Consistency is a Luxury

Its Saturday morning here in Papua New Guinea. Those who live where American food is consistent find themselves knee deep in their Friday evening gallivants.

Its been a while since I’ve posted, not because I’ve been too busy or the lack of thoughts but because I cant seem to put my atmosphere into readable words. With this said, I’m going to elaborate on my recent thoughts and exposures regardless what ride they take you on.

A few weeks ago I was asked to fill a hole created by the sudden resignation of the Maths and English teacher at a mission for boys here in Port Moresby. This mission consists of an ever fluctuating 170 boys most between the ages of eighteenish and twentythreeish. I was given the opportunity to bridge the gap of some 50 Intermediate and advanced boys to their next class of professional skills. I was under the impression I was talking with equivalent high schoolers here. NOPE! Think a combination of first, fourth and ninth graders with a few sporadic hoodlums and sleepless vagabonds thrown in to colour the party. I had a sixteen year old and a twenty eight year old in there of which their ages changed throughout the first few days. I was told to prepare them to be able to read and wright so they could fill in a job application. Every morning it felt as though the pot of gold at the end of my minds rainbow ended in a volcano. What I though was there in preparation popped in a glorious explosion of shiny unprepared compensation. This I knew to be the new consistent. I loved almost every moment of class!

With the same speed I fell into the former sundry of Contretemps I was transferred, in a bumping moment, to a slow project in the city. A slow project that needed to be fast! Painting, lots of painting needed to be done. The first consistent thing I noticed was there were never any problems. Problems were defined as things that must be fixed because they were too big to perpetually ignore. I filled in a crack with a powder I was told to mix with water, I would have once called it spackle but this is PNG. I no sooner left the room when it was rolled down the side of the wall. This was not a problem as it could be painted over along with the rest of the dirt on the wall. See, no problems! On the way home from work that day we were passed by a Roles Royce Phantom! This luxury beast is what compelled me to finally scribe my thoughts. What is a Roles Royce doing here!? What am I doing here!? What am I really doing in this inside out land of who knows what!

I mean not to compare myself to a Roles Royce, just consistency. I’ve grown up with all the little things consistently falling into place. She refills my coffee when I go out for breakfast. I get in my car, start the engine and travel the needed distance. Hurt people hurt people. Healed people heal people. Loved hearts love and the forgotten forget. I realized recently that when its all said and done one of the only consistent things in life is me. I’m going to be me as long as I live, unless I become a pirate of course! In this country I’m the biggest anomaly most people will see all week. As a result all I need to do to make someone’s day is smile at them or acknowledge they exist and Bam, I’ve influenced someone. I’m going to miss making a consistent difference some day. I thrive on changing this world one person at a time. For the record, I’d trade every single refilled cup of coffee for a day free of feeling forgotten. Consistently remember those close to you as they may not always consistently remind you they care and consequently compel you to forget just what luxury consistency really is.

Rock On