roots: reflecting and returning

At the end of May, our YAGM group met for our second-to-last retreat. While we were there, our country coordinator, Andrea asked us to reflect on this year in Mexico, what we've discovered about ourselves, and our fears and excitement about returning home. Given that we have less than a month and a half left here there's a lot to think about.

My hope in sharing this letter with you is that it might just help with the whole reentry and readjustment phase that I've been hearing so much about! I don't know exactly what to expect but - as we were reminded - any time of transition (may it be entering a post-grad program, starting a new job, returning home after a year of service, etc.) doesn’t just affect the person stepping into these new sets of circumstances; it affects everyone around us. 

This letter, then, is for the both of us.

 

Dear family and friends:

Ten months ago I packed my bags and my courage, and arrived in Mexico full of nerves and excitement - with hardly a clue about how the direction of this year would unfold. Waking up to the sounds of rutas, roosters and ranchera music seemed so strange at first to my suburban Chicago ears. And I wasn’t sure what to think of eating slimy nopales (cactus paddles), chayote (prickly pear), or the flor de calabaza (squash blossom) tucked inside my quesadillas. Meal after meal, I wondered about the variety of chile as I sniffled my way through colorful plates covered in spicy salsas. Navigating the city center seemed like a maze - as if back in the 1500s, Cuernavaca’s original city planners sat down, played a game of pick-up sticks, and decided that's how the city would be laid out. Still, it wasn’t until I arrived in the mountainside village (2 hours outside of Cuernavaca) that I realized I was really in for something different -- quickly setting aside my fondness for four-legged creatures while learning to anticipate aggressive dogs during home visits, often carrying an umbrella (my weapon of choice) or a small rock with me, just in case. Oh, yes. There have been times when Mexico felt like a world away from home. 

Especially in those first few weeks and months, the acute awareness of my new surroundings reminded me that I am someone rooted in the community that sent me on this way. Your faces have flashed through my mind and your names have passed my lips in conversation with my hosts, new neighbors and friends. Deep down, I know I would not be who I am without you. 

Over the course of this year I’ve also discovered that my personhood has grown to include the communities that I’ve been placed with. Through them I've experienced the depth and wonder of being able to walk alongside - and be transformed by - the new place, people and all that this journey contains. It’s taken time to build relationships and immerse myself in this slice of Mexican culture. With more feelings of rootedness and uprootedness than I imagined was possible, “home”, then, is profound and intense. 

The accompanying joys and hardships are many. I’ve found myself embraced and accepted unconditionally. I’ve also felt the weight of loneliness and brokenness on my shoulders. I’ve been reminded that I am an outsider. Again and again, I’ve experienced my humility. I’ve encountered spectacular moments of grace and found deep peace in the most surprising places. I’ve felt my heart stretch beyond its capacity. The knot in my throat has hardened and softened over time. I’ve discovered an inner strength; a courage I didn’t know existed within. 

With so much that is familiar, comfortable and reassuring chiseled away at, naturally I’ve experienced times of intense vulnerability and openness. In the company of once new and now familiar faces, I’ve laughed until my sides ached, hiked and sweat all over village roads, and cried tears over homesickness (especially hard on Thanksgiving day). I've been with mothers as they collect water from community wells; I’ve sat around three-rock fires learning how to make corn tortillas; I’ve woven countless “canastitas”, or small palm baskets, and listened to stories of everyday life - soaking in the ancient wisdom of lo cotidiano, in daily patterns like these. 

I was there. I was there for the ordinary and milestone moments. To clip toe-nails, hold someone's hand, to help prepare meals, give someone a bath; to play, to color and read storybooks and letters. I was there when a young man recovered his eyesight after cataract surgery. I was there when a mother said her final goodbyes to her dying daughter. I was there early one morning after a family lost a loved one to cancer. I was there when one became two.

May it be one-on-one, or in a small circle, I’m ready to share these stories with you when I return. Remember that as my voice begins to tell you, that same breath asks to hear your stories, too. It amazes me that even from afar you have held a special place in my heart. I’ve felt your prayers, your well-wishes, your love and concern; and I am deeply, deeply grateful for your presence.

So it is that I return to you filled with a rumbling, aching hunger in my heart that only your stories will satisfy. I don’t know yet how to make real the things that I’ve experienced except to live moment to moment, situation to situation, with new stories, my story, and under my feet are the common stories we share. These are the things of the Spirit and the heart. These are the things that cannot exist or grow outside of community. It’s what I had to go to Mexico to recognize and what returning home calls on me to believe and feel.

Thank you. Thank you for who you are. Thank you for being such an integral part of the gifts and abilities I brought with me here. Thank you for being the community that sent me on this journey. And until I can be home with you in person, I continue to feel your closeness in such a visceral way.

With ears prepared to listen to your story, and a new-found voice to tell you mine, until soon, hasta pronto,

Katie

P.S. My country coordinator, Andrea posted an open letter to family and friends of returning YAGMs on her blog last year. Here is where you can read her post: An Open Letter to the Friends & Families of Returning Young Adults in Global Mission.