I’m very sorry for the delayed communication. As you may or may not be aware, my Mexican adventures (or at least this chapter of them) have drawn to a close. After a week in Tamazunchale (the small town about seven hours north of Mexico City), we moved to the YWAM base in the city of Monterrey, which is about three hours south of El Paso, Texas. Our time in Monterrey, with its more relaxed schedule, hot showers, and some air conditioning, was almost like a decompression chamber for the adventures that we’d had over the previous two months. We spent our week in Monterrey giving our production in several shopping malls, orphanages, and the poor colonias in the outskirts of the city. One day, we helped one of the local churches by digging for five hours on the church grounds. Exactly why we were digging, I’m still not entirely sure, but it was fun just to have the chance to do something with our hands. However, I don’t think I have ever been quite so dirty in my entire life, and probably got more dirt in my shoes than the pile we were attempting to create. I’m afraid that whatever my calling is, it’s probably not digging ditches.

Finally, a little over a week ago, we headed back to Ensenada for our debrief week and graduation. It’s strange. I never thought that Ensenada would feel like home, but as I got off the plane to feel the cool Pacific breeze, I don’t know if I have ever been so happy to need a sweatshirt. Our last week was quite relaxed, and we were able to enjoy our last few days together without too many schedule constraints. All Thursday was devoted to graduation: set-up, rehearsal, or the ceremony itself. We did our production a final time. We ate a wonderful dinner and received our diplomas. Then the tearful goodbyes started. It felt like this night helped put things in perspective by reminding me of all the good friends I’ve made, adventures I’ve had, and ways I’ve grown.

On Friday morning, I left for San Diego. Culture shock set in almost immediately. I went into a Starbucks, ordered in English, paid in dollars, and was able to use a free bathroom that had a toilet seat and was able to flush toilet paper. I was dropped off at the airport and waited in line to board a plane along with countless other hurried people, most tuned out to the world around them: a girl with stick-thin arms sipping her latte while plugged in to her earbuds; a middle-aged woman enraptured in a magazine whose pressing headline was “Boob Jobs and Tummy Tucks: Hollywood Stars Tell All!”; businessmen in suits with a copy of the latest Economist, whose leading story is the ramifications of the artificial life that we’ve managed to create. In a way, I think I felt more nervous coming back than I did going in the first place.

Still, as the plane pulled above Portland, I don’t think that I’ve ever been so happy to see the green Oregon countryside stretching below me, and I certainly have never been so happy to feel the cool Oregon drizzle. Mom and Dad picked me up at the airport, and we met up with the brothers at Paddington’s Pizza before going home. Now, I find myself back where I started, geographically at least. It feels in a sense like I never left: like Mexico was one long dream.

While it will probably take me a while to process all the happenings of the past few months, some people have already been asking me: would you do it again? I think that the answer to that question depends on exactly in what sense the question is asked. If it means, “Had you known what was coming, would you have done it in the first place?” I think that the answer would have been no. I came to Mexico with a set of expectations, and almost without exception, those expectations were not realized. I came hoping to perfect my Spanish, and maybe pick up some French and German along the way; however, after the first few weeks at least, I had no mental energy or motivation for such endeavors, and I think that my Spanish might have actually gotten worse. I came planning on doing something that could impress God and some hypothetical future employer—something like building houses, volunteering in orphanages, or assisting in medical translation. I wound up spending a month praying for a city and two months doing dramas in public places (neither of which are particularly strong suits of mine). I came thinking that my spiritual maturity could be a guiding light to the immature passion of the younger members of the DTS; I discovered that I am more impatient, petty, angry, and whiney than I had ever realized.

However, if the question means, “Do you regret this or consider it a waste of time?” the answer is most definitely no. Had I had to return home at any point in the first three months of DTS (which I considered doing on several occasions), it would have been with no regrets except the time and money that I’d lost on a fool’s errand. However, over the past two months especially, God has been showing me this truth: that He is enough. It took getting me past the end of my strength, past the end of everything that I trusted in and relied on; it took losing money, comfort, health, time; it took being far from the relationships I relied on, being lonely, being sleep-deprived; but at the end of all, I saw that He was there, and he was enough, and in comparison, nothing else mattered. I came thinking that I had to offer something to God, and God showed me repeatedly that he wanted nothing that I had to offer, that all he wanted was me. It took the breaking of every mask that I try to dress myself with before God could give me what he had been trying to give me all along: grace. And I can honestly say without hesitation that knowing this—experiencing it, not just assenting to it—is more than worth it. In this past two months, 2 Corinthians 10:9 became a tangible reality for me: “He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient to you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’” Right before coming to Mexico, I’d been reading the meditations on Hope by an Italian priest named Giussani, who wrote that hope is not the expectation of a particular outcome; hope is the recognition of the Presence of God with us, regardless of circumstance and regardless of outcome. I can honestly say that through this all, my expectations have all been destroyed time and again, but I have now have hope, the true hope that will not disappoint.

If this were the only thing that came out of the last five months, it would still be a happy ending. However, this was not the end of the story. I’ve seen the powerful ways that God is moving in Mexico. I’ve seen a demon-possessed woman healed. I’ve met people like Cuautemoc, a 17-year-old that we met at the rehab center who had been a drug addict, had graduated from the program, and now works with new enrollees. In one of the remote villages we visited to give our production, we met a woman who said that she was one of the only Christians in the whole village, and that she had been praying for 12 years for a team to come. We had a chance to see and be a part of what God is doing in Mexico, and that is very exciting.

Further, what we’ve been doing for the past five months centers around dreams, and God has been doing a lot in me to clarify these, to remind me of things I’d forgotten. He gave me a renewed appreciation for my family and for the friends I had at home, as well as giving me new friendships. He gave me a renewed love of the Bible, which I think only makes sense when you have a chance to really recognize how desperate you are. He gave me a renewed appreciation for music. He gave me the promise and assurance that he will provide, regardless of circumstance.

Finally, if the question means, “Would you be open to the possibility of doing something like this or working with YWAM in the future,” I’m actually not sure. If you had asked me about two months ago, I probably would have laughed. However, there’s a Yiddish proverb that says, “If you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans.” As much as anything during this past few months, I’ve been learning that I don’t know what’s happening, but that’s okay. I prayed two years ago for a story bigger than I could have written for myself. This past five months has definitely not been a story that I would have written for myself, but I am beginning to see how it could be part of a story that God is writing. My default plan for the moment is to find a job in Salem, spend some time with my family, do graduate school applications, and start graduate school in fall of 2011. However, we shall see.

Thank you again for all your prayers. I would appreciate it if you would keep it up, because this story is just beginning. I need a job. I need discernment about the next step. In the mean time, I want to make the most of where I am for the moment, and continue to trust God, step by step.