All the things I didn't know.

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I took this photo early this year, but I've loved that bridge for far longer.  Those blue letters spell out, “I love you Cochabamba”, and as I've gone past them during the past two and a half years, I've smiled as I've read them, because I do. I wrote about the bridge and its message just after I arrived here in September 2014, remembering all the ways that God placed Cochabamba in my heart before I even set foot here.

Now, two and a half years later, I find it hard to believe all the things I didn’t know, couldn't have imagined, back then.

I didn’t know that Bolivia would nestle so deeply in my heart.

I didn’t know that it would feel every bit as much home as Northern Ireland does.

I didn’t know that I would miss Northern Ireland as much as I do.

I didn’t know Bolivia was landlocked.

I didn’t know how much I would miss being able to walk on the beach.

I didn’t know that through the hard times and the good, friends would become family.

I didn’t know how hard it would be to be away from my family, and from my friends.

I didn’t know how much I would love speaking to Bolivians in their mother tongue.

I didn’t know how much I would miss being able to express myself in my own.

I didn’t know how much I would love charque, milanesa and papas de la huancaina.

I didn’t know how much I would miss sausage suppers.

I didn’t know that I could love Bolivians as much as I love Brits.

I didn’t know that I would find a community here who would teach me so much about Jesus.

I didn’t know how much I would miss my community at home.

I didn’t know that I would come to love some of the customs here, come to appreciate them as perhaps even better than ours.

I didn’t know that some of the ways that Bolivia does things would literally make me want to tear my hair out.

I didn’t know I could fall so hard for those little faces that call me “tia”.

I didn’t know I could fall so hard for those little faces that call me “miss”.

I didn’t know that one of those little faces leaving could shatter my heart like it has, does, and will continue to do.

I didn’t know that in allowing myself to fall in love with this country, with this city, I was destining myself to have my heart broken down the line, whenever, or if God ever, calls me “home” again.

And I wonder now, if I had known then what I know now, would I have done it the same? Would I have allowed myself to immerse so completely, or would I have guarded my heart more? And what would have been best?

The truth is, I don’t know.


But what I do know is, that every time I drive past that bridge, just like in the early days, I smile because I really, truly do… I love Cochabamba.

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