So this is Christmas.

So this is Christmas. Or, as everyone around my house is calling it, my "last" Christmas. A little surreal, since that can't actually be -- I don't plan on dying anytime in the next 12 months. And I am such a homebody that no matter where I am in the world, there's a 99.9% chance that I would come home at least around the holidays, if not for the actual date. But I kind of like the special treatment, getting to do all the "special" jobs that my brother and I always fought about as kids and to this day, at the ages off 22 and 25, still have to take turns doing: setting up the creche, putting the angel at the top of the tree, deciding which church service to go to on Christmas Eve. And even though Christmas this year in the Marsh household has pretty much been by my design, something is slightly off.

The family traditions were all followed exactly, as, of course, they absolutely need to be. Egg nog was consumed at the tree decorating, pajamas were given on Christmas Eve. So that's not it. Maybe it's the realization that once you graduate college, you are crossed of a lot of extended family's gift lists. Bummer. But I don't really think that's it either. I did get everything I needed, everything I asked Santa for: a new digital camera and a sweet backpacking pack to take on my adventures. :) More than anything, I think that it's the fact this year I seem to be very sensitive to the situations of others at this time of year. I have friends all over the country and the world -- Bangkok, Israel, Tokyo -- who are not with their families this year. And with the impending move to a highly economically depressed neighborhood of Guatemala City, I can't help but feel like these motions that my family has been going on with for weeks now is somehow incredibly showy and terrible waste. And for the first time in my entire life, I feel guilty about having Christmas. And that, coupled with this tiny twinge of fear that this may, in fact, be my last Christmas as I know it, is making for a very weird mix of emotions, and subsequently a very abnormal Christmas. But hey, welcome to my life these days. :)

So on that note, Merry Christmahanakwanzukah. Hope your holidays are guilt and fear free. Well, except for the guilt of eating too many holiday goodies, and the fear of what that may do to your waistline. :)

And so it Begins.

I am a worrier. Always have been, and figure I always will be. It runs in the family, so at least I come by it honestly. With less than 3 weeks (18 days to be exact!) until I move to a women's co-op in Guatemala City, UPAVIM, you can imagine all the material that my ever-worrying my mind has to work with. It started just the other night, lying in bed thinking of to-do lists, making sure that I have all my bases covered while I am away for the better part of next year. And so it begins.

Funny thing is, I am not worried about all of the normal things that you would think of. I am not worried about packing, or forgetting something important. I am not worried about how I am going to pay my loan payments while I am away, nor am I worried about communicating with loved ones at home and across the globe. I am not worried about how hard the goodbyes are going to be, or about how I am going to survive the culture shock of no washing machines or dryers, no drinking anything unless it is out of a bottle, and getting used to a shower head rigged up to electricity for hot water.

Instead, I am most worried about what effect the entire experience will have on me as a person. When I first tell people about what I am doing, their first exclamation is usually along the lines of, "Oh! What a life-changing experience that will be!" To consciously make a decision to go into an experience that will undeniably alter my entire being for the rest of my life is quite daunting...especially since at the ripe old age of 22, I am still not entirely sure who that person is. Hopefully, this experience will make me more sure of my identity, and who I really am.

I am worried that there might be someone else out there who is better equipped to give this community of La Esperanza what they need. I am worried that I will go through this experience and somehow not take in every second. I am worried that I will get too caught up in my own life's needs, wants, hopes, and dreams and not give enough care and attention to the community. I am worried that I won't be able to do it. I am worried that I will not change for the better, as everyone is predicting. I am worried that I will not live up to the expectations of the women and children of UPAVIM.

And despite all this anxiety, emotional ups and downs, and sleepless nights, I am thankful for the worry. I am thankful for this process. I am thankful for this opportunity, one that will not only benefit UPAVIM and La Esperanza, but will selfishly serve myself as well.

And hey, if it doesn't work out, I'll at least have gotten some killer guacamole. :)