Untamed (part 2)


Untamed
 - Adjective: not domesticated or otherwise controlled.
- Synonym: wild, unbroken.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about are? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
 - C.S. Lewis, ' The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe' 



While reading "Wild", and ever since, I've imagined hiking the PCT or a similar trail.

"What if I were to do it after my time in Ecuador and before setting down roots again in the US?" I've pondered.

That would be the most logical time, likely. A trip like that could be a sort of cleanse: time to process the last five years in Ecuador and to prepare for the reverse culture shock of being back in the US, something I've experienced in small doses during visits home.

Things which used to be second nature now feel confusing when I return to the US. For example, I can purchase anything from anywhere with a debit card, and when paying in cash, vendors don't care if I have exact change or am paying for a three-dollar item with a twenty, something which can cancel the purchase here. Greetings are different too. In Ecuador, women greet other woman and men with a besito (a kind of touching of cheeks and kissing the air), men greet men with a handshake, and unless you're being introduced to someone's close friend or family member, you give a quick handshake. In the US, even among friends there is no hard and fast rule about greetings. Do you give a hug? A handshake? A side hug? Everyone has a personal preference. I'm a hugger by nature, yet even so I've received my fair share of hugs I wasn't expecting or hoping for.
It is similarly overwhelming to go from a country of all Spanish, which I understand yet can tune out when in public, to all English, which feels like an assault on my ears. It's strange, I know: I spent twenty-eight years in an English-speaking country, and it's my first language, so shouldn't it feel like home? Yes, it does, but it's also a shock. Suddenly I can understand the conversations of strangers all around me, effortlessly, which can feel oddly like eaves dropping. In time I know I'll be able to once more tune things out or simply not be bothered by it, however at first my brain has a hard time with this as it's been rewired to constantly translate. Without that filter, English words on all sides can feel like a barrage.

I anticipate this and more on my return to the US. I anticipate missing the magnificent mountains while reveling in the beauty of the hill country and endless Texas sky, the two loves wresting in my soul with a glorious ache.

I read a blog recently about how lonely it can be for mission workers, when everyone else's lives go on as before without them; how forgotten from everyday life is the one who leaves. Most of the time, I still feel connected to people back home, at least to family and a handful of friends who also make the effort to stay in touch. However there are moments when loneliness and loss have pierced me through and left me gasping. It can be a frantic reach from over 2,000 miles away, especially when I think others have thought I've forgotten them. On the other hand, much of the work I do is public, a life shown and known. When I visit the US and speak at my church, I'm always received warmly. I like to imagine fitting right back in to the life I left. I imagine dinners with family and friends, outings to live music events in Austin, and much more. But as is always and forever the case, people change over time. The trouble is, I've changed in a place far removed from family and friends. So, I try and prepare my heart to face reality over my expectations. This may be where going on a long distance solo hike fits in.

Likely, it won't be the PCT or anything quite as long. Already, though, my planning head has the spark of an idea which my heart is attempting to give to God and ask, "Is this good? Is this part of Your plan?" 

We shall see.

All I know is whether here, in the US, or elsewhere, I have the bright hope to remain a bit wild. Ready for the unknown. Untamed.
Life is not tame, after all. Neither, then, should I be.


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