I can’t tell you how many thank you cards I either have written or should have written to people who so kindly brought meals when we were hospitalized or had just had babies or had lost a loved one.  The gift of not having to cook when you just aren’t up to par is such a ministry, not to mention blessing people with that fine art of your own personal cooking skills.

Or I think back to those support raising trips when kind hosts would send us on our way to the next destination with a sack full of treats and drinks and just a little something to help our journey not be so hard.  I especially remember Nathaniel’s 93 year old grandpa refusing to let us leave his house without a few bananas and other snacks.  Even if people couldn’t financially support us, or didn’t have other gifts to give, they knew they could bless us with food.  Each of those people knew that food is a ministry and giving food ministers the body and the soul.

Now, here we are in a strange land and sometimes food just isn’t the same.  The meals I cook don’t taste quite like they did in the States, our favorite restaurants aren’t here, and sometimes we just can’t find that special treat we are craving.  And that’s okay.  Food is very important to us, but we are adapting and we are learning new foods and new special treats.  But the other day, we were completely ministered to.  One member of our team brought us over a huge batch of her homemade refried beans and salsa and then took us to the one little place in Bogota that sells tortilla chips.  And let me tell you, we have enjoyed that treat to the fullest all weekend long.  We’ve had several sweet little post-kid’s bedtime dates with our special chips and dips and American shows.

I remember when Nathaniel’s mom used to ask for tortilla chips from the States and we’d kind of giggle that someone living in South America couldn’t get those, of all things, but let me tell you, one month in and I’m totally understanding the request.  I’m also understanding how and why she would only bust out the chips for special events such as an afternoon game of Catan.

But one of the things I’m really learning is how little things can now become special.  In the States, a bag of tortilla chips is not so amazing, and homemade beans and salsa are appreciated, but not seen as a grand gesture.  But here they are.  We are developing a mentality of simple-r living and even appreciating a few hours at home, kids asleep, with our special treats.  That’s not to say we don’t miss what we left behind in the U.S., but I am thankful for these moments when we are completely ministered to – by our friends here who have blessed us with what they knew would be a special food – or even by God who gives us those moments of finding that amazing place to eat or that special ingredient for the meal we thought we couldn’t have here.

The other day, I happily toted my little canvas and plastic pull cart from a store called Carulla and a few of my oil cloth bags from the states.  I was gonna go shopping, and we were out of a lot of things, so I was really gonna go shopping.  I had an hour before Nathaniel needed me back home so he could go to a meeting, so off I went, with the sun shinning on my back and all.

Well, rookie mistake number one – I grabbed a full sized shopping cart and started loading it up – drinking water, veggies, cans and jars and I think even some baby wipes.  I was also taking way too long accumulating these groceries, and by the time I was through, I had about 5 minutes to take a 10 minute walk home – and far too many groceries to fit in my humble little pull cart.  I should have known I was in for it when I told the bagger that I was walking home and he gave me a big eyed look like I was crazy.  And I was.  Each bag weighed about 20 pounds and then the cart was loaded down with all the heavy stuff.

So off I went.  And things were okay – I would take mini breaks here and there, and then continue on.  But then I hit that spot.

It gets me every time.  No matter if I have the stroller and the kids, or a pull cart with food in it, or sometimes just me walking by myself, I always get stressed out crossing what we here call “The Novena,” or 9th St.  It is a very busy road and in the middle of it, there are railroad tracks (which I have only ever heard the train go on, but never seen it, so I call it “The Ghost Train”), and about a million pot holes and gravel and mud, and the only time one can cross it is when traffic is also crossing it, and sometimes the cars get dangerously close to the “Pedestrian area” because they too are trying to avoid the millions of potholes.

In fact, one time, a sweet old man standing on the other side of the Novena saw me struggle so badly to cross that intersection with Jeremiah walking and Gabriella in the stroller, that he waited for me on the other side, grabbed my pull cart, held an umbrella over my head and escorted me all the way home.  He said he lived in my same building too, but come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since then.  I told him he was my angel, maybe he actually really was….

Anyways, the Novena gives me a mini panic attack every time – poor Jeremiah is constantly being told, “go Go GO!” when we cross any street – but especially that one.

Back to my story…so as I reached that intersection (which, by the way is nearly impossible to avoid), I made it through one section okay, then I waited a second, realized I could go, and dragged my cart through the gravel, only to watch in slow motion as my cart’s wheel slowly crumbled in on itself and rolled predictably into traffic where it could not be saved.  My heart sank.  My cart!  My wheel!  Now what was I supposed to do?

I’ll tell you what I did – I dragged that sucker all the way across the street, and the two blocks home after that, all the while scraping the sidewalk with the metal bar that before housed 2 wheels, but now only had one.  I think I probably looked like the crazy lady of Bogota with 40 pounds of bag on my shoulders and a gimpy but heavy dragging scrapping cart.  I managed to hold it together until I walked into our building, when the security guard and the building maid saw me and pointed out that my cart was broken.  (resisting sarcastic comment now)  They very sweetly picked up my cart for me and carried it into my apartment – which I am sure they really didn’t want The Bogota Crazy to ruin their shiny tile floors with her nasty cart – but they were also being very very kind – and as they shut the door behind them, I burst into tears and fell into a puddle crying over my over consumption, over spending, and a massive hatred for The Novena and cheap Carulla carts.

I wish I could tell you that I dried my tears, took a deep sigh and then baked a lovely cake, but of course instead I attacked.  I attacked Nathaniel for having the nerve to need to be somewhere, which made me rush home which made my cart break.  I attacked Bogota for their horrible roads.  I attacked us for not having a car.  I attacked the cheap manufactures of the cart, and I really really attacked myself.  And honestly, if at that moment someone had given us one way tickets back to the U.S, I can’t promise I would have turned them down.

One of the MTW staff members one time told Nathaniel that being on the mission field is like putting Miracle Grow on your sins.  Boy was he right.  You know how when you tell a happy bright eyed engaged couple that getting married won’t solve their problems and they smile at you like they don’t believe you?  I think we were those people even just a few weeks ago.  And I’m not saying that we are in some kind of critical state or we are super struggling or anything like that, but I am saying that we do struggle.  And sometimes it seems like it is a little more or a little different than how we struggle in the States.

For me, I have found myself fighting some pretty big insecurities since being here.  That’s totally something I thought I had outgrown – but I guess I had only in the U.S.  Put me in a foreign country where I don’t really speak the language or look like the people or know what is going on, and I start to feel very insecure – that I’m not wanted here, that people don’t really like me, that I’m failing at everything I try – things that I am completely making up in my head.  I know they are made up because I know that I am doing okay here – I’m not failing, the Team here has been incredibly welcoming, and the Colombians who we have gotten to know have been nothing but warm and loving.  And we can’t step 2 feet out of the house without total stranger after stranger drooling over our children.  But, that’s unfortunately where I go when things get rough, and I know I have an amazing support group at home who loves me and who loves to pray, so please pray for that for me.

But, on the flip side, even though we have to fight a little harder or differently against our besetting sins, I also feel like we get showered with so many different blessings that we haven’t ever had before.  This apartment and all of those details, for instance, a huge blessing.  That sweet old man/angel who helped me, completely from the Lord.  The other day Nathaniel was able to work out something pretty major with our cell phone contract from the States so we can still use the phones we know and love – something that they supposedly never do and should have cost us $500, but we were given for free.   The very fact that we are here – that we were given the money to come serve here – seriously, a huge blessing!

So, life here does have its moments, and I have my moments, but we keep plugging along, doing what we are called to do here, and crossing that Novena – which I’m optimistic just got a little easier because today I found a much better, more like a -wire -cage -with- wagon wheels pull cart.  It’s like the Mercedes of pull carts, I’m sure, and let’s hope it performs like one.

And by the way, Nathaniel later retrieved my runaway wheel.  It had been flung to the side of the road and had been run over so many times that it was barely recognizable.  Thankfully when he brought it home to show me, the incident was behind me enough to laugh at it, but the anti-hoarder in me is ensuring that that cart is going out with the trash first thing in the morning.

As you can tell, since I’m blogging from my bed, we now have internet in our place!  Hooray!  Let me tell you, it has made all the difference in my sanity level.  Just to know that I can be connected to my family and friends and know what is happening in the world is so nice.  But one thing that is a real struggle for me – seeing all of my southern friend’s facebook pictures where they are wearing shorts and t-shirts and cute summery clothes while we are experiencing winter over here.  Granted, “winter” still hovers around the mid 60′s, but still, I feel like I’m being cheated out of Spring a little bit.

We are starting to find our footing here more and more.  I have realized though just how little we know about this big city.  I haven’t even been to the downtown area yet (something I’ve heard is wise to avoid).  We were looking at a map of Bogota and realized that we only know a tiny little centimeter of this ginormous city.  That thought can be very intimidating.

This week we are working on finding childcare.  The more we’ve researched the pre-schools, the more we wonder if that is the best option.  Gabriella is still too little to go to them, so we’d need to hire a nanny anyways.  But then I think about how Jeremiah would learn Spanish better in a pre-school, and he’d be able to get out each day and be with friends, but then I think about how they are typically expensive and maybe a little more than we can handle each day.  But then, I really want him to thrive.  But then, I realize that this is only for a year and we need to do the best we can.  So, that’s where my brain is at.  Anyways, as soon as we can get childcare, then I can start school.  Yikes, it will finally be happening.  My goal is to start school a week from today – which sounds impossible with how I am feeling at this moment.

I’ve also learned in these last few weeks that each day is different – which means that a really really good day can be followed by a really bad day, and a really bad day, making me wish we could go back “home,” can be followed by a really really good day.  And sometimes the bad day and the good day are in the same actual day.  But what is so clear is how much we are being taken care of by God, and how grateful we are to be here.

Nathaniel is preaching this Sunday and leading worship, and he has begun part of the apprenticeship program as well.  Of course he is excited about these opportunities for ministry, which are really putting his gifts to use.   I am realizing more and more the need to improve my Spanish, which is actually getting me excited to start school.

And, thankfully, instead of asking to “go home,” Jeremiah now asks if we can go to the park – which we have about three options within a block of us.  He also today handed me the phone and told me to say, “hola.”  He’s getting it – and probably adjusting faster than we are – which is so typical of little kids.

So, that’s life lately.  Every day – even the sick ones – feel like an adventure, and every day – even the hard ones – we feel so blessed to be here.

Tonight (April 20th) marks two weeks since we arrived in Bogota. I still can’t believe we are here – that we actually made it – we actually raised all of our support and are now finally on this part of the journey to missions. The whole last month has been a whirlwind. With only 18 days notice that we were leaving, our entire lives revolved around moving to Colombia. There were goodbyes and packing and shopping and packing packing packing and then more goodbyes. It was such a highly emotional time that it almost felt anti-climatic to actually get on a plane and move to Bogota. I kept on thinking that we were just going for a short visit and we’d return to our little condo in north Georgia with our car, our family, and our routine still there.

But no, we are here. We live here now. We are residents complete with special “cedula” (our Colombian ID) numbers and all.

I remember when I was in college and thinking about marriage, I used to ask myself, “what if he was the only person who you knew? Could you stand that? Would that be okay and happy, or does the thought of that make you cringe?” Ultimately, when I fell in love with Nathaniel, the answer to that question became “yes!,” but it hit me really hard two weeks ago when we were de-boarding the plane and walking through customs that the only people at that moment who I knew in the whole country of Colombia was my little family right there. Just Nathaniel and the children we’ve made. It was a strange realization, filled with emotion, but it was also okay. Even though I felt very very small in such a big, busy, Spanish speaking place, I had my Nathaniel by my side, embarking on this journey with me. It really is an honor to serve in missions with him.

Our flight to Bogota wasn’t bad – except for when Gabriella choked on a piece of cheese and threw up all over us. But, let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be a flight with our kids if it didn’t include vomit somehow. It was only about 41/2 hours – shorter than from Atlanta to Seattle – and amazingly enough, all 24 pieces of luggage arrived safely and with no trouble from customs. We were expecting to have issues getting through with 6 giant footlockers and 6 giant duffle bags, but they just let us pass on through, and almost immediately on the other side part of our new missionary team was waiting for us with smiles and hugs and a mini van to get our stuff “home.”

We were so graciously invited to stay with the Parsons who are on the team here and have children very close in age to ours. It was such a blessing to have them host us, dedicating most of their time to getting us settled and introducing us to Bogota. We made instant friends with them, and Jeremiah is crazy about their children, or “the kids,” as he calls them, and their dog “Snacks,” whose real name is Max.

The whole team has been amazing, we can’t emphasize that enough. The day after we arrived, another couple on the team came to say hi with a bouquet of flowers to welcome us! I’ve also been treated to a manicure by another team mate, been treated to several meals, been taken around town for various errands, and been thrown a birthday party. We feel so loved. We couldn’t believe the Parsons inviting us to stay with them, knowing fully well just how long it takes the average person to rent a place around here. Especially since we were running on a tight-ish budget, needing a furnished apartment, needing a flexible lease, and not having our cedula id ready yet. The Tuesday after we arrived here, Nathaniel sent out a prayer email to our supporters asking specifically to pray about us finding an apartment. That afternoon we went to look at one, completely skeptical that it would work out or that the landlord would be reasonable.

Why do we doubt what God can do!? We had decided beforehand that if this place was decent, we would just take it, and not do the usual Gutierrez thing where we look at a million options and then finally decide. And when we walked in, we quickly saw that it was more than decent and more than what we had expected. The furniture was perfect for us, and pretty much our normal style, it had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, fully furnished kitchen with plates, cups, pots, pans and silverware, sheets on the beds, plenty of storage for what little we have, and within walking distance to part of the team and almost any store we could need to get to. It is in a safe neighborhood and a security guard monitors the door so closely that we can’t even leave the apartment building without him pushing a button to unlock it.

And we instantly noted how kind the landlords are. They are an incredibly sweet couple, both doctors, one a laser eye surgeon (hello! Yes, please!), and have been so flexible and kind to us, even dropping a monthly administration fee from the lease. They brought me a cake for my birthday, have brought by more sheets and plates for the kids, and last Saturday when we were at the big home store picking up some extra things for our apartment, we ran into them because they were there buying stuff for us! (at which point we sneakily took stuff out of our cart after seeing what they were getting for us.) They’ve been by to fix a few minor things like the leaking ceiling/sky light, and are hopefully coming by soon to fix the oven door which has fallen out. They’ve also promised to give us a map with all of the best doctors for adults and children near us.

Anyways, so we saw the apartment on Tuesday, signed the lease on Wednesday, and moved in on Thursday (my birthday!), less than a week after arriving into Bogota. We are so blessed.

As grateful as we are about this place, now for the full disclosure: it is small. Really small. It is a sprawling 62 square meters, which is about 667 square feet – for the four of us. Thankfully there are parks nearby and the kids will hopefully be enrolled in a pre school/nursery for half the day while I go to school. And it is only for a year or less. You can do anything for a year, or less.

We still don’t have internet in our place yet – which is making me CRAZY!! – do you know how many kind birthday wishes I received that I still haven’t been able to respond to, and how many people I have wanted to talk to? But it has truly made us branch out and not depend on our “American” life, but to go out, explore the area, and read books, not surf Pinterest.

So far we’ve had a really good time here. City life in a city this big is overwhelming at times, and we are tired a lot – the 8,500 ft. altitude doesn’t help – nor does it help our egos when we get winded tying our shoes! We walk or take the bus or a taxi almost everywhere we need to go, and have one of those handy pull carts to load up our 2 or 3 days worth of groceries. We are getting the hang of the 1,700 pesos to a U.S. dollar ratio – which can be so confusing at times, like when baby food costs about 2,300 per jar.

The kids are adjusting well, although the other day I almost burst into tears when Jeremiah asked if we could “go home.” But today I told him that soon he is going to go to school and now that’s all he can ask me about, so maybe he’s not going to feel so lost anymore. Gabriella has cut two teeth since we’ve been here. Babies shouldn’t be allowed to teethe on the mission field. But, I’m happy to say that she’s finally starting to eat food – not just nurse – and all week while we’ve had meetings we’ve left the kids with sitters, usually five hours at a time, but I was just a block away if she really needed to nurse. But today, we were across town looking at language schools and I left her for the longest time ever in her life – 6 hours – and she did great – not even upset at all. This is a huge relief because I didn’t know how I was going to put her in childcare while I went across town to school for four hours a day if she needed to eat every 2 hours. Little stinker just wanted to nurse because she knew she could if I was right there.

Anyways, I could go on and on and on about our life here – but I’ll stop. If you’ve read this much you are a very good friend. Hopefully our internet will be connected soon so that my updates don’t have to be so long and comprehensive. Thank you for your prayers and kind words and love. We really need them right now, and have felt a strength that only comes from God. We had no idea even 6 months ago that we’d be spending 2012 in Bogota, but here we are, 15 years after Nathaniel first felt called to missions, 8 years since my call, and 18 months of support raising. It’s been a long journey, but the reward has been sweet, and as always, an adventure.

I can’t believe in a week from now we will be getting ready for Sunday morning….in Bogota.

So much has happened in these last few weeks since we got the okay to buy plane tickets that I can’t believe we are still standing.

Last week we went to Atlanta to get our Colombian and Peruvian visas/passports/citizenship and our pre-departure visit with MTW.  Here’s how those two days went: woke up early to drive to Atlanta.  Got to the Peruvian consolate where they started to process the kid’s citizenship.  Ran over to the Colombian consolate to hand in our paperwork for our visas there.  Ran back over to the Peruvian one, finished up the process there, got to MTW just before people started to leave, spent a few hours there, grabbed dinner, visited friends, got to the hotel and slept.  The next morning we finished up our business at MTW, ran to the Peruvian consolate to get the kid’s passports taken care of, ran to pick up our visas at the Colombian consolate, grabbed lunch and drove home.  Exhausted.

We were so happy with how smooth (albeit busy) those two days went, and were so grateful for Nathaniel’s dad who came along with us.  He was incredibly helpful.

On Monday, Nathaniel’s sister and brother arrived in town and we were all excited to see them and we wanted to celebrate together what would have been Nathaniel’s parent’s 38th wedding anniversary, and a month since her death.  But Jeremiah started acting strange and felt hot and was complaining about his tummy hurting so I sent Nathaniel alone and later that night was glad I did when I was catching his lunch in a garbage can.  His flu didn’t last long, but it was so hard not to be able to be with family when they were in town.  Thankfully by Wednesday, he was totally better and could accompany us as we signed our will – something required by MTW before departing for the field - and we could join the rest of the visiting family

We’ve been spending a lot of time gathering things for Peru and Colombia.  Vitamins, eye contacts, makeup, clothes and shoes, random treats for the kids, and the list goes on and on and on.  We even got Gabriella a big girl bed and bedding for when she is too big for a crib and we are in Peru.  It takes a lot to plan the next four years of your kid’s lives.  But, there was only so much we could afford to buy or even want to, and we know that while we have a lot of the comforts of American life packed away in our container, we are also going to proudly embrace the Peruvian way of life and wear their clothes, eat their special treats, and decorate with their decor.  It’s all about immersion.

Speaking of the container, it is packed and stored and ready to be shipped to Peru in a year.  We did that on Thursday.   The movers were amazing – packing everything for us.  But even though they did the majority of the legwork, it still took so much to prepare for them to come.  When I wasn’t eating, sleeping, or shopping, I was packing, sorting, weighing suitcases and hemming and hawing over if I should bring this one t-shirt or skirt to Colombia or just send it to Peru.  Also, I kept going around the house and forgetting what things needed to be prepped for an overseas move/year of storage.  For instance, with most moves, you just pack the iron because in a few days you’ll use it again.  On Wednesday night, I was blowdrying the iron to make sure all of the water was out of it so it didn’t mold for a year.  Also, you usually just move your appliances as is, but at 3:30 a.m., Nathaniel was wet-vacuuming our washing machine to make sure, once again, it didn’t sit in mold for a year (hmm, maybe I should have used the wet vac on my iron).  Anyways, everything took more time and energy and decision making.

But even still, on Thursday morning, 7 men came to our house with two moving trucks and lots of brown paper with blue cloth lining and packed and packed and packed.  I had wondered if they would give an extra tape around some of our rubbermaid storage bins that weren’t closing all the way.  No, they didn’t do that, they wrapped every single thing, even the tubs, in brown paper like it was a Christmas present.  Everything.  We now just have a huge load of brown paper things in varying shapes and sizes.  But they aren’t tied up with strings.  Oh well, I guess you can’t have it all.

Nathaniel’s family was amazing those few days in taking both kids so we could concentrate on the move and being at the house with the movers.  Nathaniel’s dad came over to make sure everything was going smoothly and kept an eye out like a father lion watching the herd of men moving our things.  We felt very cared for.

When we brought Jeremiah back to the house to get our Colombian luggage, he kept running around saying, “what happened?” “what happened?”  It was sad.  Poor little guy had stumbled upon massive change and we didn’t even warn him!  At least he had his little Lighting McQueen car to hold on to.

Since Thursday night we’ve been sleeping at Nathaniel’s dad’s house – which is where we lived for the first 6 months after we moved to Chattanooga.  Full circle.  Last time we brought in a 10 month old boy, and this time we are leaving with a 10 month old girl.  Wow.

We still have things to do and people to see and bills to pay before we leave on Friday.  I’m debating whether or not I should get Gabriella in for her well child visit now and risk her being all fever-y after a shot while we travel, or just postpone it until we get settled in Colombia.   I also don’t know when we will really be able to sit down and sort through the massive pile of clothing and etc that we are bringing to Colombia.  We know it is all going to fit, but we don’t really actually know how.

Today we sold our car.  The car that I drove to my wedding in, the car we loaded our two birds and a dog and drove down to seminary (and then back a few times for Christmas) , the car we brought our foster kids and our babies home in, and the car that got us through our support raising journey.  Now it is sold to another lovely family, and hopefully will give them many happy memories.  Moving to another house, watching our things get packed into a moving truck, saying good-bye to friends, that’s all been done before, multiple times.  But, and this may sound silly, we’ve always had our car.  We’ve always had America to drive that car around in.  And most of the time, when we leave, the car stays because we will be back for it soon.  But selling that car was the most final thing we could do in moving to Colombia/ Peru.  That’s it.  We are not coming back.  No one is borrowing the car.  We had to clean it out because it isn’t ours anymore.  Because we are no longer going to live in America.  And from here on out, whenever we are here, we will be just visiting.  We will need to borrow someone else’s car, home, furniture, etc, because our real life and our real home will be in Peru.  It makes me shiver with excitement and nervousness to think about.

I want to write so much more, about how my darling sisters in law threw me an early surprise 30th birthday party last night at my favorite restaurant, Tony’s.   The theme was, “thirty, flirty and thriving,” just like the movie, “13 going on 30,” which we watched last night because today my niece is turning 13!  How fun is that!?  Anyways, I don’t feel like I can do that story justice right now, so maybe I’ll write about it later.  It meant so much to me, and I want to write about it well.

Anyways, so that’s been our life in a nutshell.  There have been several good-byes already and tomorrow is our last Sunday here.  I cannot believe it is real, and I’m so excited that it is finally here.  And I’m tired.  Very tired and very thankful that the moving part of it all is over with so we can spend this week in sweet communion with loved ones in a relaxing and welcoming home – and being chauffeured around!