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...

A little goes a long way. (Help for Peleliu)

I thought I had left the classroom child-free and lights-off. In fact, I KNEW I had done that. Yet, there they were, four kids, in the classroom during lunch time. "What are you guys doing in here?" I asked. Quickly hands got shoved behind their backs and giggles ensued.

"Don't worry, Mrs. D.," one little boy said to me. "We aren't doing anything bad, promise." And even though this behavior usually calls for the opposite, I decided to trust them. I headed to my desk and got to work, wondering what they could be up to, but letting them do what they wanted to do, knowing they would tell me when they were ready.

And they did. In only a few minutes they came to my desk, handmade paper envelope in their hands, stuffed full of something, and handed it to me. "We didn't get rootbeer floats today. Here." On the outside on the envelope were the words in third-grade handwriting, "For Friends in Palau". And in the inside was over $13 dollars, mostly in coins.

They had given up their treats, without being prompted, to help people they had never met. All they knew was these people on the other side of the world needed their help, and they took it upon themselves to do something about it.

Yes, I teach these kids. But I also am taught by them.

And so, in the spirit of my third and fourth graders, we are doing something. Working with Surangel's store in Koror (capital of Palau), we have a way to get supplies into the hands of people of Peleliu. An account has been set up for the State of Peleliu to get materials as they need, as much as funds will allow. Please consider giving something, anything, and spread the word. The first $13 has already been given, counted out in quarters and pennies.

HOW YOU CAN HELP: 

1) DONATE! (Click to be taken to the page.)

2) SHARE!  I am just a little, small time blogger.  And you may be, too.  But the more we spread the word, the more help we can get out to people who are very near and dear to me -- that most of the world does not even know exists.

From my heart, Mesulang. My dear friends on Peleliu would say thank you as well, if they had a way to communicate with the outside world.

** The island of Peleliu is currently without power or phone lines, and will be so for weeks, if not months.  Please send positive thoughts/prayers their way.

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//

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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