were filled with trekking to waterfalls in the jungle, surfing, snorkeling...

... and eating fish.

Lots and lots of fish.

And then we kept eating fish.  For breakfast, for lunch, for dinner.  Cooked fish, raw fish, fish eyeballs.

Yes, you read that correctly.

What can I say?  When in Rome...

The scenery was beautiful.  There is a reason Palau is called 'The Rainbow's End', right?

But you know what is better than these serene blue waters and vibrant rock islands?  The people.

They may live a simple life by our standards, but their lives are FULL.  Full of love, full of joy, full of compassion.  They share like no other people group I have encountered, even though they do not have much.  It is a rare to find a place where there are no orphanages, nobody living on the streets, no old-age homes.  Like I said, rare.  But it exists.  I have seen the proof.

Really, I have nothing more that I can say about Palau.  Not because there is nothing more to share, but because there is nothing more that mere words typed on a screen can do justice.

All I can say is this: my heart is full.

Muumuu-fabulous (Micronesian Summer, Part 6)

August 15, 2006

It is over.

Last night at the airport as I said goodbye to my friends (who I will see in a few weeks) and Eliki (who I will see sometime in the future, right?!  ) I cried. It wasn't that I was going to miss them (well, I will, but I know I will see them again) and it wasn't that I was glad to see them go. I have just never felt so much emotion hit at one time that was neither happiness or sadness. Everything we worked on for the past year, everything we did for the past 8 weeks, every time it felt like it was taking forever, every time it felt like it was going too fast... gone in a blink of an eye. Honestly, it was a huge mixture of incredible relief and accomplishment (WE DID IT GUYS!!!) combined with a big void. So I sat on the floor at the Koror International Airport Departure Gate in the middle of the night and shed a few tears while Fonzie, Keo, and Peterson played the guitar and sangs goodbye songs to our friends. Plus, I was tired from getting up at 3:45 in the morning... wink wink Keo, Pete, Rob, Quique and Caiti :)

What else is there to say? For starters, I made amazing friends this summer and became better friends with people I already loved. I experienced the two very separate worlds that I live in colliding and was able to share a little bit of both sides with the other. THAT was incredible. (Or muumuu-fabulous??? Hmm...) I grew and learned things that I had no idea were even out there for me to learn. And I saw every person in our team stretch and grow as well.

Of course, every growing experience comes with a couple regrets. My biggest one is not taking the time to write my thoughts, experiences, trials, triumphs, and just down-right-good-times down more often. There are so many stories that I don't want to forget, yet as the weeks roll by they are already starting to lose their flavor. Here is my chance to try to reclaim some of these memories.

Like the story of the Chuukese woman on the plane who, never having flown before, was terrified out of her mind. She couldn't buckle her seat belt, she read the magazine upside down at first, she didn't know how to put the mayo and mustard on her sandwich... My mar-mar was sitting heavy on my head so I passed it off to her. Wow. What a little thing can do. She took my hand in hers and said, "I like you!" And she did not let go. Who would have guessed that someday I would be riding through the air from one tiny island to the next, hand in hand, fingers interlocking, with a 48 year old Chuukese woman who doesn't speak my language?

The Paata ladies. Man, I love those crazy women! We spent hours playing Uno while saying Chuukese colors and numbers. Yes, I learned them. I was forced to so I could avoid them flicking my head when I got the word wrong! When the husband of one of the ladies was brought into the hospital and half the ladies left to stay with him (all relatives of some sort... you know, island style) I wanted to make sure I could go say goodbye to them. When I arrived at the hospital I turned around to see Esther, my 8 year old friend, and her Auntie Teresita, a large woman wearing a blue muumuu, running up the steep hill to hug me. I was almost in tears at the sight.



The Paata Ladies.

Basically, I loved Chuuk. No, scratch that. The rats running through our hair at night, the men being very open about what they wanted to do with us ("I make you Chuukese mother!") and the drunk locals throwing rocks... not the highlight of my life. But the people... I met some great people. I loved my experience in Chuuk. And I have been inspired by the youth of Chuuk, Kosrae, and Palau who have stepped up to the plate to lead in their communities in ways that foreigners cannot. Like Switson in Kosrae, and Emerson and Neet who have left to the outer islands in their home of Chuuk to translate for missionaries and have become missionaries themselves, at the ages of 17 and 19. And Keo and Pete, my good buddies from Palau, who have grown so much in the last couple of years since I last saw them, and are taking their responsibility seriously and determining to be leaders among their peers. That is the biggest thing I learned this summer: the youth of Micronesia are waiting to explode goodness for their world. We just need to learn how to tap into that.

I really liked every island. Each one had its own pluses and minuses, but I had a great experience on each. I have already told all about our friends in Kosrae and the fun times of Pohnpei and the (some of) the crazy stories in Chuuk, but I have good memories of the others too. Like the Liberation Day Parade in Guam. Or shopping with the topless women and men in loin clothes in Yap. And definitely the HUGE generosity of the people Palau and Peleliu specifically. We were given so much fish and bread and coconuts and cookies and warm meals... all from people who cannot really afford to do so, but give sacrificially because they care.

Camp, for the most part, was a huge success. The kids had the greatest time of their summer, and for some, possibly their lives. And we covered issues with them that seem too big for 10-12 year olds, but are things that DO need be addressed out here. Like drugs, suicide, teen pregnancy, and getting an education. In a place where suicide is rampant, girls are getting pregnant at age 12, and has the highest beer per capita in the Pacific, these are topics to be discussed. Big issues and straight up fun... that was what we did every day this summer. What a huge, but incredibly rewarding, responsibility!

Four and half years ago I stepped foot on this tiny little island nation and have been bouncing back and forth between here and home ever since.  Today I have seen how far my friends here have come -- and how they have grown me right along with them.



Yapese Stone Money

Basically, this has been the greatest summer of my life. Thank you to everyone who helped make that possible, whether you were financially supporting or thinking about us back at home or out here with us and took care of us like your long lost family. And, Camp Micronesia staff... thank you. You brought many smiles to my face. I truly had a great time. It was muumuu-fabulous. Ssss.


My food blog has been bit by a travel bug.  Follow along as I let my words from the past answer the question, "What place(s) have you visit that made the most impact on you?"  I am too busy enjoying summer to be whipping up anything good in the kitchen anyway... ;)

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I feel old, but I feel PROUD... (The Wednesday Files)

Ten years ago I made a quick decision, just on a whim really, to pack up and go on a mission trip to the Republic of Palau.  When I say quick decision, I mean it went like this: "Christmas break was a little boring.  I think I will go on the trip for Spring Break so I have something fun to do."  Yup, that was it.

So I went.  And, of course, it was wonderful.  But more importantly than being wonderful, I made another quick decision.  While eating a PB&J with some Americans who were taking a year off of college to teach school there I mentioned how great of an experience they were having.  "You should do it," one of them said. 

"Yeah, that sounds good.  But not next year, I have to be home next year."
"No worries," she replied, "come back the year after that."

"I think I could do that..." 

"And if you taught 4th grade you would have my little 2nd graders.  They are the best kids in the world!"

"Sure, why not?"

And so I did.  I went two school years later, taught 4th grade, and spent the year with the best kids in the world.

I was only 20, but I was living on an island in the middle of nowhere, busting out lesson plans and hugs, loving every minute of it.

These kids, all 18 of them, wiggled their way into my heart. 

Yes, I have frizzy hair in that picture.  And no make-up.  It was hot.  No, scratch that, it was hotter than hot.  Everyday around 1:30, right as we were trying to make our way through our English lesson, sweat would start dripping down their faces and my back, eyes would start closing and heads would start dropping, and the air would get really stagnant.  But then the rain would come and pour down for 15 minutes, bringing some relief into our afternoon.

Even in the middle of that heat, and the fight against large spiders, my days were filled with happiness.  These kids, my kids, filled my days with hugs and laughter and definitely taught me a thing or two.

There are so many things I could tell you about that time of my life, so many, but today I just need to tell you one --

my kids graduated high school this past weekend.

The last time I saw them, they were no longer my fourth graders, but my friend Niki's 7th-graders.  (She and I had a conversation something like the one above at one point...)  They were starting middle school and heading into the world of first crushes and time spent in front of the mirror.  No longer were they my little kids sharing their cookies with me.  But they were still my kids.  They were the first ones to make a spot in my heart in that fashion, and they would always have that place that only a first class can hold.

Today, they are heading off to college and boot camp. 

They are all grown up.

I feel old, I really do.  But more than that, I feel proud.  Wiseman is no longer that little boy who went against my call to stop jumping off of the ledge and wound up breaking his arm... nope, he has been sworn into the Marine Corp.

Kylee isn't trying to hide the ice cream she was stuffing into her face while I was out of the room.  She is heading off to college.

I am not a mother yet, but I think I understand when all you moms say, "They grow up so fast."

To my once-little kids in the class of 2012, I am proud of you, I believe in your ability to do great things for our world, and I love you. 

Dios lomekngeltengat er kau!