“It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
When I wrote the first blog of this journey to South
America, I had just finished crying about how I didn’t want to go, wiped the
tears from my eyes, pulled myself up off my mother’s lap, and wrote a brave
blog post.
Now I sit in a plane taking me home, 7 months earlier than
expected, and trying to find that same courage.
You see, I painted a picture for all of you of my YAV year while
I was living a different story. Everything I told you is true, you can be
assured of that. But I was trying to paint a picture of a brave YAV, a strong
YAV, a YAV who looked a crummy situation in the face and said “No job, no
friends, no conversations—no problem! Even when my intestines are spilled out
on the side of the road, multiple times, I’m laughing!”
For the past four months, I have been living in obligation
and shame, trying to create the perfect YAV year. I thought that because people
had donated money to support my coming here, that I was letting them down if I
was serving God in a country other than Colombia. Although when I arrived, I
simply wanted to turn around and head back home, I tried to engage community
members, family members, and church members while myself wanting to pull out my
hair. I ate all the food that was hospitably offered to me even though I knew
with every bite that it was going to be far more painful coming out than going
in. And of course, I laughed and I enjoyed many moments here in Colombia. But I
struggled far deeper.
I struggled to wake up in the morning. To get out of bed. To
take a shower. To go for a run. To smile. To have a conversation. To make it
out of the house. To eat.
To put it simply, I was miserable.
The YAV program supports putting participants in
challenging, eye-opening situations. Situations that force participants out of
their comfort zone. I can, with full confidence, say that I was out of my
comfort zone. I was out of my comfort zone when I was asked to pluck the
feathers out of a dead chicken we were going to eat in 2 hours. I was out of my
comfort zone when I pulled a cucaracha out of my skirt pocket and when fellow
YAV Alex and I performed a skit in front of 100 eager youth. But as I stared
out the window to a beautiful, warm, sunny day, full of potential, and could
only think of how I hoped no one would ask me to do anything so I could just
sit on my bed all day, I realized I was not only out of my comfort zone, but I
was breaking.
Even though I would have insisted otherwise four months ago,
I came here with the weight of obligation already on my shoulders. It’s not
something that anyone put there, I loaded it upon myself. I convinced myself
that to serve God I needed to be bold, to be extravagant. And so I flew to
Colombia, came to live in the little town of Dabeiba. But four months later, I
recognized the signs of complete burnout. As I have shared in previous posts, I
didn’t have a steady job, nor did I have much to do on an average day. The
simple act of taking steps in a direction (in this case, toward staying in
Colombia) when my heart and soul were being called somewhere else, led me to
the point of breaking.
God used this time that I have been here. And he does not
mess around. In the midst of being completely stripped of myself—my personality
from comfort of language, my normal outlet for talents and skills, my
long-established friendships—I found God. I also found more of who He has
created me to be. I learned how to say yes when an opportunity presented
itself, even when that opportunity threw me out into the waters. I learned
about justice and peace in a society that has been battered by war. I learned
about a different sort of vulnerability—vulnerability that comes through not
having words, through trying to adjust gracefully to a culture and climate that
is different from the one in which I grew up. I was also blessed by a few
patient and loving Colombian friends and amazing teammates. God gave me
opportunities that opened my eyes to new ways of living, and is making it a bittersweet
good-bye. But through this time, I’ve also learned about the destructive power
of obligation and shame, and the overwhelming reality of trying to give from a
dry well. Although it is hard to leave Colombia (and I hope to return one day!),
I know that God is leading me on a new adventure.
I made pros and cons lists that could compete in length with
a greedy kid’s letter to Santa. I worked effortlessly to play out every scenario
in my head…should I stay? …should I go? But I realized that in all my thinking,
in all my praying, I forgot to be silent. After emailing a random friend who I
met in Austria about my situation, desperate for wisdom, I sat. For hours. In
silence. I realized in that silence I had finally found my answer. In the
blankness of mind, when I finally stopped writing mental lists and asking
rhetorical questions to God, I found my heart and soul being pulled toward the
U.S.
You can be sure, I could have hunkered down and made it
through. I could have moved to a new city—a fresh start. But for me, the
journey wasn’t about completing the year. By choosing to go home early, I
opened my soul, I bore by honest struggles and let God work. I asked for help.
I admitted that I came here with wrong intentions. And I let myself be helped.
Getting on planes is one of the hardest steps I ever take.
When I stepped onto the plane in Miami, the plane that carried me to Colombia,
I was a wreck. My fearless YAV and faithful friend, Sophia, helped usher me on,
in spite of my tears and objections, but it was a pesky flight attendant who
delivered the final blow. “Bogotá has a much more agreeable climate than Miami!”
she enthusiastically shouted at me through perfect red lipstick. Thank you very much, Barbara (I have no
idea what her name is), I do not live in
Miami nor is my final destination Bogotá, I wanted to snap at her. Why do you have the right to be so nosy?
But getting on this flight to take me home, I found myself
alone. After months of this feeling, I am getting fairly accustomed to it.
There were no YAVs by my side. No flight attendants injecting themselves into
situations where they may or may not be welcome. And yet, I took the steps.
They weren’t painful. They were freeing. There were no tears falling from my
eyes. As I sat in the darkness of the plane, I realized that we were flying
into the sunrise. A fresh start. A new beginning.
This friend who I cornered on Facebook and forced into my
situation offered me wise words. She reminded me that we are free in Christ.
Life lived in Christ is life lived to the fullest. And it is LIFE. I had
already made the decision to return home early by the time I read those words,
but I knew that they were words I needed to hear. Life in Christ is free. Context
matters to us humans, and recognizing that I need a change of context is an
opportunity for Christ to make perfect my weakness.
Although my YAV year looks a little different than most, I
still think I am living it. And I intend on keeping my blog. I know that God
continues to work in me regardless of if I choose to live in Colombia or the
USA. And there will always be adventures to share. I am going to start a new
page, “The Beautiful Ordinary” where I share my beautifully ordinary life with
you all. I hope you will stay invested. God knows I still need prayers, and I
thank you for all the ones you have sent out for me thus far in my life. Moving
to Colombia, even if only for four months, taught me a wealth of knowledge I am
still processing and will be for years to come.
“Therefore since we have been justified by faith, we have
peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained
access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of
the glory of God.”
Romans 5:1-2
