The end of the year, Coming home Pt. 1

Unfortunately my good friend’s father died on the Saturday of graduation weekend. To show support for his family, I went with a couple friends to his city. When we got there, all of the men were sitting in silence outside of the apartment complex in two rows of chairs facing each other. I headed upstairs to mourn with the women. They were dressed in black, sitting in silence in the house. I kissed his mom and then went to his sister’s room to sit with her. There are four kids in that family, and it’s just so sad that the father died. I could name quite a few students off the top of my head whose fathers have died, and I attribute a lot of that to smoking. There were a few men that stood out to me who were in their forties but looked like they were in their sixties or seventies. I just hope that our boys correlate the early deaths with lifestyle choices so that they take good care of themselves. “Do you want to be alive to play with your kids?” Jessica’s grandpa asked the boy that came to him for help to quit smoking. I stayed with Olivia’s aunt who I had stayed with during Christmas break, and that was wonderful to see their family again. I really got to bond with Olivia that night too, and thinking about it just makes me miss her and the other girls so much. The following day we got to the bus station pretty early but ended up waiting a few hours for the next microbus headed to Cairo and for it to fill up before we could leave. I got back to the school just shortly before graduation began.

The graduation service that we attended was the longest one that I ever plan to attend in my life—that is until I go back to visit. Maybe the Egyptians don’t mind the length as much because they don’t feel the need to be quiet and pay attention like we do here. The way that the parents acted (talking loudly and getting up and moving around) explained so much of why some of the students act the way that they do. All of the SMs had gotten to be very good friends with the senior class president, and he gave an excellent speech. He is one person that I genuinely miss, and I definitely saw him as a peer and a friend more than a student even though I took away his iPod at the beginning of the year because he was listening to it in the ad building.  (He arrived in America a couple days ago and will be going to college with Michael this coming year. I can’t wait to see them both!) I am so proud of the graduating class. Some of them have had easier lives than others, but some have had unimaginably difficult lives, and it was truly a miracle that they had made it so far. Every student has their own story. It made me reflective about my own high school graduation where the people that you have lived with and grown with all go off to begin their lives, but the likelihood of the NUA graduates all being together again is much lower. There are a couple seniors that I plan to keep my eye on because I know that they will do great things. Their parents didn’t read to them when they were little and they’ve been to hell and back in their lifetime, but they have pressed on and are so determined to do great things. One Sudanese student has excellent English grammar and is going to be an English teacher and then go back to Sudan. I have noticed that the majority of the Sudanese students I have talked to plan to go back to Sudan to help their people. Humdolillah (Praise be to God.)


We were wearing Egyptian gallabeas, but we were still patriotic in wearing red, white, and blue. Krista told me that on the 4th of July she cried at almost every patriotic song, and it's not like Krista to be super emotional.


The last night that Jessica and I were in Egypt, all of the staff members got dinner and ate on a felucca (a boat) on the Nile. It was a wonderful stress-free bonding experience. Alec and I sang a wonderful a capella rendition of “I Will Survive” while others told stories and watched the sunset. Oh, what I would do to relive that night again. To be honest, I didn’t like Alec at the beginning of the year. He drove me crazy, and I just wanted to punch him at times but then would be even more frustrated because that would make me the problem (which I would have been). He ended up being the guy SM that I got the closest to that year, and I just loved it how God brought us all there to shape us and make us grow and force us to love and understand people that we wouldn’t immediately choose to be around. American, Mexican, or Egyptian—whether we kept a spotless bedroom and a filthy kitchen or the other way around, whether we understood the humor in students saying, “Who let the dogs out?” or whether we were taught to uncross our legs when an older person enters the room (out of respect)… didn’t matter. Sure, things are definitely more comfortable when you’re with people who are just like you, but I thank God for my wonderful Egyptian roommates and for the shocking generosity of the Egyptians I came to know and love (though I thought it was absolutely ridiculous and unprofessional that some thought they could skip or come and go as they pleased to staff meetings. Actually that would still drive me crazy, but I understand now that many behaviors are not “common sense” or universal and that there were never any bad intentions.)



When we got back to the school, we hung out at the Deckers’ until we had to go. I wish that there had been more time to say goodbye because it was pretty much a quick hug and then running out the door. I don’t know why we don’t say what we think and how we feel about people until something is over. A year, a life, a trip. A lot of times we think we have all the time in the world to wait to be honest with someone, and life catches us by surprise. A group of students and the rest of the SMs brought us to the airport. It was sad. I’ll leave it at that.

Jessica and I were so exhausted that we fell asleep on the plane on the way to Amsterdam before it even took off, which is strange for me because I absolutely love take-offs. In Amsterdam, we bought the cookies that we had fallen in love with in August. Going through security in Amsterdam… was an experience. We were sent in different directions if we were men or women, and… I was violated. Haha. This woman was absolutely sure that I had nothing potentially hazardous on me by the time she was done with me. I was shocked, and I felt stupid because whenever she touched my stomach I flinched and giggled because it tickled. I felt really immature, but I couldn’t keep from laughing. On the plane ride on the way to Egypt, we wrote letters to ourselves that we were going to read on the way home, and I was reluctant to read mine because I was scared that I had been to harsh with myself. I wish I could do a billion and one things differently about my year, but time doesn’t reopen. I was more compassionate than I thought I would be, and it was really cool to be able to answer the questions that I had once asked myself.

We flew into Detroit, where we were met by our moms. I was just quiet. The humidity, smooth ride, and green trees that we passed made me want to cry. I don’t know exactly why I was in tears—it wasn’t the fact that I was sad to leave Egypt, and it wasn’t that I was happy to be home. I just wanted to go back, and I was frustrated because everyone was living like Egypt never existed—not that they had the chance to experience what I had. I was angry and sad and just wanted to go back to normalcy—in Egypt.

I stayed that night at my grandparents’ house. When I got there I laid next to my grandma and just cried. I was grateful at that point that she is usually incoherent and doesn’t talk too much, because she just laid next to me and attempted to stroke my hair. Later we drove my grandpa’s Korean visitors up to Battle Creek to the E. G. White Estate. I saw a guy that I go to college with, and I instinctively held out my hand to shake his, later to realize that he was probably expecting a hug. I didn’t want to hug him. I didn’t even hug my male students goodbye (with the exception of three) because that’s just not socially acceptable. Being home was okay. The first place I went was to Taco Bell. The closest Taco Bell was in Dubai, and that was my biggest food craving all year. I came back to my room and remembered that I owned half of what was in there, so most of the stuff that I had forgotten about I put into bags and boxes to give away. After living out of two suitcases, I felt so blessed (and selfish, actually) to come back to my house. I’m scared of losing that feeling.

I felt very alone and idle last summer after I got home from camp, and I had realized shortly after getting to Egypt that I didn’t want to be alone again after losing a school full of people, a culture, food, mannerisms, and new family members that I had grown to love, so I decided to work at camp again for a few short weeks. I headed up to Michigan a few days after I got home. When I got to camp I was happy to see everyone, but I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to be by myself and take everything in by myself. We were standing around in our staff circle after the evening meeting, and everyone had their arms around each other. During the announcement time, all of the staff turn in one direction and massage each other’s shoulders, and then we turn the other direction. It’s kind of a funny and relaxing bonding thing. It was so weird, and I thanked God that I was between girls. I regretted coming to camp and just felt in over my head and incredibly awkward. The feeling was hard to describe. Because Jessica and I missed the first couple weeks (including staff orientation week), we felt like we went to bed last summer and then woke up with so much time gone by. I don’t know how to describe it. I just wanted to cry and go home. I felt very overwhelmed, and I was grateful that Jessica was there because we felt the same feeling that was impossible to articulate. I just felt even sorrier for her because she was much busier than I was and had to act like she was her normal self. Coming home was much harder than leaving home. After a few days, things got much easier though, and I was glad to be where I was.

One of the things that stood out to me the most was the amount of skin that I saw and the sexual immorality. The conference that we work for is one of the most conservative conferences within the church, with a pretty conservative dress code, yet Jessica and I were still astounded. Girls’ skin stood out to me like I had the eyes of a 15 year old boy—if I imagined what that would be like. I still notice how sexual immorality has pervaded the country, and I am grateful to Egypt for its perspective on the sacredness and preciousness of sex. That is definitely one positive thing that I gained from the Egyptian culture. Sexuality is not something to throw around lightly and for anyone, but it’s an incredibly special thing that is to be carefully guarded—and in America, it is definitely not. Just in the time that I was gone, I noticed the moral decline within the media. The media sickens me. I believe that the content on TV and in the movies and so much of the music that is popular is very responsible for the issues that many of our campers have. I am positive that there were not that many thirteen-year olds that had had sex when I was a camper. How are such young kids who still have to worry about greasy faces and awkward bodies (and still actually believe that everyone else notices their bad hair days!) supposed to make wise decisions and fully understand the value of what they’re dealing with?

I'm sure I've already overwhelmed you with how much I have written here, so I'll post this just as it is and finish later. Much love to you.