Paradise Broken

On the morning of Septemeber 11, 2001, when I saw the towers in the flames, I felt an unusual pang of longing, a longing to be in America. My country was shattered, and I felt I should be there, with my people, sharing their grief, mourning with them. (And yes, of course Saipan is part of the United States, but nonetheless, I felt so far away).

I felt that same longing again this week, here in America, only this time, my heart was breaking for the islands that have been our home for over a decade. My islands were broken and hurting, and I feel I should be there, with my people sharing in their grief and shouldering a portion of their pain.

The first blow came with the news of the murder on Wednesday of student missionary Kirsten Wolcott on the island of Yap. I never knew Kirsten, never even met her. But because she was a student missionary, just as I once was; because she served on the islands I've come to love; because she set out on a morning run on the last day of her life, just as I did a hundred times with student missionary teachers in Saipan, I felt an automatic kinship with her, as well her colleagues at the Yap SDA School devasated by loss. She, and they, are my tribe, my people. And my heart hurts.

The second shock came hard upon the first, and this one closer still to home--a mass shooting that resulted in five deaths and a half dozen injuries in Saipan on Friday. Nothing like this has ever happened in Saipan, and the island, already beleagured by so much trouble, is reeling. The Facebook updates of friends recorded shock and confusion in real time, as schools were put on lockdown while police looked for the shooter. They found him eventually, dead by his own hand, at the edge of Banzai Cliff. When I first heard the news, my thoughts immediately went to our teachers at the Saipan SDA School. I knew based on the location of the shootings and the descriptions of the victims that they were physically fine, but I was concerned about their emotional well-being as well. These courageous young women have been through so much--wading through their first year of teaching (which in itself is quite ordeal), enduring multiple break-ins of their home, and now the murder of one of their colleagues on another island--and then this. I felt for them, these teachers who would have been my friends and co-workers if we had remained in Saipan. And I felt for my island and for people of the Marianas that have become extended family to me over the years. These--the teachers of Saipan SDA, and the people of the CNMI--are my people. They are my tribe and I feel I should be with them.

But I cannot be there, and so I mourn our paradise broken from afar.



Kirsten Wolcott. Our prayers our with her family, friends, co-workers, and students.


Last Command Post on the northern end of Saipan, where the gunman shot the second group of victims. Our prayers are with the families of those who lost loved ones in this tragedy, and with the victims who survived for healing for their wounds and a speedy recovery.

Mighty to Save

So lately I've been claiming a song as a prayer. Can you do that? I hope so, because I am.

I've come to realize that in the end there's only so much I can do for my students. I can reward them and punish them. I can threaten and cajole. I can try to inspire their curiosity and rouse their interest. I can listen and care; advise and guide. I can plead with them and I can pray with and for them. But in the end, I cannot save them. Only God can do that. It's hard to accept that there is only so much you can do. You don't want to lose a single one, and it's hard when you think you might. I've got a couple students right now that I'm really struggling with. Today, in particular, I drove him feeling a pretty down. And then that song I'd been claiming came up on my ipod. . ."Savior, He can move the mountains, my God is mighty to save, He is mighty to save. . ." I wasn't feeling it so much at that moment, but I decided that just because I wasn't feeling it, didn't make it any less true. He is mighty to save, and He alone can do what I cannot--reach a life where hope seems lost and turn it around. And so once again, I claimed, sang, prayed, that song for my troubled students, believing that Jesus can move the mountains in their life.

And tonight on that drive home, as I lifted my current students up in prayer, I thought of one of my former students, also going through a tough time though in quite a different way. I talked with her for a long time on the drive to work the other day, and I ended the conversation feeling as if I'd done little good. I wanted so much to really encourage her and make things better for her, and I didn't know how to do that. Once, again I had that horrible, helpless feeling we teachers sometimes get--the feeling that we can't do what we want to do most of all--make a difference. And so I turned once again to the only one who can make a difference--the Author of salvation, the One powerful enough to conqueor even the grave, and lifted my former student to Him as well.

I can't save my students, as much as I want to. But I know Who can, and so I turn to Him, every day.




If video doesn't play, you can go directly to the link, here.

Introducting. . .Shadow!

The Shadow Team: Year 1. These kids have the honor of being a part of the very first season of CAA's own drama ministry, Shadow. The nicknames will come as I get to know these kids better. In the meantime, I can identify my co-director, Mrs. Wayna Gray, in white on the right. All the members of the team are present in this photo taken at the end of our retreat, Sabbath, October 31, 2009, except for two. One boy had to leave early, and the other was out of town that weekend and was unable to attend.

It's been a new chapter in so many ways for me this fall. So much of what I've known for the past decade or more is now a memory. And yet so much of my new life here in America carries echoes of the old life in Saipan. I'm in another small Adventist school with 70-odd students, many of which are not Seventh-day Adventist. I'm teaching another 8th grade class, helping them fundraise for their class trip in the spring. I'm once again one of the few men on a mostly female staff. And, now once again, I'm co-directing a team of young and enthusiastic thespians--Columbus Adventist Academy's brand new drama team, Shadow.

People asked me if I would continue REAL Christian Theater in the states, and I always said no. REAL belongs at the Saipan SDA School--in my view it shouldn't be transplanted or restarted elsewhere. REAL is special--it can't be replaced or replicated. But I always had a sense that I would start a new drama ministry at my new school--one that would be uniquely CAA, special in it's own right. I thought I'd wait a year or so, to get a feel for things at my new school, but I guess God had other plans. And so Shadow was born.

We held auditions in mid-October and the kids who came out blew us away with their creativity, energy, and talent. On October 31st, we held our first retreat at in the school cafeteria. It was an all-day affair, from 9 in the morning until 7 in the evening, with the emphasis on teambuilding, drama workshops, and most importantly, a spiritual focus for the year. Ten kids made it to the retreat, and they became the official new drama team, joined later by one more student who was out of town the weekend of the retreat.

After the retreat, we began meeting for rehearsals every Friday afternoon from 2:30 to 3:30 in my classroom, and last Friday we finally settled on a name for our team--Shadow. The name references many things--God's Light, for example, casts a shadow: us! We seek to remain in the shadow of the cross, under the shadow of His wings. And of course the whole idea of shadows has a uniquely theatrical feel to it as well. I'm excited to see how Shadow will reflect God's light and love on stage in the months and years to come.

This year's Shadow team consists almost entirely of 5th and 6th graders. We have only one older student, in 7th grade. This is great because it means we'll have three or four years together as a team to work together and hone our skills. It also means a team that is literally bursting with excitement and energy--which is great, but can also sometimes be bit draining! Still, I love the kids in Shadow, and I look forward to seeing them grow in their performing abilities and even more importantly, in their love for the Lord.

Pray for our team this year as we seek to be His shadow!

Three "Shadows" work on creating an original skit during the retreat, October 31, 2009.

Another group of three Shadow actors working on their skit.


Two "Shadows" taking a break during the retreat. The girl in the yellow is our youngest member. She is in either third or fourth grade--I can't remember which. Shadow auditions were open to all students in grades 3-8. This girl was the only 3rd/4th grader to make the cut.


Two "Shadows" perform their skit for the group.

Shadow circles up for some team sharing.

Autumn in America

The Maycock Family, November 1, 2009. We're a world away from the tropical environment Elijah was born into, but we're still surrounded by beauty.

The leaves are mostly gone from the trees now, the brief but brilliant season of color is already passed. But we managed to capture the tail end of that beauty last Sunday afternoon, the first of November.


The only reason I'm having so much fun is because I only raked for about 15 minutes before I went inside to work on my lesson plans. Mom Leen says she'll be raking through Thanksgiving!


The Little Fella in his favorite place: Outdoors!


Down the quiet street we live on.


Mom Leen labors on the never ending task of raking leaves.

An Afternoon in Yellow Springs

Yellow Springs, Ohio: A little bit of San Francisco dropped into Middle America. I believe this building used to be a train station. Inside are public restrooms which contain about a dozen original paintings by regional artists. That's Yellow Springs for ya. . .

Babs and I have always had an affinity for the bohemian. From our earliest days of dating we found in each other a kindred spirit--one drawn to the artsy, funky, vaguely hippie aesthetic. One of the things we loved about Saipan was the kind of people it seemed to attract--those that were interested in the wider world, those that sought the less-traveled roads. We were never going to be the sort of people that considered living next to a mall with a Starbucks and Applebee's around the corner the pinnacle of good living. No disrespect to those that do find the suburban American lifestyle satisfactory, of course. It's just not us.

So we worried about moving to the epitome of middle America--Ohio. Babs worried--especially after visiting places like San Francisco this summer-- that we couldn't possibly find an artist colony or organic coffee shop here in this part of America characterized by either farmland or big box stores. I, however, was convinced that even here, there had to be some kind of bohemian outpost. And it turned out, I was right. Just 40 minutes from home is Yellow Springs, Ohio, a small town with a good number of local artists, a collection of eclectic restaurants and cafes, a "green friendly" store, and funky mom & pop shops. Nearby Antioch University with it's population of young adults and older academics adds to Yellow Springs open-minded ethos. I'd heard about Yellow Springs through the local NPR affiliate that broadcasts from the town, and also from a friend on Interference who lives in Columbus and who does work with a recording and visual artist. She recommended the town as a place we should check out. Babs had read about the town as well, and it sounded interesting.

And so it was, that two weeks ago,on a sunshiney Sunday afternoon, our family piled in the car and headed out to see Yellow Springs for ourselves.

It was like coming home. We wandered the quaint streets--stopped in at the green store where the clerk gave Elijah a free grape-flavored organic sucker; browsed the used bookstore where they let you have one free children's book valued at $5 or less on the weekend. We checked out the local market, picked up a cup of steaming spiced cider at one of the cafes (caramel cider for me, and "Autumn Bliss", the chai cider for Babs), and snacked on freshly made french fries from a roadside stand. Yellow Springs was small-town without being parochial, open-minded without being pretentious. It was wonderful, and Babs immediately declared she'd like to live there.

Well, I don't know that we'll actually move to Yellow Springs--after all the drive to Columbus from there is still pretty substantial--but I do know we'll be visiting again. When we get tired of the Wal-Marts and subdivisions, the Olive Gardens and freeways, we know we can always head over to Yellow Springs, where the pace is slower, the art is omnipresent, the vibe is funky, and the food is free-range, fair-trade, organic, and/or locally grown.

For more information about Yellow Springs, Ohio click on their chamber of commerce link bookmarked in the post above or on this link for Explore Yellow Springs. It really does look like a great place to live!


Our boy with Daddy and Mommy in downtown Yellow Springs. He's in a pretty good mood after having consumed the organic, cane-sugar lollipop they gave him at the green store.



They even have an store featuring Asian decor. We didn't go inside this time, but I found the exterior to be quite interesting in it's own right.

Walking down the main drag through town.





A nearby park brilliant in fall foliage.

Reverie

They say it’s been the coldest October on record here in this part of America. Perhaps it has been—we’ve just accepted whatever weather comes as the price of living outside the tropics. It never occurred to us that freezing temperatures at night and mid-forty highs during the day might be out of the ordinary, and to be honest the chill hasn’t bothered us near as much as we thought it would—at least not yet. It’s warmed up some as the week has drawn to a close, but we know this is just a temporary reprieve before the onslaught of our first full winter in a dozen years. It’s been a busy week and I’m tired. I almost feel. . .yawn. . .as if I could fall asleep. . .right. . . now. . . .



The raindrops bounce off the surface of the water like a billion diamonds, the facets of each jewel sparkling in the setting sunlight. The sea is a like a warm blanket, pulled up to my neck; the sand beneath me a comfortable pillow. Several yards ahead of me, Nicole sits in the shallow ocean, her toes poking out of the water. To my right, Rhonda is crouched with her camera, trying to capture the moment and the memory. In hours, days, weeks, all three of us will be gone from this place. But right now, our thoughts are not in the unknown future or the warmly remembered days of tropic past—right now we are fully and completely in this precious moment.

It was just an ordinary tank swim, but it’s turned into something extraordinary, a memory of remarkable, unique beauty that will never be forgotten.


Approaching the tank from underwater

On the tank

French and Prokopetz







Sunset and rain's coming in. . .

Time to swim for shore. Time to say goodbye.




. . . .Oh! I'm sorry. I must have dozed off for a minute there. I had the nicest dream, about a place far far way and yet never far from my heart. . .But I'm back. I'm wide awake in America.

The Unofficial CAA 7th/8th Grade Class Portrait

This past Tuesday was picture day. At CAA they don't do the complimentary class photos, so I gathered the class after the individual portraits were done and had our maintenance man, Mr. Russell take these photos. The only reason they're not the "official" class photos is that two of our students were absent that day. So there will be another photo later with everyone in on it. Maybe we'll take it on the day when everyone finally shows up in their complete full dress uniform (which they're supposed to weare every Monday). Usually there's always a couple that are missing a tie or sweater.

The Commute

It's 6:00 A.M. Monday morning. Time to go to work--a quick self portrait on the way out the door.

I had this idea for some time that I was going to do a picture blog that takes you through a typical day in my new life here in America. I've come to the conclusion that it's too hard. It's too hard to remember to take pictures of each part of my day, too hard to get others to take photos of me so that you actually get to see me doing my thing. So I've decided to abandon that idea in favor of a few posts here in there in the weeks and months to come focusing on various aspects of ordinary life for us. Today, it's the commute.

People really feel sorry for me because of my commute. "Oh, the drive must be so hard," they commiserate. Actually it's not so bad. I rather enjoy it actually. In the morning, I spend some time praying (with eyes open of course--while it's vital to walk by faith and not by sight, driving by sight remains a must!), listen to "Morning Edition" on the local NPR affiliate, WYSO out of Dayton/Yellow Springs, and round out the drive with some music from my ipod. On the return trip in the afternoon, I start with some music and end with "All Things Considered" and my current NPR favorite "Marketplace" hosted by the super-chilled out Kai Ryssdal. I love his laidback delivery of the latest economic news--"The S&P fiiiiiive-hundred dropped a tenth. . ." And I'm always fascinated by the program,s down-to-earth and easily accessible insights into the financial world. It really is as they say, a money show for the rest of us.

I may also add some podcasts to my drivetime menu. My best friend J has introduced me to radio preacher James McDonald, and as much as I tend to be skeptical of media evangelists in general, I have to admit what I've heard of him so far is pretty good.

On rare occasions I may indulge in a phone call during the drive. I generally don't like to drive and talk--I don't think it's very safe, but sometimes I've relented if the traffic is stalled or conversely the highway is pretty empty. Sometimes I just get a zeal to talk to someone. Today I talked to mom for a bit. Last Friday on the drive home, I talked to Virle for almost an hour, getting the update on all the latest Saipan happenings. This past Tuesday, I talked to Ken and Crystal Pierson on the drive to Columbus. It's kind of surreal to be talking to old friends back home in Saipan while whizzing through southern and central Ohio at 75 miles per hour.

The commute is a valuable time for me to think and reflect--for someone who has always had to be busy, the drive ironically forces me to slow down. Many mornings I'm treated to vibrant sunrises, and the late afternoon sun bathing the fields and farms along the freeway is gorgeous too. The upside to a late departure from Columbus is that I get to see some spectacular sunsets too in final miles of the drive, just as "Marketplace" is coming to an end and Public Radio International's "The World" is coming on.

After tracing the same space of freeway for close to two months, I know the way intimately--there are dozens of little landmarks all along the way. The glowing neon of the Robert's Center sign, visible for several miles in either direction; the place where I-71 expands from four to six lanes and then contracts again; the "Do You Know Where You are Going When You Die" and "Hell is Real!" signs proselytizing in bold red and white letters from the roadside. I even have all the green "miles to go" signs memorized.

Early AM on the freeway.

Dawn. Entering Columbus city limits. Traffic generally slows here as I thread my way through the city, changing lanes constantly to stay on I-71 until I switch to I-670 for the final mile of highway driving.

Off the highway and on to Leonard, from there to Sunbury and about three and half miles to the school. It's about ten minutes of two lane black top winding through recently built subdivisions, the stately campus of Ohio Dominican Univeristy (where I've registered to start taking classes for my Masters degree incidentally), and stands of trees, brilliant in their fall plumage

The commute actually contains some genuine benefits too. For one, this school year I've gotten some of the best sleep I've had in the last ten years. Being fully rested and alert is a non-negotiable when you have a three hour round trip every day. I did the whole stay up/late get up early thing a few times this school year and my resulting drowsiness on the road was truly terrifying. I refuse to take risks like that, so I make sure I always get eight hours, of sleep, even if it means getting to work a little later than I'd like. The great thing is that, not only am I not sleepy on the trip to and from Columbus, but I'm at full strength all day at school. Unlike last school year in Saipan, there's no more post-lunch nodding off, no more struggling to get through the afternoon classes and prep time, no more self-medicating with caffeine.

The other great benefit to the commute is that, despite my zealous commitment to eight hours of sleep, most days I arrive at work much earlier than I did at my job in Saipan. In Saipan it was a newsworthy achievement when I got to worship on time, much less five or ten minutes early. Now I generally arrive anywhere from 30 to 45 minutes before staff worship. I'm often one of the first staff members to arrive, even though I drive longer and further than anyone else to get there. (It does help that school doesn't start until 8:45 A.M.) The funny thing is I'm usually late for work on the days when I stay overnight in Columbus at J's house. Even though I'm only 20 minutes away, on those days I'm usually racing to get to the school before my studens do.


First one to arrive.

The school grounds in the early morning.

Fueling up on the Word before the day begins.

So hard parts of the commute aren't connected to the drive at all. The hard part is the hit to our budget in gas--we budget $250 a month for gas and that's barely enough--and the toll on our car's mileage. I'm averaging about 3000 miles a month and have already added 9000 miles to the car since we bought it at the beginning of August.

But the hardest part of the commute is the time away from my family. Most days I see The Little Feller for only 30 minutes out of the entire day. On days when I overnight in Columbus, I may go two days without seeing him. This is very difficult and for me the best way to deal with it, is simply not to think about it or them When I'm in Columbus, I'm fully there--I block out everything else. I don't let me thoughts linger too long on my loved ones, because the missing would become too much to bear. Babs and I see a little more of each other, but only a little. We try to make up for it with our weekly Saturday night dates, but it still often feels like we barely see each other. I miss my family, and for that reason, the best part of the commute is coming home.


A beautiful sight at the end of a long day and a long drive!

Lessons Learned from the Long Arm of the Law

It was a foggy morning in late August and I was running late. I zipped easily around the curves of the unfamiliar suburban road, when suddenly my heart skipped. There he was lurking in the swirling mist, the uniform and large white motorcycle unmistakable. I tapped the brakes and quickly tried to bring the car down to. . .well, I actually wasn’t sure what the speed limit was. But slower is better right? As soon as I’d cruised past the patrolman I glanced in my rearview mirror and my heart sank as he pulled on to the road behind me. I groaned as the dreaded blue and red lights began to whirl. I pulled into a nearby empty bank parking lot and awaited my fate.

It turned out I’d been speeding and I’d been busted. The officer was courteous, even friendly, but steadfast. There’d been complaints from a nearby retirement home about speeders on this road, and I’d been going 51 in a 35. And while, here in America, “five over” the speed limite may be the unwritten rule, 16 over is definitely not. He wrote me a ticket and explained my options. I could go to the courthouse and pay the ticket. I could contest it. Or I could take a one-night traffic safety course and the ticket would be erased from my record (thus sparing me the likely increase in my car insurance). After giving it some thought (and comparing the costs of the ticket--$131—to the cost of the class--$150), I decided to go with the latter.

Besides the money I saved and the clean record, I’m really glad I went to this class, which was held at the end of last month. It gave me a new respect and appreciation for our police officers and the work they do.

I arrived just in the nick of time at 6 P.M. on a Tuesday evening, barely avoiding the irony of speeding to get to my traffic class. The class was a cross-section of Dayton, people of all classes, races, and ages (though perhaps trending a little younger—there were a good number of teen drivers there). Our class was taught by two good-natured officers from the Kettering Police Department, Officers Jen and Joe, if I remember their names correctly.

The class began with a pretest on basic Ohio state traffic laws, and then an informative and interesting seminar by the two officers about the dangers of speeding, drunk driving, and other driving hazards. The class closed with a posttest to ensure we’d gotten the information. We covered a lot I already knew, but I also learned some new things too. But the thing that changed the most for me was not so much my behavior on the road or my knowledge of rules of the road, but my impression of law enforcement.

I confess I always had a vaguely negative impression of “cops.” I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the negative stories in the media about police corruption and abuse. Or too many movies about rogue cops. Or maybe it was just that all the people I knew in high school who wanted to be police officers didn’t seem particular motivated to protect and serve. They, did, however seem pretty excited about carrying a gun. But that night at traffic school changed my perspective.

I learned that police officers are human. There are some that are good at their jobs and some that are not. As much as we’d like for every member of the police force to be a paragon of patience and virtue, the reality is that their field is just like mine: a broad mix of people in a vital profession—one where anything less than excellence is unacceptable and yet is nonetheless filled with people with varying levels of ability, passion for the job, and reasons for getting in to this line of work. All police officers should be great, just all teachers should be great—and the reality is that most of us in both professions are doing our best to reach that high standard. And in both professions, the stars and the stinkers tend to get most of the press (and movie treatments).

I learned that most police officers don’t want to “get you in trouble” (just as most teachers don’t want to give out detentions). They are just doing their jobs—and they understand that while most of us can’t see it, what they are doing is in our best interest. They’ve seen the worst consequences of speeding, drunk driving, texting and driving etc and they’d like to see less of that. I understand now why the officer who ticketed me said “You don’t have to be sorry,” when I apologized. At the time I was mildly peeved. “What do you mean I don’t have to be sorry,” I muttered to myself. “Of course I do, otherwise you wouldn’t be giving me a ticket.” Now I know he was trying to let me know that he knew I wasn’t a bad guy, that I hadn’t intended or caused any harm, his inability to “let me off the hook” notwithstanding. As a teacher, I know full well that without consistent follow-through, the deterrent for bad behavior for even the best of students rapidly disappears.

But perhaps the most compelling lesson I took home that night is that it takes a courageous, committed person to be a police officer. As a teacher, I most often deal with kids for whom there is still hope, no matter how frustrating the child can be. My job is to get those kids out into the world where they can make a positive difference. For police officers, their job is often to get the people we teachers couldn’t reach off the streets and prevent them from doing any further harm. It is by nature a dangerous job, and one that, I’m sure must be disheartening at times. Joe said that much of the time being a police officer is about arriving too late, cleaning up the mess after the damage has done, and most officers are deeply grateful for those moments when they happen to be at the right place at the right time and are able to avert disaster. Every police officer, whether a dedicated public servant or unpleasant guy on a power trip is putting his or her life on the line every single day. Imagine what it would be like going to work everyday knowing that the nature of your job puts your life and safety at increased risk—whether it’s getting out of your patrol car on shoulder of busy freeway, answering a domestic disturbance 911, or a call for backup from one of your colleagues, and in all these situations not knowing what you will encounter.

I still automatically tap the brakes whenever I see a patrol car standing guard on the freeway median, but now as I cruise by at what I hope will seem a reasonable speed, I’m a little more appreciative of the man or woman that sits behind the wheel of the car, radar gun in hand. The work they are doing is necessary and noble, and I salute them for it.

A big thanks to Officers Jen and Joe from the Kettering Police Department for helping one citizen understand a little better how life looks from their side of the badge. Keep up the good work, and stay safe!

Looking for Living Things

It was a pretty simple assignment, but I had a feeling the kids would really enjoy it, and it turned out I was right. All my 7th grade science students had to do was go outside and make a list of all the living things they could find. At first it seemed absurdly simple: Let's see. . . .grass, trees, birds. . .what else? But right about the time I spotted some tube-shaped mushrooms hiding in the grass, things started getting interesting. The the weathered lumber near the playground turned out to be a treasure trove of life--with each one we turned over, we found a creeping, crawling menagerie of life. Everything from fungi and lichens to worms and beetles to ticks and centipedes to the creature that brought our exploration to a shrieking end--a large rodent of some kind that scuttled out from beneath one of the overturned pieces of lumber.







This photo was taken just before we uncovered the rodent--we think it was a mouse--that sent everyone scurrying away. It's amazing what you can see when you pay attention. Just the other day I saw a very large animal--I think it might have been a woodchuck or groundhog-just across the street from the school.