Shifting Perspectives

“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” –Abraham Lincoln

These are the road signs instead of stop signs. 

I’ve been back in the States from St. Maarten for about a week now.  My burn has faded to a tan that I live in continual hope will stay tan rather than peel. I’ve stopped living in constant dread of someone accidentally flying over a speed bump that isn’t painted yellow. The missed plane in Charlotte has faded in memory.  Job listings for Fairfax County have also been posted for a week with little occurring on that front.  Things are not what I had assumed they would be.

Going to St. Maarten to visit family who live there for the foreseeable future was also not necessarily what I had expected.

There are no stop signs in St. Maarten.  At least not that I’ve seen.  Instead there are speed bumps.  Some of which occur where there could and should be stop signs.  Some of which occur for no apparent reason.  Some of which are not painted to make sure someone can tell they’re there. 

Andrew knows where a lot of them are, and as Dad first drove us around the island, he tried to make sure Dad knew they were coming.  “Speed bump,” he’d say—sometimes ahead of time, sometimes as we flew over them.   It made me understand (at least a little bit) why Andrew and Jackie’s dog, Charlie, sometimes gets carsick. 

Island life proved to be different than what I expected in a more ways than just the driving.  In the same way that people keep saying to me, “Has anyone given you a job yet?” and they think it’s helpful and caring, people say something to Jackie and Andrew, “Medical school in the Caribbean—tough life.”  When most people—like me—go to the Caribbean it’s to go to the beautiful beaches and to stay at a resort while they’re there.  The thing is, when you live on the island, you don’t live at a resort.  You have to worry about things like how expensive air conditioning is and how often you can afford to run it.  You have to decide if the gate on your community that anyone can just walk around is really safe enough to stay in.  Like Jackie said, “I’m living in a third world country.”

That third world country has been both good and bad to them—it’s allowing Andrew to study medicine, it’s allowing them to meet new friends and journey to all sorts of different nearby islands.  It’s allowing them to see things they’ve never seen before—including intense poverty and back ordered license plates.

In visiting the two of them I realized just how much they’ve assimilated, but I’ve also just realized how much Jackie gave up in order to build a life down in St. Maarten because Andrew is there.  I realized that I’ve always subtly or totally looked down on girls who give up who they are in order to be a girlfriend or a wife to someone else.  Who want that MRs. Degree so badly that they have no idea what else they might be interested in on their own.  I think there is something to be said for having an independent existence and knowing yourself.  But I also realized how incredibly difficult it is to leave everything you know and everything you’re comfortable with, and everything that is easy in order to be with the person you love.  It’s not just that I’m incredibly grateful that Jackie made that sacrifice (though I am), it’s that I’ve realized it’s not lack of self, lack of independence that made her do this.  It’s incredible bravery and strength.   And it’s not giving up herself—it’s recognizing that a part of her is loving my brother and building a life with him.

The walk from the resort to Andrew and Jackie's. 

It’s a perspective switch, but one I’m so glad I was able to see in my time at St. Maarten.  Partly because I understand them both a little better because of it.  Partly because I need to have a perspective change about my job uncertainty.  I hate it, I’m afraid about it, and unsure about what this continued lack of a job means.  But if I just shift my perspective a little bit, it might also be a situation where, as Megan says, I’m building my trust and faith muscles.  To a huge extent.  And that there’s a purpose for all of this that I can’t see right now but that I’m going to understand someday—maybe soon. 

But there are some things that haven’t changed.  I miss Andrew and admire how hard he’s working to make his dream a reality.  I miss Jackie and having girl talk time with her and I'm so glad she’s a part of our family.  My parents are really fantastic people.  I love the beach.  And I hate speed bumps.