A Day in the Life

One day ago, I woke up to a breakfast of yogurt and cereal, prayers in Spanish with my roommate,

           and a pang of homesickness that seemed to bring me down.

I showered and dressed in an outfit reminiscent of bananas and cream

         (because who doesn't want to be compared to bananas and cream),

       and walked the thirty minutes to school while speaking Spanish the whole time.

We saw a beautiful casita with the Spanish Sunrise shining through,
                  just a small reminder that God loves us
      because He makes things beautiful for us.

We arrived at school and 

         The professors handed out our pretest. We took a verbal exam to be thorough.

The girls and I then wandered through shops,
          passing a wall that I matched, and finding a little shop of happiness :)

We meandered our way through tapestries of cloth from Thailand,

            and clothes and jewels from India.

I found a ring for 2 Euros,

       a bronze set ring with a turquoise stone.

I slid it on my finger (which inevitably went green within the hour), 

                      and carried a piece of Spain with me out the door,

                 not realizing I had witnessed the hand of God in the beauty that seeped through the walls of that store.

Such an excursion suddenly turned into something meaningful,

               when we decided to tour the cathedral-

The cathedral that holds 500 years of Spanish history within its walls,

                               and floors,

                                    and stairways.

The cathedral wherein lie parts of Los Santos Niños

     a beautiful box carved of gold and silver, encasing something incredibly sacred and meaningful to so many.

        And it made me think... would I have been as strong as Los Santos Niños? 

     To stnad up and refuse to renounce my religion, at the age of 7 or 9, 

                                                    in the face of a death as but a child of so few years did long ago.

We climbed the tower

     and learned about the staircase , which took 90 years to construct,

       and the 2000 pipe organ

           and the bells that ring out, letting the village know when there's a fire, or when someone dies.

We climbed the tower,

              and we saw all of Madrid,

                    and all of Alcalá,

                           and felt as though we could fly.

We climbed the tower, and saw the hand of God in the beauty that surrounded us.

             But I still didn't recognize it right away.

After lunch, another pang of homesickness, and a nice siesta,

        we went to the class of religion.

Where we learned that we are important,

     and we need to record ourselves,

    but more importantly, 

        we need to remember

       that God does exist.

  and that's not the most important thing...

     Because He loves us too.

And not only does He love us, He reminds us of His love,

       through little glimpses at peace

        and beauty

              and eternity

     when all we are doing is going through a normal day.

And then I began to understand.

          God is everywhere.

Last night, I spent time in the Plaza.

By this time, I did not only smell the nasty, overwhelming smoke,

         and see the ambiguous and smelly beer,

          

                  I also saw a band. :)

       
          With a happy little 4'4" conductor, bouncing up and down,

as the trumpets sang out and the hand of God was made manifest at that very moment.

For there, before my eyes, they danced.

They, those who have lived much longer than I have.

Those who are bent and painful from years of service for loved ones,

    or who are in the twilight of their lives and continue to love their family as much as ever

                by doing things for them that are difficult.

These people, those who got all dressed up, 

            put on perfume for their spouse of 50 years, 

                           and even some heels if they could manage,

           danced in the middle of the square.

And they smiled

       because here they were, holding their loved one close, 

                    and that was all they needed.

This morning, I woke up with 30 minutes before I got to class.

          I had a stomach ache, and my feet hurt.

    I struggled with staying calm, 

as sometimes seems to happen in life.

But today I did not have too much of that pang of homesickness,

   
and the stress and unhappiness did not last too long.

And it wasn't because I saw incredible artwork,

     In a museum that is a mans life.

Or because I spent time learning about the history of the world, 

                 and the people that lived, breathed, 

       and dreamed here before me.

I learned that I  have a connection with home.

My Heavenly home.

And that in every day,

      we can see the hand of God.

Because though we have trials,

    and life is nearly never perfect,

         He guides us with a loving arm, 

        and a hand on our back.

Not only does He exist,

      but He loves us.

And if things are hard, He likes to tap us on the shoulder, and remind us that He's here,

                           and listening
                              and understands

                                   because He cares.

We just have to learn to look...

             and once we learn to look,
                        and appreciate,

                                               that is when we finally see.