Singing Silently

Monday, February 21, 2011
6:17 AM in Kolonia, 11:17 AM at home


It’s the weekends like the one I just had that people usually want to hear about when they ask me about Pohnpei. We spent our staff retreat this last weekend out at Ant Atoll, which is a thin rim of islands outside the Pohnpei reef, to the west. We were supposed to go last month, but ocean conditions and school events have kept us from going again until this weekend. It was a much needed getaway – this last week was a crazy one for me with midterm quizzes and tests, grade reports to fill out, being on lunch duty, trying to take pictures for the yearbook, preparing for a girls-only chapel, and dodging all the germs that have been floating around campus. I don’t think I had at least seven hours of sleep each school night, and those who know me know that’s not a good thing. So it was time for some es-cap-e!

Of course, escape was on island time, too, so we had to wait for the big boat to get out, then for Noli to come back and switch out the small boat that was to take us to Black Coral to meet the bigger boat, which was to have dropped off the guys at Ant and come back, and we didn’t actually leave the dock until about 5:30… Actually, 3 hours late for a trip like this is pretty good timing, I thought. We went to the far northwestern side of Ant this time, and arrived around the time it got thoroughly dark. The guys had a large bon fire waiting for us, which was a welcome sight. It was too dark to see well-enough to set up hammocks, so we opted to sleep under the big tarp local style: mats spread out over palm branches piled on sand. It was a pretty decent sleep, though it rained most of the night, and the tarp started to drip. Fortunately I managed to stay mostly dry and mostly bug-bite free. Others didn’t sleep so well. I think every time I woke up during the night and would roll over, there was someone standing by the fire.

The morning wasn’t very bright. We awoke early with hopes of a sunrise, but there wasn’t much of one. There were, however, all sort of cool things to see, such as a flounder that blended in with the sand perfectly. Some of us went swimming in faith that it would dry out soon. The ocean is 80-85° here, so it was pretty warm as long as you kept moving. Swimming in the rain was fantastic – the rain was beading on the surface. We spent some time jumping and diving off the boat, then headed in for breakfast. The fire didn’t do much to warm or dry us, and I went back to the tent to discover one of the local girls had borrowed my towel for a pillow. So I sat around cold and wet for, well, pretty much ALL day.

It rained for over 24 hours on Saturday. There were a few patches of no rain, but they were short, and not long enough to dry out camp. Julie and I took a walk down the lagoon side of the island, collecting shells, taking pictures, and stopping to climb coconut trees. Still enjoyable in all the rain. Seriously, the rain back home in Oregon has nothing to compare with Pohnpei – even our biggest storms seem pathetic now. I’m going to miss the rain here so much. (Just not when I’m camping!)

There were all sorts of creation to see along the way. A dozen different crabs, and each with a different shell… A couple of sea cucumbers… Several new birds (that weren’t chickens! Chickens are usually the only bird we see around Pohnpei.) Shells all over the place… New flowers… I think one of my favorite things of the whole weekend was looking under a coral shelf at low tide and seeing these guys all huddled in there together, hiding from the rain:

We got back to camp to find the tarp readjusted (and still leaking), some people swimming to stay warm, and others huddled around looking miserable. I ended up rolling up in my wet blanket and tarp to stay warm and took a nap. The rain kept steady all afternoon. Towards late afternoon Julie and I decided that we weren’t getting any drier, but we might as well try and set up our hammocks so we wouldn’t be sleeping in puddles that night. We actually managed to set up a creative little shelter with our tarps and an abundant supply of palm branches. We went swimming one more time, had supper (candied coconut – my new favorite!), changed into our last pair of dry clothes, and went to bed around 8:00. My hammock was already being dripped into, and I was sure I would wake up soaked in the morning, but as long as I stayed warm and wasn’t sleeping on the ground, I decided I wouldn’t care.

We woke up around 6:00 the next morning drier than we were when we went to bed, and stumbled out onto the beach to discover the most gorgeous sight: the sun was close to rising, and the moon was reflecting brilliantly silver on the blue water of the lagoon. The whole rainy day before was totally worth it just for that sight. The day warmed up quick, and everyone’s moods were higher. Almost all the guys went out to scuba, snorkel, fish that morning, so we girls had the island to ourselves. Maureen taught us to make mwaramwars which was a lot of fun.

I took a two hour hike around the island, and realized it was the first time I’ve been able to be alone outside of my apartment since coming here. We female SMs never get to be alone, and I hadn’t realized how much God and I needed that alone time. I got to see so many wonderful things – the ocean side of the island was covered in rocks and coral, and there were shells everywhere! I walked out to where the waves meet the reef, saw a couple of different eels, a whole metropolis of hermit crabs, and a dozen other wonders. I could have stayed in that moment forever.

After getting back to camp, eating lunch, swimming, and a few coconuts later, the guys came back, and we packed up camp. The first boat trip headed out, and while the ocean was pretty calm, we still had a pretty bumpy boat ride back. I was near the front of the boat, being splashed, gripping tight, and clenching my teeth while grinning like a maniac. The ocean was so many shades of sheer blue. BLUE. They don’t make the water back home like that. And in that hour boat ride between Ant and Black Coral, I found myself alone with God again, because everything else was too jarred or too loud to talk to those around me. I wanted to sing, but didn’t, because my voice is too meager to compare to all the beauty I saw this weekend. By my soul was shouting:

How can I keep from singing Your praise?

How can I ever say enough?

How amazing is Your love!

How can I keep from shouting You name?

I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing!

(Chris Tomlin)

Sometimes God doesn’t show up in the places or times we most expect Him to (like on Sabbath.) Or maybe He’s there the whole time, we just refuse to acknowledge Him. (Like when it’s pouring down rain and everything is wet, and we’re too focused on being cold.) But then sometimes God shows up when you stop expecting Him (or least expecting Him to overwhelm you with Himself) and brings you a surprise.

I have never felt so loved by God as I did in the boat that afternoon, tossing up and down, hanging on for dear life, bracing myself against each pounding. I don’t know why God loves me, I just knew in that moment that He does. I’ve never felt so full, and yet starving for more.

I’m trying to live life to the fullest. I’m trying to make every moment count. I wonder if I am only doing this because I know it’s all going to end before I’m ready for it. I wonder how many times back home I didn’t live to the fullest because I wasn’t thinking about how it was going to end soon. Like school – had I made the most of every moment, would I have made more friends, would I have done better academically? My professors might have preferred if it were so. But I don’t regret it, because what I got out of those classes wasn’t an A, it was a love for the things I was studying, and it was the desire to pass on that love of science to others that lead me to my career path and here – the most amazing place I’ve known yet. But I don’t love this place because I get to do and see all these amazing things that no one else can. I love this place because I’m interacting with the wonderful people here in a way no one else can.