I´m here for six months.
I kept thinking that sentence to myself about every five seconds throughout my first week or two here, generally followed by the thought, "WHAT WAS I THINKING??!!!". In those first few overwhelming days, six months seemed interminable, ridiculous, like it was the longest stretch of time I´d ever spent anywhere ever and it was never ever ever going to end. (If you can´t tell, what my mother calls "Em's tendency to be melodramatic" happily survived its travel across the Equator quite intact...)
Ever since I accidentally blinked and found myself six weeks in, however, the phrase "six months" hasn´t felt nearly as long. I mean, sometimes it does, but other times as I ponder it I realize that it´s actually a relatively short amount of time.
What's really taken me by surprise is that so often I think "six months", when I find myself starting to love things here.
I've been finding little places around Cochabamba that feel like "mine", you know- this plaza, that café; I'm starting to feel at home in this city, and then I think, "Six months, I'm only going to be here for six months". Who knows if I'll ever come back to Cochabamba- how much am I going to miss these streets, these parks?
I start opening myself up to the girls at Mosoj Yan and taking the first steps at forming the kind of relationships I have with my high school girls from home. Then my mind goes to December and how, unlike with my girls from home, these relationships sort of have a time limit. What does forming close relationships look like when I don't have two or three years to plan on with them?
With virtually every relationship I've ever formed before I've had at least the hope of permanency... lived in the same town my entire life, went to a four-year college. I don't generally have a hard time loving people or places quickly. I've been surprised by how hard it is for me here to fully let myself love and be loved without paying attention to the mental countdown in my head. I've been really surprised at how present the temptation is to guard myself, to stay just a tiny distance away so that I can have a Really Great and Positive Cross-Cultural Experience, but not be in great pain next semester. Or maybe even a little bit of pain, forever.
My great friend Nate, who spent last year in Ethiopia on a HNGR internship, copied the following quote into my HNGR devotional book (emphasis' are mine):
"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."
-C.S. Lewis
I prayed that quote for him and the other interns last year, and a couple weeks ago I copied it into the first page of my journal here because I realized I needed to be praying it for myself, too. I've found myself turning to it frequently, rereading the words and reminding myself of the charge, love and be vulnerable.
It's really the only choice...
I kept thinking that sentence to myself about every five seconds throughout my first week or two here, generally followed by the thought, "WHAT WAS I THINKING??!!!". In those first few overwhelming days, six months seemed interminable, ridiculous, like it was the longest stretch of time I´d ever spent anywhere ever and it was never ever ever going to end. (If you can´t tell, what my mother calls "Em's tendency to be melodramatic" happily survived its travel across the Equator quite intact...)
Ever since I accidentally blinked and found myself six weeks in, however, the phrase "six months" hasn´t felt nearly as long. I mean, sometimes it does, but other times as I ponder it I realize that it´s actually a relatively short amount of time.
What's really taken me by surprise is that so often I think "six months", when I find myself starting to love things here.
I've been finding little places around Cochabamba that feel like "mine", you know- this plaza, that café; I'm starting to feel at home in this city, and then I think, "Six months, I'm only going to be here for six months". Who knows if I'll ever come back to Cochabamba- how much am I going to miss these streets, these parks?
I start opening myself up to the girls at Mosoj Yan and taking the first steps at forming the kind of relationships I have with my high school girls from home. Then my mind goes to December and how, unlike with my girls from home, these relationships sort of have a time limit. What does forming close relationships look like when I don't have two or three years to plan on with them?
With virtually every relationship I've ever formed before I've had at least the hope of permanency... lived in the same town my entire life, went to a four-year college. I don't generally have a hard time loving people or places quickly. I've been surprised by how hard it is for me here to fully let myself love and be loved without paying attention to the mental countdown in my head. I've been really surprised at how present the temptation is to guard myself, to stay just a tiny distance away so that I can have a Really Great and Positive Cross-Cultural Experience, but not be in great pain next semester. Or maybe even a little bit of pain, forever.
My great friend Nate, who spent last year in Ethiopia on a HNGR internship, copied the following quote into my HNGR devotional book (emphasis' are mine):
"Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."
-C.S. Lewis
I prayed that quote for him and the other interns last year, and a couple weeks ago I copied it into the first page of my journal here because I realized I needed to be praying it for myself, too. I've found myself turning to it frequently, rereading the words and reminding myself of the charge, love and be vulnerable.
It's really the only choice...
4 comments:
Great post, Em. Way deep and very HNGR-esque. I really like the C.S. Lewis quote. Love you!
This is perhaps one of my favorite blogposts since I have entered the world of blogging. Em, I love you and thanks for letting me and others be vulnerable. Yes, you are right! You have no other choice. :)
Here from Elizabeth Esther's ~ this post was perfect for me today. Thank you for sharing. The pain that comes from vulnerability is perhaps the sweetest pain there is . . .
"I've been surprised by how hard it is for me here to fully let myself love and be loved without paying attention to the mental countdown in my head."
As someone who's lived a life of limbo and never imagined anywhere would be permanent--I so relate to your statement.
And I love that quote from Lewis. One of my favorites.
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