Whats the end gonna look like?

Im not sure if these words will come how I want them to... I just know that I never want to forget these moments, this feeling, this love.

I started packing today. Checking final project and papers off the list one by one. And our despidida (goodbye party)  is tomorrow. Ouch

We have been closing up everything so beautifully. Sharing parts of our autobiographies to the flickering light of candles til 2 in the morning, affirming each other and yesterday a beautiful morning with our final projects for liberation theology.  The feeling inside me is affirming all that has come from this experience..I feel strong, I feel whole, full of love but still raw and vulnerable.. with some walls pulled down, something I hope I can hold onto. There are parts of me that are excited to go home, to see all of you wonderful people, to lay in my bed for as long as I want and to just be in the comfort of home. But leaving has already started to hurt and I really dont know how to say goodbye to these people and this experience. I know it will forever be in my heart but I have been the most alive, so very loved and grown so much in the last four months its hard to think of life outside of here. But we are soaking it up and trying to take every minute for what it is...

Here is the ending of my autobiography just for a little glimpse into my heart :) See you soon!

“Whats the ending gonna look like?” This is the ending. Candles flickering, minutes on the clock tick by, but what is time anymore? What is sleep? Its two am on Saturday, I’ve been awake but one hour since six am Thursday. But I am running on something. Energy runs through my blood… part peaceful and full, part anxious and scared to be empty.

            Finding myself in these sacred spaces again and again. Romero community night record, we sat in a circle with our hands touching the person being affirmed until 3:25am. One by one we made our way into the middle of the circle. Affirmations came free and genuinely, from a place deep inside, a love that has built over 4 months that sometimes feels like a life time. We were full and connected when the night came to its long end, this community has learned to love, to be vulnerable and to give so hard. I never want to let go.

            I woke up after an hour of sleep. Put on my favorite skirt. Casi floor length, quilted with different patterns, colors, lines, life’s, together into something beautiful. Today I want to feel good. I am sleep deprived and I haven’t kept food down for four days, El Salvador does that to you. But I am alive and time is running out and I want to soak it all in. We hurry down to the UCA, that jittery groggy feeling when you don’t sleep enough leaves the busses and cars burling down the road more dangerous.

            Peggy has talked about this project from the beginning. “Show us how you have been liberated” do something creative. “Michelle, you’re up” I felt the nerves, shakily introducing this poem, the way this experience has liberated me. I stood up there and listened to Peggy’s advice “Just breathe and speak loud” I stood in front of the class and spoke my soul, the pain, the confusion, the beauty. Becoming a woman through the models of my mother and now the mothers of Cedro. Becoming a woman through me. I felt strong, confident and whole in my being. Like I needed to say those words to empower myself.

            Project after project blew me away, the incredible individuality of these amazing humans, the myriad of ways this experience has changed us, liberated us, given us a sense of life we have never felt before.  Songs, mosaics, paintings, poems, raps and decorated mirrors, all these ways to express what we have found in El Salvador.  

            Margot made her way to the front of the room, sick and miserable but ready to speak her truth. “I wrote my first poem so bear with me” It seemed like a poem that had come from years and years of practice, beautiful, painful and full of truth. My eyes were full of water all morning, but her words gave the tears permission to fall. I came to El Salvador with a best friend I had only known for a year, someone who knew me better than anyone in the world and as she talked about her pain my heart broke and soared in the same moment. She talked about the pain with her dad, trying to figure out what suffering is and knowing only that we cant hold it in, we have to let it fly. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I had no control over the tears that were falling from my eyes. Seeing her liberation made me see mine, I looked around the room at these people who have become family and felt a pain for their pain. It seemed to all hit me in that moment and more tears fall than I have allowed to fall this whole experience. They fall for my pain, for her pain and for all of your pain. They fall for this country, the fear we cannot ignore as we leave it behind, broken, violent, poor. They fall in joy and gratitude to come here and touch pain, to share pain, to love, to find life and to come to this moment. They fall in a fear to let go of this love and life that I have found here yet in an amazement of the liberation, strength and empowerment I have found in this place. They fall from a woman, not a little girl, who has touched your pain and can touch hers