"You Smell Like Mexico"

November fifteenth came all too quickly. I couldn't believe that three months had already come and gone, and I found myself sitting on the plane longing to be in two places at once. But I was zooming at five hundred miles an hour towards home, I was literally being thrown into America. Entering Chicago was the strangest feeling, everyone was white. Every sound, word, and letter was English. Every smell was so strong and overpowering- even though each one was familiar and known to me. The food was so different, it honestly tasted gross, even though I had been eating the same thing my whole life. I finally understood what a friend meant when he said "English when spoken feels like vomiting." After spending three months completely immersed in Spanish, English was just short of pleasant. Sitting in the Chicago airport for the two hour layover was probably the hardest part of the trip. I believe all of this is something called culture shock. It very much exists and is one of the most difficult things I have done in my life.

I arrived home at about 1:30 in the morning tired and worn, but stronger, and in my family's arms at last. My little sisters looked so big and grown up, just seeing them showed me how long I had really been gone. Up to this day (about 10 days later) it is still hard to be separated from my family in Mexico. Whenever I look at the clock, not only am I looking to see what time it is, but looking to see what everyone at the Ranch is doing. Are they just getting up? Are they singing the daily worship song all together? Are they stacked up on the slide listening to Julie read during recess? Are they counting up their points they earned that week to shop at their "store"? Is Mireya, Jorge, and Joel there? What are they doing? Adrian and Vero? Rosa? Being completely detached from the day to day life there is difficult. But it has surprised me how fast I have been able to return to my former routines and life in the States. Some things here have been really difficult to get used to again, but for the most part God has given me a smooth transition. I feel changed though. Not sure exactly how, but God did a lot in me while I was there. One of the first changes in me that my family noticed was a scent I brought home. My mom and little sisters continue to say "You smell like Mexico."

Pictures from my last futbol game

Pictures from our impromptu after-party 

 

Blessed be HIS name

Wednesday, November 14, 2012.

Lying in my bed, I woke up at 5:30 in the morning. I hadn't been able to sleep well the past 3 nights, and once again, I had to wipe tears from my eyes before I was even out of bed. Thoughts filled my mind as I laid there listening to my two missionary sisters in their deep sleep. This is really it. My last full day. The recital- oh so much to still prepare for it. All these faces that look at me and say, No te vayas. Don't go. I tell them I must go, but it is so, so hard. And my family, what are they doing? Are they ready for my return? How will my transition take place? Will they be the same family that I had left three months ago? I couldn't take all the rushing thoughts anymore, so I rose and began my day. I went down to the kitchen and began preparing for cooking paczkis (Polish doughnuts.) Mikayla and I had agreed to meet about 6:30 and make a couple batches of doughnuts for the Recital that evening. I had no idea what food Julie was going have, so Mikayla and I decided to double the recipe. Three hours later we had made over 80 doughnuts. As soon as we had finished we separated and went our own ways for the rest of the morning. Mikayla went to school, and I began to wander around aimlessly trying to keep my heart and mind under control.

At my house in Michigan, there is this old swing that hangs from a Walnut tree. It has been there since my oldest brother put it up when he was young. It is one of my favorite spots and anytime that I need to pray, or cry, or just be, that is where I go. Being in Mexico at the time, I didn't have that spot, but there was one very similar at the park. Down I went. The three green swings hung from a metal frame right next to a hill covered in purple, yellow, and white wild flowers. The sun was shinning, and I could feel its rays sinking into my skin. I sat and swung for a good while, just praying to God for the day, the recital, the way home, and my broken heart. I tried to hold the tears back, but how could I? I was about to leave the life I had just gotten to know, and the people, how was I too say goodbye? Then God reminded me of a song,

Blessed Be Your Name

In the land that is plentiful

 Where Your streams of abundance flow

                   Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name

When I'm found in the desert place

Though I walk through the wilderness

Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out

I'll turn back to praise

When the darkness closes in, Lord

Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your name Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be Your glorious name

\

  Blessed be Your name

When the sun's shining down on me

When the world's 'all as it should be'

Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name

On the road marked with suffering

Though there's pain in the offering 

Blessed be Your name

You give and take away

You give and take away

     My heart will choose to say

                                            Lord, blessed be Your name

There was nothing else to do than sing these words in a prayer to God. As memories of the past three months played through my mind, I was grateful for everything that God had given me. He was to be praised; for every laugh, tear, and moment. I still had a whole day to live there, so I stood up ready to continue on the path God had laid in front of me. One step at a time I will follow Him. And the next step was to walk up the hill to the house and finish what God had given me, I had a recital to direct. 

I had spent the rest of the morning folding programs and translating introductions into Spanish with Jorge. Geesh that was a task. But we completed just in time for lunch! As soon as lunch was over a group of us headed up to the school to begin setting up for the recital. 

Everyone was helping. It was so cool to see so many people in support of the recital.

Setting up the refreshments table

Using Christmas lights really made it look special!

 Everything was beautiful. All the children were dressed so nicely and our special visitors had arrived. I was so nervous and excited, it felt just like my first recital. But I was surrounded by my new family and loving friends, I knew that the evening was going to be one to remember. Enjoy the few pictures below!

It was truly the best recital of my life. All of the kids played wonderfully, and all the special artists did beautifully as well. I had ordered a personally engraved medal for each of them. They all loved them! The younger ones didn't take their's off all night, and about 6 of them had them on again the following day. It was so special to see their smiles as they received theirs at the end of the night. I miss these people greatly and pray to return someday. I will forever hold this day in my heart~ blessed be the name of the Lord.

Beautifully Painful

My "youth group" but they are so much more than that to me

Knowing that I am returning home in a short 12 days isn't something as simple as bittersweet. It's not just wanting to be here, and wanting to be home. It's not just having family here, and having family there. It goes so much deeper than this. Following God is hard. Bottom line. He never promised it would be easy, and the longer I follow him and the more I love him, the more I find this out.

My family :)

Back in August when I was raising money, packing my bags, and saying one hundred goodbyes, my heart hurt. Being sixteen and moving to Mexico, I was scared to death. Having to say goodbye one at a time to everyone I call my family, seeing the sadness in their eyes, it broke me. Not for my sake of leaving, but for everyone I was leaving behind. Knowing that God had called me to Mexico for the three months ahead, I was able to step on that airplane and fly 2000 miles away. It was beautifully painful.

My friends here- but we are more like sisters

While I have lived here, I have experienced everything from indescribable joy, to unspeakable sorrow. The times spent in grueling lessons, the aggravating times in English class, and the laughs in spontaneous games of water fights. The discouraging feelings of being wordless; having to watch others be joyous in conversation while sitting back and being silent. The ever so wonderful times of true friendship, movie nights, and the drive to church. The times sitting at the piano- new souls met, fingers danced, tears fell, laughs made, conversations conversed, frustrations played, and talents found. Every cry to God, every smile creased, and every step taken has been beautifully painful.

Now, looking at my last week and a half here is hard. I've known this whole time that it would have to come to an end- but I didn't think it would come this fast. I'm feeling the same thing that I felt in August, except this time, I don't know if I will ever be back here. Knowing I'll have to say goodbye very soon is scary, it hurts. At the same time though, I look forward to what God holds for me back at home. I look forward to being reunited with my family and friends. I look forward to school, and college, and beyond. It's not that I don't want to leave, I just don't want to say goodbye. It's beautifully painful.