Why "ten confianza"?

Yes, I have lived in Ecuador before, but returning will be a completely different experience. I'm married, I'll be working, and I won't be living with an Ecuadorian family. But my experiences in Ecuador when I was a junior in college impacted me and played a part in why I wanted to return. It was especially the experience with my host family. I wanted to share with you something I wrote for my senior writing seminar. It explains too why the heading of this blog and the letters you may receive from us say "ten confianza." This is what I think of...

Yolanda has smiling eyes. When she laughs or gives the slightest smile the wrinkles around her eyes crease into perfectly curved lines. Her high cheek bones are smooth and shiny. Though her age softly speaks through the sagging skin beneath her neck and the white hairs on her head (that have escaped her hair dye), her quick movements make me question how old I really think she is. She is small in stature but her personality and character makes her stand tall and confident. She’s an example of someone who is truly beautiful on the inside and out. From the moment I walked into the door when we first met, she called me “mi hijita,” my daughter. I feel loved when I’m with her. It’s not as if I lack this love when I’m with my own parents, but there’s something special about the love I know she has for me. Because I’m not her daughter, she doesn’t have to treat me as such or really care. But she does.
She stirs her warm cereal, completely wrapped up in the story she’s telling me. I sit there watching her movements, soothed by the rhythm of her voice and fascinated by the life she describes as her own. Her one hand moves freely around as she tries to convey her emotion, her sing-song voice barely breaks as she tells me of the days when she was young. She shakes her head and laughs at herself as she remembers. She does that often…remembers. I can tell. Her eyes are full of memories. She just lets them sit in her mind and replays them over and over to recall exactly what happened. Every morning we sit here and we talk. I drink the orange juice she squeezed just for me with her coarse but gentle hands. She has her large bottles of vitamins lined up and points to each one, telling me why she takes them. This one is for vision, the other for her arthritis, Gracias a Dios she’s healthy.
She loves to remind me of what the Bible says about trusting in God or about giving all my worries to God. She smiles and nods her head…”you know” she says. She tells me that I’m responsible and conscientious. She tells me to “ten confianza,” to have confidence. She talks on and on, it makes me smile and laugh softly to myself. I don’t always know what she’s saying but it doesn’t matter, I still love to listen to her voice and to hear her laugh that ripples in and out of our conversation. She is passionate with her words. She can talk forever, and when she thinks she knows something, she tries very little to be convinced otherwise. Her son Mau and I laugh and role our eyes, when she says “no…no es así” It’s not like that she tells us, when we try to dispute something she has just said. She’s stubborn like that. She has become my mother here, she gives me advice when I don’t think I need it and comfort when I don’t want to be alone. She knows the meals that I like because she always says as she sets down the plate, “this is your favorite…eat some more. Do you want dessert? Oh mi hijita you eat so little.”
My favorite moments of the day are when I leave and when I come home. The warmth of her cheek against mine as I kiss her goodbye and her strong words that resonate in my ears as I leave “que Dios te bendiga” may God bless you, carry with me out into the streets and remain until I step safely back into the gated door. It draws me closer to her in a unique way, it draws me closer to her culture somehow. We connect. She’s someone I want to be like.
I have family in Ecuador now, she tells me. I cry when I hug her goodbye in the airport. Be strong, she says…ten confianza.

We've stayed in contact through the years and I am so excited for Clinton to meet Yoli and Mau. The move is a little easier knowing loved ones are waiting for us!

Thoughts on moving to Ecuador

I've done a lot of prepping this blog and I am finally sitting down to write the first post.

Not too long ago we made the decision to officially move to Ecuador. I feel like I'm still in the surreal moments of this decision. I'm a serious mess of every emotion fathomable. I feel elated, panicked, and overwhelmed. The most amazing part of this decision has been the journey up until now. When I first mentioned the thought of teaching abroad to Clinton, shortly after we were married...he wasn't estatic nor was he opposed. When I mentioned it again this past fall and asked if I could send out our resumes, he pretty much sent out the same sentiments. Every step closer I made to investigating and communicating with people in Ecuador, I went back to Clinton and said “are you sure you want me to keep exploring? Would you really be willing to do this? Just say the word, and I'll stop the search.” My general feeling was that I didn't want to be chasing a dream that was only my own and not one we shared together. I wanted Clinton to be honest and tell me if he really was just humoring me this whole time. Needless to say, he continued to be supportive and pushed me to continue.

Obviously we have made the decision to go...and now, Clinton can't wait. I think he's ready for something new....but I also think this idea has really evolved for him and now it's a shared vision.

I didn't expect a lightning bolt or a divine voice telling me what to do when I prayed for God to help us. And as expected that didn't happen. But I did look for open doors and closed ones, and I'm thankful that God gave us peace and perhaps a minor (at this point) understanding as to how this new change can take a role in our lives.