In order to be found, you first have to be lost

The past two days have been all about being lost.   

This lesson has had a lot of benefits.  One, I have learned that the Spanish verb, perder, pertains to being lost as well as to losing things (my host dad and I agree that Spanish is slightly ridiculous in its need to have many words mean the same thing… eg: to know: Saber/Conocer.  To be: Ser/Estar, and SO MANY MORE!... but all that to say, perder is multifunctional and one of the words that I have used a lot).   

Another lesson is that in order to be found, we have to be lost.  As I was strolling through town, talking to myself and practicing rolling my Rs (Michael Lobberegt, my old voice teacher, would be incredibly proud of my right now…), I realized that although I didn’t know where I was, I was closer to finding out where I could be and what the city looks like than I ever could be if I always knew where I was at.  The first two weeks I lived here, I lived with a wonderful family in Zona 3, really close to the school.  It was within walking distance of the pool (my new best friend that will have a blogpost someday), track (another new friend), and parque/market.  All the places I wanted to go to were there and I did not feel the need to explore much more beyond my morning runs in the neighborhoods.  I quickly figured out the block system (which is shockingly logical and helpful) and rarely got really lost.  

My new host sisters... ages 7, 12, and 4

Then, I moved and moved in with this great family out in zona 1/10/corn fields (they will also get a blogpost someday… probably a lot of them, but that’s not the point right now).  The distance is a bit daunting.  Ie: I need to take a bus.  Buses are hard for me. For one, they are a scarce commodity in Washington… for some reason, public transportation is basically non-existent… so I have little to no experience.  The other reason that buses are hard for me is that they are hard for all foreigners.  Why?  Because there is absolutely no written and publicized document with bus routes written on them.  

Anyways, yesterday was my first official day taking the bus.  I caught it in the morning without a hassle (fortunately, there was someone else at the stop that waved the bus down because this morning taught me that waving it down can be a hassle and a challenge to be conquered in the coming days).  I took it to work, got to work right on time, and was quite proud of myself.  Then, came the afternoon.  At 4:30, the time I had wanted to get home by, I found myself in Parque Central with Malea and Steve.  I quickly realized that it was time for me to head home, so I caught a bus (number 1 for the adventure) to the terminal. It took 30+ minutes (I could have walked faster) because of traffic, so I decided to skip going to the school to get my stuff and just jump on the first bus to my house that I could find because twilight was coming fast.  So, I jumped aboard the microbus (number 2 for the day) I was told to get on by my host dad and headed toward home.  As we were driving, the bus was really full and I couldn’t really see out the windows to make sure I knew where we were.  After a while, a lot of people got off the bus, the bus turned, and more people started getting on.  I realized that the bus was heading back to the parque downtown and I quickly asked the adalante for some help, but not knowing our neighborhood or the town or the street, I wasn’t a very good questionasker. Eventually, I decided to ask him to drop me off where we were at, under the assumption that my host family could possibly come pick me up and I’d be closer.  He dropped me off and the bus drove away.  I looked around and realized that I was standing on a dirt road.  After a host of phone calls, I estimated that I was told to get on the bus and take it to the main bus park (Spanish on the phone is hard).  So, I jumped on the bus (number 3 if you're counting...) and headed that way.

As we were driving, a woman sat next to me. I ended up asking her directions for when to get off (I didn’t want to miss my chance to find my host mom!) and she ended up getting off with me early (traffic…) and we walked to the park.  She was really really tall and relating everything to US things as she explained to me a bit about the bus system, but her facial structure and gray hair and Spanish skills/refusal to speak English confused me about her origins.  I eventually figured out that she was from Boston.  Anyways, this amazing woman saved me from getting super nervous and walked me to the park to a safe place where I could call my host family. (Another lesson about getting lost: sometimes people can help you get found or at least make you know that being lost is okay).  I called and they told me to get on the next bus and head to our church (conveniently a nameless orange building located on a colorful street).   So, I got on another bus (bus number 4 for the night) and headed to the terminal to catch the next bus (number 5 for the night…) to the church.  I got off at the church, confirmed with the random kids who were confused by why there was a gringo standing outside the building at 8 at night that it was a church, and waited for my host dad. He came, and it turned out that we got to go to the prayer service he was leading. I really liked the service, but in the middle, he disappeared for a long while.  He returned near the end with his microbus (he owns them) and the whole congregation got inside (my 6^th bus!).  We drove around Xela dropping people off and heading toward home (at 10ish, now), had one more surprise in order. A cop pulled us over and checked out the bus with his machine gun!  All was well, just a random check, but it definitely caught me off guard (which is getting harder and harder to do in Guatemala).  We arrived home a little after 10, I had a bite of dinner, and crashed in bed.  This morning, my host mom laughed at me and offered to help me this afternoon (which was really really good).  

After yesterday’s wonderful adventure, I took a long stroll today.  I had a lot of errands to run and a great deal of lingering fear regarding public transportation, so I chose to walk most of my errands.  After a (unnecessarily long and possibly considered failed) bus ride into town, I ended up walking from one end, near my school, to pretty much as far as you can get. I was walking along the main road, filled with the old school buses that the US rejected and sent to Guatemala, dump trucks that I assume have the same origins, and cars, inhaling diesel fumes and thinking about how maybe I have adjusted to a city.  Then, after being lost for a bit, I decided to take a left turn.  Within the block, the atmosphere around me completely changed from diesel and horns to the quiet sounds of hoeing the fields and this:

As I walked on, in complete amazement of where I was at and how beautiful it is, I asked myself over and over, in Spanish and in English “Where in the world am I?”(I have decided that questions have more umph when you ask them in two languages… this is especially true in hour 2 of a journey/quest/walk when you don’t really know how or when you’re going to return).  My response to the question was, “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I’m closer to discovering the city than I would ever be if I hadn’t begun”.   The beauty was astounding, the mountains, people, quiet atmosphere, and then I found it.  A swimming pool. Outdoors, open, and 5Q a swim (a bit more than 50cents). They even teach free lessons in the morning so I’m now on a quest to figure out how I can volunteer or try to fit it in my schedule.

Then, as I was walking back into town, I began thinking about how my hours of being lost have helped me find and discover the city in ways that I never could have on my own.  This isn’t my only time being lost here.  It is arguably a daily ordeal.  But this one was different because I was lost and not on a strict time schedule, more or less casually desiring to learn about the city and seeing how I fit into the life of Xela.  I had goals and desires, things I wanted to find and do, and I did some of them, failed at others, and ignored the other things that were on my to-do list (some things just are worth the hassle).

I think that my adventure of being lost today is very reminiscent of where I’m at right now in my life.  I’m currently lost in the sense that I am living in Latin America, with a family, for a year, with new friends and a different type of support (which comes in the form of your comments, email, and just knowing that I have a team of people behind me).  All this is different from the comfort of my old life where, although it was crazy, I understood it, loved it, and was always able to navigate the state of Washington, the chaos of coaching, learning, and churching (is that a verb?).  I have put myself in this lost position by following the rather strong push of God into this program and into this state of lostness.   Like my adventure today, my lostness is different from hopelessness or aimlessness or even fear (like the night before) because I’m not on a strict time crunch (a year is a nice long time) and during my time, I desire to learn about life, culture, and seeing how I fit into the plans of God.  I’ve been following Robin’s (the pastor in WW) blog while I’ve been here and his recent post quoted one of my favorite quotes.  He said, “My friend Frederick Buechner says that your vocation, or the place where God is calling you, is where the world's greatest needs and your greatest joy intersect”.  I think that this quote is kind of my map for the year.  I am put in a position of being lost, and in order to be found, my objectives are to look at the world’s greatest needs, my greatest joys, and see where they intersect.  Along the way, I may run into random church services, men with machine guns, or shimmering outdoor pools, and all of them I will experience with a learning heart.  I am lost right now because I want to find and to be found.