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(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.