The Two-Year Thing

There is a unique feature of the international Jesuit volunteer program that grabs your attention—for better and worse. That is we stay here in country for two years. No backsies. It’s a real shock factor when we share about our experience. The general public (in both countries) seems to think that two years is a long time. I once was a part of the general public. Now I’m ruined for life.  

The two-year thing was a major player in my discernment process. The thought of two years away from my friends, family and beloved New Orleans made me pause. Hesitate. However, I also saw the value of a two-year international program. I believed in the process. I trusted and stepped into my vocation of “long term service.” Then when I moved to Tacna the two-year thing didn’t just make me pause. I froze. Doubted. Maddie Keeble’s big move felt so permanent. The thought of building a life amidst so much uncertainty and newness was intimidating. I trusted and stepped into each day. Sometimes faith is about just showing up.

In the first year I couldn’t think beyond my time in Tacna. Everything was about investing into the next year. That in and of itself was so marvelously challenging that anything beyond these two years seemed far into the future. Seriously thinking about the return home seemed ludicrous. However, I could envision myself as the FJV sage returning to the United States to impart my wisdom on the aforementioned general public. I’d probably have a dread lock and some funky pants. Wild flowers would blossom as I walked. I would reek of the Holy Spirit. People would stand in shock not because I’m strange enough to commit two years of my life to voluntary service but because I’m just that cool and sage-like. This vision is clearly not serious thinking or discernment. (Also, I was exaggerating for comedic effect. Just to be clear.) However, the hope that one day I’d come out on the other side of this a better person carried me through some tough times. Cultivating that hope helps me grow in other virtues like faith and charity.

We joke here that as a volunteer you’re either new or you’re leaving. That is true. On a two-year time line every event is your first or your last. In the past year and a half I have experienced my first and last mes de mission, my first and last día familiar and my first and last “first day of school.” That’s not counting the day-to-day events I wish were innumerable, such as market adventures, recesses, community nights and lunches with my host family. I said a lot that my experience abroad in Argentina with the CASA program felt like a microcosm for life. There are many times when I feel that JVC is similar to CASA in that way. These two years are filled with un-learning and learning how to live. The two-year thing doesn’t just help me appreciate the present moment. I savor, relish, and totally delight in every event. That includes the big holidays and birthdays as well as every plate of ceviche, salsa dance and hug from one of my students. I must value every experience here because I will only live it once or twice. I must be present to the person in front of me because I won’t meet her/him again. I no longer have the option to checkout or ignore the moment before me. This opportunity will not present itself at some other time. This moment will not come again.

While you’re a first year it’s tough to see that because you have an entire year more! Also, it’s tough to adjust to this new life. While you’re a second year it’s tough to savor the present moment because you’re already leaving! It’s easy to be a whiny first year or a sappy, dramatic second year. I have been both. But every now and again I have the Grace (help from God) to see the present moment for what it is: sacred. I’m not complaining or nostalgic. I am unfocused on the timeline, and I am simply grateful. I realize that time is such a wonderful gift. You’re not running out. You’re really running in. –Trevor Hall

Lately, I feel like I’m running. My days are stupendously full of life and love that are beautiful and terrible. My heart is warmed and broken. At the end of the day I am left in awe of the work God is doing in and around me. For a long time here my prayer has been “Empower me to be a bold participant, rather than a patient saint in waiting.” A year and a half into the timeline it occurred to me that God answered this prayer. (Yeah, I’m a little slow.) I am no longer painfully, slowly stepping into my time here. I am walking boldly in my school, community and city. That doesn’t mean that I’m perfect or a saint. For every day I come home raving that I have the dream job, there is a day when I feel like I’m failing as a teacher and mentor. Being a bold participant does mean that I am alive and engaged. I am offering everything I have and all that I am. I am receiving all that life has and all that God wants to make of me.

            Being a bold participant is my answer to the dare proposed to me by JVC over a year and half ago. Each cautious step and exciting leap is a dare to change. But it’s more than discerning how to live my vocation as a Jesuit volunteer. This dare is not bound to the two-year timeline. The dare to change is a boundless venture to savor not just these two years but also every moment of my life. That’s a little daunting, but I find consolation there. The delight, wonder, joy, heartache, solidarity, care, generosity, love… has no timeline. For as long as I walk upon this sacred earth I can choose to be a bold participant. I have hit the point of no return. I am ruined for life. Now I trust and step into the present. I let myself be touched by the world around me, and my life is saturated with all that is good and terrible and beautiful and meaningful. That means that my heart will break in six months when I leave Tacna. My heart will continue to break again and again as I allow myself to be deeply moved by the people around me. But that’s what happens when you fall in love and stay in love… it decides everything. No backsies.

Nothing is more practical than finding God,

that is than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way.

What you are in love with,

What seizes your imagination,

Will affect everything.

It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning,

What you do with your evenings,

How you spend your weekends,

What you read, who you know,

what breaks your heart,

and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.

Fall in love, stay in love

And it will decide everything.

-Pedro Arrupe

Vacation time was full and fun! Here are a few moments from the last couple weeks... 

The family visits Peru! Big thanks to yall for coming all the way here to see me-- and for the great trip!

Día Familiar. I got to celebrate our school community by participating in a traditional Peruvian dance with the teachers and cheering on my students in their dance competition. Here the senior class and I are enjoying our last family day. 

Our community recently took a hiking retreat in Peru´s GLORIOUS Colca Canyon.

My mantra for the retreat was ¨Peace is every step.¨ Thanks, Thich Nhat Hanh