could we find freedom?

one of the greatest strains/most amazing accomplishments a missionary can accrue, is wrapping your brain around the time and location issue. i feel like i have little epiphanies all day long, each one revealing a little piece of the picture. as if this life i'm leading is a puzzle and i am missing several pieces. only when i forget everything else, and become immersed in the moment, can i find them, one at a time. this is the one moment when the goal is most clear, and one begins to develop more and stronger cravings for those moments as time progresses.

my time here is so different from the time i spend at home. for instance, when you want something, it is often not available. gas for the stove. bananas at 9 pm. food that doesn't require extensive preparation. to hug your god-daughters or niece. but it's the lack of those things that often make you stronger in the end. for one thing....no gas for the stove means no eating at bad times of night. same with the other two. and no hugs means more anticipation and more words about the times when hugs can be had. this is not a place of instant gratification.

i've seen some really beautiful pieces of the puzzle lately. today in particular, i received a rather large one. there's a really beautiful palace/giant house here called the palace of doors. palacio de portales. it's old. and beautiful. and full of history. there are gardens all around it, art and sculpture. i'd only been there during the day previously, walking in the gardens with nicholas, or on a tour of the house with the volunteers. tonight there was a concert, part of a festival of bach pieces to be played over the course of a month or so. the chamber orchestra played in the ballroom of the house, and the four of us (myself, nicholas, kelley, and amy) decided to attend.

sitting in the old wooden chairs, under the precisely maintained painted ceilings. the grand staircase rising up behind my head. the imported french damask silk walls shining in the light. a clavinette, viola di gambo, cello, flute, and violin serenaded us. bach or no bach, however one feels about baroque music, the weight of history and participation in something magnificent, was tangible. in the beginning i did not notice my surroundings and their call for my attention. i lost myself watching the colors dance and thinking of home. putting myself back in alumni auditorium. under the rose window. behind the black curtain. clarinets in my lap, reeds in my mouth. the smell of music and old ink.

i could have stayed there forever. evading the reality of my distance not only in space, but in time from that particular place. but the thought occurred to me at some point, that i was missing the silk. the huge wooden doors that the house was named for, opening to admit the fresh night air and the smell of the gardens. the grand staircase. the ballroom. something became terribly clear to me at that exact moment.

my life will always be what i choose to make it. i can attend chamber concerts at home. i can attend them here. i can read and enrich my mind at home. i can read and enrich my mind here. i can be myself at home, and i can, and really must be myself here. the time is too short and too valuable. too valuable to refuse to see the reality of what is happening around me, and truly participate in it.

we must be present. we must be grateful. we must choose to clear away the blinders of discontent and choose to make our lives something good and beautiful.

it's so very possible, it's overwhelming.

no more diamonds.

i've begun this several times. just watching the blinking cursor over and over. waiting for the words to come. i'm giving up. i'll just push forward....

the trip here was smooth. only one little hiccup at the very end with the miami to santa cruz flight lasting longer than expected, causing me to miss my flight from santa cruz to cochabamba. i have to tell you, by the time i finally arrived at the airport here, i was so happy to know i hadn't dreamed it all before, that i couldn't contain myself.

the very first thing i did was call marcelo and ale to come get me. the second thing was to pile my giant assortment of baggage (that all made it here this time!!!) at brazilian cafe and order jugo de maracuya con agua.

the greatest ridiculousness of culture shock is how often you find yourself certain that everything is fine and you are adjusting perfectly. inevitably, moments later you become a babbling idiot. i tried to think of good examples, but they're all too humiliating. take my word for it. just think of me getting lost looking for shower curtains in la cancha and forgetting the ENGLISH word for them.

all in all, i believe that my body and my brain are finally in agreement concerning where i am, as of some time this afternoon. i don't feel lost anymore. i don't wake up thinking i'm at home. or wondering how i got into barb's room. i smell things and see things that i remember. and best of all, i can have a meal with spanish speakers and actually carry on important conversations. i even saw my first full movie in spanish (alice in wonderland), and i didn't miss a thing language wise. like riding a bike.

so don't worry about me. it was one of the worst feelings i've ever felt when i had to go through security that morning, never wonder how deeply i carry you all in my heart. but that time seems far away now, thank goodness. and i have things to do.

here's a good story to finish. one of our best and brightest boys came to amy's house today and i got a chance to see him. he has such a beautiful smile and sweet spirit. he told me he was so glad i came back, and had been waiting to see me. when i gave him my number so he could call if he needed anything, he looked at me earnestly with sober eyes, and promised he would. i'm praying fervently for him to trust me. that's how he'll know. how he'll know that god wants him and cares for him. it will be wonderful to see him understand love.

so this is joy (terrible, awful, the leaving)

the time is drawing near once again. it's time for the leaving.

a person would imagine that at some point the leaving would feel less severe. that the ache of being separated would ease, and the body would remember how good it feels to come back, and how soon that time seems to arrive. and simultaneously remember how sometimes being back hurts worse than the leaving.

a person would imagine "if everything is measured by the hole it leaves behind," as the song says, that the hole would eat up life at some point and overtake the soul. or maybe that's just how the leaving feels at it's core.

maybe the leaving is, at it's best, a reminder of how deep love can permeate. and at it's worst, a situation that can trick and keep one complacent and stagnant in fear of loss or missed experiences.

whatever it is, rest assured that the leaving will rend me in two more viciously and violently this time than ever before. it's nothing we've done wrong. nothing i could have prepared for. it's something we've done right. incredibly, painfully, beautifully, right.

thank you for making the leaving so dreadfully perfect. and so necessary. you know who you are.