Beginning My Pilgrimage

Apparently, the Immigration Bureau of New Zealand requires at least one of two things for international travelers coming to their country: a resident visa or a return ticket home. I did not have a return ticket because purchasing such a thing one YEAR in advance is (1) silly and (2) impossible to actually do. My thanks go out to my parents for their generous loan of a completely useless ticket booked for April 20th of 2010. (I'll have to change the booking date later.)

EDIT (5/1/10): The New Zealand Immigration Service actually did not require return passage. According to them, such is waived for a valid work visa, which lets me get into the country multipple times. Northwest Airlines: You have erroneous records. Thanks for holding me up in bloody Omaha. :P

So, after a lot of frustration and more than 24 hours in transit time. I have finally arrived in New Zealand at L'arche Kapiti in the Kapiti Coast city of Paraparaumu (or Pram if you prefer to butcher the Maori pronunciation in English). From Central Time, US, I am one day ahead and 7 hours behind, which makes me...really tired. I slept a good deal on the plane and even got some REM in, but I fear it was in vain. Nonetheless, if you're coming to NZ, then Air New Zealand is the way to go: very luxurious, 2 full meals, and free drinks (i.e. sleep aids bearing an astonishing resemblance to gin and tonic).

Before I left, a friend gave me a book to read: Gracias! by Henri Nouwen. It's his Latin American journal of working with the Maryknol Missionaries during the heyday of South American Liberation Theology. It's deep and inspiring and I recommend it to anyone. The book definitely hit me in the gut and resonated all the way up to my heart. A quote: "The great paradox of ministry [...] is that we minister above all with our weakness." I couldn't have said it better myself, even in that high and proud thesis I wrote.

I intend to take this next year very seriously, but also very playfully. I'd like to come to Arahata house (Tim, if you're reading this, I have your old bedroom. Creepy, I know.) with nothing but myself to offer. I was speaking to the Community Director, Michele, when she picked me up from the airport. L'arche here is in transition and Michele herself is moving on to other things, so there was alot of guarded emotion in her speech. I feared then that this place would kill me, that it wold work me to death. At least, that is, until I asked what would be required of me as an assistant. Michele said, "be a friend. You're not a care giver." and that was basically all she said. It was that experience of friendship that allowed Nouwen to overcome his depression and reinvigorate his mission and life.

I still am a little afraid of who I might be when I leave Arahata, but I am also girding myself for the next phase of the journey. Any moment now, Kim or Leighanne will be back home for lunch and I will get to meet them. I am a pilgrim following folks like Jean Vanier, Henri Nouwen, and Tim Moore to a place of community. It's not necessarily a hily site or a mountain or a rock or any other actual place, but is it a very real place nonetheless. For the time being, I think I'll just have to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Small steps are still steps.