3 days

So, do you have plans this week?

Well, I do. I'm just moving to the equator...THE EQUATOR.

I'm thrilled and definitely nervous, but I know all will be well.

It's just a job and it just happens to be in a city in another continent, populated by over 2 million people--people that don't speak my native language nor is their culture familiar.

It's just a job. That's what I'll tell myself for the next three days. And then I'll get there and love the adventure and the abandonment to this next stage of my life.

I like Sundays. I'll blog on Sundays in Quito. And maybe some time during the week too, if I have an especially amazing story to share.

I learned a new thing today: false humility is a major pitfall on the journey to holiness we call life on earth. Charity and sadness are not mutually exclusive, either. Beware of lies.

Two weeks to go

That's all the time that separates Quito and me. I will be living and teaching English there for twelve months. (!!)

This summer, I've vacillated between total excitement and absolute trepidation about this great adventure. "I can't wait--I really can't believe this is happening!" to "No! I don't want to go!" Both sentiments are true, believe it or not. And trust me, I'm really logical. I mean, I feel like I am...

I want to go because it will be often fun and exciting (and definitely a good challenge) and it has a material benefit: for the ol' resume, though I'm the last person on earth who has ever done something merely to build her resume. I really do like Spanish and I believe I'll fit into the culture comfortably.

And I don't want to go. Because it's very far from friends, because it's a nerve-wracking job--at least I've convinced myself it is--and because of the total lack of stability in my life. I'm a college graduate now, can't I find some place to settle down a bit and just rest? I could throw a pity party about the utter lack of stability in my life thus far, but I will try not to let you in on that party, dear reader. And now, it's another year of temporary community and of decorating a room I'll shortly be dismantling. It's human nature to be self-serving but my generation has upped the ante: being one of transient, self-serving, self-seeking youth. Can't I just find a humble dwelling place somewhere and have a few people, a family perhaps, to take care of and not be jetting off around the world every so often? Maybe, maybe not. That may be my image of happiness at the moment, a blissful, settled life, but I must find contentment in all circumstances. It matters little whether I'm on the southern shores of Lake Superior or walking the equator in the Andes of South America. I can't rightly criticize and condemn the discontent of my peers as I complain about my own situation. Yet, I was in the chapel of perpetual adoration today and there enjoyed true stability. What a timely reminder. Where there is love, there is peace and stability.

My generation, in its constant squirming and restless traveling, has both benefited and warped communication with Facebook. It's easy to get in touch with someone but what are we sharing? Video clips of puppies? I have a Facebook page and every so often want to delete it--today it succeeded in utterly redeeming itself. My status:

'Today, a sweet little old man held the door for me and said, "Want to hear some wonderful news?" Gesturing to his wife, "We've been married for 61 years and this little lady still loves me! And we still dance the jitterbug! We've made a few modifications...I'm 84 now. We first danced together when we were 16 years old." I wished them the happiest of days, and they walked away hand in hand. I almost cried. Talk about wonderful news!'

...and within an hour, fifty-seven people had 'liked' it and ten had commented. What a way to share joy! Even Facebook can perpetuate something good and beautiful. 

 Every day brings new opportunities for love and unity. Whether we find ourselves in the very neighborhood we grew up in, or in foreign countries and continents. Old and new communities, wild experiences and even utter heartbreak can, if we're willing, make our hearts a little more open, malleable, and charitable. Since Quito is where I'm to go for now, I'll hop in that plane, ready and willing to do ordinary things with extraordinary love. Except, they'll just have to be cosas ordinarias con un amor extraordinario. 

Pep talk done, over and out. 

  EDIT: 20 July 2012, less than a day after posting, 97 'likes' and 13 comments. People do love true love.