Real Mexico, here I come...

Well I know I promised to try…and I did…we had a power outage during a storm last night and the internet was down. But I wrote this on Word last night:

So here I am, a month into this journey, and it’s my last night at the Portillo’s. I’ve been strangely at peace about it all day since Greg told me this morning. It feels so weird, surprisingly. I just all the sudden, in the past week or so, got really comfortable here. Not just in this house, but in Mexico. Like…it took about 3 weeks, but this finally kinda feels like home? It’s weird to say it. It’s funny because Craig’s experiencing the same thing in Merida too. I mean, I know I don’t really have friends yet…besides JB and Yazmin and her sisters (whom I absolutely adore), but I’m comfortable here. I like this house. And this bed. And the wireless internet. And the shower. And all the family. But I guess this was bound to happen anywhere.

Tomorrow everything will be different. It’s weird to think I won’t get ready and immediately go next door to see JB and co. in the morning. It’s weird to think that this is my last night in this house. After tonight, I’ll be sleeping in a new bed and taking the bus (or walking) to school. I’ll live on the other side of the city, without an American best friend living next door. I’ll be eating different food (I’m guessing probably more authentically Mexican), and doing different things on the weekends (Greg’s trying to get me hooked up with friends/churches/orphanages now since JB and Tommy are leaving and I’ll have nothing to do…). It’s like I’m starting all over. But still in Chihuahua. It’ll be better I guess because I’ll be doing what I actually came here to do. This month has been a really good transition month—a nice soft cushioning for my landing here in this foreign country. It was safe—an American-ish house and English-speaking family, with my American friends next door as my English “safe-haven.” Now that I’m comfortable in the city and with my teachers, classes, etc…And now that I know some people (Yazmin and all her family, and Claudia, the 19-year-old nanny for Ben and Whitlee, and Judit, my 25-year-old teacher and her friends), I can do what I came to do. I can learn Spanish more fully (my new host family doesn’t speak English—and neither does the other young girl who lives there), and I’ll have the time and confidence to start serving in orphanages and such or join the church choir (I’m seriously thinking about it—this is the first semester I haven’t been in a choir since 5^th grade).

So here’s to a new chapter—the Lord is faithful and I knew he’d carry me through. I’m comfortable here now—and now I can start actually living. Instead of worrying, missing, keeping inside myself. Here’s where the real experience begins. I praise the Lord for that soft cushioning to land on when I first arrived here, but I think I’m ready. I am living in another country and I intend for it to look like it. Here I go. I’m feeling a little uneasy—that feeling like you don’t want to go to sleep because you know everything will be different the next day—but I’ve accepted that change is coming. I’m going to embrace the change with open arms. (Unlike when I first moved here—I feel like I just shut off.)

(Some time later):
I don’t want to stop writing. I don’t want to go to bed. It’s so hard to turn the page when it’s right here in front on me.