Earth's First Sunrise, My First Polar Dip

48F, Light Rain
Sunrise: 4:30 AM
Sunset: 9:26 PM <--- Whoo hoo- So late! It's wonderful.

Greetings!

I write to you from the midst of May's glorious sunshine, soft wind, and the incredible sight of yellow and red tulips. The grey frozeness of Sitkan spring asked perserverance of our JV community up until Easter time. This past month I was personally shocked and delighted by summer weather.

For example, my first free and gorgeous Saturday (May 2nd), I pulled on shorts and tee over a swimsuit and hiked to a friends boat to gather a crew to hike Indian River and potentially jump in. After a side adventure of paddling out around the harbor in Shari's dinghy (picture the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker in there with us. Never was a type of boat so amusingly and aptly named!) and after a "Spirituality trek" with my Jesuit Volunteer community to pick up trash at the Gavan Hill trail head, a handful of us headed out to go jump in Indian River's enticingly clear glacial-fed river water.

The entire hike I could not get over the sensations of warmth and cold on my legs and arms-- the trail is largely under the shade of a beautiful old growth forest, but parts of the trail are exposed as it winds along Indian River. When the sun could stream down on us, the feeling of warmth was delicious. When the trail bent with the river such that the wind passed first over the cold water before passing over us, the air tempature was markedly colder. An intimidating omen to a hiker with hopes to jump into said river. I'm sure each of us had our reservations ranging from the practical (hrm. Am I going to enjoy my hike back all sopping wet?) to the philosophical (what is the sound of one JV gasping in freezing water?) Fortunately, as a group our enthusiasm was unabated, even when our original jumping in place turned out to have far to strong a current to jump in there. Would have been good set for a kayaking river rapids movie. Or a dumb-things-not-to-do movie. So we hiked further and found a super shallow and broad part of the river. The others proceeded to plop in one at a time, making various funny sounding noises as their bodies went into shock. Brea did an impressive doggy paddle, complete with startled barking noises growing louder the further she went. As for me, I watched everyone else try it out while I snacked on my trail mix. I was hungry. And experiencing what I would like to think of as a healthy dose of risk aversion. When people seemed to be surviving their polar dips, and Whitney seemed to be ambivalent about jumping in, I decided to not only jump in myself, but take her down with me. Its true that misery loves company. And I really couldn't imagine a better day to jump into an Alaskan river so it seemed that I might as well give it a go.
Words can't express the cold surprise that squeezes you when you jump into glacial-melt water. I think the insistant yelping noises that I made did a pretty good job at the time, but I'll just leave that to your imagination.
The biggest surprise for me came after I got out. (I only spent about 5 seconds in the water I think.) My body began to not only be covered in goosebumps, but I also felt waves of warmth all over. Apparently that's the usual immediate physical response that would have hypothetically helped me swim to safety had I needed to. Makes sense, and I sure did appreciate it!
Well, I was one of the last to jump in, and once was enough for me, so soon we were pulling back on our shorts, shirts, and shoes and hiked back to town. What a wonderful day that was. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to enjoy it so fully, and with such fun-loving people. Two of these friends are departing Sitka in the next week, and I will miss them dearly. Sitka is a city of many transitory jobs (Volunteers, Coast Guard, Tourism) and saying goodbye to wonderful people seems to be another Sitkan experience.
As many of my family and friends now know, I've decided to commit to another year of Sitkan life, with all the adventures and life-lessons that entails. I am tentative declaring this on a blog, as the details of how I'll support myself or where I'll live are yet to be made clear by the One in charge. I could write a whole blog entry about the fascinating lifestyle difference of living in a small town community alive with many creative, homespun, adventurous and generous people. But as I share life with my JV community mates, I also see that this place isn't wonderful because of what it is, it is wonderful because God is using this place as a setting for me to grow in the ways I can toward wholeness- in creativity and in awe of God's creation. This world is covered with such gardens for growth, Sitka is the garden (forest?) where I'm currently planted. And to extend this metaphor, maybe as my roots grow I'll find that I'm planted in a pot (Island?)and must be replanted to grow into my full potential. I'll keep you posted, for sure.
Today I am appreciating an e.e. cummings poem quoted by Fr. Jack, the founding father of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, in his spring letter to us JV's. In brackets I added my gender into the poem, as I identify with the open expectancy for growth and potential in the poem.

You find behind this [wo]man
Earth's first sunrise
And h[er]is voice is green
Like growing
(is marvelous
Like tomorrow.)