I want to move. Really bad. I had the worst weekend of my life. I did absolutely NOTHING on Saturday and sat in my little jail cell of an room the entire day. Everyone always says, “Hey call me if you need anything, I don’t want you to be bored or lonely”…but whenever I do, they either don’t answer, can’t come get me, or are busy. I don’t blame them…they have their own lives…they shouldn’t have to babysit the little American girl with no friends and absolutely nothing to do. Usually I’m fine when left to my own devices…but here…I have no devices. I don’t have a car…I don’t have other students in the same boat as me that I could hang out and do nothing with. Weekends kill me. Never before have I woken up on a Sunday morning and thought to myself, “Yes. Tomorrow is Monday…I get to go to school…” And it’s not because I necessarily love my school…although it’s not that bad, but mainly just because it’s something to do. Consistent. Everyday from 9-6:30.
Guess what- I can deal with a weird washing machine and no dryer. I can deal with hang-drying my clothes. I can deal with hand-washing what feels like thousands of dishes. I can deal with ants on the floor and in my box of cereal. I can deal with a broken toilet that I have to reach my hand in the tank and pull the broken chain to flush every time. I can deal with the most uncomfortable bed I’ve ever slept on in my whole life. I can deal with being scared and praying for safety every night before I go to sleep and every morning as I venture out to walk to school. I can deal with no air conditioning and a fan that ticks so loudly that sometimes I think it’s going to drive me insane. I can deal with all that.
What I can’t deal with is no food to eat- ever- except during the rare lunches I eat at home (this morning I opened the fridge to look for something to eat for breakfast and as I did, Marisela my “host mom” said, “Uh-oh…” I realized why when I saw that the fridge was completely empty—save for a few carrots and almost empty Tupperware containers with leftovers from 3 days ago—no eggs, no yogurt, no fruit, no milk. And then she just stared at me as I poured some Trix into Ziploc baggie and walked out the front door.) I have had one too many tortillas with PB and J. Their bread is bad, there’s no lunch meat, they ate the cheese that I bought last week—and the leftover grapes and plums I’d bought for to go breakfasts on my way to school. I can’t deal with that. They get paid to house me—I expect a lot more.
What I can’t deal with is absolutely no interaction. I mean…the name of my school is Interaction! And I’m not having any! My “family” doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t ask me about my life, doesn’t invite me anywhere with them (I didn’t even have anyone to go to church with yesterday…thanks to free podcasts from the Village Church in Flower Mound, I had my own little service in my room). I’ve eaten 2 meals with them. And usually when I am in the house…I feel so awkward because no one says anything so I usually just run out of the room. I got chastised for using the phone to talk to my parents the other day, and chastised more than once for trying to take the key out of the door to my “apartment.” Why even freaking have a key if you can’t take it with you?!
And yeah…I’ve tried…I bought my own food, and they ate it. I’ve started every miniature conversation that has ever occurred, I receive short answers to the questions I ask, with no questions in return. Half the time I want to ask, “Why the hell did you offer to host somebody??” Basically…I’ve gotten used to what I can get used to … but being lonely all the time and not feeling welcome is something I’ll never get used to.
I was upset last night because I’ve been here for 7 weeks, and I’m still not involved. I’ve been here for 7 weeks and I had nothing to do this weekend. I hate the idea of talking to Greg about all this because I don’t want to be the failure. The program’s failure. Every other student comes here and has no problem getting involved and finding friends and having a grand old time. It’s been 7 weeks and I’m still not happy…I still want to go home. But while I on the phone with my mom, she made a good point. It’s not my fault. I’ve been trying. I got put in a crappy house. I got the ok to come on down here, even though I’m the only student—bad idea if you ask me.
I believe God can turn this around. I believe God can give me a rainbow at the end of the storm. I also believe that God can continue to make this harder for me so I will continually be forced to grab his hand. It’s when you’re stripped of everything you think you need that you realize that all you really need is God.
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