I am with you

I am with you.

You don’t have to jump through hoops or mine your deepest thoughts.

I am with you.

You don’t have to journal or write or set aside time for me.

I am with you.

You don’t have to pray or talk to me.

I am with you.

You don’t have to serve me.

I am with you.

You don't have to figure it all out.

I am with you.

You don't have to wait till my voice rings loud and true. 

I am with you in the silence.

I am with you in the secret.

I am with you in the stillness. 

I am with you always. I love you endlessly.

Sometimes I forget that God is with me even when I don’t do all my daily rituals that make me feel closer to Him. The reading and writing and examining and praying are part of the relationship, for sure, but He’s with me even when I don’t hold up my end of the bargain. He’s with me no matter what. And that’s pretty cool. 

All Is Well

I came across this quote awhile back, and yesterday as I sat reading in the park in the center of Antigua, catching bits of Spanish conversation buzzing around me and reflecting on my life, I was reminded of it:  

"The time is ripe for looking back over the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are, and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts. We turn on the television maybe. We pick up a newspaper or book. We find some chore to do that could easily wait for the next day. We cling to the present out of wariness of the past. We cling to the surface out of fear for what lies beneath the surface. 

But there is a deeper need yet, I believe, and that is the need - not all of the time, but from time to time - to enter that still room within us where the past lives on as part of the present, where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive to ourselves, to the long journeys of our lives with all their twistings and turnings and to where our journeys have brought us.

There we will find, beyond any feelings of joy or regret, a profound and undergirding peace, a sense that in some unfathomable way, all is well." -Frederick Buechner

The time feels right for looking back. I am starting new, starting fresh, moving forward. My mind tells me I should be sifting, analyzing, searching for things done and undone. But even in the park alone with my thoughts, in my room alone with my journal, I can't get myself to muster up any evaluations, to come to any conclusions. 

My mind usually reels; it's my modus operandus. The silence is what unnerves me.  

These last few days, however, my first days in this new place, I've encountered a friendly silence, a peaceful cessation of thoughts and worries and concerns. 

When I look back, I don't feel either joy or regret. When I think about the last year and how heartbroken I was when I learned I couldn't keep my job and live in Guatemala, when I think about the bewilderment of burnout and the weight of decision making that anchored me to the ground, when I think about the dream job I now possess in my dream location, I am overwhelmed with a sense a peace. 

I still can't believe my journey with all its twistings and turnings has brought me here, to Guatemala. That I type these words from my new room in Antigua, the place I have dreamed of living, is in itself a miracle. 

Here in this place I have found, "beyond any feelings of joy or regret, a profound and undergirding peace, a sense that in some unfathomable way, all is well." 

And that is a gift a thousand times over. 

First Post from Guatemala

Guess what, guys? I am finally HERE! I am writing from my new home in Antigua, Guatemala!

Mom, Dad, and other concerned citizens: I made it safely and even got to watch a little bit of the Olympics on the plane ride over. My travel buddy, Becky, and I were picked up by her mom at the airport and made it to Antigua with enough time to (briefly, we were tired after all) go out on the town and reunite with some of Becky's friends. 

 On our first day, we planned out the next month that Becky will be here with me and did some recon to determine which tour companies to use for our adventures and which language school to attend and hunted out the local gym so I can keep the beans and tortillas safely away from my love handles.  I also unpacked my belongings into my new room, we caught a free showing of Kite Runner (which I highly recommend), and then watched Danell Leyva win a medal (we couldn't tell which medal because there was no volume and NBC, frustratingly, did not show any final standings--I later learned he won bronze) in men's gymnastics at the only bar we could find that was showing the Olympics. 

My morning coffee drinking view: be jealous.

And that was Day One for anyone who is interested. But enough of the travelogue and on to my musings. 

By the length of that last paragraph, it seems like I've had an eventful trip thus far. Yet I've been plagued with this sense that I'm not getting enough done. Shouldn't I be fluent in Spanish and have a million Guatemalan friends and be bombarded by job and volunteer opportunities already? 

I have a tendency to get ahead of myself. I still remember my freshman year roommate and I kicking ourselves because we hadn't managed to solicit a committed surfer boyfriend three days into New Student Orientation. (To our defense, one girl on our hall had secured a boyfriend in that time and they are now happily married with a beautiful little girl.)

My new home!

If I've learned anything since then, it's that things take time. I mean, it's been eight years since I unloaded my tropical print, extra long comforter from Target and tacked posters of my favorite Christian boy band and Olympic gymnasts on my dorm room wall with University-sanctioned blue tape. I've outgrown the Christian boy bands, and I still have a weak spot for male gymnasts, especially the medal winners, and it seems I still I have a problem with expecting too much, too soon. 

That boyfriend is still nowhere to be found. And that's okay. My boyfriendless status means I am free to be here, in Guatemala, experiencing a new adventure on my own. Things take time. And that's okay. Things don't always work out as we expect or demand. And that's okay. 

My room is behind the bottom window.

It will be awhile before I feel at home even though I am very blessed to live with amazing, hospitable friends who already feel like family. It will be awhile before I can conjugate my Spanish verbs fast enough to actually maintain a conversation to the level of my liking. Before I make friends of my own and can walk the streets of Antigua like a pro, where the navigational trials produce less and less errors and unexpected detours. 

For now, in my second day of expatriotism, I am content with the fact that I am here, drinking coffee on the patio overlooking the lush courtyard where plants doggedly climb the stuccoed walls and birds call and caw to each other at Segundo Avenido 6B in Antigua, Guatemala, my new home. I am here, and for now, that is more than enough.