In other ways it is the harder option. I find the States a rather unappealing place to live after having lived in Bolivia. I know materialism will be much more unavoidable than here in La Paz. The crazy, hectic lifestyle of most Americans clashes tremendously with the more laid-back, sometimes unaware-of-time culture here. The independent, fast-food, all-about-me culture of the States differs widely from the family-centered, meals-with-people, highly relational Bolivians. Of course I realize I am idealizing Bolivia right now. There are certainly times when I long for things in the States--efficiencies such as paved roads, waiting your turn in line, and being punctual. But there is so much that we gringos from Western culture can learn from Bolivians about valuing people, time (in the opposite sense of what most Americans consider in valuing time) and simplicity, not to mention what we can learn from each other in a setting like this. I have gained so much from fellow gringos here. Because we live and work so closely together, I have learned countless lessons about the importance of community and the vitality of vulnerability within it.
So why am I leaving? I've asked myself and God this question over and over again, but for reasons I can't explain well, I feel like the answer is always, "Because you need to. Your time is up." That's a pretty difficult answer to swallow given the things I love about my home in the Andes. However, I know that God has plans that are greater than I can understand. I know that, though I can't be anyone's salvation, I need to be with my family. I also know that I want to work more closely with the poor, and right now that means in the States, most likely inner-city. I have had this calling/desire since before I came to Bolivia. (Here I teach children from mostly middle class families.) Perhaps the past few years have been to prepare me for this.
I have no clue exactly what this transition will look like, but I'm completely certain that it involves taking the lessons of love and simplicity that I have learned here back to the States. I am scared--terrified, actually. All I can do is try to trust that God has already paved the way for the place where I can grow and learn and serve him best. Bolivia will forever be a part of me--a place of healing, restoration and growth. The trick, I suppose, is letting that permeate my life in the States, and attempting to find or create the type of community that I cherish so much here.
In the meantime, I plan to keep in mind all those cheesy quotes and country songs that talk about living each moment to the fullest, live like you're dying, and dance like nobody's watching or whatever. The coming months will be bittersweet. It's times like these when I'm especially grateful for the grace and strength of Jesus' promises.
