I am Coming Home

I am coming home.

This just keeps running through my head, over and over.  Honestly, I thought it would drive me crazy.  I thought I would be dreading it.  But I’m not.  There’s part of me that so, so badly wants to come home.

In fact, I’m making small, hypothetical plans; about people I’m going to see, what I might do, where I might go, what I might eat.  More often than not, the image of sharing coffee with my family on my mom’s back porch just keeps running through my head over and over and over.  

But, there’s a problem.  I’m so looking forward to everything at home that I know reality isn’t hitting me.  A little over a year ago, I made the decision to come to a new place, and I could plan on everything feeling new and different.   Now that I’ve been here for almost a year, Uruguay doesn’t really feel different anymore; it doesn’t really feel new, either.  It does feel like home.  I came to Uruguay not knowing anyone, but now I have friends here who I can’t imagine not seeing every day.

I think my biggest problem is this; in my head, there’s a continuum between where I am now and my people here and the people I’ll see in Wisconsin.  I have yet to fully grasp the fact that these two communities uniquely meet in my experience; I won’t be able to reference people who I’ve met here in Uruguay and have my friends in Wisconsin know who they are, just like I felt at the beginning of this year, when I came here and none of the people I met knew anything about my stories from home.

I’m coming to the realization that I’m going to have to be reintegrated at home, and that it may take time, like becoming integrated here in Uruguay did.  

There is a huge focus on the transitions and changes that a YAGM goes through during their year of service in their host country.  But I’m about to enter another phase of this program- crossing back, coming home.   I think the gifts, fruits, and lessons from this year won’t be fully revealed for a long time.   And that is going to take patience, both on my part, and for those who might be so kind as to listen to me.  Right now, I can’t promise I’m going to know how to be patient in this.

So, I want to ask all of you fine people at home a favor.

Please drink mate with me.

Mate is proof that God is good and wants us to be in community with each other.   Let me explain.

Mate has three parts:

·         The mate- the squash gourd from which you drink

·         The yerba- the tea leaves that you put in the mate and infuse in hot water

·         The bombilla- the metal straw that you sip the tea out of

When you drink mate, the majority of the time, you share it.  You sit with your friends, and you pass it along, refilling it between each person.  It is done in community- in fact, before you can even use a mate gourd for the first time, it has to be cured.  To do this, you need old, used yerba leaves, which you get from someone else’s mate.  You can’t even start this tradition without relying on someone.  It’s wonderful.

My fellow volunteer, ready to share a mate.

Sharing mate was one of the first things here in Uruguay that helped me identify that I was part of a community.   It’s a simple act that lets people know they’re included and helps them feel at home.  It’s a simple way of marking time together; drinking the mate is a small act of “doing” while, in reality, it creates a space for friends to just be with each other.  During this year, I’ve laughed, cried, been bored, been crabby, been content, all while sharing a mate.

As I come back to the U.S., I know that sharing mate is something I’m going to want to bring home.  I’m going to want to have that set time of just hanging out, where I hear about your year and you hear about mine, or we just talk about the day.

Seriously, though; you + me + mate.  It’ll be a small way to combine my two worlds. It'll be great. 

See you all soon.