Lost and Found

Jeep Girl here…

It’s true. Not all who wander are lost, but I am. Very very lost. I am about to give you a long list of reasons why I’m lost, but make no mistake if those reasons didn’t exist, I would still be lost. That is because I was born without that very important standard issue device called a sense of direction. You don’t even have to spin me around 3 times to make me lose track of where we are. Just simply engage me in conversation, put me on a beautiful tree-lined street or for that matter an ugly street. I will ultimately be distracted and lose all sense of time, space, and distance. I won’t remember landmarks, or if I do they will be random ones that no one else remembers. 

Let’s say I get lost and I phone a friend for help. When they ask me to tell them what I see around me, I say things like, “there’s a redbird in the tree, a bubblegum wrapper that someone folded into a funny shape on the sidewalk, and a woman drying her hair in the 5th story window. I notice details, but they are often details few others notice and sometimes they are only momentary landmarks. The bird will fly away, the gum wrapper will get stuck to the bottom of someones shoe ending up blocks away, and the woman will finish drying her hair and go to work. My landmarks aren’t helpful at all for directions, but they are very helpful when I’m trying to paint a vivid memory of a time and place. I will remember the stark black curls of that woman’s hair for the rest of my life in association with that place, but I cannot tell you what street I was on, or if there was a cafe on the corner. 

Every morning on my way to work, I call my parents. I tell them about my plans for the day and hear about theirs, and every morning I miss my exit or make a wrong turn. Every morning they laugh at me, saying it wouldn’t be a phone call with me unless I was getting lost. At this point, it’s kind of a family tradition.  Have I painted the picture vividly enough for you? 

Okay, so in addition to that, I am in a huge city that primarily relies on public transportation. Something of which I have very limited life experience. The streets while laid out in a grid pattern, are not a grid of squares, but rather of octagons. Meaning if someone says just go straight for 3 blocks and then turn left, you will, in fact, go straight for one block, turn right around the corner, turn right again around another corner, cross the street, turn left and then left again, and finally proceed to walk the long block. All this turning has me absolutely dizzy. 

If that isn’t enough to convince you, during the daytime you will pass lots of fruit stands, markets, bakeries, and cafes, but at night they all close their doors and pull down a large metal door over their entrances, so the entire street looks like you are walking down an aisle at a storage unit place, leaving everything looking the same! Then there is the graffiti. Even though I’m told I am in one of the safest most modern parts of the city, it is covered in graffiti. At night these streets look very different than they do during the day. Then there are the shops that don’t open on the weekends, so you have streets that are half shops, half graffiti metal doors. Not to mention there are no road signs and any signs that do exist are in a language I don’t speak. So, basically, I knew I was going to get lost. The question was just for how long. 

I’ve been here for 12 days now, and I have gotten lost every day for 12 days. It doesn’t bother me. I laugh about it, and I’ve learned to factor in extra time to get lost so I’m not late. Here I’ve found myself asking the question, “How long is long enough to get lost?” Well, friends, I think I have found the answer. 

On my way to hang out at a local recording studio, I decided to take an Uber so I wouldn’t be late by wasting time getting lost. Brilliant right? Well, the Taxi drivers are on strike here. They are striking against Uber. So while riding along in my Uber, we were actually harassed and nearly driven off the road by an off-duty taxi driver! After arriving at a restaurant instead of a studio because I was given a wrong address, I got a second Uber and finally arrived at what was supposed to be the right place. I got out only to realize I couldn’t find the studio address. No street signs, remember? I knocked on the door of what I thought was the studio and was greeted by a confused man. After a quick game of charades, he pointed me across the street. I went across the street and then Google maps told me to go back across the street. After about 20 mins of wandering around, I called the studio owner. He came out to meet me, dropped a pin where he was standing at a major crosswalk, and I sent my location to him. Turns out we were only 200 feet away from each other! Yay! I was almost there. It only took me another 20 mins to find him. Seriously. 200 feet away, 20 minutes. 

Following the fantastic visit, I called for an Uber home. After waiting for 45 mins, I was finally sent a message that said Uber drivers weren’t driving anymore because it was too dangerous. The taxi drivers were being too aggressive! Crazy right? So, I was going to have to take a bus. I went back to the studio and asked for directions. I got on the right bus and got home. Total visit at the studio? Forty-five minutes. Total adventure time? Six hours. 

Oh, but friends, that’s not the end. You see I was also going to a concert! At home, I quickly changed my clothes and it was time to venture out again. After asking my roommates for help, I felt relatively confident I could get there without any trouble. The bus station was only a four-minute walk and I would stay on the same bus the whole way there. Seems easy enough right? Leave it to me! Off I went, and onto a bus. It was a great bus. I had a great seat. But it was the wrong bus. I realized after three stops I was headed in the wrong direction.  So I got off the bus and onto another one, only to realize two stops later that I was still, in fact, going in the wrong direction! I was Googling what to do when the bus pulled over at another stop and everyone got off. I mean, everyone.  I was the only person left. Then the bus driver turned the bus off and exited onto the sidewalk, opened up her lunch pail and started eating a mango. I laughed out loud. WHAT is happening right now?? I went outside to talk to the driver, who of course did not speak English. After another round of charades, she was able to communicate to me that I should wait on the bus and she would take me 15 stops away to the concert. That’s right, 15 stops. I waited while she took her break and then I basically got a tour of the city. I got off the bus and I was supposedly three minutes walk from the theatre, of which it took me 20 minutes to find. Total expected travel time? Seventeen minutes. Total actual travel time? An hour and a half. Yep.

So, the concert was truly amazing. I hated that I was late. You have to check out my Instagram feed for pictures and video, but I highly recommend flamenco dancing! 💃 The building itself was a work of art, and it has been my favorite moment in Spain so far! The passion, the color, the intensity! It was all very exciting and had me on the edge of my seat the entire time.

All this getting lost has been a bit of a theme for me here in Spain. I have felt lost here emotionally too. Because of the heat, I can’t sleep so I’m up until 5am and sleeping during the day. I feel like a zombie, and not myself at all. I’m trying to find my place here and what I’m here to do. 

My Dad has always said, you aren’t really lost if you know your way home, and lately, I don’t feel like I know my way home. Physically or emotionally. This place has shaken me up. As beautiful as it truly is, and as adventurous as I feel, I also feel insecure and vulnerable and unprotected. I feel like I’m falling apart. And I think God is doing something with that. 

The other day I was talking to a member of the congregation about original worship music, and I asked if anyone in the church writes worship stuff. He said he didn’t know, but then he said, “Maybe that’s what you’re here to do.” It hit me like a bolt of lightning. It was SO obvious. SO simple. I was making of this all too complicated. It never really struck me that I could come here and just be ME. Just do ME. And that, that would be enough. I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be here, instead of just being who God made me to be, everywhere. 

I talked to some of the worship team members and started asking around. It turns out there are a lot of writers here, but no one is writing for the church. I talked to the Pastors about my heart to teach writers and the event I have hosted for songwriters for the past 10 years back in the states. They were immediately excited and asked if I would host one of those here. I said yes, and now I’m planning a multi-cultural, trilingual songwriting workshop for next Saturday! 

So I’ve found my way! This is why I’m here, and the pastor’s said I’ll be leaving a real legacy behind. That makes me feel like I finally discovered what this was all about. If I can inspire these writers, then maybe they will write songs for the church and inspire others and maybe that will go on for years. Long past the time I have to give here.

 Getting these 80 nations to come together and write music with their unique influences and experiences of God instead of just copying the American church’s worship, seems a worthy cause.  I am so excited to hear the sounds that they will make.  On Sunday there were 8 nations represented on the worship team. We didn’t all speak the same language and we had to use translators just to get through practice, but the music, the worship brought us all together, and it was anointed and awesome! God is in unity, but He is also in diversity! I want to help bring that out even more at ICB.

So, I’ve been lost every day for 12 days, but today I found my way. I just want to say if you’re feeling lost, don’t get frustrated, just keep walking. You will find your way, eventually. 

XOXO

Jeepgirl