Loss and Restoration...

Leaving Guatemala six and a half years ago was one of the hardest things I've ever done.  Not the hardest--going to the funeral home to see my brother and then flying to Korea about a week after tops that list--but it was hard.  Incredibly so.

I was thinking about this today...how for so many years I tried to forget this place existed.  It was too painful to remember, too hard to let go.

It was possible to live without it, but it was like going through life without a limb...it can be done, but it's not ideal...

And I wondered why my heart didn't work the way it did before...

In a strange way, I grew accustomed to limping.  It wasn't until I returned to Guatemala this summer that I remembered what being whole was. 

I paid a visit to my old pastor's family today.  And on the walk home, I was surprised to feel my heart swelling inside me, as if it was expanding, reaching out, taking this place in without any reservations or fear.  A whole-hearted reaction...

That's when I realized my heart is whole.  Because my heart didn't do that before...during those years when I tried to forget this place existed.  It's like my heart had short-circuited and just couldn't do it anymore.

My old pastor here passed away two months ago...I was surprised by how hard it was to visit his family and realize he is really gone.  There is still part of me that thinks he is still here and the new pastor is just a short-term replacement.  Sunday morning was my favorite time of the week when I lived her before...I absolutely loved going to church.  And he was a big part of what that church was.  To me, anyway.  He always took the time to stop and say hello.  And when we went to the lake for baptisms, his family invited me to tag along with them.  After the baptisms, we had a picnic lunch on the beach.  Then we walked around the shops and went out for a boat ride on the lake.  That was my favorite trip to Lake Atitlan.

But times change and things happen...and people get sick and pass away.

But remembering him today, seeing his picture on the wall, reminded me of all that was.  And as I remembered, I also remembered who I was when all those things happened.  How things were different...

And I realized how much is in the process of being restored.  But yet, this time it's better.  It's like those difficult years in-between enabled me to love this place better.  It tore down walls that kept me from fully being at home here.  As if those difficult years in between were vitally necessary.  Not pleasant, perhaps, but good...

Almost as if leaving here actually enabled me to love it more...

I guess what I'm trying to say is I can look back now and be thankful.  Even for those parts that, at the time, seemed so incredibly hard.  All those times I grieved its loss.  Every time I had to push myself forward.  All those walks.  All that struggling with God...Giving this place up only to have it handed back again.

This song was one of my favorites when I lived here before and was one of the hardest to listen to when I tried to let this place go.  How I responded to this song was usually a good indicator to me of how I was handling readjusting home.   http://youtu.be/Uu5JEQ7WYTU

Enjoy.