I take a Mercedes Benz to work every day.
It's the nicest brand of car I've ever ridden in regularly. My high school boyfriend used to drive his dad's Mercedes and I remember being slightly intimidated by such an elite brand. In the States I drive a pre-owned 2012 Nissan Versa, so you could say I'm doing okay. This Mercedes I ride in doesn't have any seatbelts and also transports anywhere from 20 - 100 other people during my 45 minute commute. The faces change daily, but the route remains the same. We drive over a bridge out of our neighborhood, Arbolito, and get on the highway. We cross over our second bridge and approach a very wealthy neighborhood. They have grass. Grass is something I have grown used to not seeing. They also have palm trees, sprinkler systems, parks, and garages for their family cars. I don't know many people outside of our foundation who own cars, and if someone does have a car, they definitely don't have a room of their home dedicated to storing it. I have grown to really dislike driving through here. I've also grown to realize that I feel that way because it represents who I've been. It's funny how sometimes all we need to do in order to see a situation fully is to get up and move ourselves. Rather than simply imagine, or think about the other side, we need to stand in it with our own two feet and look back at where we had previously been standing. The view always looks different. The next bridge in our journey leads us by the airport. The airport is an ever-present reminder that I have a way out. This week I thought about a hypothetical situation where my program director, Manny, asked me if I wanted to go home and I reflected on how I would answer. There's a lot to that scenario: I miss my mom. I miss my friends and family. I miss sweet potatoes and coffee shops. So I allowed myself to imagine what saying "Yes" looks like... I get on a plane... get to Logan... hug my mom and other loved ones... and as I prepare for bed (after taking a warm shower and eating sushi) I know I would sit and wonder what the point was. I would ask myself why I did this at all if I was just going to duck-out early. Was there a point? And that is why I need to say "no" to that hypothetical offer. I believe there IS a point. I have absolutely NO idea what it is, but I believe it exists. About six months ago I was in Ecuador with a reatreat group. It was during that week that I first met my previously mentioned program director, Manny. One night Manny was sharing about his own story and told me that he has come to realize that there are some things he is not meant to understand, but he is meant to believe. Some things I am not meant to understand, I am meant to believe. That line has stayed with me since that night when he first said it. I thought about it when I arrived home from Ecuador in February and felt a stirring in my heart. I thought about it as I uprooted my life and applied to this program. I thought about it as I said my "see you laters". I think about it every day I board the Mercedes, pay $0.35, and ride past the people who symbolize who I've been, and also as I reflect on who I am becoming. It's like I said before, the faces change daily, including my own. I am not the same prson today that I was yesterday. I'm growing, reflecting, questioning, and transforming. The change is something I don't fully understand, but I believe.
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AuthorHi! I'm Kate and I am spending the next year in Ecuador as a volunteer with a service organization. I am using this platform to share pieces of the journey as I go. Archives
May 2019
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