As Time Runs Out, I See Better the Clouds in My Way
As Time Runs Out, I See Better the Clouds in My Way
Thursday, June 18, 2009
With just five weeks to go before our departure from paradise, the tearful goodbyes have begun. Many friends are departing for their summer month(s) away to the States, so we say goodbye to most of them long before our own bags are packed. As I watch my older children navigate this rite of passage, my heart just throbs, but even after a sad wave to a friend leaving for the summer and who we won’t likely see again anytime soon (perhaps ever), my nine-year-old son agreed that it is far better we came and met these folks and experienced this than to have spared ourselves the heartache but also the blessings.
Last night I sat on the beach stargazing with some friends who are about to leave, and as we periodically scanned the beach around us with a flashlight for ghost or coconut crabs encroaching on our personal space, I thought how profound the cloud formations overhead were. For a few minutes, we could see our favorite constellations, albeit a little tilted from how I view them from the Massachusetts sky, and then for a few minutes, our view was clouded over. A shooting star was occasionally seen, as was a satellite (not this particular night, however). Then the clouds drifted over, and even though we knew the stars were still there, we had to TRUST that they were, since we couldn’t see them. That’s how it was for me to live here in this tiny place as a stay-home mom with a small child still at home. Some days I could see clearly and embrace all that this place had to offer. Other days, I felt the cloud roll over and fog my clarity. I had to TRUST that my clarity would return. I often felt squished by the fishbowl life and the impossibility of being anonymous when I just needed a few moments to feel that way. I needed to go to the grocery store and not have somebody ask me, quite publicly in the cereal aisle, why I took my kids to the hospital that particular day. That would cause me to fog over and lose my grip a bit on those days, until the stars came back into focus and I could once again navigate my way.
From another angle, I hope I tried to shine bright most days, but other days, I let a cloud of frustration or being overwhelmed dull my brightness. I did not always awaken to seize the day, but I think I was mostly honest with myself on those days. After the eighth knock on the door somedays, I decided to give my introverted, very private self permission to stop answering it or to turn the nonstop throng of the kids’ friends away. We let some in somedays, and other times we kept our time sacred and private. For me, it was the balance I needed for surviving in such a small population in such a remote place. And the conclusion I have come to is that, “Bonnie, that is perfectly okay.” There is no “right” way to do Kwaj. The only caveat to that is my recipe for living here, which includes these three very important things: To stay open-minded, to remember we are guests of our host nation and not act demanding or self-entitled, and to remain keenly aware that whatever battle you fight, that same person is going to end up as your kids’ sport coach or in your Sunday School class. You must be forgiving and move on, or you will be miserable. You must exercise a good dose of grace. The only way I personally could ever fill my supply up enough to occasionally get this part right was to go to the Lord. Nobody else has the power to offer it on their own. Only the One who defeated the cross has the endless supply of grace needed for the tougher moments in life.
So now, as I take my last trip across the placid lagoon waters on a friend’s sailboat, or I camp out with the family on the beach at the other end of the island, it all looks so much clearer. Time running out on something will do that for you. Our newspaper “publication” here is called “The Hourglass”. That’s how I feel about Kwaj...the sand is running out of our particular hourglass on Kwaj, for the time being, anyway. This place grew me in ways I could have never anticipated, but unlike the sand slipping out of the bottle with five weeks to go, my lessons learned can stick with me. When the clouds roll in back in Boston, and I temporarily can’t see ahead of me, I can remember that the stars will be seen once again. I will just need to hang on and recall the moments laying on my back looking up at Kwaj’s brilliant sky, praying that those crabs kept a comfortable distance while I took a moment to search the vast and beautiful universe from the tiny dot I lived on for a short while on this great big planet.