The Art of Living in Limbo

My many months hiatus from blogging was due to a life lived in limbo. How do you write about where you’re at and what you’re doing if things are constantly changing and you’re just taking it a day at a time? Going on 7 months now I’ve been living in the U.S. with my parents. Many of you know I had come home in June to “visit” my family for 2 months and then was planning to head up to Canada to meet Fabian so he could study English and I could find a job.

Unfortunately, one week before we were planning to make this transition, Fabian found out his student visa was denied. We had gone against the advice of the school representative who was helping us with the paperwork and had told the truth about his undocumented stay in the U.S. Apparently Canada didn’t like that. At the time we were filling out the papers I had told Fabian I’d prefer to tell the truth and get denied than lie and get what I wanted. Now we are reaping the consequences of that philosophy and I am feeling even more committed to “the truth”.

The bad news of Canada left Fabian more disappointed than I have ever seen him. It took us back to square one for what seemed like the hundredth time. That same week an old friend of mine contacted me saying she worked for an immigration lawyer in Tennessee and recommended him to us. After talking to him and the other people in his office we decided to re-open our U.S. case. Our lawyer says he believes we have a 99.9% chance of being approved and I am convinced that he and the others in his office are doing all they can to help us. While we did have to start the process over from the very beginning, they are estimating that we should have another verdict sometime this spring or summer.

Fabian has bounced back from the bad news about Canada but has had an exciting time of it in the police force. This fall he was on his motorcycle speeding to an emergency call when a truck pulled out in front of him. The impact caused him to fly off his bike, flip several times in the air, come crashing down on the truck’s windshield (hard enough to break it) and then bounce onto the ground. The miraculous thing is that he immediately got up to arrest the two men in the truck so they couldn’t run away! He was in the hospital for 24 hours but the doctors didn’t find any broken bones, internal bleeding or even any scratches or bruises! God is good!!!

This past summer I focused on quiet activities that drew me back to my roots. I spent a day canning red beets with my old church family, another day processing apples with them and occasionally helping my mother prepare our own garden produce for the winter. My sister, my mother and I went on frequent creek floats on the Conococheague, and took a trip to the beach.

One of my favorite memories of this summer had that backcountry touch that so many people desperately try to escape when young but long for once it’s gone. I was staying with my sister in her cottage in the woods, enjoying several peaceful mornings sipping tea and watching the creek and time roll by lazily until we could find the ambition to get up and work on her house. After one of these relaxing work days we began to walk our typical loop that takes us by several relatives’ farms. As we came up over a hill we saw some cars slowing to a stop as several calves shot across the road. Realizing these lost creatures belonged to our cousin down the road we proceeded to try to contact him. I took off running towards my cousin’s farm which was probably half a mile or so away while Veronica tried her luck with her cell phone which doesn’t always get reception in that area of the boonies. Granted, I probably should have just waited to see if she could get reception on that day instead of sprinting off in my flip flops and sundress, but nevertheless, I like making people smile and I’m pretty sure some passersby got at least a little joy out of this whole scene.

My cousin Lester and his wife Sarah were just coming out of the house as I arrived shouting his name and gasping for breath. We packed into their truck and off we went. What ensued was a pleasant evening of chasing calves through the countryside. Sarah, who was a few months pregnant at the time, tackled one to the ground successfully right at the beginning. Then we split up searching for the rest in the woods and fields until some more were located. My brother Kevin and Uncle James came from neighboring farms and we all attempted to push the calves in the direction towards home.

It was humorous watching everyone sneaking around carefully and then going at an all out sprint as the calves scattered in all the wrong directions. I was stationed on the road near a hole in the fence and was able to stand back and observe the majority of the fun. Meanwhile, no one realized Veronica had found another calf off in a different field until it came running by us with her behind it. She had sung it home…yes that’s right…she sung to it to calm it down until she was close enough for it to make a beeline down the lane.

We didn’t get all the calves in that night and soon it got too dark to continue our rodeo clowning act but I left feeling fully satisfied by my cow chasing experience. I doubt my cousin and his wife were nearly as tickled by the whole event as I was, but at least they must not have been too offended by my happiness since later in the summer they took me horseback riding. That was yet another of my favorite experiences.

Once summer passed and fall came with the sad news of our most recent denial, every day since then has been spent trying to figure out what we should do now. Should I stay in the U.S. and work? Should I go back to Mexico? Should I try to get a really good job? Should I take whatever job I come by? I waffled between wanting to be with Fabian in Mexico and knowing that he’d prefer for me to stay and work even though I wasn’t finding any really great jobs as he’d hoped. Keystone Health Center hired me back for a part-time, temporary position as a bilingual HIV Tester. I went out to the migrant camps 2-3 evenings a week to test the workers and then returned later with their results. I had always wanted to work in the migrant camps so I was thrilled to have the opportunity to do it.

In the middle of the migrant season my Pappy Rice passed away. I was able to see him the week before. I knew he was bad but in one and a half months time his condition worsened to a level that was shocking. His aged body was so frail, his mind completely gone, and it was obvious his life was hanging on by a thread. I was grateful to be in the U.S. for his passing and smile when I think of him because he was a truly loving and comical man!

Once the migrant season ended I started working on many projects. I helped my friend Coriena plan her wedding, I knitted a scarf, I sewed 3 dresses and currently have several other projects in the workings. The biggest project I did this year and probably in my entire life was a room makeover for a pregnant teenager. I won’t go into depth on this topic since it most likely will be the subject of my next blog but I will encourage you to at least check out the before and after pictures once I get them up on facebook.

In short, the past 7 months have consisted of wondering what I am doing and experiencing lots of simple joys which are the most fulfilling ones for me. I guess I’ve not been living in limbo for just 7 months but actually for 4 or 5 years. This entire journey has been speckled with low valleys. However, in the midst of dark feelings and battles against depression I find moments full of a joy that I doubt anyone could feel without experiencing the low lows.

I feel more alive and grateful than I ever felt when life was “perfect” and when my plans always worked. Living in limbo has allowed me to come to trust in God no matter what things look like in the present. It has helped me listen to His voice and follow it just for the sake of following Him and not worrying about how stupid I look, or sometimes worrying about it but not letting that stop me. This whole situation has given me a revelation of God’s love that makes me cry on a daily basis from passion for Him and a thankfulness for how He has provided for me every step of the way. I may not have excess but I always have enough! The art of living in limbo is really just the practice of trusting God!

Thank you so much for your support and prayers! I cannot express how much it means to Fabian and me! I feel wealthy in ways that are so much more valuable than material things!

Love & blessings,

Alicia

P.S. I will be returning to Mexico on December 31st.

P.P.S. I know the following verse is a repeat, but it means so much to me!

“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” –Habakkuk 3:17 & 18
(The more I lose the more I find God and the more I find God the more I know He loves me…and that is all I need!)

Good Does Exist in Mexico

The other day Fabian came home late in the morning and recounted how a mob of 25 men tried to stone him and 2 other policemen to death for breaking up a fight between two groups. Luckily all of them were good at running and dodging the stones and broken bottles that were flying through the air, some of the size of a soccer ball. The only thing that got damaged was their police patrol truck. As they piled into the truck the windows were broken and the truck was dented quite badly by the impact of the mob's medieval weapons. Stories like these leave images in your head of a level of barbarianism that one can't imagine actually exists. Since these stories are much more dramatic than any positive story could ever be they discolor Mexico and leave us thinking that Mexico is only full of barbaric acts. There is another side to Mexico other than these dramatic acts of violence that stay vividly burned into our minds. The other side of Mexico, the good side, is hidden. You have to filter through a lot of visible corruption to find it but there in the middle of an English classroom on the second floor, I found it. I found the good side of Mexico when I found some of its best people. The stories of these pleasant people probably won't last in your minds quite as long as those of the evil ones but this blog will focus on them so the days that I am feeling discouraged with my love hate relationship with this country I can re-read these accounts and turn my disappointment into encouragement. These stories, unlike the other dramatically violent ones were a part of my daily life and were not just once a month happenings.

It was definitely destiny that brought me to this job since I arrived quite disillusioned with the whole teaching career thing and wasn't anxious to pursue a job in that area. Besides my disillusionment with teaching I had to struggle with all kinds of inner turmoil. This turmoil seems to come out of me every time I come to Mexico. It stems from homesickness, cultural differences, un-fulfilled dreams and vulnerability; a vulnerability that I don't feel in the U.S. My walls go up and I become a different person. My students however, were able to break down those walls possibly by the simple fact that they too were making themselves vulnerable by submitting themselves to the humbling process of learning a language.

All of my students were different. I had young students ranging from 9 years old to professionals with children in college. Some students were there because their parents wanted them to study English but most attended classes because they really wanted to learn. I can definitely say that motivated students make teaching fun! Our school environment was a unique one because the schedule was flexible and the atmosphere relaxed. My boss (Kari) and I hit it off quite well, not only because our personalities were similar in some ways but also because we share a love of animals. Kari might be a full time English school teacher and owner but she's also a part time street animal rescuer. There were many classes that were attended not only by our regular human students but also by our canine friends as they awaited being transferred to a foster home or a permanent adoptive home. My students weren't too surprised when one day a beautiful, healthy golden retriever (who very obviously had a loving home) decided to walk up the stairs and into our class just for a short visit and a few hugs. They thought he was a smart dog and simply knew where to go for a little extra loving.

Another fond dog memory was when an ornery street dog that I had rescued, just couldn't wait any longer for me to finish closing up the school to take her out so she walked out onto the canopy (remember we're on the 2nd floor) and relieved herself. The unfortunate part was that several of my students had decided to chat after class right under that canopy and one of them got sprinkled with Luneta's liquid waste. If something like this had happened in the U.S. I would have either been fired or sued, however, the victim of my puppy's pee and run incident took it all in stride and we've been able to get a lot of laughs out of that memory since then.

I imagine my students have gotten a few laughs out of simply watching me teach at times too. Hopefully they were able to tell how much I enjoyed their classes. I would frequently get so excited as I was teaching that I would wave my arms around, my marker would go flying out of my hands and land on the other side of the room. Suddenly I was reminded of a college professor of mine who knocked her glasses off of her face at least once in every class from sheer passion. I am thankful to my students for helping me to find that level of excitement in teaching again.

Last night my boss and my students put on a surprise going away party for me. They shared many kind words and gave me various gifts to remember them by. While I will miss them and I am ever grateful to all of them for helping to show me the good part of Mexico and for reviving my love for teaching, I know it's time to move on. I'm quite sure that for some of us, our paths will cross again. Peace to my Mexican family and friends!

Love and blessings,

Alicia

"The Lord your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He has watched over your journey through this vast desert." -Deuteronomy 2:7a

Kevin's Visit: An Amazing Christmas Gift

My Christmas this year was not about material things, but rather the people that are important to me. I was thrilled to be able to pick up one of those important people at the airport late on Christmas night, my brother, Kevin. I was most looking forward to Kevin's visit this Christmas so we could once again have those deep conversations that go on for hours discussing everything from creative projects (such as rocket wood stoves), spiritual developments, and of course love and relationships. We're quite good at analyzing just about anything but our main interests hover in these areas. If there is one person in the world that is most similar to me it's probably my brother. Both our love of communicating and our general communication style is practically identical (or so I've been told). I'll admit that he's a much more even keeled person while I can be a bit of a spitfire if you catch me on the right (or wrong) day but all that's probably much more apparent to my closest loved ones and not so evident to others.

Kevin's visit was a relaxed one since Fabian wasn't available to chauffer us around most of the time, which limited us to the local attractions. On Fabian's day off we decided to give him extra time to sleep and later had him take us to see the hub of center city Guadalajara. As we were walking through this bustling area we came across one street show after another. First it was a clown, then a mime and next a magician. We passed by each one with little interest as I voiced my desire to see a good acrobatic group. A few more paces down the street my wish was granted. We found a group of young guys teasing a slowly forming crowd with an acrobatic stunt every few minutes until enough people were gathered to make it worth their while to do an all out show. The younger guys did some break dancing moves while the more experienced ones attempted various flips in so many dangerous combinations that it left me covering my face and audibly praying that they wouldn't kill themselves. There was only one time that the leader plummeted to the ground after attempting to scale a wall in order to complete a flip off of it. All of us in the audience held our breath and sighed with relief as he quickly bounced back up and returned with determination to do it again. Luckily the second time he was successful. Fabian and Kevin were picked out of the large crowd to participate in the show as the main acrobat flipped over 7-8 people from the audience. At one point this same entertainer pretended to stumble into a girl (that happened to be sitting beside Kevin) after a flip and passionately kiss her. He immediately clarified to us in decent English that she was in fact his girlfriend instead of some random stranger. I was so impressed with their act that I gave them an hour's worth of my salary when they brought the hat around for contributions...don't worry...if you're thinking in U.S. dollars the amount really wasn't much at all. I figured I was a tourist that week and they deserved a tourist-sized tip. :)

Besides street shows and people watching, markets are always a great way to experience a bit of Mexico. At a three-story indoor market called San Juan de Dios, we were all quite amused by a particular snack item (see the photo above). The literal translation of the sign behind the snack says, "Virile Snack". When I heard that I immediately thought, "fertile snack" but after looking up the exact definition in the Merriam-Webster's online dictionary I decided I'd have to include it since it so eloquently describes the qualities of the actual food. "Virile- having the nature, properties, or qualities of an adult male; specifically: capable of functioning as a male in copulation." If you are able to identify which part of the male anatomy might fit this delightful description, then you have just correctly identified this snack! None of us could come up with the guts to try it...although I'm honestly considering it just because I feel like it's the only way I could get a little adventure in my life right now. I've been living in Mexico for a year and have spent the majority of that time appreciating the safety, peace and solitude of my room. I'd love to travel around the country but there are several challenges to doing that while residing in Mexico, namely Fabian's long work schedules...so, as my adventurous side starts demanding more attention I might give in to this disgusting snack just for kicks.

One thing Kevin was lamenting on his trip here was that he wouldn't have the opportunity to visit my English class and talk to a group of real life Mexicans (Fabian doesn't count since he's my husband). Mom, Dad and Veronica had all been able to experience that and unanimously agreed that it was the most rewarding part even though not all of them had come with great desires to participate in my English class. Kevin spent much of the week observing the citizens here and attempting to come up with something that he could tag as a Mexican trait. He realized however, that Mexico is actually more diverse than we typically think. He was surprised to see people of many clothing styles, colors and builds. Often we see groups of Hispanics in our U.S. communities that may only represent a small part of whatever country they're from and then are surprised to find out that these groups don't necessarily provide an accurate sampling of the entire population of their native countries. When people come to Guadalajara and realize that there are a number of light-skinned, and even green-eyed people that don't necessarily wear cowboy hats, it can be shocking. It's the same here when people see pictures of my family and realize that I'm the only blue-eyed, blond haired member of my immediate family. As I was showing pictures of Kevin's visit to some of my students they stated, "He could pass for a Mexican!" with a bit of surprise in their voices. My appearance had fed right into their ideas of what a typical American looks like just as we have ideas of what a typical Mexican is like. Thank God that people have figured out that I don't have the "typical American culture/values" since we are seen as quite liberal and immoral...which probably isn't such an inaccurate picture of most of us...at one time I'm sure some of my actions would have fit that bill.

While Kevin didn't get to talk to my English class, he did get to talk to a cute girl with a sparkling personality at my favorite cafe, The French Press, in the charming little town of Ajijic. Her story was a rare one, at least from the encounters that I've had here. She was born in France to a Mexican mother and a Brazilian father and it sounded as though she had spent some time living in France during her very early childhood and her adult years. She understood a lot of English, spoke a little, but mainly communicated in Spanish as I translated what she said to Kevin. Our new glowing friend shared with us some of her colorful history, her current struggles in decision making and her passion for urban mobility activism. Her frankness about the U.S. was refreshing as she gave us her real opinion on our home country instead of a sugary version. While she might have expressed some negativity towards certain aspects of our country (ie: our controlling and power hungry tendencies) she wasn't by any means a negative person nor did she hold these things against us as individuals...besides, she had constructive criticism to share about France, Brazil and Mexico as well. We were delighted that the owner of the cafe was so gracious in allowing her assistant to sit and chat with us for 30 minutes and even more pleased that this smiling bicycle activist would take her time to share a bit of herself.

Well, I do believe Kevin went home happy since he was able to fulfill his desire of conversing with a native and getting a glimpse of her world and perspective. Both of us enjoyed our relaxing time together drinking tea and picking out quality furniture that we hope to buy in the far future when I have a house to fill and a trailer to haul the stuff in. We were able to talk so much during the 4 days he was here that by his last night we had run out of words. I'm sure by the time I go home for a visit in June we will both have accumulated a few more words and stories to share.

Love, blessings, & peace,

Alicia

"...but if you return to me and obey my commands, then even if your exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them from there and bring them to the place I have chosen as a dwelling for my Name."

-Nehemiah 1:9