It always amazes me how easy it is to transition from one place to another. When we arrived home from Honduras a week and a half ago, there were so many new thoughts, fresh memories, fledgling relationships. It felt like those things would make a permanent impact in my life.
To some extent, they have. I find myself thinking and talking a lot about Honduras and what we experienced there, especially about the Manuelito Project.
But I'm also amazed how quickly the tyranny of the urgent reasserts itself and I find myself putting all available energy into things that, two weeks ago, seemed like trivia. Even while my focus is on the minutiae of life in Minnesota -- a snowblower axle that is stuck so I can't fix my snowblower, a hymn we've sung two Sundays in a row, concern about the roads between here and St. Paul and whether I squeeze in a hospital visit and still make it back for the noon Ash Wednesday service -- at a deeper level I'm aware that there are kids in Talanga hoping to get past the gate at Manuelito to dig through the garbage in hopes of finding food or recyclables.
I find that I have to be intentional about that, however. It's too easy to forget. So yesterday, under my bulky orange sweater, I wore my new t-shirt that reminds me, "Children shouldn't live in the street." Los niños no deben vivir en la calle.
Yes, at the moment I'm responsible for a lot of details here in Minnesota. It would be irresponsible of me not to have my head in the game right here, right now. But I don't want to forget, don't want to transition so easily.
This is one reason I'm glad I was part of a group. I can't imagine how hard it would be to hang on to these memories, these perspectives, if I had been alone in Honduras. So our group is getting together Saturday evening. And in the meantime Julie and I share memories, or I check in with the girls, or I look on Facebook and see what's new at Manuelito. Because once again, as has happened so many times before, my heart now lives in more than one place.