In This Hole of Salvation...

a poem from the mind of Emma Cole

How I feel about living in this hole of salvation?
It’s all so diverse—difficult to express in few words.

I love the ministry, the smiles on the faces of the forgotten now redeemed.
I love the cackling laughter and joy when the transformation takes place.
I love the excited sprints of bow-legged children who swarm our white land rovers.
I love the ‘we will survive through anything’ attitude which I find hard to possess.

I love the youth, the sarcasm and jokes made in a fun yet loving way.
I love the authority figures who bring themselves to our level of maturity—yet still set examples.
I love the prayer of our generation—feeling the influence that this youth have on others.
I love the lessons of love set out to expand our knowledge of God and His kingdom.

I love the uniqueness of our school and the close-knit community that the school is in itself.
I love the teachers, for their willingness and enthusiasm to help us learn the ways of life.
I love the sight of the high-school teen taking the hand of the pre-school toddler in aid of a fire drill.
I love that the rest of the ship knows deep down that without us youngsters, they wouldn’t enjoy this life as much.


I love the diversity of the people on board this small yet huge steel-white box.
I love the experience of the different cultural languages, music, actions, and mannerisms.
I love the united hands and hearts in prayer from the thirty-odd nations of this world we live in.
I love nature of God’s international people all coming together in peace.

I love the sister relationships I have built up with the friends I have made.
I love the comfort in being able to get a hug from any friend at any time.
I love the silly banter and hot gossip in the conversations with amazing cabin mates.
I love the excitement of looking to the future and seeing myself with those life-long friends.

But the one thing that I really dislike about this hole of salvation,
Are the endless number of goodbyes, tears, and sorrows for those who leave you behind in this hole.

However, there is the hope of a future—a time of happiness when we see each other again.
A time of rejoicing when we meet again outside this plastic bubble of a ship that we live in.