Magnificent

There's a song by Bon Iver called Holocene, and it's gained a lot of meaning in my life over the last few months.  As I've taken steps toward joining the Peace Corps, I frequently stop and ponder what it really means.

I think about the sheer size of the Corps, the expanse of the world, and of my role in both. One of the lyrics from Holocene sticks out above the others. In the music video, there's a young boy of maybe 10 or 12 years who's embarking on a journey through the rugged terrain of a remote region in Iceland, armed with nothing more than a sweater and a walking stick.  As he steps out of the small cottage of a home, he looks up at the sun, and Bon Iver sings the memorable line: 

"And at once I knew I was not magnificent."

I'm not going to save the world. My decision to join the Peace Corps is not a product of some grandiose vision to solve the world's problems. I'm simply joining in the effort to improve the lives of the least of these, one step at a time. 

If ever there was an adventure to be on, this surely tops the list. Despite my incessant research into the coming months and years, the fact remains that I have absolutely no clue what I will face.  The challenges, the struggles, the lessons, the rewards - I can't begin to fathom what lies ahead.

What I do know, however, is tied up in the lyrics of this particular song.  I am not magnificent.

I'm just taking steps to help others - to help the least of these.  As much as my selfish pride may want to build up inside of me a soapbox on which I can stand and shout "look at what I'm doing!", I'm always reminded at once that it's simply not about me. 

It's about reaching out to the least of these in love. I am not magnificent.

On Beginnings

Have you ever been to Birmingham, Alabama? It's the most populated city in the state, and it happens to be one of my favorite cities in all the South. If you've visited Birmingham, you're aware of how massive it is.  From the Vulcan monument atop Red Mountain to the bustling streets of UAB's downtown campus, Birmingham is a big, diverse place. Just driving through it - whether it be East-West on I-20 or North-South on I-65 - you've likely encountered the breadth of that expansive place. It certainly is a spread-out city, but think about how many people live in Birmingham.  As you think about the total number of residents, I'll go ahead and tell you that the latest census (July 2014) shows Birmingham having a population of around 212,247 total people. That is a TON of people.

Since its inception in March of 1961, Peace Corps has seen nearly 220,000 volunteers serve in some capacity. Needless to say, that is also a TON of people. When I think about my upcoming service with the Peace Corps, I like to imagine myself standing on a street corner somewhere in downtown Birmingham, watching all the people rush by as they tend to so many different needs. This is not too far off from the reality of this journey I'm about to begin. I'll be entering into a season of service that's been running along for quite some time, and I'll be joining a group of people who've made the choice to serve others in an incredible and enormous way.

So what does the average PC volunteer look like?  I was reading through a fact sheet Peace Corps put together last year (click here for the full document), and I learned a little bit about its makeup. First, only a little more than a third of PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) are male, a statistic that I was a little surprised by; however, if you look at other similar movements - take, for instance, any major missions organization - you would find that a majority of the participants are female. Second, and far less surprising than the gender statistic, I found that something like 94% of volunteers are single. Despite 'couple-friendly' language in almost all of the literature available to those interested in serving with the PC, only one in every 16 PCVs is married. The ratio. Fingers crossed that I can meet that special someone, right? Third, I was super stoked to read that the average age of a PCV is 28. Yes, smartypants. I know I'm 29 and will be 30 by the time my pre-service training is over and I begin my actual projects. But it does put my mind at a bit of ease knowing I'm not more than a few years older than the average PCV. *whew*

One of the most appealing things about this service that I've learned over the course of the application process is the emphasis on immersion.  From the very first week, I'll be living with a local family, and that will continue all the way through three months of pre-service training as well as my first six months of service. Just the thought of being partnered with a local family brings a level of excitement that's hard to really explain. There's something to be said for the potential for community involvement that comes from moving in with a family. I'm most definitely looking forward to those daily interactions.

Something I've had to keep in check as I've spent time pondering what's to come is the expectation this experience will be like any other I've had in a foreign country. First of all, I won't be part of a short-term team that's only there to build a deck or paint a house, take some pictures, and leave. The information sent to me after accepting the invitation to join PC makes it very clear that this is a job. This won't be a week- or two-long 'trip,' but rather a two-year job opportunity. Specifically, I'll have to let go of the preconceived notions about my past experiences in Costa Rica itself. I keep telling myself it's almost as if I'll need to view it as if it's my first time.

For now it's an inundation of medical clearance and administrative paperwork to continue the process leading up to my February departure, but I am as excited as ever about this opportunity. I'm very, very grateful and humbled by this chance to go and serve.