Part 1, written on January 9, 2025
Another year is beginning, and with it my second semester with Fulbright. Once again I am writing a blog post from an airplane, a punto de llegar a Bogotá de nuevo.
Bienvenidos a 2025.
Lloras en la tormenta, o bailas en la lluvia.
“Bailando en la Lluvia” by Daddy Yankee
“You cry in the storm, or you dance in the rain,” a favorite new song reminds me. I tend to attach music to specific people, memories or life seasons, and there are a few lyrics that have been playing on repeat for one month now since se nos fue la luz brillante de la hermana María.
Hard to know, sometimes, if you should try to dance in the rain or allow yourself to cry in the storm. Many times, crying in the storm feels like all we can do. This life brings us storms of many kinds, and the singer of this song knows that firsthand. El mismísimo rey del reguetón puertorriqueño made a public declaration of his Christian faith just a few years ago, and right now he also faces a very public divorce that (it appears) he did not ask for. I can’t help but wonder if the former situation prompted the latter. I’ve long been a fan of his music, but I never imagined being encouraged by his theology. Life is funny.
Christmas break isn’t quite over—I don’t return to my university until January 14. Still, I left home Monday for a 36-hour visit to Waco, managing to visit nearly all the major central Texas airports within that time frame. I originally planned that trip as a fun “quickly see my friends!” stop months before ever anticipating the five days spent there in December. God’s mercy is like that, He knew I would need twice as much time with my dear Wacoans this year.
Still, it was an incredibly short stop. As the plane descended into Waco, I felt the weight of Maria’s absence once again. Se nos fue la luz, the phrase I used earlier—it’s been stuck in my mind. She was like that, a constant warm and bright presence.
LORD, come as a lion or come as a dove, just let there be light, light from above … LORD, come as a fire, or come as the rain, oh, let there be life, life here again.
“This Wild Earth (Subjects)” by Young Oceans & Josh Garrels
I arrived back at my house in Villavicencio this evening, after a long bus ride, with three heavy suitcases and a somewhat heavy heart. On the one hand, it is incredible to feel so familiar and ‘at home’ in what was once a strange city and an entirely foreign country; on the other, I am, once again, so far away from home.
The Spirit is moving over the waters of our tears … When we don’t know what to pray, the Spirit groans for us. We are weary with the years, but hope is being born, even through our pain and fear, we’re waiting for the dawn.
“Spirit Move! (Keep on Moving)” by Porters Gate & Paul Zach
My roommate does not return for another week, so I have time to myself, just to settle in. I call softly to my favorite neighborhood cat and smile when Michi comes running for me to pet her, walk across the street for some groceries, make my way to Empanadas La Ceiba for a late dinner. Thankfully they still have a few of my favorite ranchero empanadas left, and the green ají salsa hits the spot.
Then I sweep and mop the floors, straighten the chairs, make sure all is in order, struggle with the Internet router (because if everything had been working, that would’ve been too easy, I suppose). As I move around the house, I wipe sweat off my face and cannot help but notice the peeling paint, limited counter space, a few ants milling around the sink, and the solitary cockroach leg under the sink that I’ve been avoiding for weeks. I silently complain to myself, “I wish I could move to a nicer home, or owned this house so I could fix it up like I want to, or knew how to make this rental house look as cute and cozy as all the neighbors’ houses, but on a budget, or had a dryer for my clothes or a sink with higher water pressure, and I wish I wasn’t nearly 24 hours of travel from the people I love most…”
Jesus knows all about our struggles, He will guide ’til the day is done.
“No Not One” by Paul Zach
I had to stop myself. Partly not to completely spiral into bitterness on my first night back, and partly because I sense that tonight is another holy night. Holy because as frustrating or tiring as my circumstances may feel, I sense the LORD beckoning me into an opportunity. An opportunity to believe that the LORD sees me, cares about me, and has a purpose for even the most minor inconveniences and challenges I face.
Oh, You hold it all in the palm of your hands, all of our sorrow and all of our sin, You hold the world and You’re letting it spin, in Your mercy, all things will be well.
“All Will Be Well” by Paul Zach & iAmSon
I glance out my windows one more time before heading upstairs to bed, and wouldn’t you know it? It’s raining. Cheers to a beautiful 2025.
Part 2, written on January 14, 2025
I can’t share the first part of this post without an update, or a postscript of sorts, because I wrote part one on my first day back, and life has already become brighter since then.
As it turns out, even laying low at my house (which I’ve been doing for a few days now) isn’t turning out to be very solitary. Seems I hadn’t factored in all of my neighbors. I pass the house where my favorite cat lives, and her owners invite me on a waterfall hike next weekend. A short walk to literally take out the garbage becomes a trip to the corner store for Coca-Cola and three hours on a neighbor’s patio. Two little girls come to the door, selling candies while their parents supervise at a distance. One whispers to the other in Spanish, “Finally someone is buying from us!” when I pull out a thousand-peso coin. And the family I overheard having an in-home worship night, right before I left for Christmas? I barely get home from another house, and twenty minutes later, they’re taking me to see Interstellar in theatres, buying me popcorn and a hot dog, and introducing me to fifteen+ church friends. Shoot, I even helped a neighbor pick out her new glasses at the mall yesterday.
Emily Explores 
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