Monday, November 4, 2013

Choices

On Sunday I attended a giant Mormon congregation in Salt Lake City. Sitting in the middle of it all was interesting because I immediately found myself thinking about the contrast between this and my Palauan church-going experience that ended just two short but significant months ago.

Every Sunday morning I sat in a small room with 30 or 40 Palauans. One or two or, if we were lucky, all of the overhead fans would be running. And still, sweat would bead on my forehead and roll down my face. I wore flip-flops as a part of my regular church attire. I would slip my feet out of them and plant them flat on the floor, the coolest surface in the room. Sometimes a tropical storm would rage on outside. Sometimes the sun would shine through the windows. All of the time it was hot. ALL OF THE TIME ALWAYS.

I just received a text from Mr. Daniel. "Officially missing Palau's weather today," he tells me, as he visits Salt Lake City this weekend and watches the first snowfall of the season with horror, as I'm doing, too. I'm wearing a thick sweater and my feet, no longer in flip-flops, but rather thick socks, are already numb from the cold. And I'm wishing more than just a little bit that I could be hanging out on my favorite floating dock with Daniel, playing "Harry Potter," "Battle," and a number of other senselessly violent games we made up under the equatorial sun for one year.

But then I remember the beading sweat.

No matter how far apart we live from one another, Daniel and I will always be able to bond over the memories of pushing one another out of the way so we could stick our faces into a freezer. Or trying our darndest to make a muggy wind tunnel in our apartment by opening up all of the windows and standing in the one spot where we could swear there was sometimes a breeze.

But my memories of Palau--the good ones--are mostly not about the weather and the heat. Right now, they are about attending church with those 30 or 40 Palauans.

Half of the meetings would take place in Palauan. I would pull out my notebook and start writing. Usually it would be something that would end up on Stranger the next day. Small, unattended, Palauan children ran up and down the short aisles, their steps causing the cracked and misplaced floor tiles to echo off of the bare walls--reminders of the most recent earthquake that plowed through the tiny island like a wave that didn't stop at the shore.

I would sit, often with the boys whom I now miss so much that my heart hurts if I think about it for too long. I would look around at my Palauan family--the people who took me in the moment I walked through those church doors in October, 2012. The people who loved me unconditionally and were so instrumental in getting me through so many hard things for a little while.

Things are so different now. So much better in so many ways. But lacking in some beautiful simplicity, too. And I can't help but miss so much of that.

For the past few days I've been thinking about choices. And how each of our lives is the product of choices, usually our own.

Choosing to go to Palau a year and half ago was a difficult thing to do. And it was hard to choose to stay there and try to be happy with the choice. It was hard to choose to come home, too, in its own little way.

Every choice we make in life is a calculated sacrifice. Choices can be difficult, but not usually because we don't know what we want. Choices are difficult because we don't know what we want over something else. It isn't pessimistic to realize this. On the contrary, realizing this allows us to respect the solemn obligation we have to make the right choices. Because with every choice we make, a row of good casualties lay untested.

And it can be so intimidating to make decisions when this reality is readily apparent. But the happiest people I know don't agonize over choices because they've already figured out their priorities. The bravest people I know are willing to do what it takes to figure out those priorities and follow through. Because of this, sometimes when I'm having a difficult time figuring out what decision to make, I have to admit to myself that the real root of the problem is that I haven't been brave.

As I look back over the last decade now that I'm nearing the close of my 20s (AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!) I can see all of the casualties of the choices I've made. I can see the sacrifices on the way that I've accepted in order to experience the adventures I valued most. In some cases, I'm so happy I made the choices that I made. Other parts seem foolish in hindsight. A lot of things seem foolish in hindsight. Especially when the hindsight is focused on the early 20s. And maybe in ten years, I'll feel the same about the late 20s.

I don't know what prompted me to share all of this with you. I guess I'm feeling a little sentimental and nostalgic this morning, thinking about how a bunch of hard choices have taken me through some hard things that for some reason I really cherish right now.

~It Just Gets Stranger 

23 comments:

  1. Every choice I have ever made has shaped me into the person I am today. Most of the time I like this person, sometimes I don't. Usually when I don't like this person its because of a recent choice I've made. I can look at the choices I made in my 20's an wonder what would have become of me if I made different ones. I like who I am and that is a direct result of some of the toughest choices I've ever had to make. Thanks for sharing this Eli, I needed it today.

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  2. I completely understand!! I think about it regularly. Most recently, I realized that I would not of been at Disney World with my best friends this past week if it wasn't for a choice I made in 2004 to be a High School Exchange Student. That was one of the biggest choices of my life, and I hate to think about where I would be today, who I wouldn't know if I hadn't done that. I can't imagine it any other way!!

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  3. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is exactly what I needed to hear right now.

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  4. I love this post. For thousands of reasons I love this post.

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  5. You talk about Palau in such a way that makes me feel nostalgic for it as well, even though I've never been there. I think that's a big part of why so many people love this blog.

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    1. I agree. I am also nostalgic for this place I have never been. I miss the Palauan stories, too, although I am enjoying the Utah ones.

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    2. Same here. It's almost like Palau is another home to me. And I realize how ridiculous that sounds. And I don't care!

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  6. This was so sweet and so needed today. Thank you.

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  7. You are a good man, Charlie Brown. Thank you.

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  8. Having had to make similar {albeit vastly different} choices, I understand where you are coming from. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading about your adventures (so much so that I went back to the beginning and read them in order and have almost reached the beginning) and seeing how our different across the world experiences are the same and how they differ.

    I find your way of dealing with the hardships and miscommunications and moments of extreme frustration extremely refreshing, but also a painful reminder of those times when I was not so graceful or gracious, or was far less able to just take a step back and remember that my life at the time was a grand adventure and I could gain so much more from what was happening than just pure anger and disillusionment.

    Thank you for helping me get through some of my harder times by sharing yours. Also, I hope you don't mind, but there are certain things within your blog that would be perfect teaching moments for my students... I would love to have permission to print out some of the entries for my kids.

    Here's looking forward to this adventure and all the next.

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    1. Kylle, thanks for the comment. By all means, share away. I'm flattered that you feel like I wrote something that would be good for someone to read.

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  9. I am grateful for this post, too. I am dealing with my father's descent into dementia right now, and it's making think a lot about what it means to be a parent (since I am one) and a child (since I am one), and how the choices we make as parents, if our hearts are in the right place, require a lot of courage. Making choices, hard ones, anyway, means leaping into the unknown, regardless of who you are or where you are in your life. You have to trust that you have your priorities straight, take a deep breath, and dive in. And, yeah, even when life sucks, it IS kind of an adventure, right? It's a good way to look at it, and I am happy you helped me to see it that way. In short, solid work, and I'll expect your report on my desk first thing in the morning.

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  10. Well said Eli...I think everyone can resonate with this...thanks for sharing.

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  11. I came a few years ago for the funny posts, and stayed for the serious, more philosophical ones (and enjoy both.) Thanks for keeping it funky fresh with posts like Choices.

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  12. I am in that ward and saw you yesterday. I was pretty excited when I saw you across the room in Sunday School. I pointed you out to my roommate like you were a celebrity, because she knows I read Stranger every day. I hope you enjoyed church and the size of our ward did not scare you too much.

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  13. Thank you so much for your blog. I think a lot of things I'll read on the internet make me feel inadequate because my life isn't perfect. And a lot of people (I'm guilty of this a lot, too) just write about the perfection that is their life. But you're honest and funny and I know that I can always read this to be uplifted in some way. So thank you. Please keep writing.

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  14. It's taken a little while for me to really believe and practice "You do the best you can with what you have at the time"...be it time, resources, or knowledge. You make your best choice, then you (try to) let it go and move on.

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  15. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;

    Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,

    And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.

    I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. (Robert Frost)

    Your post today was beautiful. Well thought out, well written. I have a lot of "living overseas" experiences and I appreciate reading about how you're processing yours. As you move into your 30's, (AAAAAAGH) you will think about Palau and find "I took the one less traveled by... and that has made all the difference".

    My prayer for you is that you continue to choose the roads less traveled and let that develop you into the man God wants you to be.

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  16. Thank you. I am one of the most indecisive people in the world. This insight is inspirational

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  17. Daniel!
    I miss Daniel...
    You two and Palau and my own nostalgia.
    Will read the heavy stuff later, but right now, I'm glad Daniel was mentioned.

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  18. This is...so profound. I can't stop playing these words over in my head. I haven't ever thought about my choices in this way. I'm at a crossroad right now and I realize, I'm not very brave. And I think that comes from not having solid priorities. I'm waffling, because I honestly don't know what to do. And each choice comes with the possibility of failure. And that scares me. Thank you so very much for this honest and timely post. Thank you.

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