Yo espero.

I think that my favorite word in Spanish is "esperar." It is a word that means both "to wait" and "to hope." I like it for that very reason. Sometimes, having hope means waiting for something a REALLY long time. Sometimes hoping makes you feel like you're waiting a really long time. I just love that those two words in English- one that seems so hard, or at least so challenging, and one that seems so uplifting and encouraging- can be the same in a different language. Maybe Mexico has something figured out that we dont.

I think one of the main ways that God has changed me this year involves my openness. This has been a challenge for me for a while, but I think He's really done some cool stuff this semester. Freshman year, I struggled to ever be open. My immediate reaction, even among my closest friends at school, was to close down and process a problem on my own. I hated talking to other people about serious things - it was a sign of weakness, of my own internal pain. It reveal the fact that I used the humor I love to share with others as a mask. My second year, I learned that community was important. I realized that God uses community to show love and to teach me. I realized that, when I was struggling with something, I HAVE to go to people in my community. It is one of the key ways God shows His love to us. However, it was a fight every time. Even in the spring, I waited almost 24 hours to tell anyone in my church community that I had lost a family member. Every deep conversation came after a hard-fought internal struggle about whether it was right.

So, what's happening this year? I think God is teaching me what a beautiful thing sharing can be. It's becoming natural. A good friend at school recently told me that she really knew we were close friends after our first deep, serious conversations. These conversations aren't a mandatory part of a friendship; they are the times that solidified our friendship. Today, I had a burden on my heart and I knew I had to share it with someone. When I got to the house and saw that Angie was there, I felt glad. I still had to build up some courage to ask her to talk, but this time it took 10 minutes instead of 24 hours. I cried some, we laughed some, and she prayed some. She told me that my pain was beautiful; it's a sign of the love in my heart. It was good. I don't know if I'll ever get to a point where it'll be EASY to share with people. But I'm understanding how beautiful it is, and that is a huge change from the person I was a couple of years ago.

That's all for now.