The Woman From Russia

This week I finally made an appointment to get some much needed hair therapy.  I found myself in a rather uppity salon that I had never been to following the recommendations of multiple people and the promise of a "good discount" if I decided to go.  The day I chose to go it seemed that I wasn't the only person with the same idea.  I found myself sitting on a small, green plastic chair flipping through a spanish fashion magazine and eavesdropping in the conversations surrounding me.

Suddenly, there was a blonde-haired woman sitting next to me asking "¿De donde eres?" (Where are you from?)  I was a little startled because I had planned to sit silently in my little green chair to await my turn, to do my thing and then to leave.  God must have been in heaven laughing, because He had other plans.  I answered the woman as quickly as possible, hoping to get the conversation over with. "Soy de los Estados Unidos.  Soy americana y usted?"  (I'm from the United States, I'm American and you?)  The woman begin to tell me that she was from Russia but that she had spent the last 35 years in Barranquilla.

So, picture this... two foreigners, an American and a Russian sitting in a beauty shop (this is starting to sound like a bad joke) talking in Spanish (for those of you who don't know...Spanish is not the native language of Russians or Americans) about their lives.  During my time talking with this woman, I learned a lot about her.  Her story.  How she ended up in Colombia.  Why she was still here after separating from her husband over fifteen years earlier.  How she didn't have many friends.  How she often felt as though she didn't belong.  I found myself sitting and listening to her story so intently because in so many ways I could relate to everything she was saying.  I felt relieved to know that I wasn't crazy or dramatic, that others had felt/feel the same way I did/do at times.

She placed her hand on my arm and said, "Oh the tears I've cried, oh the nights my tears have lulled me to sleep" and I felt my own eyes tearing up.   I have been in that same place many a time.  Then she looked intently into my eyes with her own ice-blue eyes and directly asked me, "Do you like it here?"  I found myself looking away, looking down at my hands and I strangely felt my eyes begin to water.  I began to stutter and give my well-rehearsed answer "Well, there are things that I like about here and there are things that I don't like about here.  Of course, I miss my family..."  She abruptly cut me off and with a smile said, "That answer may work on some people but not with me.  Try again."

I found myself silently scolding myself for being so out of control.  I swallowed hard a few times, blinked the tears away and looked her in the face and answered, "Well, honestly, sometimes... I hate it here.  I ask myself nearly every day what I'm doing here.  I tell myself I don't belong.  I feel lonely.  I don't have many friends.  I am always the "weird one" everywhere I go.   I've cried more in the last few years than I've probably cried in my lifetime, but something won't release me from here.  Do I want to be here forever?  No.  But I do want to finish my reason for being here."  She looked surprised and then told me, "Then do that honey, don't become like me... a bitter, old lady who belongs nowhere... not here or there."

Can I be totally transparent and honest for a minute, I struggle every...single... day with not being bitter.  So many times since I've moved here to Colombia I've felt resentful, angry, confused...lost.  I've questioned God, I've vowed to go home and never return.  I've been jealous of the things I see people doing and accomplishing back home... buying houses and cars, furthering their education, joining new exercise groups, participating in mom's clubs, celebrating special events with family and friends.  I've rolled my eyes when people complained about the heat (when they have air conditioners everywhere they go) or when they whine about needing to load the dishwasher (as I've got a mountain of dishes and only my hands and soapy water to make them disappear)!  Then God reminds me, that I used to be the same way when I was back in the States and that I am acting no differently here in Colombia.

I've decided, I don't want to just "survive" my time here in Colombia.  I want to "thrive" in my time here.  I don't want to just do what I've been called to do, wash my hands and head home.  I want to make an impact, I want to leave a legacy behind.  I want to fall in love with what I'm doing.  I want to stop comparing my life and my calling to the calling of others.

God truly does work in mysterious ways... He chose to speak to me, in a beauty shop.  He even used another "extranjero" (foreigner) to confront me about my attitude and to warn me of what I could look like in a few years if I didn't get a grip on things... a beautiful woman, from a foreign land, with sad, sad eyes and a bitter heart.