The Last Five Weeks and the Next Eight Months.

Being back in Bolivia was both cathartic and cruel. Cathartic because it satisfied the sense of withdrawal inside me and quenched the longing to squeeze the girls with hugs and kiss their precious cheeks. Cruel because five weeks flew by way too fast and departing so quickly seemed unnatural.

Quite frankly, it felt unnatural to be the visitor. On several occasions, I needed to have a talk with myself to put me in my place. In some respects, jumping right in was simple and needed. On other levels, my input needed to be reigned in. It seemed quite normal for me to tell Daniela to clean out the garbage can or reprimand Yesi for playing instead of studying. Translating and providing leadership to teams were part of my job but not the whole parcel as before. Money matters and construction purchases were no longer my responsibility. The whole five weeks was touch and go as I tried to maneveur myself through what was formerly known as my life and home. I even refrained from removing the blender from the place where my coffee maker used to be in the kitchen.

Some things happened as if they had never stopped; trips to the Ayore village and wine on the porch, visits from Greg and calling taxis to 'la casa de Alison'. My old housemate, Adreana still loves her bed and Heather, the other housemate, continues to rise before the sun. Risky, the dog was more volatile than ever, but Cali, the cat, crawled onto my lap and curled up as if I'd never left. 'Los Chinos' came and went, playing with the girls and loving Bolivia as they do every year. The South American Mission prayer meeting kept meeting and Rosa served up her best dishes of pulled pork and chicken enchiladas. As my brother, Derek, commented, "That lady has perfected North American cuisine!"

Like I wrote, five weeks flew by. When Timmy and Melinda drove me to the airport it seemed slightly backward. They have always left while I stayed behind. I'm not sure what this longing is that burns inside me. Is it an ache for the circle of friends and sense of belonging that I'm leaving behind? Or is it a call to a new work in Bolivia that won't be ignored? A sense of closure evades me but, at least I know where I'll be for the next eight months. As I walked through the park with a Columbian man and a Congolese boy this afternoon, I realized that if I can't be abroad than Welcome Home is the next best thing, maybe better. Time will fly and time will tell but it is this moment that matters. Pining over the past would paralyze me but seizing the day liberates me to serve and spend my life well. The last five weeks were tremendous and the next eight months will be just as memorable.