It's Not FAIR

 

It’s not fair that you come bang on my porch before even all the roosters are up, and sabotage my meditation time. It’s not fair that you incessantly beg me for food that I bought from you yesterday. It’s not fair that you crawl under my house….or climb the adjacent tree so you can loudly inform me (and everyone else for that matter) that you’re hungry and what I’m preparing looks appetizing. It’s not fair that you steal my shampoo and razor from the Tetayan, then lie about it. It’s not fair that you beg me for bobby pins, lose them the next day, and come ask me for more. It’s not fair that you make me feel like an American vending machine, regardless of my attempts for simplicity.  

It’s not fair that I have enough food for 2 solid meals each day, and you might eat just once. It’s not fair that I ignore you so much of the time. It’s not fair that you, my shampoo thief, are getting married in December, at the ripe age of 16, while I have the privilege of choosing when, who, of if I even will get marry. It’s REALLY not fair that my culture has painted an inaccurate representation of my values and lifestyle to you. It’s not fair that you lost your father and husband to an easily-preventable disease in the states, all while on the same day I was celebrating another day of life.

The worst part of this injustice, though, is that I came here to serve you. That intention seems so idealistic, so manufactured. I am quickly realizing that I am not able to live up to my own faulty expectations that I entertained stateside. Each day, it is you who penitently helps me as I futilely grasp for your language and culture, you, who laugh with me and welcome me into your lives. I don’t know why you do it, because you know as well as I do that my time with you is not permanent. It is absolutely mind-bogging to me how completely you accept me, how you help me survive---all while knowing that I’ll leave you all too soon.

When that happens, your heart will break. It has happened to you before, and we often talk about “ma’am Brittany” and “ma’am Kara”. My heart will be shattered, too. You are my sisters, my aunts, my friends. I pray every day that God will shine out of my life, and His love will transfer to yours. But, I can honestly say that you’ve shown me more about practical Christianity than I would ever learn in the states.

It’s hard to fathom how unfair life is when we serve a God who is perfectly fair. But, that’s just the problem. We are mere humans, who, try as we might, are unfair. I’m sorry for my shortcomings. I’m sorry for your hardships. But….thank you for teaching me how to truly live and love.

Guide To SM's Continued

Disclaimer: There are many people on our team who are also deserving of a field entry; they were not part of both Summer Training AND boot camp, so I don’t have enough blackmail on them yet. Someday, their time will come….hopefully.

November Golf/ “Well, if he’s capable of thinking he’s a chicken, he’s probably capable of thinking he’s a female.” Description: Although we all display Palawano pigmentation at times, particularly after traversing muddy trails, this pigmentation spontaneously disappears the moment we enter the shower and undergo the painful process of prebasic molt. NG is set apart in this respect, because she is genuinely dark, in composition. /Habits: /NG is a very diligent, driven species, who probably accomplishes more in one day than the rest of us do in one week. Because of this, she’s often solitary….or faithfully serving as Girls Dean. Yours truly and NG have a particularly bizarre relationship that could be described as parasitic; I come stink her house up after hiking from Kensuli; she cheerfully greets and feeds me./ Vocalizations: Decidedly more feminine than any other species. Very diagnostic.

Kilo November/ “MegGrandma”/ “I want to go on vacation and take my brain with me! I mean…I need a vacation without my brain.” / Although it is with great reluctance that she wears clothes, a batik is pretty standard plumaged. Should you be granted an usually close observation experience, you might note that between her toes, the skin is usually pristine. This results from abusing the acid which combats foot fungus/Although KN is really not a difficult-to-identify species, one sure test would be to orchestrate a SPIDER ENCOUNTER. If the potential KN stops for nothing---doors, mosquito nets, of even fellow SMs—in her escape, your i.d. is certain. In the event that a spider is unavailable, she’s also a happy hiker (uhh, more accurately happy faller), who wears her tukew on her left side always—she’d rather slice her spleen than her liver./Varied and abundant, one would never consider her secretive constant noise emanates from all joints, organs, and most orifices. Most common calls “Dude”, shrill “Eeeeeks” or deceptively manly “BLEAAUHRRRRRP”.

Kilo Tango/”MegPoupsie”/”You know, that’d be really great for language learning if we burned our house down.”/Palawano-sized, with a Palawano-style twinkle in her eyes. However, the resemblance ends here, for KT is decidedly Scandinavian in appearance. Again, if you’re granted a spectacular opportunity to scrutinize her characteristics, check her nostrils-the absence of nose-hair is a direct result of her prolific cayenne-snorting./Her handwriting atrocities set her apart from everyone except yours truly; additional behaviors include truly creative and determined dedication to cat-punishing and lizard-catching. Her infatuation with the unlikely combination of turkews, batiks, and tea, might have repercussions, someday.../Burps’ constantly register 7+ on the Geiger scale.