la casa de huespedes

I sat on this bed for the first time in March of 2009. I was 20 years old, excited and terrified. This bed is in Quito, Ecuador, a place that I've come to consider home, but at the time, I had no idea what would come of my connection to this place. The people I've met here, the conversations in Spanish and English that have peppered my memory, the mountains we've climbed, the tears I've cried and the awe I've experienced. This is a magical place that caught me by surprise my junior year of college as I was seeking to know myself, my God and his people more fully (aren't I still?).
Now, six and a half years later, I find myself back in the same bed, mulling over new thoughts and understandings, supporting those students, who like me, are seeking something more than what they know. I'm overwhelmed differently now. 20-year-old Kelli was overwhelmed by the language, the busy-ness of the city, the one other student I shared this experience with and the lack of familial connection. 27-year-old Kelli is overwhelmed by how much this place has changed me, the opportunities and friendships I've been given through my time here and how natural it is to live here for a month and a half at a time.
I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the difficulty of being here for this amount of time, separated from my "real life" in California, missing precious weeks with newborn babies and dear friends. It is still a challenge; a challenge that I struggle with before flying away from the States, am able to ignore a majority of the time then come to grips with as I see the reverse coming into view. I'm leaving in a week. Traveling back to the States and away from Ecuador, again, for an uncertain amount of time. The last time I left this beautiful country without knowing when I would return resulted in quite the somber viaje home, to English-speaking turf. It's reality. I'm not sure when I will be back, but I certainly cannot imagine this being the last visit. There are mountains to scale (and share), friends to reconnect with, streets to wander, cafes to stumble upon and Spanish to be spoken.

My reality is quickly shifting and I'm afraid. Yep, I said it. I'm afraid. As exciting as newness and change is, it's absolutely terrifying. 20-year-old Kelli creeps back into view to provide a little empathy on this situation. It's el opuesto (the opposite). I'm not excited and terrified by Ecuador right now. It's the other hemisphere that scares me. So many reasons to feel this way creep into my mind, but are thankfully silenced quickly when I realize - I didn't put this plan together. But, really. Sure, I put pen to paper and I followed through with the decision making of my next step in life, but the pieces were laid out for me quite clearly. Georgia beckons and I trust in the goodness that I've been promised for what is to come.
I've recognized this before, but the range of emotions that can flow through my mind/body in a given day are astonishing! I look forward with an interesting chaos of thoughts, questions and feelings.

To quote Rainier Maria Rilke:

"…I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

To put it plainly, I've never felt like this before. I'm sure it can be attributed to a multitude of factors, but it's clear that I haven't sat on this bed in this state of mind before. Sure, excited and terrified describes the base of my feelings, but it's different this time.
I know that once Winter comes, I'll never be the same. Maybe, it's dramatic. But more than anything it's real. I believe the future holds answers that I'll be ready for as they come, but I can hardly catch my breath when I consider them now. To think about the changes, the growth, the challenge, the preparation, the joy and the sorrow that I've endured since Spring of 2009 draws me into a state of great appreciation and peaceful expectation of the next six years and beyond. Again, as I'm sure I've revealed previously, I believe in the perfect preparation that God provides and that we are invited to ask for as we look towards where we're headed. Sometimes the vision is clear and sometimes it's mottled beyond comprehension, but it's incredibly breathtaking when people, places and things are prepared by the one who loves us completely. Sure, it's not always a field of lavender, but even when it's a patch of briars I am pulled to trust that this too shall be made well.

Love. I find it fascinating how deeply we can care for one another and how that looks so drastically different in each of our relationships.

“For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks… the work for which all other work is but preparation.” -R.M.R.

I'm grateful for the ways through which I have come to know and am coming to know love.