Field Trip to Marshall Pics!

So for some reason, the blog doesn't feel like uploading my pictures from Marshall. But my online webphotos did, soo just follow this link to get them and hopefully I'll have them on the side like my other albums soon enough. Thanks for reading! :)

http://picasaweb.google.com/Elyse.Wagner/MarvelousMarshall?feat=directlink

Field Trip to Marshall Rozdzielają Siedem

If today you hear God's voice, harden not your hearts. - Ps 95

Although I was scheduled to leave Monday morning, my plane was cancelled leaving me in Marshall for an extra day. When Grandfather Alvin had heard that the flights were cancelled, he surprised me by calling me to ask if I wanted to come sit with him. Of course I graciously and joyfully accepted his invitation and went right over.

As soon as I walked in a huge grin stretched itself across his face, got up from his wheelchair, and said, "come". Alvin brought me to his back wall where all of the pictures of his family were. He introduced me to all of their names and faces, paying particular attention to his wife. Then we sat back down and it was again time to listen to his wise words.

Without much hesitation he began to speak about a matter very close to his heart. "The biggest mistake in my life that I ever made was not telling my children how much I loved them and showing them affection." I was a bit amazed but very grateful that he was so open with me so soon. Alvin said how hard he worked all of his life, worked multiple jobs, and always ensured that his family had money and the things they wanted to buy with it. His kids were the first kids in Marshall to have bikes. He explained that he never wanted his family to ever need anything he couldn't provide for. And though he tried to display his concern for their well-being through material things, he never expressed them verbally or with open affection.

What made this way of living a regret was when his adopted son killed himself. In a very difficult conversation about this tragedy, one of his daughters asked him why he never told them that he loved them. He said that he told her that he gave her everything. But when she responded that what they needed was him, his presence, and the understanding of his love, he felt the shadow of regret shade his memory. He thought that if he gave his children no reason to steal or complain or feel unprovided for, then they would happy, loved and moral.

Then I shared with Alvin that he is not the only one who speaks this dialect of love language. Coming from an Irish and German background, not that a stereotype should be an excuse or create an unnecessary reality but, sometimes people in my family love like that. JVC has coined the term "love language" for me and makes a lot of sense that people communicate and know how to love very differently. Unfortunately when things get lost in translation, it can be much worse than saying that you are a jelly donut. Learning how to love and then communicating that is quite the lifetime achievement, and Alvin expressed how thankful he was now to have a second chance with his grandchildren.

Alvin then moved on to say how deciding whether or not to listen to the Western values or to his own Native culture would come into crossroads. His aunts in town had tuberculosis, and normally he would be the one to change their water and bring them more fresh buckets of it from the well. However when his teacher heard about him doing this, she told him not to because then he would get TB. His grandfather conversely told him that they were family and he had a duty to care for them. Alvin ultimately ended up continuing his aid to his aunts. He said that he did it because it was family (and his grandfather would have scolded him) and because he said he just lied to his teacher about it and thus also got her approval. He giggled and said, "well she would never know!"

He elaborated by saying how he didn't hate the West or the white-man because they brought him a useful view on self-respect in not letting others take advantage of him and feeling the confidence to go out and do. He presented such a fascinating outlook on forgiveness of oppression by his genuine appreciation for the good that he has found and how he has used it to be more proud of his own culture.

Then Alvin began to wonder about the struggles Americans and those world wide go through no matter what your race is. He told me the unfortunate story about his brother. He, like many young men in this part of Alaska, joined the Army and was sent to Vietnam. When he returned, like many, was never the same. One assignment stayed with him until his death. One night he was chasing two gunmen who ran into a house with children inside of it. He was under orders to kill these gunmen whom they had been chasing diligently. Thus because he was assigned to kill these men, he and the soldier with him opened fire on the house and killed all or most inside. Alvin's brother suffered from severe PTSD. Upon his return he felt out of place back in Marshall and moved to Anchorage. He became an alcoholic, homeless, and sadly the two contributed directly to his death. May he rest in peace.

After a moment of respectful silence, I changed gears and asked him how he first knew that he loved his wife. When Alvin was little, his grandfather told him that animals could smell the scent of a woman on him and would stay away, so if he wanted to be a great hunter and trapper, he had to stay away from girls. This didn't bother him for years, but when those formative teenage years came, he began to. He also began to question this supposed fact. Then when Alvin was twenty-two , his grandfather was dying. His grandfather then told him that he should get married. No longer confused, now having the wisdom of age under him, by his grandfather's words he knew just the girl.

He had met Agnes a couple times, but when he saw her after the passing of his grandfather, he asked her if she had a boyfriend. Luckily for Alvin, she was single. As he told me this, he lifted up his arms in a hearty laughter and said, "I guess I just fell in love!" They married the next year. They were married for thirty-five years until she died of cancer. He attributes the success of his children to her because she constantly taught them the Native ways and the Catholic faith. "She was very special, my first and true love."

A little later, Alvin said that he hopes and knows that kids can learn from me the ways of Christ. They're not longer getting the lessons in these ways from their parents. When I asked why this was, he said that they have become too preoccupied with other things and distractions like TV, sports, and competition. Competition, in spite of Adam Smith, was and is what is killing the values and spirit of Marshall, according to Alvin. They're too worried about having the kids involved in other things and some do not know how to handle theirs or other's alcoholism. Alvin worries that people have gotten too much of an "us vs. them" frame of mind, where they're not concerned about raising the children in the faith.

People have been loosing their native ways because life has gotten harder in ways they were not accustomed to and people have been moving away breaking apart the family structure that is so central to their culture. Now that people have gotten used to modern conveniences, but now it has become so expensive that they it's hard to keep living as such, and they don't know how to go back to the way it was. Alvin said that in spite of this, he really enjoys his TV and indoor plumbing.

It was eventually time for me to go because I had to be at the church because Slaviq was going to come that evening. I told Alvin how grateful I was to listen to him and simply sit with him. He smiled and giggled again saying that he will find a way to get me back here and that he was going to call the Bethel church or the bishop. I said that I would love that and would be anticipating seeing him and everyone again. As I gave him a hug goodbye I felt like I was leaving a little sadder but would be coming back to Bethel a lot richer.

His granddaughter Caitlin, a girl of about nine years of age, followed me back to the church and spent the rest of the afternoon preparing with me and just spending time. She was just as precious as her grandfather. At one point she looked down at my hand and asked me about my claddagh ring, so I explained its history and my Irish-ness to her. Then she took her heart ring off of her finger, turned it around, and said, "see I'm single too". Later on I brought down my veil as the Slaviq service was getting ready. When Caitlin saw it she got so excited, so I put it on her. I let her wear it throughout the service, and when I had to take it back from her at the end, she said she wanted to wear one just like mine when she was older. I hugged her tightly and prayed that she would.

In the timeless words of Shakespeare, "parting is such sweet sorrow", I had to say my goodbyes. Though it was not as I had thought it would be. They were sad to see me go and I was sad to leave them, but when we actually said our goodbyes there in the church, it was as if we would see each other tomorrow. In fact they said that they couldn't wait to see me again, and I said the same. I was grateful that I had gotten ill on this trip because when they saw and I saw in myself how happy I was to still be with them and to experience Slaviq in both its pleasures and pains, it made my presence there more real somehow, for me and for them as they spoke to me about how glad they were that I stayed. The kids and adults alike started giving me all kinds of ideas and reasons why to come back both in the near and distant future. I thought how endearing it was and also how possible it is.

I am uncertain of how to end this final reflection on my trip to Marshall. All of what I experienced was so simple, yet so powerful to me. As I have learned from this year, so much depth can come from simplicity. I don't think that the people of Marshall realize how in touch they are with the powerful and simple act of sincerity, but I could see that they are. From their heartfelt decorations around the icons that were made and hung in every house to the tradition Alvin told me about of burying the feathers of the birds that they hunt to respect the wilderness, that sincerity was there.

It was a Christmas season with no Santa Claus decorations. Rather, it was a Christmas season adorned with icons and so forth of Our Lady and Our Lord. It was a Christmas season with little to no presents. Rather, it was a Christmas season full of presence, presence of family, of faith, and of community unity. It wasn't a Christmas season like that of my past. Rather, it was a Christmas season I know I'll make part of my future.

So in a way I pass the ball to you, my faithful readers. As true with so much service, the one "serving" ends up getting more out of the experience than the ones being served. As St. Francis reiterates,"it is in giving that we receive". In this case it caught me off guard how much I got out of going to help start up a confirmation class. Where can you enter into intimate service where you are? Or even more so, how far are you willing to go to achieve it, to share in the solidarity of service? I pray that whenever you hear the call, harden not your hearts.

In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that He loved us

and sent His Son as expiation for our sins. - 1 Jn 4:10.