I've been doing a lot of reminiscing lately. Thinking back to the first time of things that I do every day here.
Like the first time I took a city bus. I'd been here for five days, it was Carnaval weekend, and we were going to hike Sugarloaf mountain with a Brazilian friend who didn't speak any English. The bus was packed! I didn't understand anything that people were saying around me. The city felt huge and mysterious, like I would never figure it out.
Or like the first time we drove to our community with our city coordinator, and then were shown around the community. It was dreadfully hot, and there were hills. We went in a circle, up the hill one way and back down using a completely different path. I couldn't even begin to piece together how the two routes related to each other. I was confused and uncertain, a little terrified but really excited about moving into this community. I still didn't understand what people were saying around me, and my brain was getting super tired from trying to figure it out.
It was a grand adventure that I was embarking on, and the adventure part is my favorite. I like exploring and discovering my way back after venturing into a new territory. Now I walk these streets like this is my community. And I take the bus everyday without even thinking about it because I have to. It's lost a bit of the adventure aspect. And I've been sad about that. It doesn't feel fun and exciting anymore. But instead, it's becoming home. I am, slowly but surely, making this place my home. Sometimes it is a fight to make it a good home for me, but I'm working on it, and I have to believe that God is working on it too.
I love adventure, I've always known that. But I'm discovering how much I love having roots. It's something I never realized about myself before. I'm working on giving myself roots here, making this place comfortable and really like another home to my soul.
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