Cinco semanas en Guatemala. Five weeks in that I've been put through quite the spiritual wringer. Aye Dios (as Paola would say).
I'm happy to report that I'm doing a lot better. My days are lighter. Tengo más confianza en mi español (más que yo llegué), and now that my new six missionary friends are all here standing beside me, I feel stronger.
It's quite incredible what I have learned in just a short amount of time. I haven't exactly been able to pin down how Central America is molding and moving my heart, but trust and humility are two major themes surfacing.
Nothing is quite more humbling than navigating a "normal" life in a place where you can't walk out onto the street and easily strike up a conversation con tu vecina.
Imagine: It's a new day. The sun is shining. You got your workout in (thanks, Ryan). You eat a delicious eggy breakfast. You step outside and are immediately engulfed in an unfamiliar world. You thought you knew where you were. You thought you knew what you wanted to say. You thought.
My speaking ability is at a child's level (I literally today asked mi maestra to teach me a song to memorize all the body parts. To which she responded: Hay una cancion pero esta para niños). I can get by (order food, get on and off the bus, etc) but I won't soon be able to explain to you the feelings or concerns on my heart. I won't even be able to make polite, winning talk (that's taken me 25 years to master in English) or attempt to form a deep connection with you. And this is humbling.
The ease of communication is something I absolutely took for granted. I don't think I ever realized how much I rely on my language, on the choice of my words, to carefully and fully express who I am.
And yes, communication comes in many forms (smiling is my fav). But as an adult. An adult with experiences and understandings and the desire to get everyone to like her (yup, still a huge flaw), it's quite humbling to have to work for my words.
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I've briefly mentioned my missionary fam (whom you will be hearing about on the regular). It's truly been a pleasure to start getting to know each other in fun ways, one being: climbing an active volcano.
I know. You're thinking, SHE BURIED THE LEAD. But only my devoted readers (you're one of three) have volcano story privileges.
So yes. A volcano. An active freaking volcano. Mount Pacaya, if you're really interested.
All seven of us summited this beautiful creation, smiling, singing, sweating the entire way up. It took us about 1.5 hours (tuvimos una guia). Once we got to the clearing (the part where vegetation stops growing because...lava), I was overcome.
I was in awe of what rolled out before us. I saw other volcanoes in the distance, clouds so close you could touch, the city bustling below, and a live-breathing-puff of smoke in the not-so-far-off distance of the volcano above us.
Every single one of us had a huge goofy grin.
When we reached the part where we could actually feel the heat from the lava not far below our feet (the soles of Megan's shoes were literally burning off) and actually see peeks and rivers of lava flowing through the sharp rocks we climbed over, my heart leapt a bit in fear.
I was standing on an active volcano. Not-so-gracefully hopping over divets and breaks that I could so easily slip into; so much was out of my control.
Rather than panicking and herding our group together like the innate mother in me needs to suppress, I took a minute to be in awe of where I was at and let go.
We all enjoyed roasting marshmallows and eating make-shift s'mores from the ingredients Megan and Marisa brought. With sticky hands and rosy red cheeks, we welcomed the unknown.
----
Just two days later we found ourselves waking up at the crack of dawn to climb up the side of another large hill in the pitch darkness to watch the sunrise.
Talk about letting go as you all willingly hop into the bed of a truck at 4AM drive into off road nature and then follow una guia into the brush of unknown.
We were rewarded with a beautiful sunrise because we trusted. And continue to trust from sunrise to sunset.
------
Other fun things about my life: I still have trouble getting the courage to ask to wash my clothes every 8 days (a huge pile of laundry is sitting on my bed for too long now). I'm getting used to eating a lot of carbs and pollo (I miss spinach). I'm coming to terms with the fact that my feet will smell always. I'm making classic Spanish language mistakes (pájaro and pareja are two very different words). I'm mastering the siesta (still overtired). I'm really trying to be okay with where I am, in every sense.
I'm happy to report that I'm doing a lot better. My days are lighter. Tengo más confianza en mi español (más que yo llegué), and now that my new six missionary friends are all here standing beside me, I feel stronger.
It's quite incredible what I have learned in just a short amount of time. I haven't exactly been able to pin down how Central America is molding and moving my heart, but trust and humility are two major themes surfacing.
Nothing is quite more humbling than navigating a "normal" life in a place where you can't walk out onto the street and easily strike up a conversation con tu vecina.
Imagine: It's a new day. The sun is shining. You got your workout in (thanks, Ryan). You eat a delicious eggy breakfast. You step outside and are immediately engulfed in an unfamiliar world. You thought you knew where you were. You thought you knew what you wanted to say. You thought.
My speaking ability is at a child's level (I literally today asked mi maestra to teach me a song to memorize all the body parts. To which she responded: Hay una cancion pero esta para niños). I can get by (order food, get on and off the bus, etc) but I won't soon be able to explain to you the feelings or concerns on my heart. I won't even be able to make polite, winning talk (that's taken me 25 years to master in English) or attempt to form a deep connection with you. And this is humbling.
The ease of communication is something I absolutely took for granted. I don't think I ever realized how much I rely on my language, on the choice of my words, to carefully and fully express who I am.
And yes, communication comes in many forms (smiling is my fav). But as an adult. An adult with experiences and understandings and the desire to get everyone to like her (yup, still a huge flaw), it's quite humbling to have to work for my words.
-----
I've briefly mentioned my missionary fam (whom you will be hearing about on the regular). It's truly been a pleasure to start getting to know each other in fun ways, one being: climbing an active volcano.
I know. You're thinking, SHE BURIED THE LEAD. But only my devoted readers (you're one of three) have volcano story privileges.
So yes. A volcano. An active freaking volcano. Mount Pacaya, if you're really interested.
All seven of us summited this beautiful creation, smiling, singing, sweating the entire way up. It took us about 1.5 hours (tuvimos una guia). Once we got to the clearing (the part where vegetation stops growing because...lava), I was overcome.
I was in awe of what rolled out before us. I saw other volcanoes in the distance, clouds so close you could touch, the city bustling below, and a live-breathing-puff of smoke in the not-so-far-off distance of the volcano above us.
Every single one of us had a huge goofy grin.
When we reached the part where we could actually feel the heat from the lava not far below our feet (the soles of Megan's shoes were literally burning off) and actually see peeks and rivers of lava flowing through the sharp rocks we climbed over, my heart leapt a bit in fear.
I was standing on an active volcano. Not-so-gracefully hopping over divets and breaks that I could so easily slip into; so much was out of my control.
Rather than panicking and herding our group together like the innate mother in me needs to suppress, I took a minute to be in awe of where I was at and let go.
We all enjoyed roasting marshmallows and eating make-shift s'mores from the ingredients Megan and Marisa brought. With sticky hands and rosy red cheeks, we welcomed the unknown.
----
Just two days later we found ourselves waking up at the crack of dawn to climb up the side of another large hill in the pitch darkness to watch the sunrise.
Talk about letting go as you all willingly hop into the bed of a truck at 4AM drive into off road nature and then follow una guia into the brush of unknown.
We were rewarded with a beautiful sunrise because we trusted. And continue to trust from sunrise to sunset.
------
Other fun things about my life: I still have trouble getting the courage to ask to wash my clothes every 8 days (a huge pile of laundry is sitting on my bed for too long now). I'm getting used to eating a lot of carbs and pollo (I miss spinach). I'm coming to terms with the fact that my feet will smell always. I'm making classic Spanish language mistakes (pájaro and pareja are two very different words). I'm mastering the siesta (still overtired). I'm really trying to be okay with where I am, in every sense.
Fantastic read Melissa. I'm so proud of you and impressed by you!! When in Barcelona, you would have laughed out load at me and my fellow adult chaperones as we tried to navigate on our own. We relied way too much on Sergio, who is from Costa Rica and thus acted as our interpreter. When he wasn't around, I was grabbing my iPhone and using google translate being to shy/embarrassed to try on my own. I know this is nothing like what you are doing (being totally immersed in a foreign country) but it did give me a glimpse into trying to navigate a land where I don't speak the language. And yes, I smiled and nodded my head a lot!!!
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