MISS: Playing Bass: My church doesn’t have a praise band. I don’t think they ever will. Which is ok, we do the hymn thing, we do it well, and I am very excited to return to four part harmony. However, I have loved the opportunity to be a part of a fairly excellent praise band. The same goes for being in H20, the RECH rock band. I feel that God gave me one year to live out my dream of rock star and I have loved every minute of it. I do not however, take it as a sign that God is preparing me to be the next Bono. I’m afraid my rock star days are numbered.

NOT MISS: Having to Convert all American Recipes into Metric: I know the US is the only country that is really not getting the metric system, but I’m quite fond of cups, teaspoons, and tablespoons. I find myself running back and forth between the computer and the kitchen for the conversion chart. This same frustration surfaces with kilometers and Celsius. I should probably know the conversions for both of those by now. But I don’t.

MISS: Soccer: Not because I’m good, but because some of my most memorable bonding moments came on small fenced in concrete soccer courts.

NOT MISS: Not Flushing Toilet Paper: The plumbing here cannot handle the strain of toilet paper, so anywhere you go there is a wastebasket where these things must go. Everyone simply follows the rule of “brown faces down” and honestly after a year, it doesn’t faze you much anymore. I remember once seeing a Walmart employee dragging a huge transparent bag of poopy toilet paper down the main aisle and had to wonder at the stir that would have caused in the US. Despite my callousness, I still look forward to having snotty Kleenex being the worst possible thing that touches your hand when you take out the trash.

MISS: My MCC Team: People that are crazy enough to give up all the comforts of home to be awkward and live in a foreign environment for a portion of their lives in the name of their God, are without exception amazing and fascinating people. Though we only see each other periodically for team meetings, I always am surrounded by the feeling that I am part of something big, something greater than myself. It’s quite a rush and I think it’s something I was looking for in doing a year of service.

NOT MISS: Speaking Spanish: I still only understand between 50—70% of what’s said most of the time, which is not enough to feel intelligent and quite frankly, I like feeling intelligent.

MISS: Speaking Spanish: I know that as soon as I set foot on American soil I will be wishing there was somebody I could speak Spanish with. So I can feel intelligent. Funny that intelligence thing…

NOT MISS: Salsa as God’s Gift to Mankind: Its not just because of my spicy thing, it’s also because sometimes I feel it is really unnecessary. Like dumping it on popcorn. I feel that butter and salt usually do the trick. But whenever we watch a movie, my youth need to add salsa. This not only ruins the taste, it makes the popcorn SOGGY which is absolutely abhorrent. I am then forced to nibble around the edges of the popcorn like a little mouse.

MISS: My Congregation: I miss North Church. I miss the people, I miss the hymns, I miss Pastor Eric’s sermons, I miss the smell of cheerios in the nursery, I miss the desert table at potlucks. I could go on. But I have also come to know another way of worship, with different people, in a different culture, but with the same God. I have learned so much about the diversity of the body of Christ and I have been so blessed to not only have been so immediately accepted and loved here, but also to have the knowledge that they will always be praying for me here and will happily await a visit, whenever that may be.

NOT MISS: Megaphones: I know that vendors need to sell things to make a living. I know that sometimes they need to start selling things at 7:00 AM. But I REFUSE to believe that doing so up and down my streets with megaphones is necessary. Why? Because they use $5 megaphones and there is not a chance of understanding a word they say.

MISS: My Youth: First and foremost I will miss my youth, every last one of them. They have been patient, accepting, supportive, and have made my year a fabulous experience. When I left my loved ones at home I did so knowing I would see them again in a year. I have no idea when (or if) I will see some of my Mexican friends again.

In the end this is the hardest part about leaving: Leaving a group of people that I have bonded with through many shared experiences to return home to family and friends that love me dearly, but have shared no common experiences with me in the last year. In a way I return home with nervous anticipation, knowing that the transition back home is sometimes the hardest, but with the faith that with enough time, I can once again become part of the place I have always called home and have missed so much this year.