not in a dozen lives...

"People talk about how wonderful the world seems to children, and that's true enough. But children think they will grow into it and understand it and I know very well that I will not, and would not if I had a dozen lives."

- Marilynne Robinson, Gilead

Well, it's the final week of another semester here in Central America, come and gone.

Came and went and I didn't write a single post! How did that happen? For a girl who loves to process, it sure was a quiet four months. Don't misunderstand, there is never a lack of fascinating material to ponder here. The process with students has been as life-giving and question-provoking as ever. Latin America is a Garcia Marquez novel come to life; constantly blurring the line between reality and fantasy and the intensity of it all is almost too much to handle sometimes, even for my drama-loving self.

My silence should not be noted as an indicator of anything other than confusion. Or disbelief. Maybe stupor? No, that's not quite right, my senses certainly haven't been dulled. things have felt heightened if anything. Perhaps: awe. Yes, that's much closer to accurate. And it's funny; I came into this experience this time with much more of an idea of what I would see and experience. But that didn't make it any less difficult to process. In fact, the more deeply I get to know individuals, communities and movements, the harder they are to sum up with words or stories. The more difficult it is to attempt 'explaining' much of anything with a few paragraphs or pictures.

I love the quote at the beginning of this post because I know that I, as a student, certainly thought I'd grow into an understanding of the world I was learning about. And it just hasn't happened. I know so much more than I did then, but overall I am definitively more bewildered. The quote reminds me of the deep beauty in realizing that something is so complex and incredible that you will never fully understand. It frees me from the feeling of having to come to some conclusion or tidy analysis. Those two simple sentences feel quietly joyful to me, sweetly pleased at the fact that the wonder life induces isn't something we'll grow out of. Certainly not in five semesters in Central America. Not in a dozen lives.

So maybe being in awe this time around hasn't been good for my commitment to correspondence, but i think it's been good for me personally. More than ever I've worked at being present in each day and withholding judgments of things I can't fully understand. Clearly I've had a difficult time finding the balance between doing those things well and also staying true to the pleas of the people here to 'tell their stories' and my internal desire to give voice to marginalized places, under-publicized movements and vulnerable peoples. I know that finding that balance will be a continual struggle, but tonight it's one I accept joyfully.