“Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.”

— “Strawberry Fields Forever,” The Beatles

In the middle of this month, I had the unique opportunity to travel to Alaska for a week. Though I knew I would miss a lot of class, I couldn’t let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip by.

There were ten of us on the team: three adults and seven youth. It’s very hard to put into words what we did there. I guess a mission trip comes closest to explaining it. Our task was to set up a three-and-a-half day retreat called Chrysalis. But retreat does not accurately describe it. Chrysalis is an intensive course where kids can experience the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ, often for the first time.

All the members of the team had experienced an Iowa Chrysalis. It changed our lives. And now we had the opportunity to give back and spread this ministry to the dark state of Alaska.

Being an “Iowa Farmboy,” as I came to be known, I really didn’t know very much about this vast territory. Shoot, I didn’t even know how to speak Alaskan. But since the time I found out I was going there, I developed many ideas of what it would be like.

For instance, I expected Alaska to be really cold. Being the middle of winter, I figured we’d freeze our butts off, silly me. I also expected it to be fairly dark. I’m not a scholar on arctic regions, but I remember learning somewhere that the sun does not shine too much up there. Which reminds me, if you ever go to Alaska, never say you’re going “down” there. Big mistake.

There were other ideas I had. I figured I’d see a polar bear here and there. I didn’t expect to see them drinking a Coke or anything, but I did think I would see one. And it may seem hard to believe, but I actually thought that I might just bump into an Eskimo on the frozen tundra. I even thought I might see an igloo.

And for some reason, I thought the people there and the kids we worked with would be different from me. Maybe I thought that because Canada separated us, they would somehow be less American. Or maybe I thought that the frigid blasts of cold air would alter their personalities.

I headed to Alaska prepared to serve. I was thinking that I could be a great role model for these kids to look up to. I figured I had a lot to teach them. And because of this self-fulfilling, self-glorifying attitude, my eyes were closed.

My preconceived ideas (some would call them stereotypes, because that’s exactly what they were) were completely off. The average temperature of the week was nearly 30. The sun was shining, too, which made the weather pretty darn good for mid-February.

I didn’t see any polar bears. I was informed that they make their homes farther north. I did see a moose, though. One day I was admiring the beautiful creature, and the next day I was eating moose burgers. I found that pretty ironic.

And of course I didn’t see an Eskimo or an igloo. For one thing we were in Anchorage, which was a regular American big city. And for another, it was Alaska, not the Arctic Circle.

I was very wrong. And it was those Alaskan kids who I thought were so different that ended up opening my eyes. They are regular American teenagers. They have some of the same problems we do. They laugh at the same jokes that we do. They like to hang out, listen to music, and eat Whoppers. Sound familiar?

Through Chrysalis, God always seems to teach something to everyone. If there’s one thing He taught me, it’s that I embodied the word stereotype.

But no more, my friends! No more will I look at a group of people and form an opinion. No more will I worry about being an ally just because I like the Indigo Girls. No more will I curse all bike riders just because one whizzed by me and nearly took off my ear. And no more will I see a pack of guys in tight jeans and boots walking to class and say, “Ag majors.”

I went to Alaska this month to teach kids. But sometimes in teaching others, you learn the most about yourself.

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Jackson Lashier is a freshman in journalism and mass communication from Marshalltown.