I am somewhere in the middle of something; it seems to be quite on the verge of melancholy but all at the same time not that.
As I’ve been tossed between wildly busy and painfully ill, it appears it has been quite a while since I’ve given you an update in a form of words on my life, so I imagine this piece will be longer and a bit scattered as much has happened.
Big and exciting, I’m leaving the city of Medellin to go on a mission trip to a location called Choco. It’s the poorest region in Colombia and I’m going with students from CPN, which means a lot of Maggie aged people. I’m excited and still confused on how I ended up going on this trip. I leave on the eighth of April and I’ll be gone for ten days. I have no clue what is in store for me but I’ll just stay excited.
This week my childhood dog died and the same day I missed my biggest brothers birthday. Talk about a piece of shit day. I also had to wake up at 5AM to get in line for a yellow fever vaccination that ended up being a wasted hour in a half in the rain by myself. That was just a not fun day. In a lovely fashion, it ended with me accidentally flooding the apartment and the apartment hallway because a hose from the washer popped out of the wall. That’s what I call delightful. And in completely non-sarcastic realness, I only cried for forty five minutes. I had soccer practice, which always lifts my spirits a pinch and mindlessly binged on some Grey’s Anatomy. It was still a very ugly day.
I’m down to roughly a month in a half until I return to the States, which also means I have a month in a half to figure out if I return to Colombia or not. I am ecstatic to go back. I miss my mom’s hugs and holding her hand more than words can explain. I miss my dumbbutt brothers [I promise that’s an endearing term] and my sweet neighbors. I miss the tiny human who was inconveniently born the day I got on an airplane and his mom and brothers. I miss my family. My humans. I miss my icecream and my bed and my bathtub. I really miss my bathtub. But coming home means making the choice to return or not. I don’t want to leave my family again. But I also can’t imagine not coming back here. I wouldn’t get to see the next five months of my soccer girls life. I wouldn’t get to watch the tinies from Sala Cuna go up to the next floor. I wouldn’t get to continue to grow relationships. It’s hard. It’s twisted up in a big pretzel that is difficult. Ugh.
Next part, we’ll work a bit backwards. I didn’t think I’d share this part, but I thought I’d challenge my vulnerability and openness with you. Saturday night, after church I was chit chatting with pals and noticed the worship leader out of the corner of my eye. At that point, I decided to avoid him, so I turned my head the other way. As soon as I did that he called “Maggie!” and hopped over with a hug. Why oh why was I avoiding the worship leader? Because the week before auditioned for the worship team. I tried to just be adventurous and go for it without getting my hopes up but when you haven’t been on a worship team in roughly two years, your hopes accidentally climb to the highest mountains. I’ve never had to audition for a worship team. And I’ve never been rejected for a worship team. Until that night. It was really frustrating and aggravating. So I’m going to continue to worship from the back row. Just because my voice isn’t what this team needs doesn’t mean my voice isn’t lovely to God. As to why I was avoiding the worship leader, I think I mentally needed time to get over the rejection. So there’s that.
Last week I got to go to an internado, which is basically a small scale orphanage. Met the cutest little two year old with wavy hair and sweet bangs who completely and utterly stole my heart. She’s independent and very sassy.
And one of my roommates leaves on Thursday, back to Brazil. It’s sad, she’s been here this whole time with me! But I’m also very excited to have my own room. With three people in a two room apartment [very small] it’s hard to have any personal space, and now I gain that.