"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 

 

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.

Whispers from God

Sometimes, like now, it feels as though I'm in a movie. I'm sitting in the kitchen feeling the cool breeze coming through the always opened doors, out the window I see rolling hills, and I hear a strange language coming out of the darkened people. As we drive in the crowded van to and from various places, I see busy streets, lots of taco restaurants, and broken homes. And that's when I realize this not a movie, this is not a dream, this is reality. I am actually living in Mexico, the place I'm calling "home" (in quotation due to the fact that I only consider one place my home) during these weeks, is on a mountainside, closer to Brazil than to my home.  And I have the opportunity to touch the results of broken homes. God has given me 18 sets of dusted fingers to teach music to, and four little minds to teach English to. What is this family going to remember when my time here is over? I want to accomplish everything God has for me here at this time, without worrying about the future, or what happens when I return home.
Being here "on my own" for this time as got me thinking that I'm growing up. I know, I know, I'm sixteen, and I have plenty of time to "grow up." But there's certain things that I can not control when they decided to mature. Like my heart, mind, and soul, when God teaches them, I can't just ignore Him and say "Sorry, God, I'm to young to grow up!" . College, ministry, school, music, all take up my extra thoughts, and it is scary knowing that I'm going to have to face these decisions one by one when I return home.The days of my youth are passing, but I thank my Lord that I will ever be able to entertain the spirit of my youth I can't say it enough, God is good. Even 1,800 miles away, God still uses my Pastor's messages to speak on what I need to hear. My Church family is always ready to listen and help, my family is on the other end of the phone, and God is just a whisper away.

Thank you for all your prayers and encouragement, you'll never know how much it means to me.

Some pictures from this week: