What's Next: Death Defying Gravity

Thursday, December 01, 2011

Greeley, CO USA

Plunging deep below the 59◦ Fahrenheit waters of Table Rock Lake in Missouri led me to my longest and deepest dive coupled with a face to face conversation with death, Christ and myself. I had the magical experience of seeing my first ship wreck lodged onto some silt covered rocks and bashfully hiding her damaged port side. “Miss Gayly,” as I discovered after some gentle exploration on her hull with a fingertip and a flashlight, had sunken with a hit to the side and the key still in the ignition. No one knows what happened to her passengers, but I felt as if I had my own mystery tale to unravel.

Continuing on, my father and the guide, AJ, and I had difficulties with visibility as we meandered over the cliff edge and dove deeper down into the darkness. Though the sun ruled the surface waters on that breezy but beautiful Wednesday, silt and algae took their claim on the depths. In the 1970s, a city called Oasis, Missouri was evacuated and drowned out by the damming of the river to create a reservoir. To this day the city, several boats and a forest remain untouched and unmoving below the surface as the bottom plunges to roughly 225 feet deep. The forest itself, around 88 feet down and off the edge of a smooth cliff is hauntingly beautiful. Her shadows lie a few feet from each other and unraveled their tales to my doubting eyes slowly as my fins cautiously navigated the water behind me. As I desperately tried to maintain sights on my father swimming in front of me, hold my flashlight in a generally straight manner despite the pesky light refraction underwater, maintain neutral buoyancy, navigate the trees and keep my goggles cleared, a renegade shadow branch grasped my regulator cord and ripped it out of my mouth. In my attempts to regain my mouthpiece, time slowed to a standstill and I floated helplessly in a desperate strain toward oxygen and sight in the blackened, gloom of the forest. I felt as if I was hanging from a limb, weightless, stranded and face to face with Monsieur la Mort, gentleman of the demise. He looked me straight in the eye and asked me one question; “Are you prepared to meet your maker and end this strange adventure you call life here on earth?” Silent, yet still reaching for my lifeline, I felt a gentle and bizarre peace set over my shoulders and slide over my wetsuit until it had engulfed me. “Yes, I am. I am ready to die.” In uttering these words to whomever I was talking to, two things came to me quite suddenly and abrasively.

1.)    I had not said goodbye to my mother.

2.)    I had not told the man I loved that I, indeed, loved him.

I knew full well that my friends and family knew how much I loved them, for I sought to show it and express it as often as possible, yet for some reason I could not shake these two things. Death raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s the conclusion then, darling?” In this moment, I imagined Christ himself handing me my regulator and murmuring gently, “Bethany, I have so many plans for you. I want you to continue to love and continue to learn. Keep swimming.”

Suddenly, as I placed my regulator back into my desperate mouth and cleared it of un-breathable water, time rushed back into place and I could hear the familiar repetition of respiration as my own life bubbles danced in the water above my head. Keep swimming. Keep loving. Keep learning. Those are tasks toward which I can strive. Those are tasks that I can handle. Those are tasks that I adore, in fact.

Though I became lost a time or two after that and I continued to view caves, cracks, cliffs and catfish, this memory haunted my soul. Among the shadows of a forgotten forest, I came face to face with something that used to scare me and realized that I have but two regrets. I saw my mother again, so that was taken care of. As for number 2, I called him a few days later and my heart is still smiling.

What's Next: Today I Need.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Reeds Spring, Missouri, USA

As I start my day today amongst the hugs and happiness of a stirring, Blackburn family, I notice how the sun is hesitant to shine. Today, I really need it to shine because my father and I are taking a daddy/daughter trip to SCUBA dive the infamous Table Rock Lake, a lake in which I have swam since I was tinier than the majority of fish that dominated her waters. Today, I really need it to shine in order to stay warm as I slip beneath the gentle waves caused by the renegade boater who is slightly less daring than I as he grazes the top of the lake. Today, I really need it to shine because I am trying so hard to keep my wits and smile about me and ignore the pressing blur that keeps setting in as of late. Today, I really need it to shine because I want a reminder from God that everything really will work out, though I may be missing the other reminders that he is providing me at the moment. But today, I am with my family, so I choose to seek out the little pieces of sunshine inside the house so that I can squish them together and see the love that everyone brings to the Thanksgiving table year after year.

Figure it Out

You know how they say that time will heal all wounds? Well, I would like an extra dose of that medicine, please. I am slowly figuring out that I am going to be okay. I have been reassured by my friends and family that life on my own is what I've been doing before him and can do after him. I am strong, and sometimes it is all too easy to forget that. It hurts, but God granted me a huge bandaid, (I like to think that it has Batman on it) in the form of loved ones surrounding me.
I shall never regret loving, nor should I, but now I am free to love even more so. I have learned so much from this situation and I understand more now how to gently pull my heart back into my own hands. I am in control of my own feelings, thoughts and actions. Therefore, I shall carefully, gradually and continuously reallocate those towards the neglected channels in the forms of my homework, friends and job here at my University.
Life goes on. We're the better for it. Never regret; always forgive.
Life, love and the pursuit of happiness? I don't know; but I'm figuring it out.

My favorite song keeping my dreams alive

Carla Bruni's version of "You Belong to Me"

Everything

The way we were seemed perfect
Who we were felt right
The future laid so clearly
Then blindsided without a fight.

I understand that you love me
I've shown I love you, too.
So why choose this path that's turning
and pushing me away from you?

No matter what, I told you,
I will stand by your side.
You promised me the world and more
I had your heart and you had mine.

Then comes our anniversary
For me, brings memories and smiles
I had no idea your pain
Was so great with all these miles.

I thought I knew your heart so well
Your very thoughts, they spoke to me
You proved me truly wrong today.
Said that we could no longer be.

My darling, I still love you so.
I'm convinced that you do, too.
Will pushing me away right now
Just reignite the fire in you?

Somehow, I will accept this news,
Though understanding cannot be.
Babe, you weren't my everything,
But you are everything to me.

The Cure? Culture Shock 3.0

I have found that the best way to cure my culture shock so far is a short list of Bethany Habits. Some come naturally and some are being purposefully created. Whatever the beginning might be, I have the same end in mind: normality. (However, I still can't identify if that's a reasonable or even desirable goal. Perhaps I should shift that to comfortability or belonging, since neither of those have been achieved as of yet).

1.) Fill your schedule. If you're busy enough, you won't have as much time to miss what you left behind. This works most of the time until you have a mental breakdown because you're overwhelmed and suffering from culture shock. In my life, this seems to be a common issue. Therefore, I move on to step two.

2.) Avoid pictures and conversations with those you met abroad; wanderlust will only return at this point. I have failed with this idea, mostly because I think it's unhealthy. Granted, I yearn even more for my home in France when I sift through old photos and Skype with my buddies from abroad but, without doing so, I feel like I would be denying new pieces of myself that I just acquired. If I just bought a new book, I will want to read it even if it reminds me that I can't go back to that store I love so much for a very long time. Not doing so would be ignorant.

3.) Do not search to see how much flights cost to return. I have also failed at this. I search about once a week to see just how much effort, how many extra shifts and how much time off I would need to return to answer the call of my heart to that land far away.

4.) Hide your passport from yourself. This is a great tool if you tend to try to use it too often and are thus suspected of terrorism or at the very least suffering from over-wanderlust syndrom. In my case, it was a joy of looking over my arrival stamps, so I hid it in a "very safe place" that I am still trying to recall.

5.) Hang out with international students and do cultural things. This will indeed help you to feel as if you have switched shoes and can now properly welcome newcomers to your home culture. This is also a great resume builder and eye-opener to the world surrounding. However, it will also increase your urge to follow them back to their countries of origin in order to experience yet another adventure. Deny this if you ever want to lose the culture shock. Accept it it you want to thrive in a global world and to continue on the crazy train. (I chose the latter route).

Culture Shock 2.0

So I unwittingly decided to learn the hard way. Is this a new thing for me? Not really. I tend to do my research before jumping into anything. When I think that I am fully prepared and feeling as adventurous as anyone could be, I leap. However, life seems to think that there are additional lessons to learn that research can't teach me; that includes falling flat on my face sometimes.

Before returning to the US, I had researched my way through culture shock, expatriatism and repatriatism as those sent abroad return to their homeland. My family and few close friends stood by in an accepting and loving welcome, as I had prayed they would be. What I wasn't expecting, however, was for my homeland to not be waiting with open arms. Sure, I knew that my stories wouldn't be received by all with excitement, but rather jealousy and ignorance on a rare occasion, but that is not the hard part. The hard part is flying into a place so familiar but yet so changed. Life went on. It's as if I tripped into a novel halfway through; everyone knows the plot line and details and I am clueless but afraid to let anyone know. I suppose I could take the "fake it 'til you make it" road, but instead I choose the "dive in and become so busy that you don't notice the storyline they're following" road. After a few weeks of being back, however, it seems that I am reading a different book entirely; not only that, but it's written in a different language.

My eyes are different, my processes are different and my heart lies elsewhere.

Don't get me wrong, I beg of you, I really love my country. The United States of America is my home! My family is here, my school is here and my past is here. But is it so strange of me to consider picking up another book in a different land for awhile?

Problem (and answer) number two: I am in love. However, that is not the only reason why my heart is called abroad! I want to broaden my horizons so much so that I can make a valuable impact in my communities; those communities are not just within the boundaries of the wonderful US. I have pushed them to France, Germany, and who knows where else? I want to become knowledgeable in my field and gather experiences from all around the world. Also, I want to follow my heart. I want a family someday and a happy, healthy marriage to be a good example for my family, myself and my kids. I want to be ministering in three languages, cultivating a community and never stop learning. God is the only one who knows where and when I can and will accomplish these things, but He has laid them on my heart and soul and I will follow.

Door after door slammed in my face. After being locked inside that room of confusion and desperation, the windows are being thrown open to let the sunshine in and are beckoning me to climb through. I must confess to you all that one of those windows is painted with black, red and yellow and the other in a patriotic, three-striped, red, white and blue fashion. I don't know if I can crawl through both, but I sure plan on trying.



Culture shock 2.0: My homeland never moves, but I'm evolving.

The Viewpoint of the Angels

March 2nd, 2011

Top of the Duomo, Milan, Italy

The views from the precipice are beyond spectacular! The thousands of statues seem to guard the massive, Catholic cathedral as they face outward toward the grand city of well-dressed and fairly friendly people. Though it might be easy to assume some theory of protecting religion, something about the separation of Church and state or religion becoming a relic, I see the 2000 some statues in states of study, worship, repose and communion. The gold pieces surrounded by brilliant types of marble stand as beauty and grandeur against the surrounding storms, as it has for hundreds of years. Lesson application possible and that I choose to see today: we all stand together in the house of the Lord; grand, strong, and beautiful. Most importantly, however, we stand together with arms raised towards the heavens. I soak up the sights, sounds, memories and lessons as I stand amongst the statues in awe.

Adventuring on "Winter Break"

March 1st, 2011

Milan, Italy

What a journey! Lushuana and I just spent the last two days in Paris, France seeing the Louvre, l'Arc de Triomphe, les jardins des Tuileries, la Seine river, le Musée d'Orsay, la Bastille, la Défense, and les Champs-Elysées. We met up last night in a sketchy area in search of a little jazz club with my new American friend Clint, French alias 'Claude,' and our French friend, Ben, from ESC. Unfortunately, it ended up being closed, so we went to the corner bar where the local crowd danced, sang, and chatted. We did not fit in at all but yet I did not feel uncomfortable; at least the atmosphere was acceptable because the neighborhood itself was a different story. The next hour or so was then spent trying to find a way home to our hostel near Moulin Rouge because the metro was halted due to a suicide somewhere down the line. It was a mad rush of maps, buses, directions, questions, metro lines and long walks. We finally arrived just before the hostel closed the doors for the evening. The boys eventually got home, too, as we were on the phone with them the entire way just to ensure that everyone was settled and safe. Thank goodness for them. When we came to our room, there were two girls asleep who we found out the next morning were Stephania from Venice and a girl from Argentina who had decided that it would behoove her more to keep sleeping all day than to shake our hands.

Breakfast was typically French and typically delicious. The hot mint tea felt good on my throat as my bronchitis couch seems to be holding on like a weed in an old well, probably due to my overcapacity of adventures. We had a wonderful day in Paris and I absolutely love le Musée d'Orsay! Impressionism seems to hold a secret of my heart, perhaps because it is the only art where the artist can add his opinions and expression directly into the art, thus communicating his inner spirit and not just what the eye can see. I saw two of my favorite paintings in the whole world: Renoir's "Le Moulin de la Galette" and Van Gogh's "Starry Night" in their original grandeur and my senses tingled with both excitement and inspiration. There were famous paintings one after another and the museum was one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen! Photos were forbidden, but we snuck in a few on Lushi's iPhone just because we could barely believe our eyes! The coolest thing is that, as we are residents and students in France, we get into the Paris museums and a few attractions for free. We received free entrance into l'Arc de Triomphe on Monday the 28th and several other things as well. I really want to take advantage of this superb opportunity and will go back to Paris soon to see the rest of the Louvre, le Centre Pompidou, the Picasso and the Musée of Contemporary Art. Why not? That has become my motto over these last few months. I may never again have this opportunity. In fact, I'm learning to take advantage of any and all opportunities in order to push myself to new horizons.

After all the fun, we took a shuttle for Ryanair, 15 Euros, and arrived at Paris Beauvais. After having arrived in Milan, we took a shuttle to the train station and had to hire a taxi to take us to our hostel because our cheap flight arrived very late in the night and the city had shut down. Because of this, we couldn't buy a map so we went off of Google Maps that we had printed before the voyage. We made the last minute call, however, to go for the safety option and hire a taxi driver to escort us there. Finally, we reside happy, exhausted and ready for more adventures.

Letters to Home, Part 4

January 1^st, 2011

Chantepie, France

My Dearest Mother,

My new home! Chantepie, France

I am so sorry that I haven’t been highly in contact. I can’t figure out whether or not I have access, limited or not, to the internet and things are very different here; it takes some getting used to. Today, Madame Deschamps is taking me to see my school and understand the bus system. I am very tired and have not yet completely adjusted to the time change. I fell asleep around 5 pm my first day, Friday, and slept until 3 am. Then, I couldn’t sleep and it was dark and quiet so I unpacked, got settled into my room as quietly as possible, and journaled. I just started my new book with which I am sure you are very familiar. H.G. Well’s Time Machine. The lofty language is intense after speaking only French, but I like it. The introduction was 30 pages long, so I really have only read that so far. I figure this way, I can keep my nightmare of forgetting English from coming true!

Understanding the metro system in Rennes, France

Madame Deschamps is very nice! She and a friend picked me up at the train station, la gare de Rennes, and drove me to the house. It’s fairly big for a French house and there are artifacts from all over the world that scatter the walls and surfaces. She’s a widow of 8 years and she lost her mother 7 years ago. We talked about it a bit and she said that the holidays are very hard for her. She’s probably 60 years I would guess; yes, you called it!

I still have not heard English spoken since I left Texas, but I met some tourists along the way and some sweet, older French people who helped me find my way. I suppose this immersion thing will happen faster than we counted on!

Apparently my Hungarian roommate is no longer coming because her father was diagnosed with cancer, so I will have the room to myself and a higher rent payment. She says that there may be more students coming and one of them might share my room, so I will see what happens!

It’s cold here, but no worse than Colorado except for the sea being so near that the air holds a denser and more chilling humidity level. Yesterday it was about 32 F and today it warmed up to 40 F. We watch the news everyday so I am learning to understand the relative temperatures in Celcius and to catch the weather descriptions in rapid French.

Happy New Year! Bonne année! I hope that you did something fun and are thoroughly enjoying yourself. It’s nice to write in English! At least my language skills are being challenged; I can understand most of what people say but it’s very difficult, especially since I’m still so jetlagged. They told me that I am doing very well and am responsive. I try to ask a lot of questions in order to comprehend the context and underlying meaning of their comments; French humor shall soon be mastered! It at least helps me to understand how my International students feel! Empathy is a powerful tool and emotion.

I miss you so much already and wish that you could see these beautiful and different things with me! Please tell everyone that I’m ok and share my stories because I cannot write to everyone.

Toujours/Always,

Bethy Ru

Letters to Home, Part 3

December 31^st, 2010

Chantepie, France

Dear Daddy, 

My daily bus stop, Chantepie, France

I am finally, safely tucked into my host home! My host, Raymonde Deschamps, is a lively, spunky older lady around 65 years old. I am so excited to get to know her. She had everything ready and prepared for me when we got home and she even picked me up at the train station. We had arranged before what color and types of coats we would be wearing so that we could easily spot each other, since we had never before met. She and her friend speak incredibly quickly but are equally sweet and concerned with my well-being and background. The house is beautiful! There are three others staying in the house right now.

1.)    Sylvie: a middle-aged woman who is feisty and funny. She has a little dog, too, names Aeole (after the Greek god of wind).

My room and all my things!

2.)    Tony: Sylvie’s son. He is apparently Mexican in some way, though I have no idea what their story is. He is just visiting for New Year’s but will be back around later.

3.)    Thierry: a policeman (le policier) I haven’t met him yet but he’s staying a few weeks. At least I feel safe!

Everything is different here except the juice and the bed, both with which I became immediately acquainted. I just finished a 4 hour nap after my 30 hours of travel and I feel miraculously better. I am not sure what to do for the next three hours until midnight. Raymonde has gone out with her friends and the others are going to bed. I don’t have a bus pass yet and I don’t know the city well enough to venture out on my own yet. The party may just be me and my pillow tonight.

Tomorrow, Madame Deschamps says that we’re going to take a tour of my school and the city, figure out the bus and take care of some business. Thank goodness because my converter doesn’t take my American three-pronged cord for my computer and I can’t figure out the internet. I have about 20% power left which is definitely not enough. My phone doesn’t show time because I’m seriously roaming and there isn’t a clock in my room. Thus, I feel really isolated. However, I’m fine. No one needs me and I have the things that I need to survive. Maybe a little society black out is just what I need. Also, I have a few days until my orientation on the 5^th and school doesn’t start until the 10^th of January, though my classes may start even later than that.

I haven’t eaten a meal since breakfast on the plane, but for some reason I’m not hungry. I’m going to try not to eat unless I’m hungry. That way, I’ll be healthier and I will probably thin out and tone up with all of my walking.

I am excited to take some me time. I’m going to read for a bit and then sleep some more. Hopefully there are fireworks to wake me and I shall wish myself a Happy New Year slumber. All is well with my soul. God is looking out for this girl!

Traveling Tips: France

December 31^st, 2010

Paris, France

Wow, navigating the Paris Charles de Gaulle airport by yourself is not easy. Future warning:

·         Pay attention and always be aware of signs! For instance, when you go through customs, greet them in the language you wish to speak, otherwise you might end up with an international crisis as they believe you are refusing to answer their interrogations.

·         After passing customs, STOP. Do not go to the doors that say exit because you will be passing baggage claim altogether and may need a security escort to return to this area and they generally speak French coupled with an angry tone.

·         Ask for help! There are information desks in each terminal and, as long as you can understand a French accent, you will have your questions answered (though maybe not in the preferred or expected way).

·         It may take 30-40 minutes for your baggage to arrive on the belt. It’s not the same efficiency as US airports, so take that into consideration and keep your frustration levels to a minimum. Drawing attention to yourself is generally a negative thing in airports.

·         There are few clocks around and most of them are in the 24 hour setting. Just subtract twelve. Also, don’t be afraid to ask strangers, “Quelle heure est-il?” This will prevent you from missing your train. That’s the plan, anyway.

·         ATMs are tricky and may not like you or your card for some unspecified reason. Deal with it. You’ll find one eventually that appreciates you and your money.

·         The train stations may be under a roof and look like a building, but they are freezing in winter time. Dress warmly and be prepared for the seasons into which you are traveling.

·         Find your seat according to the platform and car locators before the train arrives. This way, you can jump right onto the train when it pulls up; they don’t wait long.

·         “Parlez-vous l’anglais?” This question will pull you out of trouble if you’re confused. Most people speak a little bit and, by combining your knowledge of the two languages, you can figure out where to go and what to do.

If you have a ticket like boarding pass, be sure to validate it before getting on the trains. If it’s printed at home with a barcode, you don’t need to validate it. The conductor, if he ever comes by, will do this.