Back in Idaho, we call these irritating
inventions speed bumps. Here in Colombia they are better known as policías
acostados, or sleeping police. They are pretty much everywhere and they come in
threes.
"In solitude, we become present to ourselves by creating an
open space in our heart in order to understand who we truly are in God; through
the service of hospitality, we become present with, to, and for others as we
create a friendly space wherein we can reach out to them as hospitable soul
hosts; by prayer, we become present to the Divine Presence by creating a
free space for God so we can understand and experience God more intimately.”
-Henri Nouwen
1)
Present to ourselves
2)
Present to others
3)
Present to God
1.
Present to ourselves
After a day full
of driving, swimming, eating, learning about Alex’s job placement, sweating, and
extended hospitality from Alex’s host family, Sarah, Sophia, and I said our
goodbyes to Alex, who will be spending the year in Carepa. We hopped on a bus,
which took us to Apartadó, from here Sarah and Sophia would be catching a bus
at 6:00 am to take them back to Barranquilla. I was having my first lesson of
patience in the Colombian culture. Contrary to the original plan of driving
back to Dabeiba that night, I was instead staying the night in Apartadó.
Looking back, my host mom did warn me that morning that I should bring what I
thought sounded like “interior and exterior clothes” in case we didn’t make it
back. Assuming the worst and not being able to ask specific questions in
Spanish, I figured she meant that the car was old and we would be climbing up a
mountain in the dark so I should be prepared if we broke down. As such, I
packed nothing more than my glasses and a jacket (which is definitely my Idahoan
instincts coming out—there is no need for a jacket at any point in the day
around here). After sweating in my clothes all day in the Carepa heat, I
continued to sleep in them and wake up in them. I said a sleepy goodbye to
Sarah and Sophia and then crawled back into bed, already feeling the effects of
leaving my Colombian YAV team. The next morning Diego (my host dad/boss) and I,
slowly, made our way back to Dabeiba.
That
is where my exciting and adventurous stories end. Well, this is not entirely
true, but what is true is that I have about 6-8 hours everyday to spend doing
whatever, alone. The picture above is of my street; I spend a large majority of
my days sitting in a picnic chair on the front porch reading, writing, and
practicing Spanish.
This
is not the exciting and fulfilling life that I had envisioned when I signed up
for the YAV program, and in all honestly it is likely to change. Within two
days of my arriving, Diego took off for an international conference leaving me
with a couple of phone numbers, some books, and a promise to return in ten
days. Before I came I envisioned a full schedule. Now that I am here I am
having to figure out what it means to be alone, present to myself. And not only
physically alone, but also figure out what it means to exist in a world where I
cannot communicate. I am isolated, even when 15 year olds who think it’s
hilarious that I can’t speak Spanish surround me.
Prayers that in this time of solitude, no matter how long it would last, I would be able to truly understand who I am in Christ.
2. Present to others
Yesterday
afternoon I frantically ran out of the house, hopped in a little taxi, and was
driven up to the court where, every Sunday, a basketball tournament takes
place. Part of my work here in Dabeiba consists of helping out with the weekly
times of recreation that are available, this Sunday afternoon tournament being
one of them. As I sat on the sidelines, watching the game and observing the
surrounding activities, I saw a chunky boy fall off of his bike a couple times
and some oh-so-cool kids shooting off bottle caps from homemade rockets. I saw couples
stopping by to say hi as they rode off into the sunset on their motos and I saw
a community that laughs and fights and plays together. Walking around the neighborhood
surrounding the court, I saw underwear hanging on the line across the street to
dry and people out on their front porches fanning themselves and drinking juice
together. This is a community where people don’t have secrets and they offer
themselves, all or nothing, to the fight to stay alive and thrive.
Sitting
on the sidelines, I was welcomed into this community—welcomed as an English teacher and loved for being one of the first white people to come to Dabeiba and stop to say hello.
Although my hospitality is limited—and I often find myself in the home of
someone else taking home oranges from their tree because, out of all the plants
in their backyard, the only one I knew the name of was orange—I am being
present to this community by just being willing to sit and have them laugh at
my Spanish and tell them that Manuel in English is still Manuel.
Prayers that I would feel a sense of purpose, although at times it feels like I am more of a burden than a blessing.
 |
| Thanks Alex! For this picture and the next :) |
3. Present to God
On the road from
Apartadó to Dabeiba there is a little wooden structure on the side of the road.
There, four or five little munchkins live with their mamá, selling bananas.
Every time Deigo and I drive past, we stop and by a bunch. We sit in the car,
eating banana after banana and enjoy the beautiful and eye-popping green
scenery out of the open windows, feeling like Donkey Kong as we throw the peels
out the window.
Before we dropped
off Alex in Carepa, we were able to stop at the river to swim. This little
oasis awaited us as we got out of the car and walked down a path, crossed a
little stream, and climbed a rock. The air was the perfect temperature; the
water was perfectly complimentary. And the laughter and joy floating across the
water was almost tangible.
After we were
pruney and happy, we sat down in the sun to dry off, have a devotion, and eat
another banana. God is gloriously creative. He made the trees and he made
laughter and he made bananas. And He made all things good. On this drive, on
that rock, with a banana in hand, I find that I am intimately aware of the
presence of God. Of all that He has done, and all that He will continue to do
in this world.
Prayers that I would see God and be intimately connected to Him in all situations, at all times. That I would be able to see God in the speed bumps and on the tops of the mountains.
