goodbye

disclaimer:  this post will probably fit in with my recent "debbie downer" trend.

tonight was my kids' end-of-year program.  of course this led to a trail of thoughts...the end of a school year.  the end of my time in la paz.  realistically, the end of some relationships.  the end of a beautiful season.  i tried to remain professional and calm, but despite all my efforts to be tearless, there was definitely a hyperventilating moment or two.  the love in the community of my school is something truly unique that maybe one can only experience by being a part of it.  i was blown away yet again by the love of my coworkers, my students--past and current, their families, and the immeasurable love of God that allowed me to be a part of their lives for the past few years. what an honor.

also, i realized something tonight:  the pain of leaving here seems so raw and at times unbearable because it's very likely i won't be returning here.  i don't want to discount the pain of leaving my family and home in nc three years ago, but it was different.  i suppose i knew i'd go back at some point.  i cannot depend on that possibility here in la paz.  this place has been my home, but the likelihood of returning long-term in slim.  and at least for now, that's what makes the goodbyes so unbelievably hard.

they say good things don't come easy.  con la fuerza de Dios, may my goodbyes to people, places and experiences continue to be difficult.

change

the reality is hitting. hard. i have a little over a month left at highlands and a little over two months left in bolivia and south america.

the pain is as fresh as it was when i was leaving north carolina three years ago.  not that anyone can replace my sweet family in the states, but la paz has become my home and its people my family.  it is amazing to me how swiftly these three years have passed, and yet how rich they have been.  how challenged i've been.  how much, by God's grace, i've grown.  and how i've felt--more consistently than ever before--so alive here.

i realize the challenges and joys that await me in the states, but at the moment it's hard to look ahead even a couple months to that point.  i want to be fully in the present.  i wish it were possible to take every precious jewel of an experience and bottle it up for later.  every river kid's smile.  every uncontrollable fit of laughter with friends.  every stunning sunset view from my apartment window.  every hug from a first grader.  as i move back to north carolina, i don't want to live in the past.  but i never, ever want to forget the beautiful memories i have had in my south american home.

i so appreciate what my friend keri (who will also leave la paz soon) posted about being uprooted: http://untameflame.tumblr.com/post/5077205490/uprooting.  my home--my mental and emotional stability, my sense of purpose, and my hope when things are changing--is not in a person or place at all, but in fact in the Lord.  i hope i can remember this in the coming months, even the coming moments, when the reality of change seems too difficult to do, much less to embrace.

"if we don't change, we don't grow. if we don't grow, we aren't really living."  ~gail sheehy

the beauty of simplicity

Yesterday I was kind of a bum--no gym, no school work, nothing stressful.  This allowed for some good ol' fashioned thinkin' time, and so in that way I guess I can feel slightly productive.  Reflecting on life is not my favorite thing, to be honest.  It often involves the humble realization of my depravity, and that whenever I try to do life on my own--as I too often do--it doesn't work out so well.  Thankfully, reflecting always comes back to God's grace in my life, and how, as undeserving as I feel, God has called me his child.  By grace he brings me back to his promises of his good plans for me.  By grace he reminds me that nothing else in all creation can separate me from his love. By grace he prompts me to be grateful.

One of the many things for which I am grateful is this place I've called home for almost three years.  There is a plethora of reasons to be grateful for my time in La Paz, but one I appreciate the most is a simple way of life.  Now I by no means am deprived of anything I need here in Bolivia. In fact, I have most everything I want, so in many ways I am still the spoiled American.  But I believe my mindset has changed in small ways as a result of living here.  I don't need a big salary.  I don't need a car.  I don't need to spend money on expensive meals to have quality time with friends.  I can travel on a small budget.  Proper electrical outlets and paved roads are luxuries I don't have to have.  A dryer and a dishwasher aren't necessities  either.  Movies at home can be just as good as or better than going to the theatre.  New clothes (and by that I mean new to me; the clothes I buy here are used) are nice but not essential.  There is no shame in borrowing...a lot.  Walking is better than driving or getting transportation everywhere.  Church is just as meaningful or more so in a school cafeteria with plastic chairs as in a "real" church facility.  Hanging out with kids in a neighborhood slum simply requires my time, a little energy and some love.  Most importantly, I don't feel the constant nag that I feel too often in the States; I don't need the cutest clothes and shoes, the latest iPhone, the sleekest car, the fanciest things.  I am satisfied with my purpose and my community here.  I am content with the simplicity of this place, of my job, of my relationships.  


My circumstances and community will vastly change in a few months.  I will have a new set of friends, a new church, a new apartment, a new job, and a different way of living.  I hope one thing that can remain the same, however, is this mindset of simplicity. Yes, it will be amazing to dry my jeans in a dryer again and eat fresh produce without sanitizing it first.  But when materialism rears its ugly, greedy head, may I counter it with a content smile, remembering that a simpler life--the life I'm trying to embrace every moment of here--is a beautiful thing.

a time for everything

Christmas break has been wonderful. I have relaxed, caught up with friends, and spent precious moments with family. I have filled my tummy with Chick-fil-a, trail mix and Diet Mountain Dew. I have enjoyed the small conveniences of flushing toilet paper, automatic bathroom appliances, and driving myself places. I've cherished the people whom I miss most when I am in La Paz and savored Stateside efficiencies.

There is a time to dance, and there is a time to mourn.

Although I look forward to these things upon returning to the States in June, it has been an ever-present burden to think about leaving Bolivia. I can relax in my apartment with my "family" there. I can fill my tummy with delicacies that--though likely to make me sick--are still tasty. I can find the small inconveniences like not being able to flush the toilet paper, faulty electrical outlets, and relying on other transportation endearing rather than frustrating. It is a time to mourn what will be not the total loss of those things, but the loss of the daily experience of them. I am trying my best to prepare myself for the time of grief that is yet to come in the next six months, though I'm not sure how to best do that. Regardless, I believe it will be an incredible lesson in aspirations I've always hoped to achieve: Live each day like it's your last. Carpe diem. "Arise and seize the day" (to quote one of my favorite films). I'm hoping that this time to mourn also, somehow, will be a time to dance.

the ugly truth

A couple of Thursdays ago I went "to the streets" with Word Made Flesh, an organization in the city of El Alto (located above La Paz) which seeks to "serve Jesus among the most vulnerable of the world's poor" (http://www.wordmadeflesh.org/).

In WMF Bolivia's case, they serve among women in prostitution. They have developed a refuge called La Casa Esperanza (House of Hope) for women to come and have free lunches and teas, purchase clothes for almost no cost, take trade-skill classes, and just be in a loving, trustworthy community. There is no judgement from the workers at the Casa. They show these women pure love. They feed them, clothe them, teach them, and love them the way I think Jesus would have done in his day. A majority of these women (who do this as a legitimate job, by the way; prostitution is legal in Bolivia) feel they have no way out. They have children, some of them have husbands, and all of them have the will to survive--by whatever means they can. This is a way of life for them. Fortunately, WMF workers come alongside them, befriend them, and then try to help them find a better way.

WMF has been intensely discipling and working with a small group of women over several months. They have been "out of the scene" for a while now and have started a small business of making purses. (The exciting news is that they will be sold at the Passion '11 conference in Atlanta! If you go, make sure to check out their booth!) Not only have they found a new way of life in a career, they have found a new life in Christ. I know the latter life-change has made the biggest impact on these women, but I am also so grateful that WMF seeks to meet the physical needs of people, not only their spiritual needs.

As I shook hands and gave "besitos" to these women the night I went to the red-light district, my heart broke--from hard-heartedness to compassion, from pride to humility. Perhaps the hardest to swallow, though, were the swarms of men in the brothels. My stomach churned, my heart pounded with fury, and my jaw was locked tight as I looked in the faces of men who take advantage of these women--men who pay the equivalent of $1 for sex. If I can be honest, I really wanted to see to it that each one be castrated. But, as my friend explained, they are just as broken as the women. Just as broken as you and me. Rather than reveal their brokenness in the cyclical shame of the abused, they are the abusers. God is still trying to teach me to show grace. In the meantime, I have this convicting passage from The Message to reflect on:

"It's easy to see a smudge on your neighbor's face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, 'Let me wash your face for you,' when your own face is distorted by contempt? It's this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor." (from Matthew 7)

We're all broken. The women in the brothels are the same as me. And yes, at the core, the men who visit them are the same as me. How quickly I create my own caste system and put myself at the top. How easily I forget that, no matter what our social or economic status, we all have an indescribably deep need for Love, and will pursue whatever route we think will take us there.

I hope to share Love and Hope with the women in the brothels. But I know for sure another reason that I will go again: to learn an in-your-face lesson of humility. God, help me wipe the sneer off my own face before offering a washcloth to anyone else.

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

The decision has been made. I am leaving La Paz and Highlands--my home and community for what will be three years--this coming June. Because I'm having to inform so many people, I think I have entered my first stage of grief. This sadness leads me to cherish even the smallest moments here, but I do hope that my mourning will turn to a bit more joy over the next couple months. It's such an odd place to be. In some ways I look forward to going back to the States. I miss my family and am especially thankful for time to be spent with grandparents and nieces.

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.

not so natural

In my last post I attempted to sort out the differences between aspects of life being "easy" and "natural" in following Jesus. I'm realizing more, however, how unnatural following Christ can be as well. Yes, we're made in the image of God, and he created us to worship something (and the only thing that will give us fulfillment in that worship is God). But there are so many unnatural things about it as well. I've been wondering why it's not okay to give into every whim and desire we have as people--aren't they "natural?" Why is it not a good thing when people only follow their instincts, if they are God-given? The fact is that not all of them are. Because we are imperfect people, we perverse the things of God and change them into something that does not glorify him and can cause pain to others. Rather than acting in accordance with the way he formed us, we act the "natural" way of the flesh, which is actually opposite of God. We have this nasty thing called sin that confuses us into thinking that certain things that seem natural and good are actually destructive. People give into natural feelings and reactions all the time, and look around: We are surrounded by greed, hatred, mistrust, abuse, affairs, and death, none of which are representative of the God of the Bible. What if people were to choose not to give into their natural (sinful) desires? What if we would deny ourselves certain things for the betterment of others? What if we would choose the road less traveled that feels pretty unnatural because we know that in doing so we'd have something much better, more lasting, eternal even?

Then [Jesus] said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self?" ~Luke 9:23-25