on making it.

Today, we’re making it.

We swam laps early this morning and I headed off to my Burmese lesson. I sat and chatted with my Burmese teacher as he helped me write rules for the community center opening today; helped me create a computer log book; and helped me write out a checklist for our bread manager.

I went to the market to get food for Aung Moe, the blind man in the community, and to get our vegetables for the week. I floated from stall to stall, knowing many of the sellers, waving at Daw Ma Oo selling flowers, and filling bags with fresh veggies for us and fish paste for Aung Moe. I filled my motorbike basket and then balanced a bag between my legs.

I came home and chatted with the girls sitting outside of our house. We looked at pictures of the Chan’s new baby in Canada. They helped me deliver food to the family that cooks for Aung Moe and load up my fridge.

I sat down to write out all the notes from Burmese class, and it didn’t take me forever. I just wrote it, like those squiggles are somehow becoming a natural formation of my hand.

I counted up Flour & Flowers orders for this week and put them into the oh-so-snazzy chart Stephen made for me. It spit out the counts for this week, which I wrote out onto paper and posted for Pyo Pyo, who will come to start some of the recipes tonight.

At four, Thida came with her kids and we gave her an “orientation” of our house and the new plan for the community center {complete with a binder in Burmese that I’m a little proud of}. We opened our doors to so many kids and some adults until 8pm, and it, well, wasn’t horrible. I only cleaned up after three kids peeing on the floor, and I managed to teach multiple kids Sorry, Mancala, & Uno. I didn’t feel crazy at 8pm when they all cleared out and I started cooking dinner.

I don’t know when it happened: when this became normal; when this became home; when the chaos stopped overwhelming me. I don’t know when it just became usual for the kids to pile into our house for homework help. I don’t know when those sentences just started rolling out in Burmese. I don’t know when bread became less overwhelming each week.

I do remember when it felt like it took all day to do anything. I do remember when I was nervous driving the motorbike or car. I do remember when I was scared of blood and sores. I do remember when I felt so confused by all the languages in the market. I do remember when bread felt like it took my whole week to coordinate, and I wasn’t sure that was how I wanted to spend my whole week, or when it would get easier. I do remember being oh-so-tired after trying to manage anything in the community or anything in Burmese.

But I find us here now, and we’re making it. Somewhere along the way, things started working and feeling less like we were always. going. up. mountains.

I always thought I wasn’t made for this. I felt like I was a fish out of water, or swimming up stream, or both. Why was I here? Was it this horrible and hard for everyone? Did everyone just feel like they were always tired? And not sure what from?

Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not sure.

But suddenly, on this random day in July, nearly six years in, I think we just might make it here after all.