(Happy birthday, ‘Merica!)
I have to tell you, Colombia is my second favorite country on Earth. I say second because I am obviously an Old-Glory-Wavin’, true (redwhiteand) blue, Old Navy flag t-shirt wearin’ citizen of the U S of A. And I love my country and its freedoms. And maybe I’m feeling a little patriotic because I go home soon, or maybe because it’s election time, or possibly because I am thinking back to celebrating the 4th of July on top of a mountain in Colombia… but I sense I am getting ahead of myself.
I digress.
Following the hottest, most physically and spiritually challenging month of my life, spent in Cambodia, I hopped on a whooooole buncha planes and ended up in Bogota. Five planes, to be exact. I boarded a plane in Siem Reap and flew to some city in China, slept on an ice-cold floor for about five hours, then boarded another plane for some other city in China. On this second plane ride, I sat next to a lovely missionary from the U.S.A. and we spent a few hours chatting about our shared interest of spreading the Gospel, nbd. We had a layover in Los Angeles, where I tried In-N-Out Burger (don’t hate me… I wasn’t that impressed) and then on to Houston and finally, Colombia. It was 5 am and freezing, but I was gung-ho to commence the final leg of my journey. And honestly, I was relieved that everyone had lived through Asia.
My team was picked up at the airport by a former World Racer named Allie and her husband Edwin. Edwin is Colombian(and probably the nicest guy in the world), Allie is from Nebraska. Which, is close enough to Iowa for me to consider us best friends. Even though her football team sucks. As the month went on, Allie and I discovered that we are basically the same person, split up among two bodies so as to increase the surface area of our awesomeness. We like all of the same pop-punk music from the early 2000s, and share the special bond of being really midwestern, which other people from less sophisticated areas of the country wouldn’t understand. Allie also is mom to a really fat hamster named Hurley…
(He’s like, really fat.)
For ministry, we worked with an organization called Formavida, helping with their before/after school childcare and tutoring. We were living in the basement of a church on top of a mountain, which also housed the program. Kids in Colombia go to school either in the morning or the afternoon, so one group of kids came before noon, received help with their homework, a safe place to play, and lunch. The afternoon kids did the same, but in the reverse order. In total, I believe there were about 60 kids that came daily. Our job was to help with their homework, play Dutch Blitz with them (and LOSE cause they’re CHEATERS!), and help out in the kitchen to prepare the meal. We also taught English lessons a few times a week. The church was in a poor, sort-of-dangerous neighborhood, and the lunch that we helped prepare for the kids was often the only meal they had all day. It was in a way heartbreaking, but it gave me a lot of hope to see the dedication of those working in the ministry to the children and their wellbeing. I honestly loved this ministry so much.
(Teaching English, one has to get creative.)
A funny thing to note: I haven’t taken a Spanish class since high school. If you have to ask, that’s over ten years ago. In the unfortunate event of my teammate Jillian (our resident Spanish speaker) returning home to the States for a month to recover, I somehow became our translator. I had literally no confidence in my ability to communicate, nor I had ever spoken Spanish to a native speaker, but I surrendered that to God and He showed me in a really cool way how He can provide if I let Him. I learned that God wanted me to speak to the people there, and so He gave me the words! In Spanish!
God is good, ya’ll.
Even more than ministry this month, I really fell in love with the people. The kids, the adults, the people who worked at the bakery that I found myself at far too often (side note: ALL of South America is just a giant bakery. Shout out to my jeans for holding the line). The program we were helping with was run by a pastor named Lucy, and her and her family quickly became my own. I learned from them what true dedication and sacrifice to those you are ministering to looks like. Back at the end of month two, I was talking to a former World Racer who kept referencing the moment that God “changed her race” by changing her heart. At the time, I didn’t know if I would ever have a moment like that. I tend to get weary, and I have spent a solid chunk of this year in fear that I would start hating being on the race. After leaving Asia, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find that I felt that way. I can tell you that I didn’t have that moment- I had a whole month! Our ministry in Colombia helped reaffirm the calling God has placed on my life- the calling to drop whatever I’m holding and follow Him, and the promise that I will never, ever be alone. Even when I trip over my perpetually untied spiritual shoelaces.
(We’re a big family… don’t you see the resemblance?)
All seriousness aside, I had a lot of fun this month. On the 4th of July, I took a cable car like 90 degrees straight up to the top of a mountain in the middle of the city. I saw a fat Mona Lisa painting! I got to celebrate my 28th birthday with not one but TWO cakes and surrounded by more love than I can even explain with words.
(My birthday cake, lolz)
On our last day of ministry, we were informed that we were going to be having a sports day with the youth of the church. I’m not too keen on “sports days,” seeing as I’m the most un-athletic person I know, but I figure being a missionary is like 10% ability and 90% willingness to embarrass yourself in front of children. Anyway, it turns out that in Colombia, “sports day” translates to “Tough Mudder type race up and down the side of a mountain, good luck fat American!” The most important details of this hilarious scenario are as follows:
- Somebody took the time to dig a 15-foot mud trench, that I then had to army crawl through multiple times in the freezing cold, 50 degree Bogota weather.
- Half of my body fell down the side of the mountain. I still have scars.
- My team won! (Go Black Team!)
If you know me at all, you can imagine my facial expression as I relive this story. It’s honestly one of my favorite memories from the whole year.
(GANADORES!!!)
I won’t lie to you, I cried embarrassingly hard at 5 am when we left our Colombian family. I don’t know about you, but I’ll take that as a sign that something went right =)
Love from the Southern Hemisphere, where I’m still cleaning the mud out of my ears,
Erin
