When your entire world changes and you’ve been stripped of effective communication with everyone around you, a lot is going through your head.
The first two weeks here were hard. Like the kind of hard where it was difficult for me to find joy in the every day. To get out of bed. To feel Christ. To understand why I thought I could do something like this.
Questions of doubt and pure exhaustion continue to fill my days, but little by little I’m adjusting. I’m learning how to be okay with uncomfortable (this is mostly supported in prayer). I’m being humbled by the realization that I’m a 25 year old who has a child’s vocabulary and speaking ability.
So yeah, it’s still not easy, but the people are helping me get through.
-----------
My host fam. I already gushed about these personas bondadosas, I am aware. But they have welcomed me into their home and lives in such a special way.
I have spent hours (combined) playing games with Paola and Pablito (I have literally been coached in soccer drills in the small courtyard in front of the house by Pablito. Whistles were blown and laps were run...by me). I have attended small (big) family parties and been brought along to First Communion celebraciones that feel quite similar to bodas (I wonder what an actual wedding is like). They aren’t just being polite when they ask (insist) I stay for lunch or dinner. They want me here.
And it’s not like I can really talk to them. I ask off-the-wall questions about their lives (by the way, found out that my host dad is receiving his masters in agriculture engineering. Can you say #couplegoals), and thank them 6 times after every meal for their generosity. And still, they have such a way with making me feel like I’ve known them forever, that I’m deserving of an ice cream after Mass, and that I’m really just another member of the family.
I had a moment alone el fin de semana pasado with Sara where I attempted to express my gratitude to her for having me enter into their lives with ease for 8 weeks. I was almost brought to tears when she told me I am always welcome in their home, that the door is always open to me if I ever want (or need) to return, and that I am truly an extension of their family (she legitly said this to me).
When I feel alone, like I may just cave in from the weight of knowing I’m neck deep in unfamiliar, los niños knock on my door, giggling and ask me if I’ll help them with their homework (lol like this is possible) or go to the store to buy a ball or play their favorite game (Uno).
They take care of me, fiercely protect me (Julio - our informal “director” at Spanish School - got a call when I got home later than planned one evening), and will do anything to help me succeed (Sara always proudly jokes I speak two languages).
Although this is a temporary place to rest (and learn), I feel welcome. And it brings a sense of familiar when I hear Pablito rooting for Paola (my sibs and I are the same way) or when they all tease each other or have family arguments (families are the same everywhere) or we’re all giggling over a Disney movie that’s on TV Sunday morning.
I feel so, so blessed that God chose this family to be my shelter, my home.
-------------------------
Emilia. Mi maestra que tiene mucho paciencia para mi y un amor para Dios que es raro, fuerte, y radiante.
Again, God blessed me with a teacher who is so my speed.
Spanish school is intense. You’re one-on-one with a person for five hours. You’re learning grammar, new vocabulary, and cramming a whole 8 year’s worth of knowledge into only 8 weeks. It’s a lot. And you can’t expect to walk away speaking perfectly (or so I’ve been told).
I was really nervous about learning a new language. I had a foundation of it thanks to high school and a few semesters in college, but I never got to the point where I could speak it fluidly or with confidence. I knew most of the tenses, the important verbs and somewhat about sentence structure. But otherwise I was a newbie.
I remember being a ball of sweat walking into school on our first day. I stole glances with Marisa who calmly patted my arm and told me I had nothing to worry about (hah). After we said an opening prayer together, we were paired off with our teachers and I landed Emilia.
Confident and motherly, she gave shook my hand and gave me a hug. On that first day I did my best to express to her that I understood more Spanish than I could actually speak and sure enough by the end of my first four hours, my brain was fried.
The second day I came to school almost in tears (what’s new). I (brokenly) told Emilia I was terrified of not being able to learn Spanish. I was terrified I wouldn’t catch on and I wouldn’t be able to answer my call at the Finca. She calmly looked me in the eye, and put me right at ease with her gentle explanation that learning a new language is a process and I just have to trust.
Since then I’ve never once not looked forward to spending a day with her. She knows so much about my life (Adam joked that it’s sort of like dating on steroids, which is so true). And I’ve prayed with her more than I ever have with anyone I’ve only known for 3 weeks.
Emilia brings joy to learning. Patience. Love. Understanding. And sincere interest in me. My guardian angel of a teacher, I’m enormously grateful for this blessing.
------------
My community.
Woah, community round 2. It’s different. Obviously. New culture. New language. New people. New everything.
All seven of us have only been here together for a short stint. But for now, I know these people are (literally) here with me. I know they can speak English (if I beg them). And they can understand exactly the emotions I’m feeling.
No one else will fully understand what I’m going through except for these 6 other brave souls.
I know who I can turn to. I know who will fall to their knees in prayer with me. I know who will keep me accountable for exercising. I know who will make me laugh at myself and the funny world around us. I know who will tear down the walls I always seem to build up with new groups of people.
I know because I’ve done this before, but this time, this time I’m more vulnerable. In every sense. This time this community will quite literally be all I have.
So we’re learning to lean on each other now, building up our foundation. Slowly, but steadily.
---------------
I've realized that I have to surrender in and to this experience. I have to let go. I really don’t control much of my life now (basically I only choose how much pan I eat and when or if I exercise).
I have to learn to blindly trust. That I will learn Spanish, that my call is here, that my community has my back, that love will be waiting for me in 15 months, that all of this is a process, that I will be okay. Trusting is hard.
But here I am trying to do it. Day in. And day out.
It's a trust fall.
The first two weeks here were hard. Like the kind of hard where it was difficult for me to find joy in the every day. To get out of bed. To feel Christ. To understand why I thought I could do something like this.
Questions of doubt and pure exhaustion continue to fill my days, but little by little I’m adjusting. I’m learning how to be okay with uncomfortable (this is mostly supported in prayer). I’m being humbled by the realization that I’m a 25 year old who has a child’s vocabulary and speaking ability.
So yeah, it’s still not easy, but the people are helping me get through.
-----------
My host fam. I already gushed about these personas bondadosas, I am aware. But they have welcomed me into their home and lives in such a special way.
I have spent hours (combined) playing games with Paola and Pablito (I have literally been coached in soccer drills in the small courtyard in front of the house by Pablito. Whistles were blown and laps were run...by me). I have attended small (big) family parties and been brought along to First Communion celebraciones that feel quite similar to bodas (I wonder what an actual wedding is like). They aren’t just being polite when they ask (insist) I stay for lunch or dinner. They want me here.
And it’s not like I can really talk to them. I ask off-the-wall questions about their lives (by the way, found out that my host dad is receiving his masters in agriculture engineering. Can you say #couplegoals), and thank them 6 times after every meal for their generosity. And still, they have such a way with making me feel like I’ve known them forever, that I’m deserving of an ice cream after Mass, and that I’m really just another member of the family.
I had a moment alone el fin de semana pasado with Sara where I attempted to express my gratitude to her for having me enter into their lives with ease for 8 weeks. I was almost brought to tears when she told me I am always welcome in their home, that the door is always open to me if I ever want (or need) to return, and that I am truly an extension of their family (she legitly said this to me).
When I feel alone, like I may just cave in from the weight of knowing I’m neck deep in unfamiliar, los niños knock on my door, giggling and ask me if I’ll help them with their homework (lol like this is possible) or go to the store to buy a ball or play their favorite game (Uno).
They take care of me, fiercely protect me (Julio - our informal “director” at Spanish School - got a call when I got home later than planned one evening), and will do anything to help me succeed (Sara always proudly jokes I speak two languages).
Although this is a temporary place to rest (and learn), I feel welcome. And it brings a sense of familiar when I hear Pablito rooting for Paola (my sibs and I are the same way) or when they all tease each other or have family arguments (families are the same everywhere) or we’re all giggling over a Disney movie that’s on TV Sunday morning.
I feel so, so blessed that God chose this family to be my shelter, my home.
-------------------------
Emilia. Mi maestra que tiene mucho paciencia para mi y un amor para Dios que es raro, fuerte, y radiante.
Again, God blessed me with a teacher who is so my speed.
Spanish school is intense. You’re one-on-one with a person for five hours. You’re learning grammar, new vocabulary, and cramming a whole 8 year’s worth of knowledge into only 8 weeks. It’s a lot. And you can’t expect to walk away speaking perfectly (or so I’ve been told).
I was really nervous about learning a new language. I had a foundation of it thanks to high school and a few semesters in college, but I never got to the point where I could speak it fluidly or with confidence. I knew most of the tenses, the important verbs and somewhat about sentence structure. But otherwise I was a newbie.
I remember being a ball of sweat walking into school on our first day. I stole glances with Marisa who calmly patted my arm and told me I had nothing to worry about (hah). After we said an opening prayer together, we were paired off with our teachers and I landed Emilia.
Confident and motherly, she gave shook my hand and gave me a hug. On that first day I did my best to express to her that I understood more Spanish than I could actually speak and sure enough by the end of my first four hours, my brain was fried.
The second day I came to school almost in tears (what’s new). I (brokenly) told Emilia I was terrified of not being able to learn Spanish. I was terrified I wouldn’t catch on and I wouldn’t be able to answer my call at the Finca. She calmly looked me in the eye, and put me right at ease with her gentle explanation that learning a new language is a process and I just have to trust.
Since then I’ve never once not looked forward to spending a day with her. She knows so much about my life (Adam joked that it’s sort of like dating on steroids, which is so true). And I’ve prayed with her more than I ever have with anyone I’ve only known for 3 weeks.
Emilia brings joy to learning. Patience. Love. Understanding. And sincere interest in me. My guardian angel of a teacher, I’m enormously grateful for this blessing.
------------
My community.
Woah, community round 2. It’s different. Obviously. New culture. New language. New people. New everything.
All seven of us have only been here together for a short stint. But for now, I know these people are (literally) here with me. I know they can speak English (if I beg them). And they can understand exactly the emotions I’m feeling.
No one else will fully understand what I’m going through except for these 6 other brave souls.
I know who I can turn to. I know who will fall to their knees in prayer with me. I know who will keep me accountable for exercising. I know who will make me laugh at myself and the funny world around us. I know who will tear down the walls I always seem to build up with new groups of people.
I know because I’ve done this before, but this time, this time I’m more vulnerable. In every sense. This time this community will quite literally be all I have.
So we’re learning to lean on each other now, building up our foundation. Slowly, but steadily.
---------------
I've realized that I have to surrender in and to this experience. I have to let go. I really don’t control much of my life now (basically I only choose how much pan I eat and when or if I exercise).
I have to learn to blindly trust. That I will learn Spanish, that my call is here, that my community has my back, that love will be waiting for me in 15 months, that all of this is a process, that I will be okay. Trusting is hard.
But here I am trying to do it. Day in. And day out.
It's a trust fall.
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