Just An Ordinary Day (And It´s All Your State of Mind)

So I’ve written about highs and lows, anecdotes and full-blown stories, the theological and the political, vacations and retreats, but I realized recently I’ve never just given you all an idea of what I do on a normal day. Now granted, I have a lot of different versions of “normal days” seeing as I’m currently working in three different places, but I’ll do my best to describe “just an ordinary day” link (last Thursday, actually) working in the Compassion Program at the IEP Collique.

My alarm goes off at 7:00 AM. I snooze it, wrestle with it, and eventually manage to turn it off – consequently I oversleep until 8:00. My roommate and next-door-neighbors from last year (Hi Bizz, Sarah, and Abby!), who probably still have nightmares about my alarm going off every 5 minutes in college, may note that there are some things about me that just never change.

I reluctantly get out of bed and try to motivate myself to do some sort of devotional. I’ve tried several different strategies for personal devotionals since I arrived in Peru and have had a hard time finding one that clicks. I’ve tried reading through the Book of Acts (felt irrelevant to what I’m doing here), daily journaling (kept falling asleep), selecting random passages from Scripture (felt aimless and unfocused), an Advent journaling devotional from the PCUSA(was awesome, but ran out at the end of Advent), reading from a book of John Bell sermons (excellent devotional material, but book only lasted me 12 days), following devotional tracks in The Green Bible that Andy gave me for Christmas (wonderful material that I will definitely use for devotionals in the future, but didn’t provide the personal comfort and encouragement I’ve been needing recently), etc. My most recent attempt is re-reading Henri Nouwen’s link travel journal from his time in Peru and Bolivia, Gracias, and reflecting on what he has to say in light of my experience in living here nearly 7 months. It seems to be working pretty well…relevant, lots of material…I’ve got a good feeling about this one!

I make my way to the bathroom for my bi-weekly shower before work. As the heat of summer set in, I abandoned my old bucket shower using boiled water and now just take a straight-up cold shower. I still haven’t gotten used to it, but it’s much quicker and helps me face the heat of the day.

I make myself a quick breakfast - a roll of bread that is standard breakfast food here, sometimes with some cheese or jam. Eduardo has already left for work, but Flor hears me awake and comes out to talk with me for a few minutes over breakfast before going back to take care of Fabián. I brush my teeth, gather my things, and head out the door to work.

To get to work I first catch a colectivo, a taxi that goes to a specific location and fills up with as many people as possible, who only have to each pay part of the fare. I get out, cross the street and take a little blue combi, a variation on the Volkswagen-hippie-van that my brother wants to drive one day, the rest of the way to the church where I am greeted by shouts of “Hermana Ginna” (Sister Ginna), the title used for pretty much everyone within the churches here. It originally made me feel like I was either a nun or part of some cult, but I’ve gotten used to it by this point. It also makes life TREMENDOUSLY easier when you can’t remember someone’s name…you can just greet them as Hermana (sister) or Hermano (brother). I can’t tell you how many times that has rescued me in an awkward church situation!

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I alternate between all different ages and levels, but on Thursdays like today only the youngest level, the 3-to-6-year-olds, come in for the whole day, so I’m always with them. This makes Thursday the most cuteness-filled and also the most exhausting day of work. There are about 10 to 15 kids in the morning and then a different group of about the same number in the afternoon!

Walking into the room of kids is always one of my favorite parts. They all stop what they’re doing, yell “Hermana Ginna!” and run as fast as they can to hug and kiss me. I honestly don’t know what I’ve done to warrant that kind of love…is it just because I look different? Talk funny? Am only with them on certain days? I don’t deserve their affection nearly as much as the other teachers there who run the classes and work so much harder than I do. But it’s love, and I’ll gladly receive it, especially in a culture where hugs are rare and showing emotion can be taboo. There’s something incredibly beautiful and refreshing about kids this age.

They start the day playing among themselves, and then eventually the teacher rounds them up for some singing (I feebly try to help with this part), a little bit of Jesus-talk (considering the great differences between my theology and that of the teacher, I try to keep quiet for the most part in this, not wanting to confuse the kids by arguing theology and ethics with the other teacher. It’s hard…as most of you know, I’m not very good at keeping quiet!) and some sort of education time – today it’s reviewing different symptoms of different sicknesses, how to take care of ourselves, and when we should ask our parents to take us to the doctor. I can always get excited about some good public health education. And the pictures they use to demonstrate the sicknesses are straight up hilarious!

Diarrhea. In case you couldn´t figure that out...

After this we join hands and walk to the park several blocks away. It’s a pretty humble park – a slide, some monkey-bars, and a set of seesaws, only one of which actually works the way it was intended – but the kids love it! Today I’ve got monkey-bar-duty: I hold the kids up as one by one they make their way across the monkey bars…I can only hope it’s a good arm workout!

When we get back from the park, it’s time for lunch, so we get the kids seated, say a prayer, and I start passing out the food while the other teacher leads them in a resounding chorus of a song called “Los Alimentos”, basically explaining how we eat. It’s become out of my favorites.

The kids eat (and so do we, between some combination of refilling cups, cleaning up spilled drinks, feeding the kids when they’re being picky eaters, and dolling out toothpaste when they’re done) A flurry of cheek kisses and they’re gone, leaving us with a little peace and quiet and time to clean everything up before the afternoon group arrives.

Often the afternoon group has the same activities as the morning group, but not today. After a LONG lunch (these kids don’t want to eat today…I think I end up having to feed at least 5 of them their lunches. However, it is canned tuna…so can I really blame them?), the kids play among themselves for a bit and the teacher informs me she’s leaving to go talk with one of the parents but will be back in a few minutes. This sentence always puts a little dread in my heart as 1.) It’s hard to control 15 kids period, especially when I’m operating in my second language and 2.) “A few minutes” or “A little bit” in Peru usually means anywhere from half an hour to an hour.

So we carry on for awhile, until Pierro, who I love and adore but has some anger issues, gets upset about something and starts throwing chairs around the room (honestly, this is really a weekly occurrence with him). I finally get to him and wrestle him into a chair (one of the ones he was throwing, ironically enough) and tell him that we’re just going to sit there for 5 minutes until he calms down and has had some time to think about what he’s doing. Time out is not used her as a punishment, but the kids have learned to expect it from me…it’s really one of the only ways I know how to discipline these kids. I am not comfortable administering physical punishment, they don’t take me very seriously when I talk to them because I will inevitably make some language mistake that discredits me in their mind (at this age they don’t really understand the concept that I speak another language and had to learn Spanish, they just think I’m stupid), so time out it is. Pierro’s pretty resistant today, continues trying to struggle out of the chair, and eventually bites me, but gives up on that when I don’t react. My pain tolerance has definitely increased since coming here. While I’m still trying to sit with Pierro, the other teacher comes back, I explain what’s going on, and she takes him over to talk with her. After literally one minute, he comes over in tears and apologizes. She’s got a magic touch with those kids that I can only admire and try to learn from.

Pierro, pretending to be a lion, about an hour before he bit me. I should have seen it coming...

A little later, we turn on some music and a few of the girls who were in a “choreography” (can’t use the word “dancing”) workshop over the summer do their dances to the music. They’re super cute, and honestly at the age of 5 are better dancers than I will ever be. We dance until they finally get tired, when the teacher rounds them up and sends them over to the tables to finish the day with a craft.

To my surprise, even though the class is both boys and girls, we’re making bracelets. But the boys don’t seem at all phased by this – they’ve got soccer balls and Indian beads for their bracelets, so all is well. Much to my relief, no chairs are thrown this time.

The kids finish their bracelets, their parents come to pick them up, and after another round of clean-up, the teacher and I are free to go. I take the combi most of the way home, but stop at an internet café to check emails (mostly copy and paste them to my USB drive so I can read them when I get home!) and, inevitably, g-chat with the other YAVs. As much as we laugh about it, it really is good for us to be able to be there to support one another and share crazy stories of the day (today I am super excited to share the story of getting bitten!).

The afternoon girls doing their dance

I leave the cabina and walk about 20 blocks or so to my house. I always love this walk – it gives me some time to clear my head, get some exercise, people watch, etc. When I get home, Flor and Fabián are there, but Eduardo still hasn’t made it back from work (his new job with the Presbytery has him working pretty far way), so I greet them and then head to my room to actually read those emails I picked up at the internet café and relax by myself for a little bit. Later, when Eduardo gets home, Flor calls us in to dinner where we chat some and watch “Al Fondo Hay Sitio”, the hit Peruvian prime-time soap opera (and INCREDIBLY popular song of the same name), on the small kitchen TV.

After dinner I wash the dishes (this has become my dinner chore since we all know me cooking is a bad idea…), kick the soccer ball around in the living room with Fabián for a little bit (not sure that’s really a good idea either), and we head to our separate rooms. I listen to music, read, do more emails, and sometimes watch a movie before falling into an exhausted sleep, often still dressed and with the light on.

I’m startled out of my sleep by the alarm going off at 7 AM. I immediately reach to snooze it, and we start all over again!

I Wasn't Home for Christmas

I Wasn’t Home for Christmas

It’s as simple as that. I wake up January 19, look at the calendar, wonder where Christmas went and how it got to be 2010, and then I remember.

Oh yeah. I spent Christmas in Peru. Crazy.

This was the first Christmas of my life that I’ve spent away from my family, my house, my bed, my church, my dinner table, my tree – whatever sign of homeliness and familiarity we decide to use, this was the first time I was far from any of it. I missed it, for sure, but mostly in the days leading up to Christmas, in Advent (my favorite season of all, liturgical or otherwise), the season of expectation. A certain excitement and warmth builds within us as we wait for…something. What exactly we don’t know. The coming of the Christ child? Getting to light the big white candle? (Personally the pink candle was always my favorite.) Finally getting to find out what’s inside that present? The Monroe/Block Christmas Party? The Christmas pageant? The Christmas pig? The infamous “Christmas Stew” that you eat for weeks after Christmas and basically consists of everything you ate for Christmas dinner thrown together in a pot? The day when your kids finally let you change the radio station form Lite 98? We don’t really know. But it’s somewhere in the waiting that the Christmas spirit always finds me.

So this year, as I was waiting, I had the very disconcerting realization that I had no idea, really, what I was waiting for. None of the things listed above were going to happen for me this year. Except for the coming of the Christ child, I guess, but who really knows what that means anyway. I wasn’t in much of a mood for divine mysteries.

So I was excited, I was sad, I had new learning experiences, I spent an inordinate amount of time with Sarah Alta at Megaplaza because in some strange way, the lights and banter of the mall were the closest thing I could find to my experiences of US Christmases. (As a side note, I actually don’t mind commercialized Christmas. Sure, it’s very easy to miss the point and important to remind ourselves that we are really celebrating the humble birth of a man who lived a life of revolutionary love and was to change history forever, but for me, there’s something exciting, sentimental, and romantic about the lights, the music, the excited kids…it just does it for me.) I ate too much, exchanged gifts, cried on the phone with my family (sorry about that, guys…), watched Love Actually and had myself a Peruvian Christmas. I’m still processing what it was to spend Christmas away from home and experience it in a completely different cultural context – I may not finish processing that until next Christmas. But for now, I’ll try to describe for you, as best I can, my Peruvian Christmas.

First of all, as many of you know, working in the church makes for a crazy Christmas season. And it certainly was busy and crazy, but not as much as I expected. You see, for a culture in which church and religious practice are often treated as the most essential and core part of one’s life, Christmas is surprisingly…unchurchly. Christmas itself is really about family here. Each of the two churches I work for had a Christmas service, but one was December 20^th and the other the 23^rd. Christmas Eve services don’t happen in the IEP (though I’m willing to bet something like that exists in the Catholic church…).

In the IEP Ingeniería, the service was a little bit like a big Christmas talent show with interspersed songs (though most weren’t Christmas songs), a mini Christmas story reenactment, and a sermon. And then when everything was done, we drank hot chocolate (even though it’s summer here) and ate Paneton, the traditional Peruvian Christmas food which is best described as a lighter, fluffier, and much more delicious version of fruitcake. Each of the children present received a present bought by the church especially for him or her and everyone was happy and full of Christmas spirit. Not the same feeling I get at the Christmas Eve service at home, but still, the presence of a spirit of joy.

The service at the IEP Collique was less remarkable and less interesting, but along the same lines…talent show-esque with a sermon worked in there and Paneton and hot chocolate afterward.

Another interesting note –at both churches, where secular music, stories, really secular anything is often frowned-upon, the altars and front of the sanctuaries were decorated with what we call “tacky-Christmas-lights”, Christmas trees, and basically things you would never find in the sanctuary of a typical PCUSA church in the states. Like I said it’s interesting to see the differences across culture of what we to be sacred.

As I said earlier, there’s no Christmas Eve service. In fact, Christmas itself is celebrated on the 24^th, our Christmas Eve, at midnight. It’s much like our conception of New Years (or Michael Scott’s conception of marriage, if you’ve seen the episode of The Office where Jim and Pam get married). The whole extended family gathers at the home of some relative and waits anxiously for midnight, when they can officially begin Christmas dinner, a great feast in the middle of the night (quite a surprise for the stomach, since in Peru lunch is the biggest meal of the day and you don’t usually go to bed with a lot of food on your stomach). Christmas dinner consists of turkey, rice prepared with Coca-Cola (not kidding!), lots of other delicious dishes, and ends with (you guessed it!) Paneton!

Another exciting and totally new thing for me about Christmas is that at midnight, when it officially becomes “Christmas Day,” EVERYONE sets off fireworks. I mean everyone. I’m not sure about the legality of fireworks in Peru, but as my host family once reminded me, “prohibido” doesn’t really mean that much here. It’s bigger than any Fourth of July show I’ve ever seen, really an amazing sight. And such a contrast to the “Silent Night” that I think of when I think of Christmas night. It was a sight to be seen. I can honestly say I have never and probably never will again celebrate Christmas in such a loud, festive, boisterous way!

The 25^th, the big Christmas Day for us, is more of a day of rest in Peru. As you can imagine, if you started dinner in your relatives’ house across town at midnight the night before, you’re not much for waking up early on Christmas Morning. I think Alta and I got out of bed around noon. We went to Flor’s family’s house for Christmas lunch (we’d been with Eduardo’s family the night before) but before, as we were wrapping presents, made sure to listen to the Messiah (typical Christmas music at my house), Amy Grant Christmas songs (Typical Terpstra fam Christmas music), and Mannheim Steamroller, which feels like home to both of us. We also spent much of the time that she was here with me sitting on my bed harmonizing to Christmas Carols, mostly minor, of course!

At Flor’s family’s house we had another delicious turkey meal and did a Secret Santa gift exchange among the adults (all the kids got some sort of tricycle). Then we came back, crashed, I called my family and cried, Sarah talked with her host family from Huancavelica…and we ate some more Paneton. Not kidding. And that was it. That was Christmas. We left the next day for vacation (which will be my next blog post, coming soon, I promise). Very surreal, and looking back, it doesn’t feel like Christmas actually happened. It was just all so different. Like I said, I’m still very much processing it. If I come to any great insights about the interconnectedness of the whole world in the birth of the one poor child who changed the world (and there’s 10 million more who probably could…), I’ll be sure to let y’all know. But who knows. Come Christmas next year, maybe I’ll find myself feeling a little homesick for fireworks, summer weather, and of course Paneton!

Trying to fit the world inside a picture frame

Hello all!

I’ve been meaning to share pictures with you all for awhile, but due to a series of unfortunate and fortunate events (my camera broke my second day in Peru, I was able to steal pictures from other YAVs, I bought a new camera a week and a half ago, it got stolen 6 days later from one of the churches where I’m working, the very gracious people at the church insisted on buying me a new one yesterday…that’s the short version). But here are some sights and faces from my life in Peru…

Meet the Cast

(Photo: Sarah T.)

Anna Gray, fellow YAV working with fair trade and agriculture development in Huancayo. Originally from Alaska, which means she does in fact talk a little bit like Sarah Palin but is infinitely smarter and a better person. Also, I think she’s part polar bear

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Alissa King, fellow YAV working with a public radio station in Huanta (near Ayacucho). From Texas, so she, Meredith, and Stefanie are slowly redeeming the state for me. She is deceptively sassy. And yes, this was us in the airport, all the YAVs toasting Presbyterian mission work! Don’t worry, supporters, I paid for that beer with my own money, not yours. :)

(Photo: Anna)

Sarah “Alta” Terpstra, fellow YAV working with an environmental organization in Huancavelica. She’s from Tennessee, was a park ranger this summer, and takes pictures of literally everything. But they’re pretty incredible and artistic. She also has a beautiful voice. And only exists in grayscale and green.

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Sarah “Baja” Chancellor, fellow YAV from Oklahoma working with a battered women’s shelter in Huánaco. She is full of sunshine and understands my obsession with The Office. Wherever she is, no matter what night it is, it is ALWAYS Ladies’ Night.

(Photo: Joe)

Joe Tobiason, fellow YAV from Washington living in Lima (but still about an hour away from me) and working at the office of the Red Uniendos Manos with publicity and at another environmental organization. He suffers from the age-old problem of hot-arms-cold-torso and is therefore very grateful for the invention of the polar fleece vest.

(Photo: Joe)

…Aaaand yours truly. This was during the day-long hike (see post 4). I was FILTHY!

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Debbie, our site coordinator and “Mama Pata” (Mother Duck), with Conrado, president of the Red, and Koky, a member of the Fair Trade Team. She is laughing in this picture because she is literally always laughing. Seriously. I have determined that I want to laugh that much when I “grow up.” But I think her secret is she never really grew up…

(Photo: Me! My third camera in Peru…)

Eduardo and Flor Arboccó, my host parents. Eduardo is the pastor of the IEP Ingeniería (link), where I work Fridays through Sundays, and the president of the Fraternidad Cristiana Vida, an organization of 12ish (I think?) churches in the IEP that is a partner of the Red Uniendo Manos and includes both of the churches with which I am working. Flor teaches the youngest Sunday School class, cooks some delicious Peruvian food, and is a pretty excellent dancer. Maybe by the end of the year I’ll have learned a little bit...?

(Photo: Me)

Me with Fabián, my host brother. He’s two years old and loves Barney, Chabo (link), and his cousin Diego, better known as “Pelau” (a nickname from when he was younger that means ´´baldy.´´ apparently he was bald as a baby?) As an only child, he’s not so sure how he feels about having me around and sharing his parents. He still informs us daily that he does not like Ginna. But I think I’m starting to win him over – he’s been spending a lot more time with me in my room recently…

My Peruvian Home…

(Photo: Me)

My house!

(Photo: Me)

My room (cleaner than it usually is, trust me)

(Photo: Me)

Courtyard where we dry clothes. Yes, those are my underwear. Figured it was better to take pics of my own ropa interior than the family’s. So enjoy!

(Photo: Me)

“Peruvian Shower”

(Photo: Me)

My Neighborhood

A Glimpse into my Peruvian Life…

(Photo: Alexandra)

These are some pictures from the affectionately termed “hike of death.” Alexandra, in the pink, is a 3-year mission worker from the PCUSA working specifically with Fair Trade in the Red. José, on the far left, is a member of la Ingeniería and the funniest person in all of Peru.

(Photo: Alexandra)

Yes, it was that steep. The district below, Comas, is where I work with the IEP Collique.

(Photo: Sarah T.)

Our path. And yes, we hiked far beyond that hazy mountain in the background…trust me.

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Obligatory photo with a llama

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Perro Peruano. Very ugly hairless dog that is native to Peru.

(Photo: Anna)

Some things cannot be explained…

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Us with some fair trade jewelry artisans in Lima

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Me getting very wet at the Parque de Agua. You must remember, it was winter here when this happened, so it was pretty cold. But oh it was so worth it!

(Photo: Sarah C.)

Learning to make Pisco Sour, a typical Peruvian beverage that tastes like a Margarita with Whisky and is super strong!

(Photo: Sarah C)

Our last night with our orientation host family (right to left: María Fernanda, María Jesús, Damaris)

(Photo: Eduardo)

My host aunt Marienela with Fabián and host-cousin Diego/“Pelau” (left)

(Photo: Me)

Youth that I work with at the IEP Collique (link)

(Photo: Me)

The hill next to the church where the majority of my kids live. These are the shantytowns I mentioned in my last post.

(Photo: Eduardo)

Me preaching at la Ingeniería. My first “real sermon,” and it was in Spanish! Apparently it’s going on YouTube? If so, I’ll post the video and an English translation.

This by no means covers my life and experiences here, but I hope it at least gives you a little look at what things are like here and some faces to put with names. I’ve never been the greatest photo-taker, but I’ll try hard to keep a picture or two coming with my posts in the future.
Or maybe I’ll just tell you all about it when I’m in the mood to lose my way with words.

"You Can Hear the Whistle Blow 100 Miles..."

First of all, I apologize for going so long between posts! When I got online a few days ago, I was a little embarrassed to realize that I am the last of the Peru YAVs to post since arriving in my placement. (You should really check out their blogs on the left, by the way. They’ve written some really wonderful things that I would love to tell you about, though there’s no way to fit everything I want to say into these blog posts. Also they have functioning cameras, though I am going to try to steal a few pics for this post.) In all fairness, I don’t have internet at home and don’t really get the opportunity to use it at work since I’m not working in an office setting, but so much has happened, and I want to be able to share it with you all! So forgive my lateness, and for now, let’s just say my blog is operating on “la hora peruana” (Basically, absolutely nothing is ever anywhere near on time. I am living in Laura Wagstaff’s personal hell. :))

As of yesterday, I’ve been in Peru for a month. After 2 weeks of orientation with my wonderful fellow YAVs, I moved in with my “official” host family in a northern district of Lima, Carabayllo, and started work at the two churches I’m serving. Tuesday through Thursday I work at a church in Comas called the IEP Collique with their branch of Compassion International, and Friday through Sunday I work at the IEP Ingeniería teaching English and music and assisting with worship, Sunday school (which, consequently, is on Saturday), and other programmatic events of the church. In typical Presbyterian fashion, I’d like to share some of my initial impressions and experiences (WOWs and POWs, if you will) of my new life in Peru…

WOWs (aka Things I Like about my Experience Thus Far)

1.) The Challenge to Live Simply

One of the commitments that each YAV makes, even those not working in what the United States likes to call “Third World countries,” is to live as simply and sustainably as possible for the year. So far, this is a challenge that I’ve found enjoyable and fulfilling (except for limited access to internet, but for more on that, see the POW section). As I continue to read Jim Merkel’s book Radical Simplicity: Small Footprints on a Finite Earth, I am reminded that as an upper-middle class citizen of the United States, my personal carbon footprint/ecological impact on this earth is enormous! That said, I am enjoying living in what for me is a step back, though I am greatly aware that it is an unavoidable reality for the majority of Peruvians, which is an incredible injustice when you look at the way much of the Northern world lives. However, I think there is a great deal to be said for the humble and sustainable lifestyle that my host family lives, and our persecuted planet would benefit greatly if we in the United States could learn to live in a similar fashion. Things like eating locally grown food (“locally” is a relative term, since I live in Lima, but most of our food, bought at the local markets, is from the surrounding areas), using a clothesline instead of a dryer, not having heat or air-conditioning (now granted, it’s winter/spring now, I’ll let you know how I feel about the lack of air-conditioning come summer…), using public transportation, never throwing away food, etc. But my personal favorite is the Peruvian shower.

First of all, let me say that I’ve pretty much gotten into the routine of one shower a week. Those who knew me in college may not be too surprised by this, though you’re still probably all gagging. But really, friends, we don’t need to shower every day. We’re accustomed to it and like the way our hair looks afterwards, but our bodies don’t actually need it, and think of all the water that is used unnecessarily. I’m not advocating bad hygiene here, but it wouldn’t hurt if we gave ourselves a day or two.

When I do take my weekly or bi-weekly shower, it’s from a bucket. We have a functioning shower in our house, but the water is frigid, and after one go with the running water, I decided the bucket was a much better option. Yes, it’s a bit uncomfortable, yes, it’s cold, and yes, it’s a far cry from the gentle, warm, wake-you-up-in-the-morning showers I liked to enjoy at home, but after my shower, I feel like I’ve done something for the world (aside from rid myself of B.O….which is arguably doing something for the world in and of itself) in using so little water. So I challenge you all to give the Peruvian shower a try. Here’s what you do:

Get a big bucket (ours is 5 gallons, but really, 3 would do), and fill it half full with cold water. Then boil a big pot of cold water (very few people here have the hot water that we take for granted) and pour that into the bucket with the cold water. What you get is something between lukewarm and warm, but believe me, it’ll do. Now all you have to do is take a cup of some sort and use it to pour the water over yourself. Shampoo, soap, shaving, all the same, but you don’t have that constant stream of unnecessary running water. So friends, supporters, partners in ministry, this is my challenge to you. Give it a try and comment on this blog entry to let me know how it goes!

(For more on simple living and the things we take for granted, check out fellow Peru YAV Sarah Terpstra’s post on Invisible Luxuries. Though her simple lifestyle is more drastic than mine, I can identify with the majority of her examples, especially the toilet seats. Friends, toilet bowls are, in fact, very cold!)

2.) Serving “The Least of These”

I recognize that this may sound cliché and condescending, and I apologize. I certainly don’t mean for it to. It’s just that that’s the whole reason I’m here – to serve those in need, particularly those who often don’t have the basic necessities for life. I experience this most in my work with the kids from Compassion International in Collique. I don’t yet fully understand the realities that these children live with, but I’ll share with you some of what I know. Nearly all of them live in the Pueblos Jóvenes (shantytowns) of Comas in the foothills of the mountains. Most of the people in these communities have migrated from the mountains during the 20 years of Violence or times of economic difficulty. (See pictures below, but of course, as I still don’t have a camera, I have to give all credit to Joe and Alexandra, one of the long-term mission personnel working at the Red Uniendo Manos.)

What you see here doesn’t even begin to capture how these families live. Families with five or six children live in crudely-constructed, one-room homes with none of the “necessities” that we as Americans tend to assume (electricity, running water, heat). In one community that I visited, potable water is available once every three days, and even that can’t be counted on. The walkways are littered with trash and feces. Children usually stay home by themselves (both parents have to work to sustain the family), or work in the fields and shops alongside their parents. It is a cruel and unfair reality. And to top it all off, they’re hundreds of miles away from their extended families, which here in Peru are as important as our immediate families are to us in the US. It’s hard to be far from home…but I’ll get to that in a minute. For now, what I’m trying to say is that serving the children of these Pueblos Jóvenes alongside church-members from the same area just feels right.

Compassion International provides a holistic program of education and care, with everything from games and music to school-esque cognitive activities to spiritual development to public health education. One of the most meaningful parts of the day for me is serving the kids their warm drinks at lunch time. It makes me thing of Mark 9:41: “I tell you the truth, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his/her reward.” And as I hand my kids their drinks, I begin to feel that there could be no greater reward than knowing that they might be able to go home to a safe and healthy home with adequate food and water, free of the structural injustice that keeps them and their families living in poverty.

POWs (aka Things I’m Struggling With)

1.) Loneliness

This goes without saying, but it’s hard to be so far away from home. I always knew conceptually that this transition would be tough, but emotionally, I just had no idea what it would entail. There’s the language barrier, of course, which makes it hard to express my thoughts and feelings to friends, family, and coworkers, and the cultural differences that remind me constantly that I come from a very different walk of life than the people with whom I live and work. My feelings of loneliness are perpetuated by the fact that I have no internet access at home and only very occasionally at work, which makes me feel estranged and cut off from loved ones back home as well. It’s just not an easy transition.

During our two weeks of in-country orientation, Sarah shared the song 500 Miles with me. It’s a beautiful song that I turn to when I’m feeling lonely. I encourage you to listen to it, but know that neither this recording nor any other can sound as beautiful as Sarah singing it in perfect harmony with her family on her last Sunday at church before leaving for Peru. The words are simple, the music beautiful. I like this song because it doesn’t try to cheer me up or tell me everything’s going to be ok – it simply meets me where I am and offers itself to me.

As I try to feel at home in my new community, I find myself thinking of the words of one of my fellow YAVs, Anna. When I expressed to her one day my loneliness and worries about spending the entire day with extended family that I hadn’t yet met, she sent me this message: “Remember, you’ll be surrounded by people who love you without even knowing you, and that’s a very comforting love.” She was right – I spent that day and many others with people who have decided to love me before they knew who I was. This love is beautiful, profound, and theologically meaningful, but I haven’t yet learned to be comforted by it. In fact, I think it really scares me. It’s too powerful, too dangerous to touch – sometimes I don’t believe it even really exists. I want to be loved for me, because people know who I am and love the person they have come to know. It’s hard to accept unconditional love from a stranger. It’s uncomfortably humbling. But maybe, just maybe, if I keep trying to live into these words, it will slowly become humblingly comforting.

2.) Theological Conservatism

Those of you who know me know that I tend to be pretty liberal on all accounts, particularly in my theological interpretation. While I’ve known all along that the Protestant Church in Peru is more conservative, the idealistic liberation theologian in me continues to cling to this vision of a Latin American Church that is constantly proclaiming good news for the poor and the Year of Jubilee. This is not exactly my current reality. Socially, I’m pretty much on the same page as the churches I’m serving – they’re all about eradicating the root causes of poverty and working for environmental justice. But theologically, there’s a good deal of Biblical literalism and evangelical sentiment that I wasn’t expecting and to which I am not exactly sure how to gracefully and lovingly respond.

I particularly struggle with the evangelical component. The other day, I accompanied one of my fellow teachers from Collique on a visit to the home of one of the kids. The experience of being invited into this girl’s home and received so hospitably by her family was wonderful, and I was really appreciative to get a glimpse of her daily reality. But somehow, without me really knowing what was going on, it turned from a check-up on the health of the family to my fellow teacher instructing me to evangelize to a man in the neighborhood who “did not know Christ.” In front of this man, who was clearly very uncomfortable with the solicitations, she told me I needed to pray that he would “accept the Lord into his heart.” Fortunately it’s early enough in the year that I could play the bad-Spanish card and pretend I didn’t know what exactly was going on, but it was a really uncomfortable situation. I am willing to adapt and change in many ways to live into my Peruvian reality, but I can and will not participate in activities that I consider immoral. And in my book, insensitively forcing my own beliefs on another person is immoral and counterproductive to the mission of the Church (feel free to take issue with this, by the way). So I find myself facing the difficult question of how to remain true to myself and my own convictions while lovingly and respectfully partnering with my coworkers. I don’t have the answer yet. But I’ll let you know what I discover throughout the year.

To close, I’d like to once again share a passage from Scripture that’s been floating around in my head recently. My first couple days in Peru, I decided to do a personal study of the book of Acts, reading a little each night before I went to bed. I’ve been here a month, and the part I’m sharing with you is from Chapter 2, so you can see for yourself how faithfully I’ve kept to that! Anyway, the passage is from Acts 2:42-47:

“[The early Christians] devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he/she had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”

This and Acts 4:32-34 are often cited as the first references to Christian Socialism, and I really enjoy these passages. A community of people who live together in fellowship, sharing all things in common and renouncing private property sounds a lot to me like the Kingdom of God. (Stick with me, my friends of a more conservative persuasion. I promise this is not one of my economic tirades!)

However, these verses are not just about an economic and social policy among the early believers – they’re also about fellowship, a lifestyle of community. And I’m finding that sharing your life, your very self, can be harder than sharing your possessions. It’s scary. Sharing requires vulnerability. And vulnerability means that at one point or another, you’re going to get hurt. It’s much easier for me to share living space, cleaning responsibilities, books and movies, and my laptop with my host family and community in Peru than it is to share my personal time or my feelings of loneliness and fear. But true community requires both.

And in spite of it all, I think it’s worth it. This past weekend I learned a little bit about the value of vulnerability. After several really rough days, including a super-lonely birthday, I mustered up the courage to email Debbie, our site coordinator, and express to her the sadness I was feeling. She surprised me by showing up the very next morning at the church where I was working and just letting me talk for a couple hours after the service. And the most beautiful thing happened. (I hope this doesn’t embarrass you, Debbie, when you inevitably read this!) As I was talking about my loneliness and struggles with my new life in Peru, she started crying. Just because she loved me. Just because she wanted me to make it through the hard times and feel joyful again. Just because that’s what it means to be a part of a community.

The Indigo Girls said it right. We’re better off for all that we let in.