(I'm looking at photos and:)

...I miss Bolivia.

Thank goodness. It feels so right and healthy when that happens.

The Ramsiiinnngggs!!!!!!!!!!!!

...Are COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today. Like right now.

Becky and the two oldest are flying into Chicago to spend the weekend hanging out in Wheaton with me. I am so so so so so so excited. I have been so incredibly blessed by that family, their love for Jesus, crazy hospitality, slightly (just slightly! or maybe a little bit more than that...) wacky and insane sense of humor, and their total adoption of me.

Which reminds me I've been meaning to post these pics from Christmas Eve:

The parents gave us all matching packages and...


Matching pajamas!! Obviously.



I know right?!

Oh I love them.

wanting to Love and Sing and Wonder

let us sing, though fierce temptation
threatens hard to bear us down
He has washed us with His blood
He has washed us with His blood
He has brought us nigh to God...

...Let us praise the Savior's name.

Hope.

"Hope cannot be taught,
but it can be borrowed from hopeful people."

They told us that on the HNGR retreat. It made me cry.
(Story of my life, at the moment... no... I mean, really.)


I'm having a hard time dealing with remembering those stories
without being in the context of Mosoj Yan, and its beautiful work.
I told people all the time when I was there
that I thought my faith was staying strong
because of how I saw those workers living out theirs.
But...
I don't know that I realized just how much it was so.

I borrowed a lot of hope from them.

And they, working day in and day out with those girls,
giving their lives with such joy to
loving-teaching-working-laughing-praying-disciplining-cooking-helping-holding
had the right to claim it.
If they saw hope,
it must be so.
Oh, how grateful I am for their faithfulness...
now: for the girls' sake and for mine.

I remember their faith and rely on it.
And I try to draw strength from the memory of their hope...
but, well.
It's harder to borrow from across an ocean.

To be honest.

I'm back to not knowing how to blog.
But back to wanting to try.
More to come...

"Home is where the heart is, even if you can't remember which box you packed it in."

-Greeting card I received in my College Post Office box today from my mother.

Moms are good at getting it :-).

Picture thought for the day.

(Many things about tomorrow I don't seem to understand
but I know Who holds tomorrow
and I know Who holds my hand)

a right and good and joyful thing

It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere, to give thanks and praise to You, Father Almighty; our Creator and Lover, O Giver of life.

You make all things and call them good. You love us into being, You form us in Your image, and breathe into us the breath of life. When we turn away, and our love fails, Your love remains steadfast. You delivered us from captivity, and made covenant to be our sovereign God. You stretch forth Your hand to heal.

"...The Lord be with you."
"And also with you."
"Lift up your heart."
"We lift them up to the Lord."

...God raised Him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible
for Him to be held by it.

Acts 2:24

You Know You're Living with HNGR People When...

My living situation this semester is an awesome just-off-campus house with six other girls who did the HNGR program. Here's a bit of what's been overheard in the past week. You know you're in the HNGR house when casual conversation includes...

"Is the coffee in the Chai drawer?"
"Hmm, where should I hang my hammock?"
"I think I might have lice." "Oh don't worry, I have shampoo in my bag."
"IT IS SO FREAKING COLD IN THIS HEMISPHERE."
"I hate So-and-so... her Swahili is SO good."
"Want to go to the library with me esta tarde?"
"I love not having to bucket shower!"
"Why is it SO COLD?!!"
"This one time in Rwanda..."
"This one time in Peru..."
"This one time in Honduras..."
"This one time in Uganda..."
"This one time in Bolivia..."
"C-C-C-CCOOLLDDD!!!!!!!!!!!"
"I was ten minutes late to class today." "Oh, nice! I was going on twenty!"
"Can I borrow some earrings?" "Sure, want these ones shaped like elephants?"
"What color alpaca wool do you want for your socks?"
"It feels so weird to flush my toilet paper."
"LAUNDRY MACHINES ARE AWESOME!!!"

Between us we have five countries represented, a lot of different experiences, and a ton of laugher, love, and occasional overwhelmed-freak-out-ness. We have wall hangings from Rwanda, hammocks from Bolivia, jewelry from Uganda, blankets from Peru, wood carvings from Honduras. We have many stories and many questions. There's lots of cuddling, lots of tears, and a ton of grace. It's going to be a good semester.

Connections.

On the HNGR debriefing retreat last week, one theme that kept coming up among most everyone's stories was that, "It feels like a dream". It's so true. An entry in my journal from my first week back reads, "...Lord, was I really there? Did I really walk those streets, dodge those Trufis, go to that café, eat in that kitchen, sleep in that bed every nigh, hug those girls? Really, I was in Bolivia??". I slipped right back into being home so naturally that it was easy to believe I'd never left.

And honestly, I’ve liked it that way. Thinking about Bolivia is painful. Missing those people is painful. Thinking about not seeing them again in any sort of predictable time is painful. Remembering my life there, which I can’t have any more, is painful. Painful, painful, painful- so as much as I’ve been able to avoid thinking about it, I have. I didn’t call anyone of my Bolivian friends until I’d been home almost two weeks, which is so out of character for me my parents were actively worried. And then I did call, talked for five minutes each to my host mom and Albergue’s director, patted myself on the back (great job for calling! Yeah! You totally are dealing with HNGR, absolutely…)… and haven’t kept up any contact at all otherwise. Tried not to think about the possibility that that would be hurtful to them; tried not to think about why I wasn't calling.

I missed Bolivia actively and consciously and happily for the first time a few days ago. Not in an angsty, oh-no-where-do-I-fit-in-now way, not just missed speaking Spanish. I was listening to music I had listened to the last week I stayed overnight in Albergue and suddenly thought about the tiny, inconsequential, beautiful mundane specifics of what it was like to wander around its hallways, waking girls up for school and supervising breakfast being made, and missed it. I almost cried with joy. I was there! It was normal! And even though I am glad to be back, I miss it! It felt… I think the word would be… healthy.

The next day I left for the HNGR retreat and then I came back and Laura got married, so I haven’t had much of a chance to act on this whole realization. But this post-wedding morning, Christine was heading out for a run and I said, “I think I’ll stay here and call Bolivia”.

On the retreat realizing I needed to do this, soon, and keep doing it more regularly, I felt scared. It’s been One Whole Month And Two Whole Days. What if I missed my window of opportunity to stay closely connected? What if I’ve already slipped from close friend into That American Who Worked Here Once?

Except the second Gladys heard my voice she almost started crying and screamed bloody murder and bombarded me with questions about how was I, why hadn’t I called, they miss me so much, this girl’s been up to this and that one that and so-and-so is home with her family now, thanks be to God, and I have to come back for her wedding in December because SHE GOT ENGAGED (!!!!), and they’re praying for me and- oh… what? Oh, the girls want to know do you have a boyfriend yet? No? They want to know if you’re SURE?? Okay, they’re going to keep looking for a Bolivian one then- anyway, and they love me and WHY haven’t I emailed them and when am I coming back??

So I guess they haven’t forgotten me yet.

And I was happy after talking to her in a way I haven’t been since I got home. Maybe happy isn’t even the right word- I’ve been very happy to be home. Today, besides the joy of just hearing her voice and catching up on the girls... I felt like myself in a new and so-wonderful way, a way I didn’t two seconds before I called.

Because myself is connected to Bolivia now.

I went there. I lived there. I worked there. I spoke there. I loved there. I was loved there. It happened.

I can’t live fully and rightly, I can’t be who God wants me to be, when I pretend it didn’t happen. In the same way that, even though I live in Illinois and have more or less come to terms with that, I get antsy and subconsciously stressed-out-feeling and just not right when I go too long without touching base with my Maryland friends… I need to stay connected with Bolivia. Even if it’s painful, and difficult to do from far away.




Photos: Gladys teaching me how to love girls in November, photos from my goodbye party at Albergue last month

She hath wed.

As of this afternoon, my beautiful roommate Laura is now...

Mrs. Andrew Tebbe!!

(...WHAT THE HECK MY ROOMMATE IS A WIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

She was a gorgeous bride and the day was absolutely lovely. More to follow, but here is just a taste of the celebration for now:










After dinner, toasts, laughter and celebration, the happy couple departed to much love, prayer, and cheers.


We were a little tired...


But so very happy and privileged to have gotten to stand with them on this day as they made these vows.

happy new year.

Enter, Lord Christ-
we have joy in Your coming.
You have given us life;
and we welcome Your coming.

I turn now to face You,
I lift up my eyes.
Be blessing my face, Lord;
be blessing my eyes.
May all my eye looks on
be blessed and be bright,
my neighbors, my loved ones
be blessed in Your sight.

You have given us life
and we welcome Your coming.
Be with us, Lord,
we have joy, we have joy.
This year is a new year,
the opening door.
Be with us, Lord,
we have joy, we have joy.

-New Year blessing from CDP


We do have so much joy.

Happy 2010 (from Budapest!!). I am so grateful for so many things this night and this year.