No, it doesn't

I was leaning on the railing of deck 8 yesterday looking down at the dock.   A crowd of Mercy Shippers had gathered to say goodbye to a departing crew member; hugs all around and arms waving until the land cruiser was no longer in sight (probably a fair number of leaky eyes as well but I was too far away to be certain).  A crew member leaning on the railing just a few feet down stirred me from my reverie.  He had arrived a couple of weeks ago he said and asked how long I had been on the ship for. 

“Seven years”, I replied. 

“Does it get any easier”, he inquired, “saying goodbye to people?”

“No.  No, it doesn’t”, was my immediate and definitive reply.

Xavier ran up at that moment, "Daaaaaad, you said you'd take me inside" - so I did.  Had our conversation continued I’m sure I would have told the new guy about how it is still worth it to develop relationships and touched on a number of the joys of living in this community, and those things are true.  But the conversation didn’t continue and I’ve been mulling over my knee-jerk, unfiltered response to him: “No.  No it doesn’t”. 

Saying goodbye becomes familiar.  You learn to accept it.  Perhaps to a degree you even become calloused to it.  Some simply stop doing it all together, avoiding goodbye parties and send-offs on the dock.  Others regrettably choose to not build relationships because it hurts less to say goodbye to those you don’t really know.

But it doesn’t get any easier.  Not even a little bit. 

Already in the past few weeks some friends and good acquaintances have left.  In the coming days and weeks some best friends are leaving.  And my heart hurts.  If I think about it too much my throat gets tight and my eyes get shiny.  I’m not angry.  I don’t feel abandoned or not cared about.  I rejoice in their decisions to follow God’s call for the next season of their lives.  They will go with my blessing and love, and with Dara’s as well. 

I write these words as a means of expressing how much they mean to me – to us – and also to strip the candy-coating off of saying goodbye.  It sucks.  That doesn’t mean that it’s bad, or that we should avoid it, or that relationships aren’t worth it.  But it still sucks.  And no, it doesn’t get any easier.

Taking Out The Trash

We see some interesting things living on a ship.  I took this video from the aft end of the Africa Mercy the other day.  A whole new perspective on taking out the trash.  My boys would LOVE it if they were allowed to do this!

Humbled

I got an unexpected and humbling piece of mail a few days ago.  I was debating whether or not to blog it as it could come across as prideful. I decided, though, that it gives me the opportunity to both celebrate God's power in my life and to thank those of you who have been supporting me through my academic endeavors these past two years - especially my incredible wife and children who put up with me being unavailable often working on homework and writing papers.  Thanks, too, to all who have been supporting my studies through finances and prayer.  One year left to go...

Ketchup

Time to ketchup (catch up) again:

We celebrated Malachi's birthday with a viewing of 'Cloudy With a Chance of Meathballs 2', cake, pizza and presents.

New age, same vintage joyful smile

It would seem that I haven't lost the knack for good homeade pizza

Elijah recently participated in the work experience program onboard.  He got to take three days off from school to work in the Deck Department as a deck hand.  All of the Junior High and High School students applied for positions in departments onboard and got to work in them.  It is a great program, which Dara organizes, and a highlight of the year for a lot of the kids. 

Eli decked out (pretty punny, huh?) in his deck hand work clothes

This one was just a fun picture of Dara and the boys on the couch together.  Man, they're getting BIG!

Got There As Fast As I Could

As the saying goes for those not from the Lone Start State: I wasn't born here, but I got here as fast as I could.  I will always have a lot of Seattle in my blood but I have also come to love East Texas.  I recently spent three weeks there as a firefighting instructor for maritime Basic Safety Training.  It was a fun three weeks.  A huge thank you to the Thompson clan for opening their home to me.  I don't actually have any photos of our fireground training this time but below are a few others that stand out from the trip.

Yeah, snow (well, frozen rain really) in March in East Texas.  Crazy weather.

Ed Woolever treated me to dinner at 'Circle M Crawfish' in Big Sandy, TX - and it's as redneck as it sounds, complete with a tractor auction on the TV...so of course I loved it.

Boiled shrimp, potatoes, and corn.

Fried Catfish and shrimp.

Perspective

Last week wasn't awesome.  I (Peter) was frustrated - okay, I was angry - on a number of fronts.  The other day one of the writers onboard asked if I would be willing to share a brief story about my time in Africa or on the Africa Mercy.  Writing it provided the perspective that I needed to shake out of my funk.  Thanks, Gracie.

Here it is:

How do you describe a changed life?  Where does one begin to express the depth of gratitude for a transformed heart?  Mercy Ships is about changed lives.  It is not what we do, it is who we are.  In the past seven years onboard the Africa Mercy I have seen physical, emotional, and spiritual transformation that defy reason and logic; miraculous healing, lives mended, hearts born anew, brokenness made whole.  My heart leaps for joy each time a Mercy Ships crew member impacts the life of those we are called to serve, in whatever capacity that may be.  Words cannot adequately express the glory of this process.

It is not these changed lives that I struggle most to describe, though.  It is my own.  When I first arrived in West Africa I was assaulted by experiences and sensations that I had no frame of reference for; physical destruction, ravaged bodies, trash-strewn roads, filthy water, oppressive heat, and a worldview and approach to life that was completely foreign to me – even after cross-cultural training.

Time, relationships, and the unrelenting love of those we come to serve have worked a gradual metamorphosis of my heart and paradigm.  The circumstances of life in the West and Central African nations that we serve is much the same as it was seven years ago when I first arrived.   However now I see beauty, opportunity, unfathomable joy…  I weep for the times that my vision falters and mourn the loss of a day spent doing anything other than reveling in the glorious adventure I am fortunate to be a part of.

Regardless of how long I stay or where I go next, these years will always be ones that I can celebrate as transformational.  West and Central Africa are not comprised of ‘developing nations’ to me.  They are where I learned that pain and joy are not mutually exclusive; to savor the lingering heat of pepper sauce at the back of my throat, and that plantains will sooth the burn; that many of my assumptions about the world and the teachings of Christ were, at best, narrow; to recognize the trickle of sweat down my back as a reminder of the blessing of this journey; the snap at the end of a handshake; the privilege of learning to see things from a new perspective; and knowing that I need to be transformed by Christ through those we serve at least as much as they need to be transformed by Christ through us.

Guitar Hero

Elijah has been getting guitar lessons from one of our friends, Nick Cash.  Having awesome guys like Nick giving of their time to do something like this (for free, no less) is one of the awesome things about community.

Elijah has been learning incredibly fast and joined Nick in doing worship for our Monday morning community meetings.  We are so proud of Elijah and his commitment to learning this skill, and we are blown away by how incredible he is at it!