Chapter Close
Today marked a definitive chapter change in our life in Spain. Our first three months we were in a short-term apartment. But around that apartment was a neighborhood we came to love. We moved a week and a half ago, but we have been returning almost daily because of school. We’d catch the train in the morning and make the commute to school. And then do that again at lunch and again at the end of the day. It was . . . a lot.
Today we met with the director in the morning, who’d arranged a phone meeting to finalize getting us into our local school. Then we spent approximately 30 minutes just chatting. She talked to us about politics and culture and family history. And I didn’t know every word and may have missed some things, but I understood. It felt so good and right being in that space and listening to her story. When we left the office and walked out the gate, I wanted to break down right there on the street.
It is bizarre. We’ve been part of the school for only 3 months. And it is family. I know more staff members there than I think I’ve known at any other school my kids have attended. Last week a whole crew of staff was gathered around us helping brainstorm about getting appointments for various processes here, getting into a school near us, telling stories, and laughing.
It makes sense — this is a school made up of immigrants in an impoverished neighborhood. These educators know how to be scrappy, they know how to communicate across language divides, they know how to be home for those who desperately need it. And we did — we do.
We will see them again tomorrow as we march along with the teachers on strike. And still, leaving at the end of the day ached.
Today the secretary at the new school was shocked — “you’ve only lived in Spain three months?” To be clear, she was not at all fooled by our (lack of) language skills. I suspect she was shocked that we have only been here three months and are already changing schools. . . but so much life can happen in three months. So many steps on the sidewalks of a neighborhood. So many trips to and from a campus.
Our new school, our new neighborhood — they have large shoes to fill.
The teachers today told us “your kids will do well wherever they are.” As my partner responded, “they aren’t the ones I’m worried about.”
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Oh my gosh, what a gift to have the school staff/community truly WITH you, and working to help. I can feel at the depth of me the expression that it's "not them I'm worried about." Thought it is not without difficulty, I see in the immigrant families in our congregation how the children adapt much more quickly than the adults. And in all fairness, the adults carry a weight (of finding work, supporting the family, facing many issues) that the kids can't fully understand. As open and honest as you are with your children, they are still kids and thank God for every moment of that! Thank God for children's adaptability, ability to absorb language, and to see with eyes are amazing! Thank God for you as parents who are leaping in and trusting your ability to begin anew - all out of love for your children!
Once again you and your family amaze me. Again and again you have chosen the hard thing to do to keep your family safe. May you find peace in your new home and country.