The East Coast Remedy (Part 2 of the Alaskan Tragedy)

    This piece is an extension of Last week’s blog. If you have yet to read “The Alaskan Tragedy”, I suggest you click here to read it before continuing.       Alaska was the epitome of beauty. The translucent waters and the towering cruise ships added to the image of a remote little town, nestled into a fjord, granting the sense of isolation while maintaining civilization. It was perfect, yet the perfection of a view can not always trump situational disdain. Alaska forced us to weigh our opportunities, choosing between beautiful views and a lack of respect or leaving a place from our dreams for a more value-driven environment.   The Fjord   We arrived in Skagway on a Saturday. The first stop was to head to the souvenir shop to meet our new manager and get the keys to our apartment. The shop was fascinating– chaotic and controlled as droves of people flooded in to taste the artisan popcorn while others flocked to the adjacent shelves to find their new favorite hat or sweatshirt. We met some of what would have been our co-workers and eventually our manager. As we walked through the shop discussing its culture, our manager expressed that our apartment was not quite ready yet, which seemed a little odd seeing as we were told the sooner we arrived, the better. Regardless, she then placed us in a unique situation where we were sharing a common area apartment with two younger international girls which made me particularly uncomfortable, which I am sure means they were equally so. Still, we could do anything for a night. Refraining from being in the room more than we had to, we stayed in the van for the evening when we were not walking around the town.   The next day was a peaceful morning. We woke up slowly before embarking on a day of walking the town, shopping at the shops, and eating some great food. We sat by the docks dreaming about the excursions we would take and places we would see. It was quaint, hopeful, and restful after an extremely long journey. We also had peace, knowing that our apartment would be ready so we merely had to wait it out. As 3 pm turned to 4, and 4 pm turned to 7, we began questioning about the apartment which is when we learned we needed to stay in the shared apartment one more night. This was not ideal, but again, it was just one night.    The next day was like the last. We woke up and began to walk the shops once more to stay out of the apartment. It was a fascinating day because on Mondays, no ships port in Skagway. It is as if the world shuts down. The only people to be seen are a handful of the locals and the larger population of seasonal workers, most in their late teens and early twenties, walking the streets until the evenings when the local bar opened up. We walked the town though it was a bit chillier that day, and continued taking in the breathtaking scenery that surrounded us, just waiting for our apartment to be ready. That is when we got the call.   Late in the day, around 5 pm, we got a call from a new person saying that he just finished cleaning our trailer and that we would be able to move in. I questioned him, asking what happened to the studio apartment we were promised. Quite frankly, he did so much beating around the bush that I still don’t fully know why we couldn’t go there, but he said not to worry because the camper was newer and nicer. It is hard to say that $1000 a month in rent is fair for such a change-up, but it was either that or going homeless so we took what we got.    We arrived at the camper, and even when trying, there was not one good thing I could say about it. There were food splatterings all over the counter, the coffee maker wasn’t even cleaned, and we felt uncomfortable touching most things in there. Opening the top cabinet, the entire structure began pulling away from the wall and being cheap RV walls, there was a divider to the bedroom that would not be able to hold the weight of a fat raccoon. The shower could only keep warm water for five minutes and we didn’t even get a key so the door had to always be unlocked, unless we were there. Not ideal to say the least. On top of this, the camper was smaller than Sharon, and again, we were paying $1,000 for it. This presented the issue– do we stay here accepting the fact that we drove 2,200 miles to be in a gorgeous place while receiving no respect, or do we make the excruciatingly difficult decision to leave the place we dreamed of living in? The decision was not made lightly. We called family, asked for advice, prayed, and ruminated.    The Decision   After throwing many ideas around, we decided on this– we would stay. Not for long, but just long enough until we could find a new job because it seemed highly irresponsible to quit one job without another lined up. That night, we began emailing around and applying for jobs all across the United States. All of this was done while dreading the fact that we needed to start our jobs in Skagway at 10 am the next morning. This was a stressful and defeating night’s sleep, but though everything can seem bleak, there is always a light.   We woke up the next morning, and I had an email in my inbox. It was one of the places we applied to the night before asking when we would be available for an interview. After shooting an email back, we got a time set– 8:30 am the same day. Before the interview, we prayed, asking God to give us a rather clear sign that this job would be from Him as it was 4,000 miles from Skagway. The time rolled around, and the interview began.   From the beginning, the interviewer seemed genuine, kind, and compassionate. He spoke of the generations that ran the campground we were applying to before him, and he was forthcoming with the difficulties and challenges of the job and location. There was an inquisition about us as people and an immediate desire to see that we were caring for ourselves along the journey. Beyond all of this, the crazy thing is that he offered us the jobs on the spot. It seemed so clear to us that we could not say no to the offer. We accepted the jobs, did some last-minute shopping, and quit our jobs in Skagway as we drove out of town, just 45 minutes before our first shift.   This was the first, and hopefully, the last time we had to leave a job like this, but it seemed that this was the best choice for us, and we have no regrets.   The Drive       Starting at 10 in the morning, we embarked on our 4,000-mile journey to the East Coast from Alaska. If you read my last post, you may be relieved that this drive was much less eventful. The drive was nice. Relaxation slowly set in as we gained more and more confidence in our decision, and the drive was filled with even more wildlife. Though driving away from the fjords has a much different feel than driving toward them, the trip wasn’t solemn. Yes, there were moments along the way when we were asking ourselves if we made the right decision, and there were moments we experienced grief in the outcomes of the situation. However, we held to the deep-rooted truth that we were making the right decision.   Much of the drive consisted of the dusty highways of Alberta and Saskatchewan, followed by the flat hills of North Dakota, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. We drove through Chicago and finished the drive by cutting through Indiana to take a pit stop in Ohio.   Expecting to not be able to see family for an additional six months in Alaska, it was a pleasant surprise that we could anchor in Ohio for a brief period to catch up with our people before continuing. It was refreshing and gave me my much-needed fix of close community.   As we took off once more, we made the last leg of the trip to where we are today.   The East Coast Remedy   One month ago, we arrived here in beautiful Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The air is warm and fair, with the gracefully cool breezes that blow past on the beach. Our campground is quaint. Rather than the chaotic bustle of cruise ships unloading thousands of people daily, we are surrounded by a grove of pitch pines in which Sharon is tucked into. We are a six-minute walk from the beach, and we hear the birds serenading each other every morning.    As residential trash pickers and shower cleaners, our jobs aren’t glamorous, but they are exactly what we need right now. The visitors are kind, each with their own stories to be held as a testament to their characters. This is not at all what we expected our summer to look like, but we are content.   In this season, we have been forced to understand a new form of resilience. This form is not met with bold opposition to a situation, but a peacefully chaotic understanding that there will be peace in the situation as long as God is near. Our lives look completely different than what we intended, but we know that God has not failed, and He is still only beginning to reveal His truth to us.