thank you for tuning in.

(Dancing at Bishop Duque's birthday party with Angelique Duque)
Sitting in my kitchen with CNN Spanish radio in the background, I reflect on my return home from Colombia and how I have thought about and have very much avoided writing this blog. Many friends, family and veterans of travel tried to warn me of the intensity of 'reverse culture shock' during re-entry. With this forewarning, somewhere between preparing to leave Colombia and arriving home, I came to the conclusion that because I was aware of the 'shock phase' I would be immune to it. The first two months, aside from the denial, I had a difficult time with most everything, unaware that I was smack dab in the middle of reverse culture shock, with no map, which greatly intensified the challenge of re-entry.

(Running down the hill attached at the hip with Angie and Lina)
My Colombian experience was incredible, full of emotions, generous, loving people and many moments that I am still processing and hold close to my heart, which makes it difficult as the days pass and my experiences/memories from Colombia feel more like distant dreams. Thoughts that once were completely in Spanish have made the transition back into English. I have grown accustom to things that were at first a surprise, or even seemed a bit ridiculous such as a full shower head of hot water with pressure, toasters, drive thru's, a heat source that came out of something larger than a blow dryer, bus stops- where buses actually stop, and a vacuum cleaner that doesn't smell like an electrical fire.

(My birthday celebration, Oscar, Abdon, Evita, myself, Dr. Santos, Bishop Duque, and Laura-Catherine)
As these differences become less obvious (less noted), I find myself reminiscing about the different stages of my journey. The first month or two while in Colombia, on the rare occasion I was on my own, without my host family, or someone from the office, I had such a myriad of feelings; the excitement and thrill of an adventure, and the panic of being a bit overwhelmed when surrounded by folks I hardly knew and barely understood. With frequency I questioned myself and God wondering if was there a breakthrough coming, some point where I would be able to have a conversation beyond what country I was from and why I was in Colombia? The hours I spent watching movies, rapidly scribbling vocab on scraps of paper, or intently studying flash cards and talking with people, with Maria Del Pilar, who challenged me to read an article then discuss it with her, were not futile. All of this helped tremendously as conversations gradually grew longer and more in depth.

(The first photo taken while in Colombia with Rodrigo, Myriam and Oscar)
My first few weeks in Colombia, my amazing brothers helped me through the language and cultural barriers, speaking to me in Spanish, then, just before my brain was on the verge of a massive vocabulary explosion, they would switch over to English. Anytime someone asked them questions about me, while I was standing right there, they would say, "she is my sister and you can ask her the questions because she speaks Spanish just fine." Tears well up as this seems like years ago, back to the time I was living day to day, so present with Myriam and Oscar as we all dealt with Oscar's brain surgery.

(Felipe and Padre Antonis)
With so much to process, it feels like I am sorting through reels and reels of film in order to create an award winning documentary. It is the creating that is most fun but also the most time consuming and challenging. It is titled See Beauty, Wherever You Go, it is absolutely fantastic, just flat out awe inspiring. There is laughter and joy. There are tears and aching hearts. The viewers get a taste of Colombia, the immense beauty and richness of the people, the grandeur of the country, and the quality of their life that makes them want more, makes them want to forget about all of the negative news, changing hearts and minds alike. Leaving the theater feeling inspired, just as I was.

(Stacy and I visiting Bryan in Seattle)
Clicking though hundreds of photos trying to decide which few to post is difficult. Seeing photos of those who went out of their way to show me their country, the food, cities, teaching me to dance and welcoming me with patience, wonder and hospitality. So many wonderful and generous people who opened up their hearts and graciously shared their world with a stranger leads me to wonder, how will I take all I have learned with me to where I am going next? This is a bittersweet transition, I miss Colombia, just the same, I am so happy to be home.

(Three boys watching adults talking in Cartagena)
I do know that wherever I am, whatever I am doing, I will always have these memories. I can open them up like a book, and remember. It won't be all at once, but for years to come I will have my memories of Colombia, and that is enough.

the goodbye

Getting off of the bus, feeling like a shaken can of soda, walking up the steep hill while dodging stray dogs and arriving at the quaint little church building, ringing the doorbell, hearing the children in the background rustling around, shouting excitedly wondering who is on the other side of the door felt surreal, as if I were walking around in what I had dreamed the situation would be like… The door to the mission is opened. Kate and I are hit by a wall of emotion and love, the children shriek with excitement, "Profe, Profe!" as a stampede rushes to greet us with open arms, hugs and kisses, "I've missed you," they say as they swing from my neck and squeeze at my waist. Excited, with a sly look in their eyes, they question, "Are we going to have English class today?... And after class and we learn lots of English, can we go play outside?" For them this is just another day of English class and playing in the streets, while for me, I try to keep from wearing my sad heart on my sleeve.



As Kate and I make our way upstairs for lunch I pray that it will not be chopped liver or Mondongo (cow stomach). Thankfully it was rice, pasta and an egg sunny side up. I introduce Kate to Padre Jose, his sister Clemencia and the children, explaining as much as I could about the mission/the routine hoping that she wasn't overwhelmed with all the information I was passing on. After lunch, I introduced Kate as my replacement, a few kids asked when I would be back, why and where I was going, why I wasn't staying, and if that would really be the last time I would see them, and they hounded Kate with another million questions. They were so excited to have Kate there, I could not have prayed for a better goodbye.

learning to expect the unexpected

(photo of a street in Quibdo)
I want to start this entry with giving thanks, giving thanks to God for this life, for these experiences and these wonderful gifts that arrive in the most unique and unexpected forms and to all my friends and family who have touched my life is so many incredible ways. And also to nature with all of its beauty and grandeur that never ceases to amaze.

I just returned from Quibdo, a trip I was so excited to take. I was anticipating spending time with a priest I thought to be incredible and have an experience that imagined would blow me out of the water. And it did, just not anywhere close to how I had imagined in my head it would play out.

(photo of a professor, Padre Edison, myself and a eager English student at the university)
I was trying to keep my attitude afloat and have as many positive thoughts about this trip as possible, although I was having difficulty transcending out of my funk. The first night was rough, sleeping under a mosquito net, in what felt like the most hot and humid place on the planet, which did not start me out on the right side of the bed the next morning. Then to be led around town presented to just about every person in the city as here to teach English, threw me off a bit.

My attitude began to even out as we began teaching English at the grade school, at the college, any friend of Edison's we met on the street, after the church service and with the soccer team. As the hours passed each day the more people we were meeting and the more welcomed I felt, everyone was so kind and I found sulking in my funk difficult. Staying with Edison and his wonderfully, delightful family, his wife with one of the lightest and most jovial spirits I have encountered, and his son and daughter, taught me more than I could have hoped.

(photo of meat and fruit in a store)
What really took me by surprise (blew me out of the water) was the encounter I had with personal boundaries in Quibdo, which are much different than those I grew up knowing. The personal boundaries I grew up knowing were basically classifying things, stuff, people, time and space with the concept of "yours and mine." Well, in Quibdo this isn’t quite the case, ‘personal space/boundaries’ aren't really understood in the same way I had understood them to be, the mentality isn't 'yours and mine' as much as it is ‘ours.'

The first time I experienced the boundary breaking I was a bit thrown off. Then I put myself to thinking about where this right, this sense of entitlement comes from? It seems to me that when we begin seeing things in this dimension of ‘mine and yours’ we become more defensive with our ‘possessions,’ slowly separating ourselves from one another and become exclusive with our sharing. If you have something good, why not share it, why not be excited to scatter joy and goodness, rather then hoard? Changing my state of mind has made a huge difference, realizing the more we divide ourselves into 'yours and mine,' the further we grow apart, the less we see this is ours, our place, our world to live, share and be together.

life in the bat cave and beyond

A pipe in the building broke so our water has been a bit temperamental the past few days. Last night we had absolutely no water, this morning from the sinks it came out as a bit of a trickle (we don’t get hot water in the sinks, there is only one knob and it’s the cold one), and the shower was a weak stream of scalding, scalding hot water. The way our shower works is if you turn the single knob on full blast you get very cold water but fantastic water pressure and if you barely, literally barely turn the knob you loose the pressure but you get warm water. Which is what I usually opt for, then end up running teeth chattering and all back to my warm bed. The pipes are in the process of being fixed, which works out to be perfect timing as we are leaving town for a few days...

Today my morning began a bit earlier than it does on a normal “work in the office” day. Laura-Catherine and I are heading to Quibdo, Chocó and of course there are all those last minute errands to run on the list, and hopefully I’ll be getting this blog posted with as few typos as possible.

I know very little information about Quibdo. When I visited Medellin back in October I attended Padre Edison’s ordination, Edison is the priest in Quibdo. I remember being a little intimated by this over 6 foot tall Spanish speaking man until he came up to me after his ordination. His kind voice and welcoming manner instantly put me at ease. He began practicing his English and helping another shy kid to practice his English with me also. It was just what I needed; I could throw in the bit of Spanish I was confident enough to use and was more than happy to help them with their English.

Padre Edison invited me to visit him in Quibdo that night. I felt a connection with him and was surprised that even though I was nervous and a little unsure of my Spanish that didn’t really matter, sometimes language has nothing to do with understanding nor communication. When I returned back to Bogota, I explained to Pilar that I wanted to visit the priest who was ordained in Medellin as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I already had other trips planned and my budget would not allow it and eventually this dream drifted to the back of my mind until…

Diocesan Convention in March we met up again! After spending the weekend with him and getting to know even more of this incredible person, this time I decided of everything I want to do before I leave Colombia, visiting Padre Edison is number one on the list. So it is finally happening today at noon we get on the flight to go visit a part of the country unlike any other. What I do know is the government of Colombia has very much neglected department (a department is similar to a state in the US) it is very impoverished and humid. I'll be back in 10 days. With love.

10 incredible months and two more to enjoy

I had the opportunity to attend the Episcopal Church’s General Convention in Anaheim, California a few weeks back. Since returning to Bogota I have been digesting my experiences during convention and in Colombia. After a few days away from Colombia I returned feeling revived and inspired, especially after having had the opportunity at General Convention to share with others what Colombia is like. So aside from learning a great deal about the Episcopal Church, what really struck my heart was an overwhelming emotion for the United States and Colombia. The interest people in the states took in wanting to learn and be open about Colombia, offered hope that the perception of this greatly misunderstood country is changing one person at a time.

While in California I was asked many of the same questions I was asked before I left for my mission last September. Is it safe? The church wouldn’t send you somewhere that dangerous would they? What about all of the drugs and the cocaine in Colombia? And the guerrillas? The FARC? Aren’t you afraid of getting kidnapped? Before setting out for my mission I wasn’t exactly certain how I should be answering all of these questions, so I tried my best to respond with the little information I had educated myself with through the internet and stories of other travelers, hoping this would help bring some peace to my friends and family.

This time around when it came to answering to these same questions I was able to answer with honesty and experience. I was able to share all of the knowledge about this country I had; how incredibly hospitable, loving and kind everyone is. How wonderful, diverse and rich in culture this country is. And when you arrive in Colombia you will feel like you are living in a different world, not because everyone speaks a foreign language or because the food tastes different, but rather because of how the people will make you feel, welcomed, loved and cared for, stranger or not.