Repatriating

As I've learned more and more about myself throughout my time in Honduras, I've found myself using words to describe me that I would have NEVER expected. Missionary. Introverted. Bilingual. Expat. While they've each had their own fair share of difficulties, I find myself focusing more and more on the "expat" part of me.

An article called "Leaving Well: 10 Tips for Repatriating with Dignity" popped up on my Facebook NewsFeed the other week and was soon followed by "Landing Well: 10 More Tips for Repatriating with Dignity" and "Staying Well: 10 Tips for Expats Who are Left Behind".

I knew that I would immediately understand the Leaving Well and Landing Well articles. And I did. So well that I cried. Both times. But I hadn't expected to understand the "Staying Well" article at all. I'm leaving Honduras, I'm NOT the one staying behind. So how did that article make me cry as well?

While the past month has been full of me trying to leave well and preparing to land well, I also had to say good-bye to Cristian. Although I'm not experiencing staying well for long, it has been a huge shock to my system. A huge change that I couldn't have prepared myself for, no matter how hard I tried.

I really loved "Tip #2: Flip the Manual Override Switch" because I watched it happen between Cristian and I. We fought more in his last week in Honduras than we ever had over the past two years. Everything caused a fight. A simple phone call to make dinner plans always ended up in one of us shouting nasty things at the other and hanging up the phone. Me getting out of the car from said dinner always included slamming of the car door and sarcastically yelling "BYE!!" We both knew it was happening, but neither one of us were capable of making it stop. So, a few days later, when I read how to Stay Well and saw this "When your departing bestie makes up a reason to be mad at you so it won't hurt so bad to say goodbye. Give her some grace.", I knew what was happening.

Saying good-bye wouldn't hurt as bad if we didn't care as much. It was easier to pick fights and be mad at each other than to acknowledge the fact that there were some big changes up ahead.

I'd expected to deal with the hardships of leaving and landing, I hadn't expected the hardships of staying. One of the biggest hardships might have been preparing to leave well without my biggest support system.

All of Leaving Well hit a little too close to home, but, as with Staying Well, there was one tip that has been the most comfort to me in these uncomfortable times.

Tip #7: Don't Fret the Tears or Lack Thereof
Know what's really common as you pack up to shift every piece of your life to a different part of the planet and say good-bye to people and places you have grown to love deeply? Emotion. Know what else is common? Lack of emotion. Strange, I know, but people are different. Crying makes sense. There is plenty to cry about. However, wanting to cry and not being able to is every bit as normal. Maybe it's because you've already cried yourself out. Maybe it's because the hard part for you was the process of deciding to leave and you spent all your emotion there. Maybe you just can't wait to get out. Whatever the reason-- don't feel guilty for weeping like a baby... or for not.

And while there have been moments/ hours/ days where I have been found weeping like a baby, there are an equal number of highly emotional moments/ hours/ days where I have not been weeping like a baby. Not because I don't feel like crying, but because I physically can't cry anymore. If I was able to, I can guarantee that I would've had tears rolling down my face 24/7 from the time school let out until now. It doesn't mean that I don't feel sadness though. Oh, I feel it. I feel it every second of every day.

Staying Well and Leaving Well have been part of my every day routine. Every day I need to remind myself to give a little more grace that I would normally show and every day I have to ask for more grace from those closest to me. All of this is preparing me for next weekend-- Landing Well.

Landing Well is something I have never done well. NEVER. I typically spend days holed up in my room alone crying about how I miss my friends and baleadas and my moped and my mosquito infected house and nights on Facebook chatting with my roommates. This continues the entire time I am home until I return to Honduras and proceed to miss everything and everyone in the States. To say that I'm dreading this process would be an understatement.

But Tip #6 of Staying Well says 'It's OK to Love Two Places'.
"Man, I don't know how you lived over there. I bet you're glad to be home." I think this (frequently shared) statement can be more internally conflicting and frankly hard to respond to than any other. I am so glad to be home, but I was so glad to be there as well. There were some hard parts about living there, but there are some parts of living here, too. There were lots of days "over there" that I missed home, but there are days here when I feel something remarkably similar. Loving where you lived as an expat doesn't mean you love your homeland even the slightest bit less. Don't feel guilty when you feel homesick at home.

And I do. I do love two places at once. From now on, for the rest of my life, I will love two places at once. And there is nothing wrong with that.

The underlying message of Staying Well, Leaving Well, and Landing Well is grace. I need to be giving more grace than I'm used to and I will require more grace than I have in the past. Transitions are HARD, leaving is HARD. But it's also hard for the family and friends who I continually leave behind and who are hurt because I miss my friends in Honduras who I saw last week, but haven't seen them in six months.

Grace.

Grace.

Grace.

Staying Well, Leaving Well, Landing Well. Here we go.

The Real Reason I'm So Afraid to Leave

May is graduation season. People worldwide are graduating from Kindergarten, from high school, from college. No matter what level of schooling a person is leaving behind, it's always a highly emotional time. There's nerves, there's sadness, there's excitement, there's elation. During this season of graduation, someone had posted an article titled "The Real Reason You're So Afraid to Graduate"  which really resonated with me in the current season of MY life. Not only in terms of leaving Ashland two years ago, but also in terms of leaving Honduras in a couple of weeks.

I've been obsessing over how hard it is to say good-bye to everyone in Honduras. But it's also hard to say good-bye to this stage of my life. Honduras will always exist, my friends will always be part of my life, I will have my memories forever. But no matter how soon or how often I return to Honduras, it will never be the same as when I leave. I will never be able to recreate the life that I've been living these past two years.

That's a hard pill to swallow. That's a harsh reality to accept.

But you don't have to take my word for it. Graduates, especially college graduates, everywhere are feeling the same way.

As the article says: "What you weren’t prepared for was this unshakable feeling that you don’t belong anywhere. At some point in the past four years, while you were busy giggling from exhaustion as you and your best friends ordered pizza to the library at 2am, this place became your home. Not just because you live here, but because every corner of campus has a different memory attached to it. Because you don’t have to look at the menus of your favorite breakfast spots to know you’re going to get the waffles, because oh my God, the waffles. Because you know which cafeteria lady won’t charge you for guacamole. But mostly because the people here –the faces you see every day– make you feel absolutely at peace. And you’re just now realizing that when you cross that graduation stage, you’re not just leaving your home. It ceases to exist. The people you know are leaving. Your friends. Your roommates. The acquaintances you are stoked to see at the bar. The exes you’re constantly looking over your shoulder in fear of. The familiar faces of random people on the way to class. Everyone who made this place home. They won’t be here anymore. The storefronts will change. New restaurants will open. New buildings will go up. And a fresh new batch of students will arrive. Your home is constantly changing. You can never go back to it, just as it was. Your friends will move to different places. Some will move back home. Some will move to new and exciting cities. Some will be just an hour away. Some will be a flight away. Some will be close enough for regular happy hours and nights out. But you know for certain that it will never be the same. You’ll never all live in the same place again. For the rest of your life, you’ll have to travel further than across the hall to see the people you call family. You’ll have get togethers, and brunches, and weekend getaways, but you can never go back “home.” And that leaves you feeling…kind of homeless. You know it will get better. You know you’ll eventually be happy in your new life. You’ll have close friendships and relationships. You’ll get that dream job. And you’ll fall in love. And even though it seems impossible, you know you’ll find a new home some day. But that doesn’t make it better. That almost makes it worse. It scares you. It scares you, because you’ll miss your life so much it hurts. But mostly, it scares you that someday you might not miss it any more at all. There's nothing anyone can say to make that feeling go away. And it’s okay to be sad. It feels truly unfair –cruel, even– that you were given the most amazing experience of your life, just to have it taken all away. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts, but remember this: you are one of the lucky ones. You were lucky enough to have something in your life that was wonderful enough to make it this difficult to leave it behind."

Those last couple paragraphs hit the closet to home for me. Because the idea of not being this in love with Honduras one day terrifies me. The idea of loving something more than I love Honduras right now is devastating to me.

And throughout all of my crying, I've said "Why would God let me come here and meet such wonderful people and make such wonderful friends, if I just have to say good-bye to them!?" at least fifty times.

But when it comes down to it, I am one of the lucky ones. I was blessed with this opportunity, these kids, these friends, this adventurous life in a beautiful country. And it's so hard to say good-bye to the life that I've been living, but thank goodness I have something so amazing to say good-bye to.

I truly am one of the lucky ones.

See You When I See You

Let's don't say goodbye; I hate the way it sounds. So if you don't mind, let's just say for now, "See you when I see you, another place,some other time." If I ever get down your way or you're ever up around mine, we'll laugh about the old days and catch up on the new. Yeah see you when I see you and I hope it's some day soon.

The end of the school year this year looks so very different than the end of the school year last year. Last year the end of the school year was filled with hugs and smiles, promises to "see you in six weeks!" and plans to meet each other at the beach. Cleaning my classroom meant organizing things the way I wanted to find them when I returned and writing plans meant figuring out what I wanted to teach this school year.

This year the end of the school year has been filled with tear stained faces and choked up goodbyes, hugs that say "I love you more than I know how to put into words" and whispers of "I'll never forget you." Cleaning my classroom means handing my things over to person that I've never met and writing plans means handing over my babies to a person I've never met.

Up until Friday no one at the school had seen me cry; I'd become very good at holding it in until I could sob in my own bed. But then Friday hit and I had to say goodbye to my students. All of a sudden all of my students and the entire staff at the school has seen me sob. Not just a few tears rolling down my cheeks, but full blown sobbing. 

Saying goodbye to my munchkins was hard. Harder than I could have ever expected. The day passed as it normally would with nothing out of the ordinary except hugs that lasted a little longer and a slightly higher than normal number of "I love you"s exchanged. I even made it through saying goodbye and hugging each and every one of my Grade Twos without tears or a lump in my throat. Grade One and I were another story. Our tears started almost instantly and did not stop for a loooooong time. 

Have you ever seen a puppy wandering around like it's lost with a sad, forlorn look upon it's face? That's what I looked like after school on Friday. I would walk a couple of steps, hug a child, and cry. Walk a couple of more steps, hug a different child, and cry some more. And repeat. For thirty minutes before I finally shut myself in the house and cried on the couch. 

Made it three days without tears, which, during this season of my life, is pretty impressive. But then I woke up this morning ALREADY CRYING. And the tears continued while I cleaned my classroom. While I met with parents. While I organized materials that will be used by a teacher who isn't me in a classroom that won't be mine anymore. And though they stopped for a little while, they continued again the moment that Cristian walked out of our house for the last time.

I thought that saying goodbye to my students was hard, but saying goodbye to my best friend was even harder. While I know that all the changes taking place are exciting and necessary for all of us, I still resist them with everything inside of me. I'm happy here. With my life exactly the way it is. And I don't want it to change. 

Logically, I know that it has to. Emotionally, I'm holding on to this life with two hands.

I never knew that I wanted a Honduran brother, I never knew that I needed another best friend. In Cristian I found both of these things. And saying goodbye, or, rather, see you when I see you, was a lot harder than I ever could have imagined.

So the tears continued. They continued as I wrote recuperation exams and they continued throughout our all staff luncheon. They continued until I walked into the library and was greeted by two of my student running at me for a hug and yelling "Meeees Kay-leeeen!" 

I know that I have been beyond blessed here in Honduras. I've made incredible friends, I've taught amazing students. But having all of these life-changing experiences and knowing all of these wonderful people makes goodbyes that much harder. It would be easy to say adios to a place that I don't have any connection to. Here I am, though, in a country that I have completely fallen in love with and with people who mean the world to me. Saying goodbye to them might actually kill me. 

While I'm excited for the adventures that lie ahead, I much prefer the end of last year to the end of this year. 

I'm Torn And It's Tearing Me Apart

Being a teacher is hard. Hard. Difficult. Difícil.

I'm not talking about the content. I'm really awesome at adjectives and my rendition of the alphabet is on point. I can properly punctuate a sentence with the best of them. But I am in charge of shaping young minds. Young minds that are going to grow into doctors, teachers, lawyers, professionals.

And they've been given to ME.

The content lessons are easy. Pinterest has lots of activities to make learning blends memorable or games to aide in letter sound acquisition. The character building, the tending to their precious hearts, is the hard part.

We've tackled bullying, we've fought against tattling, we've explored how to express our anger in a positive way. These past few weeks we've been working through something I had never expected-- how to express our emotions when we don't possess the language nor do we completely understand what is happening.

I leave this country in 34 short days. But our last day of school is on FRIDAY. Friday. As in, three days from now. In three days, I have to say good-bye to the 45 smiling faces who have weaseled their way into my hearts and refuse to let go.

This is challenging enough for me as a 23 year old adult who can grasp what is happening and who made this decision. It's exponentially harder for those 45 smiling faces.

They understand that something is happening. They understand that Miss Caitlin is going back to the United States.

But that's about where their understanding stops.And that's about all they can express. They don't have the language to delve deeper into their feelings nor can they really even comprehend why they're feeling the way that they do.

But they're hurting. I'm hurting. And I'm hurting even more when I watch them hurting. My heart breaks to know that they're feeling this way and that I'm the one who has caused it. We've been doing devotionals throughout the year and this time of hurting has provided us with many opportunities to talk about how sometimes God calls people to do things that they don't want to do and hurts their hearts, but God always knows what is best for them. Jonah was called to Ninevah, Miss Caitlin is called out of Honduras.

Grade Two and I have been together since day one. Together we've been to hell and back. I'm not kidding. They're tough and I'm stubborn. We've seen the worst of each other and we've seen the best of each other. There's 23 kids in that class and each one of them has an incredibly vibrant personality. Each one of them craves personal attention ALL THE TIME. The boys in Grade Two are ALL boy. 100% boy. They live and breathe sports and interact with each other using violence. It's not uncommon to have at least two boys fist fighting on the floor. And that's normal.

Out of all the things that Grade Two and I have done together, we have NEVER taken a good class picture. Someone is always moving, someone is always pouting, someone is always missing, someone is always blocking someone else's face. For whatever reason, taking pictures with Grade Two is like pulling teeth.

But today Grade Two and I took a class picture and I was almost moved to tears. Sarah came in to take a picture with the students and then Tony and I stepped in to take a class picture. In Sarah's picture the kids were in one long line with a couple jolly students sitting in front-- more like what you would expect a typical class picture to look like. The second Tony and I stepped in, they climbed on top of us. Every single kid wanted to be by Miss Caitlin and Mr. Tony. Some of them didn't surprise me. The fact that they girls wanted to hug us was no shocker. But two of my BOYS wanted to be next to me. Two of the boys who haven't shown much interest in Miss Caitlin. Ever. And then after taking our picture, they each gave me a hug. Before they realized that they were boys and hugging the teacher isn't cool and went right back to punching each other.

Their precious, tender hearts. After all this time together and I'm still surprised at the things they say and do.

Being a teacher is hard. Character building has been hard-- on all of us. But it's been worth it. Getting glimpses into their precious, tender hearts is so worth it. They've grown, I've grown, we've grown together.

In the same way we've gone through hell and back together, we'll get through this difficult season of good-byes and transitions together. We'll all come out stronger on the other side.

And just to lighten up a pretty heavy post, here are all the class pictures that Grade Two and I have taken together over the past two years. Crazy, hectic photos. Precious, wonderful memories.

While they were in Grade 1-- ice cream party

While they were in Grade 1-- with Mr. Carl

While they were in Grade 1-- the Science Fair

While they were in Grade 1-- One Day Without Shoes

Now that they're in Grade 2-- supporting La H

Now that they're in Grade 2-- Cultural Day

Now that they're in Grade 2-- Thanksgiving

Now that they're in Grade 2-- Christmas

Now that they're in Grade 2-- with Mr. Carl

Now that they're in Grade 2-- February 27th

Now that they're in Grade 2-- the 100th Day of School

Now that they're in Grade 2-- Language Coffeehouse

Now that they're in Grade 2-- Mini-Olympics

Now that they're in Grade 2-- Mini-Olympics

Now that they're in Grade 2-- One Day Without Shoes

Now that they're in Grade 2-- their official school picture

Now that they're in Grade 2-- the picture that nearly broke my heart

Being a teacher is hard. Hard. Difficult. Difícil. Being a teacher is worth it. Worth it. Vale la pena.

One Day Without Shoes-- 2014 Edition

If I had to rank my favorite holidays, TOMS One Day Without Shoes would fall somewhere between my birthday and Thanksgiving. Probably right around the 4th of July, truthfully.

Every year TOMS hosts One Day Without Shoes to help raise awareness of the hardships faced by others throughout the world. What started as a campaign to fight against the lack of shoes has grown into a company that aides in providing shoes, glasses, and water to many people throughout the world. Their website, One for One, shows how help is distributed and in what capacities.

In my short career as I teacher, I have now facilitated One Day Without Shoes three times. I would like to say that each time has gotten better and better. This year my students and I spent exponentially more time taking about social injustices and how they can help than we have in the past. I also showed them a One Day Without Shoes promotional video and they begged me to watch it at least 10 times. Slowly but surely, thdse kiddos are learning.

As well as going without shoes for a day, the students were encouraged to bring in gently used shoes and/ or school supplies to donate to one of the local schools in town. I'm a firm believer in the notion that even the smallest person can make a difference in the life of someone else and I am desperately trying to help my kids learn this as well.

Grade Two takes their shoes off.

Grade One takes their shoes off.

 CEE takes their shoes off.

Next year will you join us? The premise is simple, the effects are profound.

One Day Without Shoes: 2013 Edition and One Day Without Shoes: 2012 Edition

I Am The Greatest Version Of Myself...

...while laughing in the passenger seat of your car.

The majority of my friendship with Karen can be summed up by me riding shotgun in her car while listening to teen pop music, telling ridiculous stories, and laughing just a little bit too loudly.

But the tables were turned just a little bit this Spring Break when SHE CAME TO SPEND THE WEEK WITH ME IN HONDURAS!! I still get excited thinking about it. I cannot stress it enough; it is so, so great having people from home come visit me.

We actually hadn't even planned this trip until it come up in conversation that we had the same Spring Break. Two hours upon having this realization, tickets were bought. Two short weeks later, Karen would be on her way to Honduras. And let me tell you, there are few things greater than thinking you might not see your best friend for at least three months but all of a sudden realizing that you will see her in fourteen days.

I couldn't contain my elation. I was SOOOO happy!

I was so anxious to see Karen. I didn't sleep the night before. All morning I was smiling and screaming about how happy I was. I was in a fantastic mood until I realized that we were running late and she was going to be waiting for us at the airport. At which point I became very cranky. But then I screamed the whole way down the road leading to the airport and jumped out of Cristian's car before it came to a complete stop. And then screamed in the airport when I actually saw her. I regret nothing.

We started off Karen's Honduran adventure with a trip to Denny's. A real Honduran meal, ya know? But then on the way home we go roadside fruit and stopped at my favorite Honduran chair before picking up everyone else and riding in the back of a pickup truck to go get pupusas. Which is far more Honduran than Denny's.

The essence of Honduras.

I'm obsessed with this chair. I'm obsessed with these people.

When in Honduras, do as Honduran do.

Las Cabanas-- a true Honduran meal. 

Day Two was spent at Water Island. Where we ate some of the best fried chicken I have ever consumed. Going to the pool in April will never get old. Going to the pool with my best friend in April will never get old.

We ventured to Comayagua and the creepy playground on Day Three. The church was just as beautiful as always and the town was just as hot. Unfortunately, the playground equipment at the playground is all breaking (shocker, I know), so it's just being more and more of a disappointment. The rickety, old wooden bridge never disappoints though.

Comayagua.

My really photogenic friends.

Things you don't see in Ohio. Ever.

We drove to La Ceiba for the end of the week and spent a day in Cayos Cochinos. It. Was. Beautiful. The 45 minute boat ride was all sorts of painful, but we could not stop laughing. Held some snakes, snorkeled a little, ate some fish, gathered some shells. General beach things. The words "It's so beautiful here" were said no less than 50 times that day.

The two people who know me better than anyone else.

My people.

Welcome to Cayos!

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times. I love being in Honduras, but it is SO HARD to be away from everyone in the States. It meant the world to me to have Karen here and show her what my life has been like for the past two years. And, just like it was with my family, saying goodbye was so much harder than I could have imagined. I am so, so grateful for my family and the friends who have stuck with me despite the physical distance I insist on putting between us.

The time together is always wonderful and better than I could ever hope. The goodbyes always bring me to tears. Please come back. :(

Here's To The Good Times, Here's To The Sunshine.

We currently find ourselves in the season of field trips here at CEE. A few weeks ago the older kids went to Copan, this weekend the biggest kids went to Cayos Cochinos, and on Friday my kiddos went to the zoo. Since we are in the season of field trips and beautiful weather, a few of us took an unofficial teacher field trip to the lake this weekend.

After a bit of a late start, Hector, Cristian, Brenna, Nick, Annie, and I were on our way to Pulhapanzak, El Nacimiento, the lake, and Carrizal. Phew, what a day.

But no trip would be complete without about fifteen different stops for various foods to fill our bellies. Which included chicharrones (fried and un-fried), pineapples, coconuts, and oranges. Fast food in Honduras is vastly different from fast food in the States.

Imagine gnawing on that like you would a chicken leg. You now have a brief glimpse into my life.

Our first stop was to Pulhapanzak which is a waterfall that I have been dying to go see ever since arriving in Honduras. It was my lucky day. Allegedly there's also a place to go cliff jumping here, but we couldn't find it/ didn't want to pay to go find it, so we missed out on that opportunity. The views were incredible though! There's something about water that just makes me really happy. Rivers, lakes, small ponds, oceans-- maybe I'm part mermaid. Regardless of the cause, I'm pretty sure I was walking around with a perma-smile. Couple that with the sweat that was pouring down my face and I was a real sight to behold.

See what I mean?!

My best friends.

If there's one thing I cannot do, it's be in a picture alone.

Teacher Field Trip 2014

After Pulhapnzak, Annie, Brenna, and I decided to aprovechar the truck bed and the fact that it was an incredibly sunny day and rode to El Nacimiento in the back of the truck. Girls gotta tan somehow, ya feel me? We stopped to buy some roadside oranges and I have never felt more Honduran than I did sitting in the back of the truck, hair whipping all around my face, eating an orange. Cue that perma-smile.

Stop.

Pure Catracha.

We went to El Nacimiento again this year to swim in some crystal clear, freezing water. I also wanted to conquer that darn rope swing. But I didn't. Sigh. Instead, Brenna, Annie, and I all assigned ourselves a category and rated the guys' jumps on things like distance, splash size, and presentation. And we fished. Without poles. But we used the leftover chicharron for bait. So there's that.

As am I still undecided as to where I am going to be next year, I've compiled a list of all the things I want to do while in Honduras. Some of them grander and more exciting (like go to Utila), some less thrilling (like taking my picture with this giant Honduran chair). Its just so bright and cheery and Honduran. I also may have made everyone pose for one too many pictures throughout the day. Sorry not sorry.

"Do we have to?" "Yes, I'm the princess."

I've given fish a good, honest effort. I truly have. But I just don't like it. To me, all fish taste the way that Lake Erie smells. And, don't get me wrong, I love Lake Erie as much (if not more) than the next person. But I do not always love the way it smells. I had a fish at the lake last year that tasted like chicken, that's the kind of fish I could get into. But I digress. As a white population, we tend to go to a restaurant on the lake called Rancho Bella Vista because it's slightly more upscale. Thus the prices are slightly more upscale. Cristian and Hector adamantly protested against Rancho Bella Vista today and my wallet agreed with them. We ended up at one of the many lake restaurants where I think I was served half a chicken. And I couldn't stop staring at the lake. As in, open mouthed stare. Look at those colors! Beautiful.

One would think our day was over after so many adventures. One would be wrong. Our last stop was at Hector's property in Carrizal where, unfortunately, no poisonous snakes were to be found and no bananas needed chopped. Our ride home was made slightly more exciting when we got a flat tire.What can I say? Life is never dull.

We rounded out our day by seeing a snake on a leash. I'm talking a 5 foot long snake on a LEASH. It was fascinating until they wanted to throw it at the gringas who, if you recall, are sitting unprotected in the back of a pickup truck. It did leave me with so many questions though. Was it poisonous? How did it get on the leash? What are they going to do with it when they take it off the leash? Did they find it in Sigua? Do I need to be worried about other 5 foot long snakes slithering into my school? Is it your pet? What do you feed it?

If I had a dollar for every time I said some variation of "It's so beautiful!" today, I would have easily had $100. I can't stop saying it, this is a beautiful country.

And so to recap...

Waterfall hiking. Rope swinging. Pole-less fishing. Truck bed riding. Orange eating. Hair blowing. Giant chair sitting. Tire popping. Snake on a leash spotting.

Phew, Honduras. I didn't even know you had it in you.