I can’t write a blog right now to save my life. I have seven different drafts surrounding my last days, and they started about a week ago- yet no blogs have been published.
Disclaimer: I love my family and Chicago and my tribe and snow
True story: There is a cracking occurring in my heart. Like ones on a windshield and the heat of the sun can make it bigger- but for me, the only reason it gets bigger is because each day ticks down to my flight away from the land my heart is enamored with. Rather, the humans my heart is tangled up in. This is what my Spanish profe pointed out to me. It isn’t necessarily the land itself that has my heart tearing itself into sheds, it’s the people and the experiences. Colombia isn’t just a flag or a point on a map, it is a place full of relationships and faces and memories and worship nights. It is full of my laugh and my tears and my yearning for God. It has Maggie all wrapped across it. The coffee shops aren’t my favorite for the coffee, but for the processing and quiet time I’ve done in them. The church isn’t my favorite because of ground shaking sermons, it’s my place because God taught me to dance in front of His throne. Because in that sanctuary, He took broken pieces and replaced them with truth. Beautiful, life changing truth. Sweet friend isn’t my f wind because she’s a cool Paisa human [which she absolutely is by all means], she is because she waited. She waited while I was broken and not wanting to test the waters of friendship. God put her in the right place at the right time, when I was finally ready to add friends to my heart again. And she really waited. I avoided our palhood for way too long. My bedroom isn’t my place because it’s a comfy bed [because it’s not], it’s my space because I’ve done my very best lecturing God, and then being gently put back in my lace boy God. This country has not been just sunshine and rainbows. At all. There’s been plenty of sunshine but also huge storms. And my roots have gone deep enough that I only sway a bit in the winds, but I am never uprooted. It the storms are what has made it my home. Knowing that my God defeated my giants, in fact, slated them. Knowing that my hardest conversations have happened here. Knowing that I have strength and can be truthful, vulnerable and open with my heart. Fully completely and truly embracing every inch of who the Creator made me to be- all was accomplished in this land, Medellín. It’s the land of my growth.
I know I will be back, but the heart cracking pain comes in the midst of the uncertainty. In the unknowing. And my God is so much huger than the unknown. I’m fully aware. And I know he wouldn’t be pulling me back to the land of my birth for no reason. There’s purpose in it, and I’ll find the joy somewhere in there.
I am anticipating a plane ride fully of tears and wet journal pages. And I’ll be okay. I’ve never not been okay. I have three days and twenty some hours. Not one will be wasted. I’m filling up on arepas, Spanish, coffee and everything else Paisa. And sweet friend comes seventeen days after I show up.
I feel a bit like I’m leaving here and going into a whole entirely different chaos, but it’ll be ok. Tomorrow we hit a full three day, then two, then one, and then takeoff. I’ll have Kleenex ready and I’m not listo to pack my bags- but tears aren’t bad. Medellín, or more so, m roots in Medellín, are not moving. They are set. And I’ll be back.
Prayers for a somewhat decent transition are all I could ask for you, and maybe some creme brûlée.