It takes a long time to fly from Phoenix, Arizona, USA to Windhoek, NAMIBIA. I think it's somewhere around twenty-three hours in the air. I spent a ton of time in an airplane on the first few days of my trip.
I called my parents in my last few minutes at the airport. My mom's family was in Hawaii for our yearly family reunion, so they all yelled an enormous ALOHA!!! at me. I also got the good news that my cousin Maddie had gotten engaged while they were there. It was great to hear, but my heart was a little sore hearing that my family was on vacation without me, getting engaged without me, and mostly that I would be without them for the next month.
I've been on airplanes before, but the majority of them have either been flights between NorCal and SoCal, or California and Arizona. I was amazed at how huge the plane was.
Here's something silly:
I love airplane food.
I love the way it looks. I love how neat it is. I love that the flight attendants ask you whether you'd like chicken or beef. I love drinking tea, because it makes me feel classy. I love airplanes. I think they're exciting.
I watched "Pan's Labyrinth", "The Holiday" (for the third time) and listened to hours and hours of Simon and Garfunkel. I should have tried to sleep, but I was still too excited, knowing that I would be in AFRICA in less than a day.
*Side note*: At this point in time, Africa was still AFRICA!!! in my mind. New. Unknown. Exciting. All capitals and three exclamation points. AFRICA!!! [It's not that Africa is any less exciting to me now that I've been there...it's just that now I have a deep, real love for the continent, whereas before, all I had were eager expectations.]
We landed in London around 11 a.m., and our flight was scheduled to leave Heathrow around 9 p.m. Our trip leaders handed us passes to the Underground and let us loose on London. At this point, none of us had slept much, and we were carrying all of our carryon baggage. For me, this meant that I had to carry my pillow around London. Also, I was wearing a tie-dyed shirt, while Cierra, one of my teammates, was wearing a shirt with Cheeseasauras Rex on it. Needless to say, we weren't exactly incognito, and I'm sure that people could easily mark us as American tourists.
Cierra and I walked around London for about two hours. We ate at Quizno's, tried to use the internet at McDonald's, and saw the sights. Here's a quick rundown:
- Big Ben was much sparklier than I ever imagined.
- The London Eye was very big.
- We talked to the bobbies, and they pointed us in the direction of Tony Blair's house. The day we were in London was also the day that Tony Blair resigned, so that was interesting, and somewhat exciting to be there.
But mostly, we just walked around in the rain and laughed at the absurdity of US being in LONDON and going on to AFRICA!!!
The team got back to the airport and hopped on the plane which would take us from London, England to Johannesburg, South Africa. I ended up sitting between Cierra and a young man named Conrad, who was travelling from Switzerland to South Africa. He was 17, and we talked about skateboarding, skate shoes, South Africa. By this leg of the trip, my team had discovered Tylenol P.M., so we spent most of the flight getting some much needed sleep.
Our flight had been a few hours late getting into Jo-burg, so my team was running through the airport, trying to make it to the correct terminal. However, for some reason, Merrilee, Jameson, Lacey, and myself got bumped to a later flight. The best part about this was that we got free meal vouchers, so we bought chocolates and sodas and sandwiches and spent some time in the Jo-burg airport getting to know each other better. We ended up on the same flight as the Namibian rugby team, who sat by Merrilee and invited our team to see a match (which sadly, didn't happen, because we didn't have time).
Finally, almost four days after I'd left Phoenix, I was in Namibia.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
Part Two: Training in Maryland and Seeing D.C.
I'm so thankful that my team got a chance to train together before we left the States. If we hadn't we would not have been as close as we were, and we would have been wholly unprepared to teach Namibian adolescents to "Choose to Wait".
It was reassuring to see some familiar faces from my Colorado orientation in March. We sat outside for hours talking about great leaders, and what sort of wisdom we could glean from them. Jameson and Lacey, our trip leaders, told us what to expect from the students at Youth for Christ in Namibia, the food in Namibia, the music. The weather in Maryland was perfect: mid to high 80s with birds singing. It was a welcome relief from the Phoenix heat I'd been living in for the previous month and a half.
Some of my favorite memories of orientation are:
- Watching Jameson and Lacey try to remember the hand motions to some of the African songs
- Making crazy sandwiches (cheese, hummus, and Cool Ranch Doritos was the favorite of me and Cierra)
- Watching Jameson and Lacey try to remember the hand motions to some of the African songs
- Making crazy sandwiches (cheese, hummus, and Cool Ranch Doritos was the favorite of me and Cierra)
- Sleeping on the floor and giggling all night long because we were so excited about the adventure we were about to begin
- "Choose to Wait" skits
- Eating Chinese food as a big family
- "Choose to Wait" skits
- Eating Chinese food as a big family
Something I was really struggling with was the idea of "mine". I was seeing this trip as "mine" and hoping that "I" would experience and achieve things when in reality, it was all God. God had given me the strength, and the courage, and the funding. This was a theme in which I would fully immerse myself during my time in Namibia.
Our team didn't have time to walk around our nation's capital, so instead, we climbed on a church bus and did a driveby tour of Washington D.C. We saw the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, the White House, and so many other things. On our drive there, we saw Georgetown. I'd love to go back to D.C. and spend more time there someday.
After our driving tour, we went to the airport, and prepared to leave for Africa.
Dear Mr. Healy
*** This is something I wrote about a man for whom I possess a great deal of respect. He passed away last week. Please keep his family and his students (both former and current) in your prayers, as his death leaves a huge crater in so many hearts. As a dear friend of mine, put it, "It's crazy to think that our teachers could ever leave us, when we were the ones who left first." ***
Dear Mr. Healy,
When I first met you, I was an awkward 11-year-old, all knees and elbows, and my voice was the only thing that made me stand out from a line of child auditionees. I was far too tall to be auditioning for Amaryllis and I didn't know the first thing about theater, but on your stage, I met Tristan Rumery. Jordan Rumery. Jordan Gomez (who even back then, was trying to go by Jordan DeRea). Emily DeMaso. Phil Kan.
Two years later, I was back, using theater as a substitute for band. In my first few weeks, you taught me to connect with my pain, my joy, my confusion. I was young and unfocused, but you were training me, day by day. I'll never forget that "Cavalcade" rehearsal where I auditioned for a solo. It felt like my whole world rested on those sixteen bars; you made me sing the whole song. That's what you made me do. You asked me to do one thing and than proved that I could do ten times more than I ever thought.
I auditioned for "Oklahoma" and was stunned not only to get a callback, but a callback for Laurey! I was too green, and certainly too untrained. But it was enough to get me to stay, enough of a goal for me to keep working.
Sophomore year. "Once Upon a Mattress". I was second runner up. It was a show I didn't care much about, but I learned invaluable lessons from you. "You never get a second chance to make a first impression." "First time, every time." and my favorite: "Time is money, and we're going broke." You taught me to be a professional, even at fifteen years old.
Junior year. I started to audition with community theaters, but was unable to perform with them after I failed my driver's test. I got an understudy role in "Grease", and I was frustrated. There had been weeks of build-up, people who had seen my audition and praised me for it. But I kept that to myself, and did my job. My understudy night was one of the most rewarding performances I've ever had.
Senior year was my dream come true. I was able to show you everything you had taught me on a night during "Scrooge" where all the lights went out, and I sang. By myself. No microphones. No lights. No piano. Just me. But it was you, Mr. Healy. I never would have been able to do anything even close to that, had it not been for your guidance. I was nominated for an Elly for vocal directing; I thought I'd just been helping out with harmonies during class. "Les Miserables" was more than anything I could have asked for. I cried after my audition, because I thought I did so horribly. And I came out with the romantic lead. I was sick the whole time, from auditions to closing night, and never for a second thought about asking for an understudy to fill in for me. You taught me that. Without you, I would have whined about my voice every day of rehearsals. But because of you, I did it without even thinking. The show had to go on.
You were my first director, my first employer. You helped me decide where to go to college and what to study. I spent much more time in the theater than I ever did at home. On an application, you once wrote that my weaknesses were "naivete and an overwhelming desire to please". In many ways, you knew me better than I knew myself. I wonder if you knew about everything I faced during those years, all the trouble I got myself into when you didn't have me in rehearsal. I'm sure you did. You always knew the things we least expected that you would know. You guided me through everything, even though I had no idea.
You hugged me on closing night of "Les Miz" with tears in your eyes, and I was stunned. I love you, Healy. My life has been irreversably changed because of you, and for that, I owe you the world. I hope you're dancing enough to make up for all the years you couldn't and belting out songs in your deep baritone voice. This world is a better place because of you, and I know you've taken the musicals in heaven to a whole 'nother level.
Dear Mr. Healy,
When I first met you, I was an awkward 11-year-old, all knees and elbows, and my voice was the only thing that made me stand out from a line of child auditionees. I was far too tall to be auditioning for Amaryllis and I didn't know the first thing about theater, but on your stage, I met Tristan Rumery. Jordan Rumery. Jordan Gomez (who even back then, was trying to go by Jordan DeRea). Emily DeMaso. Phil Kan.
Two years later, I was back, using theater as a substitute for band. In my first few weeks, you taught me to connect with my pain, my joy, my confusion. I was young and unfocused, but you were training me, day by day. I'll never forget that "Cavalcade" rehearsal where I auditioned for a solo. It felt like my whole world rested on those sixteen bars; you made me sing the whole song. That's what you made me do. You asked me to do one thing and than proved that I could do ten times more than I ever thought.
I auditioned for "Oklahoma" and was stunned not only to get a callback, but a callback for Laurey! I was too green, and certainly too untrained. But it was enough to get me to stay, enough of a goal for me to keep working.
Sophomore year. "Once Upon a Mattress". I was second runner up. It was a show I didn't care much about, but I learned invaluable lessons from you. "You never get a second chance to make a first impression." "First time, every time." and my favorite: "Time is money, and we're going broke." You taught me to be a professional, even at fifteen years old.
Junior year. I started to audition with community theaters, but was unable to perform with them after I failed my driver's test. I got an understudy role in "Grease", and I was frustrated. There had been weeks of build-up, people who had seen my audition and praised me for it. But I kept that to myself, and did my job. My understudy night was one of the most rewarding performances I've ever had.
Senior year was my dream come true. I was able to show you everything you had taught me on a night during "Scrooge" where all the lights went out, and I sang. By myself. No microphones. No lights. No piano. Just me. But it was you, Mr. Healy. I never would have been able to do anything even close to that, had it not been for your guidance. I was nominated for an Elly for vocal directing; I thought I'd just been helping out with harmonies during class. "Les Miserables" was more than anything I could have asked for. I cried after my audition, because I thought I did so horribly. And I came out with the romantic lead. I was sick the whole time, from auditions to closing night, and never for a second thought about asking for an understudy to fill in for me. You taught me that. Without you, I would have whined about my voice every day of rehearsals. But because of you, I did it without even thinking. The show had to go on.
You were my first director, my first employer. You helped me decide where to go to college and what to study. I spent much more time in the theater than I ever did at home. On an application, you once wrote that my weaknesses were "naivete and an overwhelming desire to please". In many ways, you knew me better than I knew myself. I wonder if you knew about everything I faced during those years, all the trouble I got myself into when you didn't have me in rehearsal. I'm sure you did. You always knew the things we least expected that you would know. You guided me through everything, even though I had no idea.
You hugged me on closing night of "Les Miz" with tears in your eyes, and I was stunned. I love you, Healy. My life has been irreversably changed because of you, and for that, I owe you the world. I hope you're dancing enough to make up for all the years you couldn't and belting out songs in your deep baritone voice. This world is a better place because of you, and I know you've taken the musicals in heaven to a whole 'nother level.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Part One: Airports
I'm trying to remember how it felt to leave the USA. I'm sure I was terrified. I'm sure I didn't sleep much before I left. I know that I watched a lot of movies in the days before I left. You see, I do this thing I like to call a "stress coma", where I become so anxious that I just stop moving, and stop doing anything productive. I'm sure I did that; I always do before something big happens.
I left Phoenix around 1 am, on the morning of June 22nd. My first flight was from Phoenix to Houston, on one of those tiny little planes that make me doubt whether or not we'll get blown away by a strong gust of wind way up at 30,000 feet. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. I read a book, "Band of Brothers" by Stephen Ambrose.
I stopped in Houston, and felt like there wasn't a single person in that airport. I brushed my teeth and took my anti-malarials, feeling very grown up and very young at the same time.
Then I sat. And sat. And sat. And didn't sleep, because I was afraid I would miss my flight.
A tiny Mexican lady came up to me, asking if I spoke any Spanish. She was headed to Oaxaca and couldn't find her gate, because she didn't speak English. I'd been to Oaxaca before, and hearing that she was headed there made my heart soar. We talked a little bit about her daughter, who lived in Houston. I was impressed by her courage, impressed by the fact that she was navigating around an airport and a country where she couldn't speak a word of the language. It brought me a lot of peace, knowing that this little woman in red patent leather pumps wasn't letting anxiety hold her back.
I left Phoenix around 1 am, on the morning of June 22nd. My first flight was from Phoenix to Houston, on one of those tiny little planes that make me doubt whether or not we'll get blown away by a strong gust of wind way up at 30,000 feet. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. I read a book, "Band of Brothers" by Stephen Ambrose.
I stopped in Houston, and felt like there wasn't a single person in that airport. I brushed my teeth and took my anti-malarials, feeling very grown up and very young at the same time.
Then I sat. And sat. And sat. And didn't sleep, because I was afraid I would miss my flight.
A tiny Mexican lady came up to me, asking if I spoke any Spanish. She was headed to Oaxaca and couldn't find her gate, because she didn't speak English. I'd been to Oaxaca before, and hearing that she was headed there made my heart soar. We talked a little bit about her daughter, who lived in Houston. I was impressed by her courage, impressed by the fact that she was navigating around an airport and a country where she couldn't speak a word of the language. It brought me a lot of peace, knowing that this little woman in red patent leather pumps wasn't letting anxiety hold her back.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
There and Back
So I went to Namibia. And I served the Lord. And I left my heart in Africa. And now I'm back.
We didn't have much access to internet while we were in Oshakati, so I was unable to blog about everything God was doing in us and through us. Honestly, I don't know that I would have been able to do a very good job of writing about everything God was doing. It was BIG. It was amazing. It was wonderful. It was difficult. It was real. I feel like I've promised to write all my stories, and I will, but I think that I'll need some time to process and a lot of time to readjust.
I'm back in California, back at my mom's. I've visited my grandparents and wrestled with my brother. I've gotten my film developed and been shocked at how little I was able to capture. Also, my flash was out of synch with my camera, so I have a roll or two of less-than-perfect photos. I guess that's the thrill of using film and not digital. I'm relearning how to sleep in, although I've had a few nights of being wide awake at 3 a.m. because my body thinks I'm still in Africa. I'm playing with my mom's cats, catching up with old friends, and seeing my world through completely different eyes.
I'll be back in a little while, when I'm ready, and I'll share stories of God's goodness.
We didn't have much access to internet while we were in Oshakati, so I was unable to blog about everything God was doing in us and through us. Honestly, I don't know that I would have been able to do a very good job of writing about everything God was doing. It was BIG. It was amazing. It was wonderful. It was difficult. It was real. I feel like I've promised to write all my stories, and I will, but I think that I'll need some time to process and a lot of time to readjust.
I'm back in California, back at my mom's. I've visited my grandparents and wrestled with my brother. I've gotten my film developed and been shocked at how little I was able to capture. Also, my flash was out of synch with my camera, so I have a roll or two of less-than-perfect photos. I guess that's the thrill of using film and not digital. I'm relearning how to sleep in, although I've had a few nights of being wide awake at 3 a.m. because my body thinks I'm still in Africa. I'm playing with my mom's cats, catching up with old friends, and seeing my world through completely different eyes.
I'll be back in a little while, when I'm ready, and I'll share stories of God's goodness.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Seventeen Days
I leave for Namibia in seventeen days.
It's pretty unreal, to say the very least.
My passport arrived at my mom's house, and it's currently somewhere between El Dorado Hills, California and Tempe, AZ. Passport? Check.
I got a bunch of shots yesterday and I'm in for some more on Thursday. Shots? Check.
My fundraising is where it needs to be, which is a huge blessing. Fundraising? Check.
Plane tickets? Check.
Sleeping bag? Check.
Amazing team? Check.
I'm seventeen days away from spending roughly a day in flight, and flying into a time zone which is eight hours ahead of my typical time zone. Needless to say, I'm freaking out.
I'm going to Namibia in seventeen days. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Crazy.
It's pretty unreal, to say the very least.
My passport arrived at my mom's house, and it's currently somewhere between El Dorado Hills, California and Tempe, AZ. Passport? Check.
I got a bunch of shots yesterday and I'm in for some more on Thursday. Shots? Check.
My fundraising is where it needs to be, which is a huge blessing. Fundraising? Check.
Plane tickets? Check.
Sleeping bag? Check.
Amazing team? Check.
I'm seventeen days away from spending roughly a day in flight, and flying into a time zone which is eight hours ahead of my typical time zone. Needless to say, I'm freaking out.
I'm going to Namibia in seventeen days. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Crazy.
Monday, May 28, 2007
I Have No Idea What I Want to Be When I Grow Up
At seventeen, I had my whole life planned out. I was going to go to school in San Diego, study biochemistry, sing in some choirs, and leisurely make my way to medical school. I'd become a pulmonologist and focus on pediatrics. I'd do theater on the weekends to blow off some steam. I had a brilliant, flawless plan for my life.
I remembered this in church on Sunday, as we celebrated the graduating seniors. Sitting there, I realized that I have no idea where my life is headed. I feel like so much of my life is contingent on waiting. Waiting to get into nursing school. Waiting to figure out where God wants me to live after I graduate from college. Waiting to see what this summer will bring. I'm halfway through college, and I've never been more confused about who I am and where I'm going.
It's a blessing.
It's counterintuitive for me to see it as a blessing, but it is. Even though I have absolutely no clue where I'm going, I know Who I'm following. I'm serving a God who loves me and cares about every step I take. I'm the daughter of a King who works for the good in everything, even when it hurts and I don't understand.
If I'm going to be honest, I have to admit that I often struggled with trusting God to work for the good in my life. Some days, I walk around paralyzed with fear, because I don't have a carefully scripted plan for my life, and the happenings in my life don't fit into the map that I've drawn.
But when I step back, it's all good. It's all a blessing. Life is hard, and confusing, and wonderful. There aren't any second chances, which makes any small success a devastating victory.
In the past couple weeks, I've had the opportunity to move into a beautiful condo with four amazing ladies. I have a boxer/pit bull puppy who is beautiful, sweet, and fun. I'm finishing my nursing school application before I leave for Namibia. I've been working a lot, and spending time with friends when I'm not working.
I have no idea what fall semester is going to look like, and I'm ecstatic to see how it is going to work out.
To God be all the glory.
I remembered this in church on Sunday, as we celebrated the graduating seniors. Sitting there, I realized that I have no idea where my life is headed. I feel like so much of my life is contingent on waiting. Waiting to get into nursing school. Waiting to figure out where God wants me to live after I graduate from college. Waiting to see what this summer will bring. I'm halfway through college, and I've never been more confused about who I am and where I'm going.
It's a blessing.
It's counterintuitive for me to see it as a blessing, but it is. Even though I have absolutely no clue where I'm going, I know Who I'm following. I'm serving a God who loves me and cares about every step I take. I'm the daughter of a King who works for the good in everything, even when it hurts and I don't understand.
If I'm going to be honest, I have to admit that I often struggled with trusting God to work for the good in my life. Some days, I walk around paralyzed with fear, because I don't have a carefully scripted plan for my life, and the happenings in my life don't fit into the map that I've drawn.
But when I step back, it's all good. It's all a blessing. Life is hard, and confusing, and wonderful. There aren't any second chances, which makes any small success a devastating victory.
In the past couple weeks, I've had the opportunity to move into a beautiful condo with four amazing ladies. I have a boxer/pit bull puppy who is beautiful, sweet, and fun. I'm finishing my nursing school application before I leave for Namibia. I've been working a lot, and spending time with friends when I'm not working.
I have no idea what fall semester is going to look like, and I'm ecstatic to see how it is going to work out.
To God be all the glory.
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