I’ve started this blog several times. You know in the movies where people start a letter or note, crumple it up, toss it in the trash, and repeat about a hundred times? That’s what I’ve been doing for the last several days. I suppose it’s been slightly less dramatic since I’m using a computer, but the idea is the same. I just can’t quite express what I want to say.
I think the problem is trying to pick up where I left off in the last post. Last time I wrote was after my trip to the Dominican Republic and before that was at the end of my gap year. But I’m not the same person I was last summer or even in February. It goes back to the clay idea (if you’re new to this blog, see the previous post, or the first one, or Isaiah 64:8). If a piece of clay looks the same as it did a whole year before, then the potter working on it is clearly not doing a very good job. In the past year, God has done SO MUCH work in my heart. So much that I don’t even know where to start. But since I can’t seem to write that particular story at the moment, I’m going to move on. I promise, though, that I will come back to it. You will certainly hear about my freshman year at Washington and Lee, and I hope that when you do, you will see how much the Potter has done in me. For now, though, we’ll skip to May 25th.
May 25th:
I’ve done this several times now: Pack way too much stuff. Watch Dad haul it out to the car. Drive to the Pittsburgh airport. Smile for a whole bunch of pictures. Hope Mom doesn’t cry. Trudge through security. Walk to my gate with my carry-on bag (shouldn’t have made it so heavy…). Fly to another airport for a longer than desirable layover. Eat some overpriced food that is never very good. Continue dragging around my too heavy carry-on…you get the idea.
Sometimes I want to skip over this part of the journey. I get tired, I get a headache, and I’d just really rather not deal with it. It doesn’t work that way, though. The beginning of every journey is crucial. It’s the part that takes ordinary life and boosts it up to adventure status. Here’s how: First, it’s on the plane that I always realize how little I know about what I’m getting into. I may have heard things, but I have not experienced them, so my brain really can’t wrap itself around the whole idea. Or maybe I haven’t even been told what to expect at all. The unknown looms before me. It can be scary. Or exciting. Or both.
Next comes the hardest stage. This is the part where I learn what I’ve signed up for, and I realize that I am totally unprepared and underqualified for whatever it is. In each of my previous adventures, this moment stands out clearly. Here are a couple of flashbacks:
Huancayo, Peru: (translated) “Okay, Josy. Welcome to the Mountain School. Here is your class. Teach them English. I’ll be back in an hour. Bye.” As 10 pairs of brown eyes looked at me expectantly, I turned to ask Mari what to do. But she was already gone.
Ojojona, Honduras: I jumped up and down and was probably red in the face as I tried to answer Elam’s question in Spanish. I changed up some of my wording and attempted a fifth explanation of why going to church does not earn your salvation. Then I took a deep breath and hoped that they finally got it. (translated) “Okay, so let’s try this again. If you go to church, does that mean you will go to heaven?” I sighed along with the disappointing chorus of “Si!”
It gets easier after that…until the end of the adventure at least. But it’s much too early to talk about that. This adventure is just beginning.
May 29th:
It started off rough. At this time yesterday, I was desperately trying to figure out why I’d decided to do this type of thing for the rest of my life. The multi-hour safety lectures alone were enough to make me long for the West Virginia hills.
It hasn’t been all bad, of course. There are some highlights. The city tour on Sunday was pretty cool. The church I went to was amazing. There’s nothing like 6,000 people worshipping in Spanish, 5000 miles from home to make you realize how BIG our God is and how far His hand reaches. And chocolate orange gelato was pretty delicious.
The rest, though, has been different than expected. Lonely. Intimidating. Flat out Scary.
But today was different. In the split second between opening the door of Fundación Cor and seeing the kids run up to greet me, I remembered. This is why I’m here.
**Pictures coming soon!**
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