Record Eagle Post, February 26, 2007

I woke up this morning to gun shots. This was not terribly unusual but the sounds had worked their way into my dream and made my waking experience more unpleasant than it had to be. It was already 5:26, just a few minutes before I had to be up, so I got out of bed and flipped the light switch. No electricity. Shucks.

I retrieved my flashlight and waddled over to my bathroom, then took a flashlight shower. I grabbed my towel and began drying and actually feeling a little pleased at the lack of mishaps thus far, electricity notwithstanding.

It seems I judged too soon. I noticed that I felt a little itchy, but in a weird way as if I was being bitten in a dozen placed at once. I looked at one such place--and found an ant. I shook out my towel and they fell to the floor like rain--like tropical rain, thick and hard.

It seems that some peanut butter from the night before had found its way onto my towel. A little peanut butter is no problem, but hundreds of ants were. In addition to those crawling on the floor, I was covered from head to toe with them, and they were happily chewing whatever piece of real estate they happened to have access to.

When uncomfortable things happen to me, I do my best to learn from the experience. But this time, all that came to mind was clichés, like "sometimes small mistakes can lead to big problems." As Dane Cook would say, "forging some new territory there, Socrates." I think we've all got that one under our belt.

After throwing out "if it looks to good to be true, it probably is" and "it's not always possible to determine the correct course of action," I realized that, in the midst of my cognition, my tiny attackers had not been idle. Already dozens of tiny bumps were erupting from my skin like baby volcanoes, ready to be scratched until blood flowed like lava.

Stupid ants. I brushed them off irritably (and resisted the urge to develop a "there will always be a bigger fish" thought). I realized that, in my determination to make the right decision, I had frozen during the opportune moment: before they had finished biting.

As a missionary, I face that dilemma constantly. I'm representing my home and my God and... well, me. So when somebody asks me a question of any significant depth, I'm prone to over-clarifying the question and over-developing the answer. Meanwhile, the time during which he or she is actually interested in what I have to say has long since passed.

In all honesty, for all my love of communication, I struggle with it a great deal. Sometimes it seems the only way to communicate effectively is to make sure you're intimately acquainted with the conventions of communications of every person you meet. I hate the gnawing hunger of poor communication, and even worse the bitter sickness of miscommunication. What's a foreigner to do?

...Smile. I smile, they smile back. Answer simply, nod encouragingly, and keep smiling. What a relief to know that there are one or two things that extend across cultures. What a relief to know I needn't rely on my imperfect tongue.

Today is laundry day. Time to wash that towel.

Dan

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