Sometimes, living in Guatemala is exhausting.
I know it doesn't seem like it, especially when most of my blog posts are about adventures and escapades (this post is, too, ironically:), but physically and mentally, it can be taxing.
I walk a mile to school each way every day. I'm speaking a language that I'm still learning, and I have to use it every day with almost every person I encounter. There are people that I love back in the states, and some days my heart misses them more than others. I'm training for a 10k, taking 18 credits, and volunteering 4 days a week. There are days pretty frequently that I'm going for 14 hours straight. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade a minute of it for anything else in the world, but it can be hard.
And that's why we do things like we did this past weekend...which we spent on a private beach on the Pacific known as Playa Quilombo.
Before you go thinking we were at some fancy resort, I have to clarify that 'private beach' means that Paul knows a guy who knows a guy who owns some land on a peninsula in the ocean. He's built some beach huts (in Spanish, they're called 'rancheros') and hired a few people to run a little restaurant, and then you get to call it a private beach hotel.
No wifi, limited phone service, and two full days of no obligations and no schedules.
This was my own personal version of paradise. I finished one book and got more than halfway through two others. I studied a little, I napped a little, I swam a little, and I got a little sunburn. I spent an awful lot of time in hammocks, I played some card games, and I ate some great food. This weekend was for sure one for the books.
I know it doesn't seem like it, especially when most of my blog posts are about adventures and escapades (this post is, too, ironically:), but physically and mentally, it can be taxing.
I walk a mile to school each way every day. I'm speaking a language that I'm still learning, and I have to use it every day with almost every person I encounter. There are people that I love back in the states, and some days my heart misses them more than others. I'm training for a 10k, taking 18 credits, and volunteering 4 days a week. There are days pretty frequently that I'm going for 14 hours straight. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade a minute of it for anything else in the world, but it can be hard.
And that's why we do things like we did this past weekend...which we spent on a private beach on the Pacific known as Playa Quilombo.
Before you go thinking we were at some fancy resort, I have to clarify that 'private beach' means that Paul knows a guy who knows a guy who owns some land on a peninsula in the ocean. He's built some beach huts (in Spanish, they're called 'rancheros') and hired a few people to run a little restaurant, and then you get to call it a private beach hotel.
No wifi, limited phone service, and two full days of no obligations and no schedules.
This was my own personal version of paradise. I finished one book and got more than halfway through two others. I studied a little, I napped a little, I swam a little, and I got a little sunburn. I spent an awful lot of time in hammocks, I played some card games, and I ate some great food. This weekend was for sure one for the books.
Without fail, when I'm walking on the beach, I'm reminded of the poem "Footprints in the Sand" and am reminded of the comforting phrase: 'It was then that I carried you.' Whenever I am overwhelmed, when things feel like too much or I feel unequipped to carry on, God sends reminders to get out of my own way and let Him carry me. I was thankful this weekend for a run on the beach with a friend as well as a sunset walk with time to think, reflect, and process. The ocean is so big, and I am so small... and yet I serve a God who holds all of it easily in the palms of his hands. (the tattoo photographing also continued:) |