Rain and Shine

When things are very up and down its hard to decide what to blog about. I realize that while I often blog about various things I rarely get to the heart of what I do. Peace Corps is not what I expected at all, in good ways and in bad. It can be very very hard, followed by pretty darn good. The last two days are a good example of this.

Yesterday I was working on returning to my daily routine after spending a few days in Baku for medical. About two months ago my immune system finally gave up and since then I've had shingles, common but annoying colds and other maladies that require doctors visits and antibiotics. I've even had neighbors drip raw onion down my nose (attempted cure). So yesterday I was finally back home when I received a note from a student informing me that while I was gone the director of the women's center where I do most of my projects informed her that we can no longer meet there. I made a call and received confirmation, yes, while you were gone the entire place was shut down. No more tables, no more chairs. The computer containing the articles for the newsletter we've been working to publish for over three months is gone without warning. I fell apart. I may have said such dramatic things as "I have literally nothing to return to when we go to America." I may have laid in bed crying like a baby. The only thing that cheered me was how fabulously the rumbling thunderstorm in the background complemented my cinematic despair.

Today I woke to perfect temperatures and blue skies. For some strange reason, washing the dishes and sweeping the floor felt fun. I went and tutored a student. I went and visited a friend. She suggested we take a month long hiatus from the project, that it would be best for everyone what with the end of the school year and exams and vacations. And honestly, I would love a break from this project. Back home I thinned out the strawberry plants, spread broken eggshells on the lettuce to deter slugs and went over to the neighbors to borrow a scythe. She didn't have a scythe but she was working on cleaning some beautiful wool and after a short conversation about how I'm learning to spin she sent me home with lovely fluffy bunches in the most beautiful shade. I ate an Italian meal complete with french garlic bread I made myself from scratch and wine home-brewed by another close Azerbaijani friend.

What I'm trying to say is, this is what Peace Corps for me is like. Devastatingly disappointing days followed by bursts of sunshine. Or, to steal from Anne Lamott, it's Grace (Eventually).

"That's me, trying to make any progress at all with family, in work, relationships, self-image: scootch, scootch, stall; scootch, stall, catastrophic reversal; bog, bog, scootch. I wish grace and healing were more abracadabra kinds of things; also, that delicate silver bells would ring to announce grace's arrival. But no, it's clog and slog and scootch, on the floor, in silence, in the dark. I suppose that if you were snatched out of the mess, you'd miss the lesson; the lesson is the slog. I grew up thinking the lessons should be more like the von Trapp children: more marionettes, more dirndls and harmonies. But no: it's slog, bog, scootch."~Anne Lamott, Grace (Eventually) Thoughts on Faith.