…Round two?

How did I end up here again?  I was sure (positive, definitive, absolute) that I would never come back to Spain for a period of more than a month.  I promised myself (announced, declared, swore) and the world that Spain was fine, but that once was enough, thank you, and that from now on I was going to stick to Germany, that beautiful, bread-laden efficient country, or somewhere else where yogurt was not considered a dessert.

And yet here I am.  Let me be clear– it’s not that I hated Spain last time (fall 2010); it’s just that I hated my time there. And, to be even clearer, I didn’t actually hate most of it.  I loved the host mom I stayed with, loved travelling constantly, loved passing a glorious cathedral every day on my way to class, loved marinating in European history, loved some of the friends and professors I got to meet.  It was just that Spain, in all its appreciation for family and the savored life, never does anything, a fact that deeply grates at the superproductive part of me that was undoubtedly cultured by a father with a military background.  On top of that, a city with no community of believers is a very difficult city indeed, and such a city was Sevilla. 

Which brings us back to the first question: Madrid, say what?  Let’s just say it’s all Rachel Moore’s fault (aren’t most things?).  A dear potluck friend, she goes to Poland for missions and friends every summer, and one night I asked her– Poland?  How on earth?  And she proceeded to describe the very situation that had been going on in me: that all of a sudden she knew she had to go somewhere, and all of a sudden Poland (Madrid) was everywhere she looked, in movies and conversations, and could not be avoided.  So she went.  As far as my story goes, add this constant prodding/poking/cattle-branding to a line from a song by Jillian Edwards (“Suitcase”), that may as well as have swung me across the face with a steel pole for all its effect on me: “You know I love this same old town, but there are places I need to be.”

Suffice it to say I was done in.  I get it, Lord.  Go.  And to be honest, this works out in terms of convenience as well: I finished my (worthless) graduate certificate in December and my master’s doesn’t start till August.  My gorgeous roommate got married last weekend, and there was no way I could adjust to a new roommate so quickly– how do you replace a friend you love?  Six months was too short to devote to a full-time job, but too long to keep occasionally nannying.  I love that the Lord knows my heart so well that he appeals first to the type A, planning side of me.  So, after some soul-searching, wrestling, and late nights spent trolling au pair websites, I found a family that needed a nanny to teach their two twin girls English, who would house and feed me and give me a stipend.  I fought with just about every Spanish consulate in the United States and discovered that there wasn’t a visa to fit my needs and I needed to just go– so I bought a ticket and started dreading my departure date.

It’s not that I’m not glad to be here (sitting in the attic on my bed [their bed?] very late at night), because I am.  It’s where I am supposed to be, and I know that.  I have an internship opportunity with a church here that I am excited about, and throughout this whole process the Lord has constantly reassured me.  It’s just that I, Emily Westerhof, hate change.  Hate it like I hate snow and Asian food, open cabinet doors and people who don’t call me back.  I hate it a lot, and I handle it poorly.  And what a season of change this is, with moving out, a simultaneously welcomed and dreaded wedding for the best roommate ever, and no potluck, Friday morning Bible study at Sweet’s, or the three kids I’ve grown to love more than I ever imagined.  It’s more than I care to handle.  But fear not friends, I will adjust, and not all blog posts will be so long.   The Lord is good.

In short: I’ve moved to Spain.  I’ll be back in a bit.  I miss everything/everyone, and will continue to do so.  Stay tuned for some crazy adventures, whining (the peanut M&Ms are no good here, and they don’t even sell peanut butter M&Ms), and sharing of growth.  It’s going to be good, y’all.



4 thoughts on “…Round two?

  1. I love you!! I can’t wait to skype and see pictures of your new home. I’m praying for you and I know God will do incredible things through you with this family and their little girls. You’re amazing!

  2. You are an amazing girl! What wonderful opportunities the Lord is creating for you. I can’t wait to hear more as this journey continues. Maybe you can teach those girls to draw pears too. 😉
    Until then….much fun and heaps of love!!!!
    The Tigert Family

  3. When you have an address, email it to me and I’ll keep you supplied in peanut butter M&Ms 😉 I’m so proud of you for listening and reacting to the Lord, you’re so much better at that than I am! I am praying for tons of good things to happen during this season, and that you get a visa so you can stay as long as you need. Love you tons and tons!!!!!!!

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