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.

reality is hard

This post was started in May. Decided to pick it back up today... it seemed fitting.



What do I have to be thankful for? Too many things to mention.
Why, then, does sorrow still come?

Reality is that we are human, we are imperfect, we fail and we love. Those things are hard. I desire to save myself and others from pain, but that is not possible.

People we love leave this life and people we love live this life differently than we would hope.

This may seem negative or sad, but it's a process. I'm in the midst of processing some aspects of life that aren't incredibly smile-inducing and that's OK.

Here's the update portion that those of you that know me will be able to connect:
My Grandpapa passed on to life eternal this month. I went home to see him off and be with my family as we made preparations for his memorial service. I parted ways with a man that I love tremendously and am trying to respect the hole he left in my heart all while continuing to live my life. My Grandpapa was present. I grew up with him as a constant in my life. Many childhood weekends and afternoons were spent with Grandpapa. He was the Patriarch of the family, and as stubborn as he could be, we placed him in power. It was deserved him. He worked hard to love his wife, raise his family, be engaged in life fully and make his mark on this world. I trusted my Grandpapa fully. Sure, I learned things in college that made me aware of our differences in opinions, but that didn't change my willingness to sit with him and hear his piece. He mattered. I learned from my dad that Grandpapa was important. The time and energy that my dad invested in Grandpapa was astounding. He always knew how he was doing and what was new in his life; Grandpapa felt the same way about my dad... they let each other in. I watched my dad carefully during my time at home. There were times of deep sorrow and times of joy as he attempted to move through this gaping hole. I respect him even more now than I did before.



The seasons are changing here. The trees and lakes show no sign of it, yet a transition is in the works. Another summer has ended to make way for the approaching autumn. Most of the summer staff have made their treks homeward and I find myself left in the wake; again, navigating that gaping hole. In less than 3 days we'll be welcoming students to spend four months with us and I'm not sure if I'm ready. This semester marks my last season with Summit Adventure. Come the New Year, I will be trekking homeward as well. Opportunity, family and the unknown beckon me. Georgia will be home again and life will look different.

I'm surrounded by newness. Six families in my life are getting ready to have their first baby! Four of those are in my community here, in California. One is in North Carolina and one is my brother and sister-in-law in Georgia. With this, I feel a bit of a rejuvenated hope. I could move into talking about hope for the future of our world, but that would take too much time and energy at this point. Two things I'm lacking at the moment. The short-term hope is beautiful, too. Hope that I'll get to meet these Californian babies before I go and hope that I'll get to have a special relationship with my first niece through being closer to them in Georgia.

The cohesiveness of this writing is going downhill fast, therefore I'll call it complete. Even though, it's quite imperfect and quite unfinished.

this one's for you

I suspect I know who the first to read this will be. She needn't be named :) Thanks for the encouragement to put "pen to paper" and I hope this will open up a notebook for you as well.

My recent readings include mostly scholastic works centered around communication and leadership... working towards a masters degree will do that to your bookshelf. Today I read a few chapters in our next book, one that focuses on multicultural leadership. I want to share a pretty hefty quote with you and explore where it took my mind:

"Author M. Scott Peck, after searching for the keys to human fulfillment in his classic best seller The Road Less Traveled, turned his attention to the role community plays in people's well-being. Peck found that people thirst for a sense of place and belonging. He envisioned a world in which a 'soft individualism' acknowledges our interdependence. Rugged individualism demands that we always put our best foot forward, hide our weaknesses and insecurities, and don a mask of self-sufficiency. This leaves people feeling inadequate, exhausted, and alone. Peck believed that humanity stands on the brink of annihilation if community and interdependence are not rewoven, stating 'In and through community lies the salvation of the world.'"

The author goes on to explain how cultures embodying Peck's opinion value generosity and taking care of one another. Finally, claiming that this type of orientation can heal much of the social malaise that unbridled individualism, overwork and materialism have spawn. To paraphrase Alexis de Tocqueville, balancing individualism with the collective good will reinforce the social context and fabric of community because unchecked individualism has lead to emotional isolation and fragmentation.

As I was reading on my couch this rainy morning, I caught a glimpse of something probably eight feet away on a shelf: a wooden, hand-carved "Peace on Earth" that my mother gave me for Christmas this year. That's it. I'm not sure if Mom knew what she was giving me, but it embodies my desire for this life and what I believe to be a universal desire that gets clouded. If you were to ask anyone, a random stranger, if they desire peace on Earth, don't you think they'd say yes? I do. Wouldn't you say yes?

We are lacking peace. Not only do we inflict a lack of peace on others through our actions and words daily, but look at the world news today... it's not about one person causing harm to another, it's about natural disasters striking the nations one after the other. In the last three days, a major volcanic eruption in Chile and the largest earthquake of record to hit Nepal in the past 81 years are causing chaos across the globe. We are lacking peace. These natural disasters took over the news after over a week of stories surrounding the world's views on what the Ottoman Empire did to Armenian Christians in Turkey from 1915 to 1917. We are lacking peace, but maybe effort is and can be made to restore it?

Reading Peck's words about 'rugged individualism' makes me cringe a little bit. I recognize those tendencies in myself even as I attempt to extract myself from the U.S. individualism lifestyle everyday. I have felt the negative effects of living an individualistic life and I want to leave that behind. I want us, as a people, to drop our false-perfections in order to live realistically with people who come alongside one another through love and compassion as they encourage each other towards growth. We are a people created to be in relationship. Relationship with one another, with our Creator and with creation.

Ok, let's think metaphor. Fragmentation, as mentioned by de Tocqueville in relation to what will happen if we continue to live a life of unchecked individualism, still has the same definition now as it did then: "The process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts." Who would admit to wanting that? Fragmentation happens when marriages end, when families are split, when bones are broken, the list continues... None of these events have positive connotations in our society, yet we continue to involve ourselves in lifestyles that lead to them. The change won't happen over night, but it takes individuals willing to sacrifice their individualism for community every day.

I moved back and forth with the above-mentioned reading and Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire. In his introduction, Abbey cautions readers, "Do not jump in your automobile next June and rush out to the Canyon country hoping to see some of that which I have attempted to evoke in these pages." He goes on to explain that most of what he includes in the following pages no longer exists. This book, that dives into the Canyon country and the mystery within, is a memorial to what used to be. We have the chance every day to let what used to be lie and to see what is for the first time. We must walk into that. We must appreciate and learn from what was, and let it launch us forward into what is to come. There are days that I find myself afraid of what is to come because the outlook seems so grim. There are other days where I am elated with the thought of a distant or not-so-distant future that seems hopeful. As someone striving to live as a 'little Christ' in this life, I'm called to choose hope. To pray for peace. To walk boldly into this artistic creation that has been tainted by its inhabitants and still call it 'good.'

--With all do respect, E. Abbey, I will jump in my car and drive to the Canyon country. I will heed your careful advice, though. I will not expect to find the lands you describe. Nor will I expect to see perfection. That's where my understanding will shift and grow and morph. I will see it for the first time, knowing that it was different yesterday and will be different tomorrow, but trusting that God, in all God's glory, will show God's self to me within it. We may be really great destroyers, but somehow God sustains us and God's creation. I pray that I will always have my eyes open to see what the Lord has made.

Salsa, Soul, and Spirit: Leadership for a Multicultural Age by Juana Bordas
Desert Solitaire by Edward Abbey