Friday, December 5, 2008

this time of year.

first, i apologize for my absence from the blog (as well as for pissing morgan off - see comment on previous post. i'm sorry dear. this post is for you). while things have slowed down a bit here, the lack of updates has not been so much because of inactivity here (i still need to update on my trip to the jungle and melissa's visit), but more so because i've had so many different thoughts in my head the past month or so, and i don't know where or how to begin expressing them in pixel. 

the month of november marked month 5 of my time here. it was a tough one, but also full of saving graces. in november, the ache of missing people reached new places. the luster of all this adventure began to fade and i noticed more and more the inefficiencies and annoyances of living in a third-world country. i started to feel a little resentment in my chest as i thought about missing engagements, birthdays, baby showers and funerals these past few months. my heart had already gone back to Texas. 

on november 23, i noted in my journal that the concept of home seemed so distant. the holidays were approaching and i was missing home, or more accurately, the people who are there. three days later, a great friend arrived to spend thanksgiving here, bringing a piece of home (and pumpkin!) with her. it was just what i needed, and suddenly i realized how much i had to be thankful for. 

and now this season of advent seems so appropriate. it is a season of waiting, of anticipation, and of hope - the exact feelings i have in relation to my return. just the thought of it makes me smile. 

So here's to the waiting that brings hope, and the hope that brings life.  



I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, 
For love would be the love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But with the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. 
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for though: 
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing

- T.S. Eliot




1 comment:

lc said...

safe to say: we're all over ecuador. but, not you. as in, we're not over you. can't wait to see you.