Be joyful because it is humanly possible.: 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.