Quarantine

This week, I received news that a girl in my small Spanish class tested positive for covid. The repercussions weren't immediately clear, but on Thursday, I was told that I officially had to quarantine for 10 days. Thankfully, this quarantine shrank to only 4 days since it had been so long ago since I had contact with her, and we're in the middle of our quarantine now.

When I told Micah the news, he immediately decided to join me in the quarantine even though it wasn't clear if he was supposed to or not. As we sat calmly discussing our fate for the next week, I asked him in disbelief, "Why aren't you freaking out about this? Why are you so calm?"

The truth was that both of us were calm. As I was walking home after receiving the news, I calmly looked up at the trees and sky, knowing it could be the last time I saw them for 10 days, and I was surprisingly unfazed by that. As I said, the quarantine turned out to be shorter than we expected, but since we went to work, took plenty of walks, and went for grocery runs during the March quarantine in St. Paul, a strict quarantine was still a large, uncharted feat for us. 

It turned out to be just what we needed. For 3 weeks before this moment, both of us were trying to find home in Granada, scoping out bubble tea places, sushi restaurants, candy shops, and thrift stores to stretch out our roots a bit. We were searching for the home that's been with us all along, and all we needed to do to find it was take a step back, take a deep breath, and rest.

This is our home because this is where we're supposed to be. In the last few weeks, we've formed relationships, talked spiritual matters with intercambios, learned/improved Spanish, and stepped into our positions here. The news of quarantine didn't bother us because it was never a threat in the first place. Nothing can be a threat to us when we're in the will of God.

I have personally felt an indescribable feeling being here, as if nothing can stop us and nothing can hinder us. We're on a path that was destined by God, and therefore, any challenge that looms over us holds no more fear for me. Any potential inconvenience or discomfort doesn't bother me. We haven't even secured an available appointment to finish our visa process, this city could very well sink deeper into lockdown, and we could have other exposures to positives that would slow us down. None of these things concern me at all.

And I can't really give an answer to why I'm not concerned, afraid, or worried. Something, or someone, is just telling me that there's no reason to be. We are walking forward unhindered and untouched by the enemy. 

We've never had a rational reason to worry, and we are very much home. 

Intimidated

My reaction to arriving in Spain is different than it was 5 years ago when I arrived in Sevilla. Last time, I was enamored by the beauty of Spain and full of excitement, hope, and passion. 

This time, I'm intimidated and pretty much only intimidated.

Since my semester in Spain, I've grown and matured in so many ways. I graduated from college, I got married, and I had my first big-girl job. I've done ministry. I've shared the gospel. I've made numerous close friends from around the world. I am in every way an older and wiser human being than I was at 21.

But I'm still so intimidated. Micah and I both are intimidated, but he, the one who has never been to Spain and doesn't speak any Spanish, has an understandable reason to be.

My intimidation comes from a few factors. 

    1. Spaniards are much cooler than I am. In many ways, I feel like they are the popular crowd in middle school that I'm not qualified to talk to. I don't think they have any desire to befriend this quiet, weird American, and I'm not convinced I have any alluring quality to draw them into friendship. 

    2. My Spanish-speaking abilities are not up to par. I have been watching a Spanish drama that has increased my comprehension skills, but although I can understand most of what people are saying, I'm too terrified to open my mouth. 

    3. The spiritual climate is complicated. Having an open, authentic relationship with a Spaniard doesn't seem easy. I don't feel confident that I can contribute to our team when I don't know what I'm doing.

    4. I don't know how to live life here. Paying rent, buying groceries, paying for our phone bills, getting wifi, doing laundry, taking out the trash, and maneuvering the city are all overwhelming necessities that are beyond me. It's an overwhelming list of things we need to figure out.

All of these factors are what cause my intimidation. But while I was explaining this exact feeling to Micah in the Madrid airport, before we even arrived in Granada, a woman approached us and asked us a question in Spanish. She wanted to know where her gate was, and I was able to quickly direct her. 

Then on our first night in Granada, Micah and I were having drinks and tapas with the head of our team. Our waitress was friendly and curious about us, which isn't exactly the norm for waiters and waitresses in Spain. 

These two events gave me hope, but definitely not hope in myself. I'm still undoubtedly uncool, inept at speaking Spanish, and clueless. But life gets better when I realize it's not about me.

God will direct the opportunities, social situations, logistics, and hearts of Spaniards. I just have to follow and have hope in what He is going to do, through me and without me.