"Days Enter Us"

I dislike blogging.  Perhaps that’s why it took 3 months to place my first post here.  Although, on second thought, maybe I do not actually suffer from a unique distaste for blogging but rather am overwhelmed by the inability to condense all of the thoughts and experiences running around in my head into coherent, yet still poetic, sentences.  Life here seems to be slower, yet each experience rich with lessons and meaning.  One would normally deem that excellent fodder for a multitude of blog posts, but I have found it a struggle to reflect on one thing long enough before the next one comes along and requires my attention and thought.  First world problems…

This semester has been full of epiphany moments like the ones described by Opehlia Dahl in Tracy Kidder’s Mountains Beyond Mountains:  “[T]here’s a point where you realize the world has just been revealed to you.  It’s like realizing your parents are both good and bad.  It’s sort of, Oh no, things will never be quite the same again.”  Like the day I summitted Mount Peleaga and looked out to see all of God’s glory covered in green and gray hues.   Like the evening one of my youngest IMPACT kids walked me home and was the companion I needed that day.  Like the day I heard the songs of an Orthodox choir reaching, soaring up to the heavens, proclaiming the name of our God.  Like the day I danced with my host sister in our kitchen and felt truly at home for the first time. 

These moments have embedded themselves deep in me, in my memory, my heart, and in my mind, even when I am not completely aware of it.  And now, as I see the end of our time in Romania drawing to a close, I look ahead to the transition “home” and wonder how all these moments will play out.  How will it change the way I live and think and interact with the world around me?

I hope that I will tend a garden and buy from the farmer’s market.

I hope that I will walk or ride the bus when I can.

I hope that I will share whatever I have with those around me, regardless how small.
I hope that I will consider the soul of the mountains and walk out into nature more. 

I hope that I will remember the hospitality I was shown, and open my arms as widely.

I hope that I will still feel the power of a smile that crosses languages and offer it to others.

I hope that I will recall that my home is wider now, crossing oceans, continents, languages, customs and that I will treat all those in it as my brothers and sisters.