One More Week

            From today, there is one more week I have to survive until I finally make it to Belize. That means seven days to wrap up everything here and get ready for life in Belize. I dedicated Saturday to wrapping things up here, and by that I do mean doing homework all day long. Then today I dedicated to getting ready for Belize. I went shopping to try and find everything I need. I desperately searched every rack to find cheap t-shirts and shorts. I couldn’t find anything. I know this seems absurd to think. I could not find shirts and shorts that could be worn to tutor and build fences. I’m not joking though, nothing seemed right. It was either too expensive, not light enough, or didn’t look nice. Five stores and four hours later, I gave up and returned to my room. It was then I realized that I have everything I need. I could just use my soccer shirts and shorts. Afterwards it seemed silly that I was searching everywhere for something special for Belize. It was unnecessary. Regardless, I have now packed up most everything I will need. During this next week I will probably unpack and repack a few times just so I’m certain everything I could possibly need is packed.

The problem I find with packing is that it is based on your expectations, and expectations rarely work out in real life the same way they play out in your mind. The next time I am able to blog I will be switching gears to tell you what the trip was like, so I feel that today I should share my expectations. I believe I will get there and I will work hard and have a good time. I am going to get to know some new people, eat some new and possibly not enjoyable food, get a bit of a tan, and see a new area. As with construction projects in the past, I will leave with a sense of accomplishment and tutoring will allow me to feel good about what I am doing. Also, I hope that I will be able to improve myself religiously and culturally.

COMING SOON: THE REAL DEAL!!!

Interruption

            During today’s meeting we went over an itinerary for our week in Belize. Laid out on one sheet of paper was our entire week. Skip began to explain in detail each activity that was planned. “Because our first day there is Baron Bliss Day and all stores will be closed, a local woman named Ms. Babsy will be making us food. For breakfast we will be having a burrito with egg, bean, and cheese and either an orange or banana. For lunch we will,” and he was cut off by a “buzz” that caught my attention. I must have forgotten to turn off my phone before the meeting. I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone. I meant to just turn it off, but my fingers instinctively pushed ok to read the message instead.

            It was from my roommate, Chelsey, and read, “Hey I’m at the hospital I got in an accident. I’m fine tho. Don’t worry.” As I read this message, any hope of paying attention flew right out the window and was lost forever. “I’m at the hospital” should not ever be followed by “don’t worry.” The hospital involves worrying and they are inseparable. I haven’t ever visited someone in the hospital that did not need worried about.

            Chelsey and I live about a half hour away from each other and she had requested the previous week that I go home with her. I told her that I had a lot of homework and just wanted to stay at school. All last year I had drove her back home whenever I went, but this year she had her own car. As I read this message, I was flooded with guilt. I should have been with her. Maybe if I had gone she wouldn’t have wrecked.

            I attempted to collect myself. What might have happened if I was there was irrelevant; so I asked her. “What happened? What hospital are you at? And can I come get you.” I know that because she is sending texts out that she is alive, but I also know that fine does not actually mean “fine.” In my experiences fine is misused at least ninety percent of the time. Chelsey responds, “No ur fine I called my parents. St. Claire. Its rlly bad out I lost control hit the guard rail and spun in front of another car and they hit me. Car is totaled the people in the other car I guess aren’t in good shape. I just hurt my left knee.”

            Skips voice cuts back into my train of thought, “Does everyone have a piece of paper? I need you to respond to a few questions.”

            Oh crap, I don’t know what kind of a test we would be getting. I didn’t even know mission trips involved tests. I jot down a few words for each question without knowing if I was even answering the question, and then got up and left. I will email Skip later to explain.

            I text Chelsey back, “Are you sure you are ok?”

            “Well as good as anyone can be after thrown around in a car.”

            “Did you roll the car?”  I ask, not knowing what “thrown around” meant.

            “No I didn’t roll it. Btw. Totally cute doctor. Haha”

            The doctor comment was all the reassurance I needed. Chelsey was really fine. She probably is still hurt, but my worry was able to drift away enough to allow me to submit this blog on time and study for my exam.

Emotions

            I went to my weekly meeting as normal, but as I walked back to my room I tried to think what I could put on this blog about it and I was at a loss for words. In fact, I was at a loss for anything that went on during the meeting. Most of it was a blur. I found that my mind was hooked on one particular moment. Skip had asked us if we knew how long it was until we left. Spring break is a common count down for college students and I was aware that it was three weeks away, but something still hit me when I heard Skip announce it. Just hearing the words, “three weeks from this moment we will be at the evening service of the Presbyterian Church in Belize,” sent my body into shock with the injection of foreign emotions.

            I am not sure of how to handle these emotions. Should I send my immune system into overdrive and have them forced back out, or are these emotions a good thing? The big question is what are these emotions? I don’t have a clue to what I am feeling or why. It is a kind of terrified excitement. My initial response is the unfamiliarity of it all. It will be a new place with new people and new things. Mystery can be frightening, but this is not that kind of mystery. This mystery is why I decided to go on this trip. I did not want to go home, and I will get to make a difference in the lives of people I did not now in ways that I might not ever know. This was exciting for me.

            What I am left with for an explanation is the familiar part, church. I am a Christian and I firmly believe in God, but church was something that I seemed to stray away from during my teenage years. I recall the days that I went on a weekly basis and attended youth group, but I do not know what happened to them. They have passed by me. I could blame this on many things, and some excuses might even sound legitimate, but that won’t matter. Reason does not matter, all that matters is it happened. This past summer I started spending Saturday nights at my Dad’s and going to church with him and Denise every Sunday morning. I’m ashamed to admit that it was my first consistent attendance since seventh or eighth grade.

            I somehow managed to forget the church involvement of mission trips. Mission trips are more than good deeds, and that was the cause of my emotions. The part of the emotion that I did not understand was fear and nervousness. I started going to church again because I missed it and wanted to bring back my childhood devotion, but this seemed to be a much bigger step than just attending church. I am glad to take this step, but I feel like I’m blind folded and don’t know what I am about to step into or how to aim myself. I have faith that everything will work out one way or another; it is just a matter of finding out how. My only option is to wait for the fear and nervousness to be defeated and see what condition I’m left in.

The First Meeting

            It is six forty-five and my Belize meeting starts at seven. I know it will only take me a minute to walk over to Stover, but I don’t know what to do that will take less than fifteen minutes. So, I can so either sit in my room and start at the clock for fifteen minutes or arrive early to make myself appear responsible and prompt. I only know one girl who is also going on this trip, Elizabeth, and so making a good first impression might not be a bad idea. I grab my coat, put on my boots, and go on my way.

            I walk up the stairs slowly hoping to run into someone I know and follow them in. I do not have any such luck. I make my best attempt to be sneaky and peer around corners into rooms to see if there are people who look like they would go on a mission trip to Belize. The only two problems are that I don’t have a sneaky bone in my whole body and I don’t have a clue what people that would go on a mission trip to Belize look like. This makes my efforts pointless, but I continue with them hoping that even though I know I’m not sneaky that just maybe someone will believe it for a few seconds.

            Fortunately there are not many people at Stover on a Sunday night. The third room I come to is the first one that someone else is in. There are four girls, none of which I know. Two girls are on each side of the table towards the front of the room. There are a couple stacks of paper at the very front of the table with information about Peacework, the program we work through, which confirms that this is my destination. Suddenly I realize that as I walked in all eyes became fixed on me. I say hi and sit down in the first seat available right next to one of the girls. I wish I would have taken just a moment to think before sitting. I am at the end of the table which means there is no room for Elizabeth and I will only be able to talk to this girl beside me. I grab for my phone to text my roommate some sort of pointless message just to pass time until the meeting starts. Maybe this is why I usually just aim to be on time and not early. Being early is more work and I do not like that.  I look around after I send a message to see if the room has filled up at all. It takes a painfully slow twenty minutes before everyone arrives.

            Skip, our trip leader, is finally ready and introduces himself. As expected, we are all allowed to introduce ourselves to the people we will be living with for a week. It’s strange to think that someone you have never met before will be with you for basically 168 hours straight. Most of the other students are education majors. I am the only pre-law student, but I don’t think that will matter. I have done my fair share of tutoring, so I have at least a basic idea of what teaching includes. I recognize two people other than Elizabeth, one is my R.A. and the other is a guy who I had taken one honors seminar with. I feel much more comfortable knowing three faces than just one. Although it’s not a big difference in number, it still makes a big difference.

            After introductions are over, so is most of the meeting. Everyone’s attention is turned to Skip so that we can get the information we need and get back to where ever we are headed next. He quickly passes out the packets. “I’m not going to go over much today because it is our first meeting. I would like you all to take some time over this next week to look over this information I’m passing out and also to do some research of your own on Belize. Next week we will get more into the history of Belize. I will also be emailing you details of our plans for our week in Belize. That’s pretty much it for night, so I hope you have good week and I will see you next week at seven.”

            Just like that it was over. Everything seemed just a little bit more real to me without being overwhelming. I was able to meet everyone that I would soon know like my brothers and sisters and have more information that I can read on my on time. I’m a little surprised that we did not do more with Belize, but there is still a while before we leave. So I pick up my packets and walk back to my room. There is plenty to learn and do before next week.

Fundraiser #1: Can Collection

            Our first fundraiser we do as a group is to go to Giant Eagle with a can and a sign advertising our cause in hope of collecting peoples’ spare change. We have a nice table set up in the entrance with a poster on the right, three cans, and a small picture album on the left. Two other girls and I start off the day standing behind the table waiting for the customers to start rolling in. It isn’t long until the first person walks in. I don’t think they see us at first so I try to greet them, “Good morning, if you have any spare change on your way out we would appreciate your support in traveling to Belize for a mission trip.” They give a quick glance with a painfully fake smile and pick up their pace to make a quick getaway. Failure stings deep and quickly, but I find comfort that there will be many more opportunities.

            The next customer approaches and he sees us as soon as the doors open. I can practically hear his thoughts during those few steps between the door and our table. “Another one of these groups? Just great. All I want to do is go buy what I need and leave. I’m sure they are doing this for a good cause, but what difference will my change really make? This is a time when I really wish I could turn invisible and sneak past. Ah… what am I supposed to do?” There are about three steps between us now so I give it another try, “Good morn,” and before I can even get out two words he reaches for his cell phone faster than a cowboy in an old western reaches for gun during a really intense draw. He pretends someone just called at the perfect moment and has a conversation with no one. I am shot down before I even had a chance to realize what was happening. So, it is eight in the morning and I’m standing and failing at getting even a couple pennies. I really wish I would have been thinking a little clearer when I woke up this morning.

            My hopes are that third time is the charm. This time, two people enter at the same time. Almost simultaneously all three of us greet them, “Good morning.” They actually take notice to the sign. We are surprised by their interest and were even asked a couple questions about what we would be doing. They continue on their way and promise to stop and donate on their way out. Our morning continues, each of us take our turn with many more “Good morning” and “Excuse me’s.” We meet a mix of people, some run past, most give a few coins, some give a few dollars, and a few give bigger bills. Don’t get too excited though, by big I do mean fives, tens, or twenties.

            Out of all those people that I spoke with on that day, one stuck out in my mind. I did not notice when he went in, but on his way out he was one of the fast walkers with eyes straight forward. He was an older man so I was sure to speak up, “Excuse me sir, would you happen to have any spare change?” He heard me and turned to look, but it seemed to be more of an instinctive turn that he regretted before he even finished turning.

            “Spare change eh? What for?” he asked as he pulled out his wallet.

            “We our going on a mission trip in Belize where we will be tutoring children and doing some kind of a construction project.”He has a look on his face that I really have no idea what it means as he searches his wallet for a couple ones. So I try to fill the awkward silence in this moment, “We have a photo album right here if you would care to see a couple pictures of previous trips to this area.”

            He hands me two ones and looks down at the album I pushed towards him. He doesn’t flip through it, but only takes a minute to look at the page it is opened to. It is a picture of one girl with about ten seven year old girls in uniform. His eyes return to mine and says, “There sure are a lot of little Obama’s in that picture. You girls better stay safe.” And just like that he is gone and on his way.

            The other girls’ heads snap over in my direction in shock of what was said. Nobody is speaking and I feel slightly uncomfortable so I let out a small giggle. “He is just older and probably doesn’t see many black people.” I know that they aren’t convinced because I didn’t even convince myself. I’m just shocked that he said it. I don’t know for sure if he is prejudice or if that was just a new way for his generation to identify African Americans. I suppose that it is less offensive than other names he could have used. It makes me wonder about what he has been through in his lifetime.

            That man was gone and chances were that I would never again see him, except he would forever linger in my memories. This man had seem like any ordinary person, and I never would have guessed he would call a few students “little Obama’s.” I guess you never really know what a picture can bring to people’s minds.

Commitment to Exploration

            I am still uncertain of what creative nonfiction really is. Yes, I have a written definition and I know the different components that eat exist within this genre, but the challenge is for me to be able to write it with my own voice and presence. Throughout the course of this blog my hope is to make two simultaneous explorations; I am going to attempt to use the exploration of a new country to explore a new genre of writing. So here is goes.

            This exploration began once I returned from Christmas break. I sat down at my computer and decided that since my professors had not yet had the chance to give me enough homework to ruin any opportunities to have a social life or even just a little spare time that I would actually read the emails sent to all students from random people. Admitting this now seems a bit contradicting. I complain that I would like spare time and when I actually have it I waste it on reading emails. This is beside the point though because it actually turned out not to be a waste of time.

            One of the first emails I opened was on all the mission trips that Waynesburg offered to its students. I read through them, first just out of curiosity to see where some people might be spending their Spring breaks, suddenly though I found a couple that actually interested me. I figured nice weather, doing good deeds, other college students, how bad could it be? So I sent messages to a couple friends to see if any of them would also want to go somewhere. I was feeling adventurous, but not to the point of new area and ALL new people. One familiar face would be sufficient enough for me. To my surprise Elizabeth responded saying that she also looking at Belize but didn’t want to go by herself. It was perfect!

            So we went down to see the trip leader, Skip, and he told us that it we were just in time if we were serious about going, but he was going to need us to commit within the next couple days. Everything was going to happen very quickly. I wasn’t sure if I knew completely what I was getting myself into. It started out as just a great idea and now suddenly it was going to be reality. I needed to turn in a deposit to show that I was in for sure, fill out a scholarship application over the weekend, and start attending weekly meetings to get more familiar with the country. So, it was decision time, in or not. I went back to my room and pulled out my checkbook. I signed my name hoping that I wasn’t paying for a mistake before I even made it, but instead for an exciting and rewarding, disregarding costly, trip.

Soon to come will be the actual details of what they say will happen.