It’s the little things…
When I say that I am risk-averse, afraid of failure, introverted, and anxious, some people who’ve met me laugh and deny my own assessment of my personality. “You can’t be serious,” they quip, “you’ve picked up and moved to the Palestinian territories for a year! With no one you know!” But I never denied being 100% crazy. Somehow my internal drive to serve and learn as much as possible has brought me here to a flat in a region that has internet on occasion, in which everyone speaks Arabic, and where I have no clue what is going on. The huge issues of water shortages, people dying, peace talks, etc. coexist with my personal struggles to fit in, to find what I need to eat and live, to keep my sanity when I feel so far from what I know. Often, I feel completely inadequate to the task of being a SALTer and I wonder who would have ever believed I was capable of such a position!
Usually, it is time by myself, alone and unoccupied with any task, that feeds my rampant self-doubt and insecurity. In these moments of weakness, it is so hard to find the inner strength to push these thoughts aside and get on with living. Fortunately, it is not very often that I face such times. But on a weekend such as this, when I have nothing planned and my roommate is off on some adventure, I can succumb to unpleasant moroseness. Watching endless CNN reruns of world news headlines and hurricane tracking could depress even the most cheery of personalities! (Stay with me—there’s a happy ending…) Yesterday when I was on the couch pushing “refresh” over and over in hopes of getting the net, I finally made it on to Facebook. Not many of my friends were on, since it was before
6 am on the East Coast, but I was lucky to find my college friend Morris on chat. To make a long story short, he convinced me to stop being a lame, lazy couch potato and to go out and explore. (No, he didn’t say it like that.)
Summoning all my courage and adventurous spirit I hauled myself out the door and marched toward what I imagined was Bethlehem: my goal to find Manger Square and the old city on foot. Not sure where I was heading, I followed some street signs and strolled along, recognizing sights here and there. About an hour and some weird looks later, I panted into the Square, very proud to have arrived, finally. Now, I was sure that there had to be a quicker, easier route from my house. I didn’t know where would be a good place to stop and get a drink during Ramadan (anyone would probably sell me something, even if it was offensive to them or other Muslims) so I trekked a little farther to the MCCers’ apartment and found Trey and Jessie. After a hiatus there, I got direction back towards my flat, the faster way. This time, the trip was about half an hour—quite a difference!
There was no point in my trip, just to get a better sense of direction and a sense of accomplishment. So it was in all regards a success! My self-esteem got a little boost and my personal victory was complete. I have already faced a number of significant challenges that really stretch my ability to adapt and work, but this small achievement meant a lot to me as I officially enter my second month here. Perhaps it seems silly to get so much assurance from a jaunt around town, but it couldn’t have been more exhilarating. Sometimes it’s the little things…
