Medical Ship on ABC News

I stink at it.

A day ago, I ran what was supposed to be 4.75k at a moderate pace. I’m training to run a 5k in August with Nick and I have to make sure I can finish (and NOT dead last – that’s totally unacceptable). Well, I was determined to run well this day. It was nice and sunny, perfect temperature, I had great shoes and was in high spirits.
But alas…solo runs always go the same way.
For the first few minutes, I’m loving it. I feel good, breathing well, I smile at passersby. I pretty much figure that I could do a half marathon if I just kept going.
10 minutes in, I hate everything. My body whines, my legs cry out from tiredness and I start debating whether or not it was a good idea. 5 minutes later, I’m back to loving it, thinking I could run for miles. Then, I start the push (I shake my head now at this prospect…). I speed up, my music gets a bit quicker on my ipod and I’m sure that people are envying my fantastic running form. Surely I am like a gazelle.
Remarkably, 5 minutes later, I’m back to a world of pain and hurt. When I need it most, my body and mind start a downward spiral to what I call Death to a Winner. My legs ache, cramps fill my ribcage, my face is the color of lava and I’m radiating heat like the earth’s core.
Then, that little voice in my head starts telling me things like “you’ve gone far enough, you can’t make it any further.” “Don’t keep running, this is the worst idea you’ve had all day.” “Everyone that passes you is wondering if your face is going to explode soon…spare yourself the embarrassment and quit.”
The other day, I gave in to this sad little monologue. I agreed whole-heartedly, pushed myself to the next patch of shady pavement and then slowed to a stop. I walked to the side of the road, immediately disappointed in my performance. Had I not still been a kilometer from where I was staying, I may have just coiled up in the drain on the side of the road to wallow in my sorrows.
But I kept going.
And there are days when I don’t give in. There are days when I hear that miserable little song in my brain and I literally fight against it. When I hear those thoughts, I actually speak against it out loud. Which of course, makes me look like a complete mental case as I yell out between huffs, “No!…you can….keep going!…(wheeze)..just a little further….arrgh….let’s go!”
And you know what? It actually works! I can actually push myself to the point of achievement and for the rest of the day (though I’m still glowing red), I feel like a million bucks.
But the best times, are the times when I run with my husband. Ok, well honestly, I’m so terrified to be the last one home that I have no problem quitting or giving up. When he starts moving a little faster, I keep at his heels, not saying a word about the knife of lactic acid stabbing my gut. But the best is when, in my moment of agony, he turns his head and says gently “You’ve got it, dear, you can do it.” And all of a sudden, I believe in life again. I will make it, I will NOT die and if I melt into a puddle at the end, Nick will still be there to pick me up (and won’t have broken a sweat, either, which is absolutely maddening).
I don’t necessarily have a moral to this little tirade – maybe just to say that we all need a little more encouragement. I am my own worst enemy at times, which is why it’s so nice to have the friends, family and husband that I do. And if you’re struggling through something and you wonder why it’s so hard, maybe you just don’t need to do it alone.

I’ve given myself enough inspiration to try again today….sigh. Here goes!

from a wanna-be abolitionist.

Also, check out www.free2work.org to see which companies are rated how. Believe it or not, companies like Nike and Gap are actually pretty good! Makes me feel better about my shoes…

Two months ago, my friend Jessica and I are sitting on a stage, staring at 600 pairs of eyes looking expectantly at us. We smile big, hoping to look confident and then the first notes of our keyboards reverberate throughout the hall. Three and a half minutes later, the hall is filled with applause and cheers. We both take a deep breath.

They like us, we think. This is good.

Forty minutes later, we are standing at our promotional table in the back, surrounded by hundreds of eager students who want to know more about who we are, why we’re at their school and how they can help the people of Papua New Guinea.

At this very school, I encountered a student that gave me hope for young people everywhere. She was shy and soft spoken but determined to help.

While I stood outside talking to a group of students about different bands, she approached the group and waited patiently until the conversation came to a lull. I stuck out my hand to introduce myself, which she took gingerly while looking at the pavement.

“You know that card that we filled out,” she started. At every program, we hand out cards that the students can fill out so we can send them more information on PNG.

“Yeah,” I said. “Did you fill one out?” I asked. She pushed her glasses up her nose and shifted her backpack.

“Uh huh.”

“Great!” I said, thinking that she just wanted me to know she had responded.

“Well, like, are you going to actually let me help?” she asked boldly. This being our first school, I had not yet encountered such frankness and was unsure of how to answer her.

“Uh…of course,” I stammered. “If you gave your information, we’ll definitely send you more info on how you can help the people in PNG.”

“Yeah…” she continued, unconvinced. “But I’m not, like, too young right? Like, you’re not going to wait until I’m 18 or something? I can help right away?”

I was overwhelmed at this young girls’ need to make sure she was heard. I assured her as much as I could, not knowing what else do to but to give her my word that we would be in touch. She finally walked away, thanking me for coming to her school. As I watched her shuffle back to class, I had a thought.

These kids, these teenagers…they really want to make a difference.

That was just the first school of 80 that our teams visited these past months and we have concluded, with a resounding YES; these young people want to help. They’re not just eager, but desperate to make a change.

If you don’t know whether or not teenagers are worth investing in, I’m telling you to start looking. They are our next politicians, our lawmakers, our teachers, our servicemen. While we still can, let’s show them that they’re worth it.

Thanks to all of you who made it possible for us to travel around the country. You have given life to young Australians and to the needy in Papua New Guinea. For this, we are all grateful beyond words.

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While we were in Adelaide, South Australia, we were visited by a TV station! This isn’t the first time that YWAM (Youth With A Mission) has been in the news, but I thought it was pretty cool because they put Nick’s video that he made, all over the segment! People are getting excited about what the Ship’s doing and well, we think that’s pretty cool!

Take a look!

Sara and Nick

Last night, we were hosted by the Mayor of Ulladulla, given a formal civic reception into the city. A few of us were there to represent the Ship and to mingle with local council members. As per usual, our team (Nick, Jessica, Mike and myself) was there early, setting up the sound and projection for the night. Mike would be playing in the background and we would be showing our promo video.

After helping as much as we could, Jess and I sat off to the side, trying desperately to stay out of the way. We watched locals trickle in to the building and put on our best smiles, as we were representing YWAM (Youth With A Mission) and the Pacific Link. Not much later, a man with four children darting around him, made his way over to introduce himself. He gave us firm handshakes and then inquired about what we were doing here in Ulladulla.

We took our turns talking about ourselves and when the conversation went quiet, I asked ever-so-innocently;

“So what do you do here in Ulladulla?”

A small grin spread slowly across his face and my stomach dropped. I had already made some sort of grave, unknowing mistake.

“I’m actually the Mayor of this old place,” he said with a chuckle. My face flushed and I made a nervous giggle as I glanced Jessica. Her eyes were filled with delight and she tried not to grunt with laughter.

“Oh.” I said, flatly.

What else do you say after asking the Mayor what he gets up to in this little town?? Jessica made small talk while I tried to swallow my pride and pretend that I normally embarrass myself and have no qualms about it. He was incredibly gracious and pardoned himself to talk to some other council members. Jessica immediately errupted into laughter after asking me “what do you do hear in Ulladulla?” I muttered a sheepish be quiet before making my way to some other important person that I could flounder myself in front of.

Once, after saying something particularly embarrassing, Nick said to me later; “Sometimes…you just say things.” “So?” I’d asked. He’d held up his hands in defense and said no more.

So, I must confess – sometimes, I say stupid things. There are those that say little and when they speak, wisdom flows like honey. Sometimes, I speak like honey. But most of the time, millions of tiny rubber balls come out instead, bouncing all over the place while I race to try and pick them back up.

Sigh…c’est la vie!

A man and his dog were walking towards us and seeing many others dressed the same, he finally had to ask.

“Excuse me, what’s ya-wham?”

I smiled and explained what YWAM was and what 50 young people, clad in blue shirts were doing down on the pier. “And now we’re waiting for the medical ship to arrive,” I said.

“Oh?” he remarked, looking down to the end of the point.

“Well, maybe I’ll have to take a look.” He and his dog turned around and followed the rest of us to the point.

After a few minutes, the Pacific Link finally made itself visible and teeter-tottered its way to shore, following a small yellow boat. As it passed by, those on the pier shouted their hellos, cheered, waved Australian flags and jumped up and down with excitement.  The crew of the Pacific Link waved back, more than happy to be ending their 6-day journey from New Zealand. We’d heard rumors that their entry had been delayed due to four-meter swells out at sea the night before.

Waiting at the wharf was a crowd of YWAM staff from Newcastle and Townsville and local spectators. We gathered eagerly at the dock as the Pacific Link crew threw their lines to the wharf. Each knot that tied them to the dock elicited cheers from those that watched.

News cameras, press and customs agents awaited the plank to hit the dock so they could board and document this momentous occasion. It’s not every day that a medical ship lands in Newcastle, fit with crew eager to bring aid to the needy people of Papua New Guinea while connecting with the young people of Australia.

Mike, the singer of Five Star Streets, was standing on the wharf when he spotted Ken Mulligan, director of YWAM Marine Reach Australia making his way through the crowd.

“She’s here, Ken. She made it,” said Mike as he and Ken eyed the Pacific Link, finally docked on Australia’s shore. Ken glanced out at the sea and returned his gaze back to the ship. With a hint of relief and a glimmer of excitement, he echoed Mike.

“She’s here.”

Stay tuned for more of the first stop on the Pacific Link’s Southern Tour!