As I’m preparing to embark on a new adventure, it seems appropriate to resume blogging—not to replace face-to-face, e-mail, or phone communication, but as a way to provide updates for anyone interested.
As I look over my last few entries, I see that I haven’t mentioned that I got the news I had been waiting months for…I received the Fulbright Grant to teach English in Colombia for one year. I’ll be leaving at the end of July, and will spend the 2010-2011 schoolyear as an English Teaching Assistant at the Universidad del Atlántico in Barranquilla, Colombia. More to come on that soon.
I also had the pleasure of spending a couple of weeks in Romania. I had a great time staying with my friend, Christina, and her parents. I enjoyed being back in the familiar places I loved as a kid, in Bucharest as well as the mountains and the sea. I couldn’t access my blog to update while I was there, so I’m posting here an exerpt from my journal that I wrote on the way home:
June 10, 2010:
I’m on an airplane headed to Atlanta—strangely, it was 9 years ago to the day that we moved from Romania to America. Clear as day, I can remember journaling on that flight. Though I was slightly excited about living in America, my sadness grew as I watched the airplane on the screen leave a longer and longer red trail, signaling the increasing distance between me and the place where I’d grown up.
So much has changed since age 13, when I thought my heart would break with loneliness and homesicknss—and since age 15, when our visit to Romania sharpened the ache that had subsided in those two years of adjusting to life in the US. Now, at age 22, I’ve spent more of my years in America than I did in Romania. I’ve moved again (to college out-of-state) and developed a love for a language and region of the world distinct from Romania.
I didn’t know what to expect with this trip, but it was good for me in many ways. Even as a young kid I had a concept of culture; I knew that superstitions about drafts and cold concrete, or that you always give an odd number of flowers, or that you kiss on both cheeks were all part of being Romanian, and that we, as Americans, did things differently. But this time, I was able to see the places and people I grew up among through a different lens—more mature, thoughtful and with other experiences and cultures to compare it to. Some aspects of Romania were exactly as I remembered from childhood. Others were less familiar—I realized that even though I understood probably 90% of the words I was hearing, much of the sarcasm and humor was lost on me. As a kid living in Romania, I learned the language subconsciously and spoke it fluently. Now, as a foreign language major and aspiring English teacher , I was ultra-conscious of the language I heard, of the mistakes I made, of the similarities and differences between Romanian and Spanish, of declensions, diminutives, and reflexive verbs. I enjoyed being able to form a fresh impression of Romanian culture—to experience it for myself rather than shying away from unfamiliar people and food as I did when I was younger.
Not only did this trip help me better understand and appreciate Romania, but it is allowing me to turn the page on that chapter of life; providing closure, I guess. My childhood there greatly shaped who I am, but I no longer belong there. My family is in America, my friends are all over the world, and as far as I know, my future and purpose are elsewhere. I thoroughly enjoyed my two weeeks as a visitor, but the ache of homesickness, the longing to go back and the regret over forgetting the language are gone now. Romania will always be a huge part of me, but now I can turn my attention forward; I can be nostalgic without clinging to that past chapter.
Though the “ache” for Romania is disappearing, I know by now that life is full of transitions and changing relationships, and that’s hard. Romania, high school, college, summer programs, jobs—different stages, different relationships. I have deep bonds with family and friends all over the country and world…and here I go preparing to start over once again, this time in Colombia. Each new chapter, every adventure, is tinged with the sadness of separation from people I know and love—people who know me and love me. But my hope lies in two facts. For one thing, I’ve seen God’s faithfulness and provision time and again as he’s brought people into my life when and where I need those relationships. I know he’ll do it again in Colombia and beyond. But I know that my deep longing for permanence, constancy and enduring relationships cannot be fulfilled in this lifetime. That’s why I’m thankful to have a “hope that does not disappoint”—being a child of God. I have the comfort of knowing my Heavenly Father here and now, but I also have an inheritance of eternal life in heaven. With that truth in mind, the ache of change and the fear of an unknown future fade away. God, help me keep this truth in mind…
