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In summer 2016, my plans to study abroad in Ecuador came to a halt after a severe earthquake devastated the country. Forced to find an alternative course, I settled on a “study abroad” trip at the Bad River Ojibwe Reservation... in northern Wisconsin. Leading up to the trip, I couldn’t help but wonder, how much could I possibly learn in a week? And only five hours north? I wish I could go back and drown out my cynicism. By some fluke of nature, my alternate course was almost cancelled after the reservation was hit by severe thunderstorms a month before the trip. Extreme flooding destroyed houses and washed out several major roads, leaving parts of the reservation without power for weeks. My trip landed in the midst of the community’s recovery. Arriving at the reservation, the first thing you noticed was that everything was wet. The ground felt spongey and the air was moist and thick in your lungs. Despite the feeling we were walking into something terrible, my peers and I were greeted by smiles and hugs from tribe members. It struck me as odd how happy they seemed and how eager they were to show us around their reservation, given how extensive the storm damage was. Nonetheless, we spent the week exploring everywhere from the pow-wow grounds and the wild rice sloughs to the health clinic and tribal elders’ homes. It wasn’t until we saw the muddy wild rice sloughs that I began to understand the flood from the Native’s perspective. Wild rice holds great significance to the community, not just for its economic value but its spiritual roots, and the flood water had risen so high that the rice grains were washed loose and the majority of the season’s crop was ruined. Yet, it seemed to me the tribe was not angered enough and I felt sorry for the community. However, while canoeing the sloughs, a tribal elder explained to us that they believed the flood was a cleansing of the land; for whatever reason, their land was being prepared for something more important. I soon came to realize that despite the disaster, the tribe did not feel sorry for themselves and it was not my place to label them as victims. I just needed to listen. In my short time with the Bad River Ojibwe, I discovered the what it means to live purposefully, and ultimately I came to recognize the power of perspective. For teaching me about their culture and inspiring me to live more graciously, I will always be thankful to the Bad River community. Miigwetch (“thank you” in Ojiwemowen)!