broken

It burns.

And Yet I will rejoice in the pain. Pain, for me and for right now, is the realization of growth. I'm terrified of it all.

Tonight was delightful. I came home and lost it. I wonder what it was like to go a day without tears. That burns too.

I want to set a deadline. "You will feel better by Sunday. By May 1st. By 2012" yet I know I shouldn't. I can't. Let my mind rest. Seek faith in God and know that He is holding me and my heart, no matter how broken it all feels.

Faith is burning. And Ive never felt that.

Growth.

A little bit stronger

It's a song by Sara Evans. It's real cheesy. Over the top. But it's right where I am. Too scared to write. Too scared not to. And so far from either. There are a million thoughts going through my head at any given moment, so maybe if I throw some down on paper (or screen...) I can disengage. Or sleep.

The last time I wrote, here anyway, was when I just arrived back. So much has changed and yet, so much has stayed the same. But I feel not in all the right ways. I think of Bolivia daily. Strike that, Bolivia comes into my mind like a ton of bricks daily. It's crazy how long I have been home and how heavy that country still lies on my heart. The time I spent there was incredible. Life changing. But I must take it for that. Allow Bolivia to shape who I am, but not restrict who I am. I am here in Chicago now, doing wonderful things and I need to embrace that for all its worth. Okay, will do.

It didnt work out with him. Own that. Know that. Be grateful for lessons learned. Yet all I can focus on is things lost. Trust. Health. Relationships. It will all be over Saturday. A new chapter. A fresh start. Dive in. "Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger..." Its not in the loss of my relationship with him. Its so far beyond that. Its that I feel I failed. The one thing I can do is people. I can relate to people. I understand people. And some how, something has gone so horribly wrong here. St. Patricks Day was the final straw.

I did my first (and second) Marathon since I last wrote. Check that bad boy off the bucket list. It was truly one of the greatest moments of my life --crossing that finish line. The race burned in all the right ways. I need that again.

Something to shock me back to remembering what I stand for. Who I am.

Things I find important right now:

-Organization. I hate moving. I hate the cachos of it all. But this allows me to cope and embrace change.

-My family.

-Wine -in moderation.

-Work. It's why I get out of bed.

-Running. Clear my head. Open my heart.

Sleep. I need sleep.

2009

By this point, many of you know that I am home. If not: surprise! :) I am home and living in Chicago with a dear family that I nanny for. I surprised my family two weeks ago and showed up at our family Christmas party. It was joyous. My family was beautiful and incredibly supportive of all of the changes. As much as things have changed, many things have not and that includes my family and my love for them. It has been wonderful to catch back up.

Yet, difficult. Terribly difficult in fact. And so, if I may, take a minute to thank my family and my friends for their support. There have tears and fears from the day I landed in Chicago and they have been patient and understanding. They have understood that they pain of leaving Bolivia does not mean that I am regretting being back or that I wish I was with my Bolivian family over this family, just that I cannot compare my lives. Bolivia is irreplacable in my life. And they have not tried to fill that hole. Thank you.

Change is good. Change is inspiring. Change is encouraging. Evo represented change in Bolivia. And Obama here in the States. Change seems to be the basis of this next year. Not simple, difficult. But I'm ready. Ready to struggle for the greater good of myself and of those around me. Ready to struggle to be better and to fight for more. Not easy. But that's exciting.

Yes I spoke in Spanish when I landed. And cry everytime I recieve an email from a student, but its more than that. Bolivia and I were in a relationship. I felt as if I was having a love affair with Bolivia. As much as I love Chicago -long term, commitment sort of love. But Bolivia was a different passion. And so here, I mourn that loss. But celebrate in the time I had. Celebrate knowing that Bolivia and I will be together again.

I am catching up on the lives of my friends and family. Slowly eating and fighting a few last parasites. I am enjoying the snow, but shivering heaps. I speak in Spanish and Australian as much as possible. And I hug my family as much as I can. Because I know that in Bolivia I missed that. I certainly missed that.

Gram says that "Home is where your heart is." I am grateful to have two homes. Two places that welcome me with love, joy, and embrace me as their own.

7 Months Together

The most interesting thing this month has been the approaching holidays. Whenever I talk to home I hear stories of ice skating, sledding, and Christmas shopping. And a few weeks into December I expect nothing less. However, here things are looking very different.

Christmas carols I know and love are not overly played in stores, if played at all. Many of our songs in the US an in North America are about snow. It is summer here folks. We didn't have snow in the dead of 'winter' when I arrived, we certainly don't have snow now. I encourage you to search through songs and listen for the amount of cultural cues. That is what I have been raised on. Without snow, I don't feel like Christmas is coming.

It feels like 4th of July is heading up quick. But then I walk through that Prado to look at Christmas lights. No icicle lights or snow flakes. Simply stars and Christmas trees. Very weird.

However, being a missionary. The lack of snow and holiday cheer has brought be back to reality of what Christmas is all about for Christians. A tiny baby, wrapped in clothe, who lay in a manger. And for that --- I am grateful.

Touch some snow today. And think of me :)

3 Earth Quakes and my 2nd sleepless night

So heres the thing:
I am from Chicago. We do fire drills and we do tornando drills.

I remember my senior year in high school making fun of Nicki for saying she felt an earth quake in Island Lake. (Which there was one, but it was TINY!)

And so last night when I woke up to the first quake I thought I was dreaming. But the 2nd one shortly followed and I was nearly laughing at how ironic the situation was. I had NO IDEA what to do. Stay int he house? Leave the house? Bathroom? I live on the 2nd floor I did want to fall to the ground. But I was listening for Joann under me because I didnt want my apartment to fall into hers. Oh goodness.

Don't worry, everyone I know and love is perfectly safe. And I have been given instructions as to what to do.

The realization that Sunday morning is still Saturday night for many

Recently I have really taken a liking to early morning runs. The sun is not to hot yet. The city is beginning to grumble. And I find myself up and at 'em early any way, why not take advantage of the fact that I am able to enjoy this time alone. I'm usually alone.

Monday through Friday mornings are quite uneventful. As I pass by the bars on the plaza I find the aroma of stale beer and cigarettes still in the air. Generally, this stikes a whole thought process for me about the tasks that still lie ahead for missionaries in this city. Which only seems to be the beginning. Eryn-May came with me this morning as I ran down the plaza toward the prado. We passed the bars as we usually do, only two stumble upon three men.

Now, don't worry, they were passed out drunk. And harmless. This is a new concept to me. Never in the city of Chicago would police allow men to passout outside a bar near the middle of the street. In fact, I find myself thinking that this action is likley illegal. My first thought CPR, Rescue breathing, and are they alive? The smell of beer quickly overwhelms me and I realize they are simply napping after a long evening.

Not quite sure why, but hours later, these men lay heavy on my heart. Several things come to mind. Where are their friends and family? Are they worried? Will they be okay? Will someone less kind come across their path? And goodness, what can we do?

Right now, I ask for prayer. Prayer for my heart and mind as I continue to digest things like this day in and day out. Prayer for these three men. That they are safe, find a warm meal this morning/afternoon, and that the Lord would move in the hearts and souls upon waking up in the street. And prayer for this city. May missionaries continue to feel called to be here and may the Lord continue to use imperfect servants to reach imperfect souls perfectly.

Paper Mache gets a wee bit messy.

Darina is in 6th grade and she makes me laugh. Usually very hard.

Rhadassa is in 3rd grade and speaks three languages.

Benji and Pablo love working together. They are in 2nd grade.

Third grade having a ball.

What was this teacher thinking?!

With each of my classes this week we did paper mache. Although it was a bit messy, the children had a ball. I think its good for them to get a bit messy, to be creative, and to love doing it.

Sometimes I think I was born to do this.