Pumpkins and plethoras

So, fall is wonderful. I think I see many things with new eyes after Peru, and fall is one thing I am seeing with renewed appreciation. The beauty of the colors really is astounding. And there's something about that crispness in the air and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet, those clear blue skies... things I've always loved, and I'm enjoying again.

And I've enjoyed some of the things that come with fall. Like pumpkins. With several of my friends and classmates who live in my apartment complex, I have been to a pumpkin farm,

complete with corn maze

pig races

and big pumpkin-shooter (oh yes, you read right),

carved pumpkins (and roasted their seeds :),

and eaten some choice, fall-inspired goodies that could very likely put you into diabetic ketoacidosis (which I can tell you all about, thanks to nursing school)... which, considering I'm not a diabetic, is probably quite a feat.

But another thing about fall is how it makes you think and be thankful. And this next week offers a lot of opportunities for that. I'm thankful for long bike rides on beautiful days. I'm thankful for a week break for Thanksgiving. I'm thankful to get to see friends soon. I'm thankful to get to spend time with family. I'm thankful for that feeling of rest you get when you are in that place where you grew up and (thankfully) feel content. I'm thankful for enough food to eat and grandparents and cousins to eat it with. I'm thankful for siblings, even though I won't get to see them over Thanksgiving. I'm thankful I get to be among all that this year. I'm thankful I got to be in Peru for it last year. Yes, there is certainly a plethora of blessings for which to give thanks... and may we never forget to do so.

In defense of playgrounds

Several weeks ago after church I made my way to a park a few blocks down and set up shop at a picnic table under a pavilion. If I had to study for these tests, by golly I wanted to enjoy the beautiful weather.

However, I ended up studying the people about as much as my notes. As parks will do, this particular picnic table was positioned next to a playground. Now I have many a fond memory of playgrounds, be it at Pierce Street Elementary School, Ballard Park, Joyner School, or down the street from my grandparents' house in Vicksburg. But now, regrettably being several years past prime playground age (and size - have you tried the monkeybars recently?!), I looked at this phenomenon with new eyes and a new appreciation.

In the space of about two hours that Sunday, I saw several families come and go. I saw four ethnicities and heard three languages. Each family had a different family structure. I wondered at their stories. Granted, this playground was uniquely placed near several neighborhoods that allow for this kind of diversity and variety of clientele. I know not every playground has such a priveleged opportunity.

What what a cool one it is. Think about it. A playground. A simple, natural place for kids to do all sorts of things that are important. Play. Be active. Run around. Be creative. Encounter other kids in their area. Perhaps kids who are quite different from them. And what if... they start playing together? What if the playground becomes more important than the differences? And they learn this without thinking from an early age? What if they have a safe, pretty, encouraging place to get outside, be active, and have this encounter? Not to mention the effects on the parents and caretakers that bring them...

So I have decided - perhaps again - that I am a proponent of playgrounds. Be on the lookout for a more timely next post on the defense of pumpkins. Because, especially as I missed October last year, I am remembering that fall is AWESOME.

Little things

It's always fun...and strange...and exciting moving somewhere new, starting over. Involves anticipation, anxiety, adjustment. I've had my share of all of the above in the past month, but I'm enjoying things overall. Nashville is a cool city and, amidst the classes and studying and tests that have now begun and threaten a steady stream, I've managed to sneak out and enjoy bits and pieces in opportune moments. Like farmer's markets, the National Folk Festival, a Greek Festival, free park concerts, or just studying under a shade tree and blue skies. Because, as cool as it is to be studying something I actually enjoy, want to do, and will use, it's important to keep a balance. From now on, nursing will be a huge part of who I am. But it's not my identity. Just a complement to it, another piece of who I am in the Lord. So, balance is necessary, I think.

Ergo, finding fun things as the (prudent) opportunities arise. :)

As I continue to get accustomed to this new place, a new role, and these new people here, familiar faces and comforts have been a pleasure. I've had the chance - and will soon be able - to see some people I love, as they've come through on their way here or there. One of the perks of being a little closer than Peru, I guess! Maybe not for too long, but it's a blessing to share some time with them. Like a cool spray of water on a hot day, or the joy that is an ice cream cone, they leave my heart with a smile, refreshed to jump back into the task of living and investing in this present.

So here's to good friends, family, fall on its way, and falling asleep to thunderstorms.

The next step

Wow, sorry I’ve taken this long to write again. It’s been a crazy month between enjoying friends and family in Tupelo, visiting siblings in D.C. and Kentucky, and preparing to move to Nashville. And now, here I am, with a new apartment, a new roommate, a new city, and a new program. And that’s all quite exciting. But sometimes I still remember that tomorrow makes four weeks since I left Trujillo. I still think about Peru every day, and I miss it. I’ve got the flag on my wall, limónes in the fridge, barley coffee on the counter, and pictures in the frames.

So, borrowing from my dear friend Devon Emig (although she did this before she actually ended her year in Germany), I’ll give a quick list of things I miss about Peru. And, to add an upbeat, things I’m glad to return to.

PERU IS AWESOME BECAUSE:

- The people

-The fruit (especially mangos, avocados, and juice)

-Menús (fixed price, 2 course lunches for 4 soles/$1.50)

-Bodegas (neighborhood everything-stores) and panaderías (bakeries)

-Colectivos, combis, micros (the exciting and crowed public transportation)

-Walking everywhere

-Being with people who are different from me in many ways every day, having relationships with them, and that being normal

-Fresh foods and cheap produce

-Speaking Spanish

-Salsa and cumbia music

-A lack of obsession with time, phones, and work

-People’s generosity, accessibility, and availability

THINGS THAT ARE NICE ABOUT THE U.S:

-Friends and family (of course)

-Toilet paper in public restrooms

-Water fountains and tap water

-It being normal to be an active, athletic girl

-Salads at meals

-Seasons

-Green (Peru is a beautiful country, and many parts have a lot of green. Trujillo isn’t one of them.)

-Driving (even though I didn’t really miss it)

-Telephone calls

Impact

Wow, I don’t really know where to start. The Starbucks playing music in English in the Lima airport seems a world away from Trujillo, and, thanks to some inexplicable warp in time and space, I’ll supposedly be back in the U.S. tomorrow night. Can a year really have already passed? I remember arriving so clearly… yet I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime since then.

The last few weeks have been a blur and, due to sporadic internet access and general busyness, I haven’t done a good job of keeping you all up to date. So thanks for your patience… Medically-related, the mission is in the middle of short-term team season, which means there have been several groups come down to do medical campaigns. We had a group of dental students and, a couple of weeks later, a few doctors and a physical therapist doing campaigns in Wichanzao and the surrounding communities. Dr. Glover, a general surgeon from Jackson, MS, was in Trujillo for a week doing minor surgeries in a room in the Wichanzao church. He had actually stayed an extra week after spending a week with his church in Cajamarca. I got to go help translate with that group and, with about 6 doctors, 4 dentists, and lots of helpers, we attended about 1300 patients in a week. Pretty crazy, but a cool experience.

Sometimes I wonder how much short-term trips actually impact a community. Of course, they are much more effective when a long-term option providing follow-up care is available, and maybe a lot of the relief is only temporary for many of the patients. Yet, honestly, it’s at least some relief, and it’s more than many of the patients who travel a few hours from remote towns would be able to access otherwise. Maybe it’s enough to give them a little more strength, a little more hope. And maybe it just helps to have a professional actually listen, care, pray, and try his or her best to help.

I’ve been thankful I stayed and have been able to help with these campaigns and with the day-to-day rhythm of the clinic, which has been consistently busy lately. Aside from work, I enjoyed spending about 8 days living with my friend Karina and her family. They don’t live in Wichanzao itself, but they are in La Esperanza (the same general area of Trujillo), and it was great to get to live a little closer to the clinic, be in a family environment, and spend more time getting to know them. And then this past week has been rich with investing in people and making sure I do my best to “say my goodbyes well,” as someone counseled me. Good advice. Thankful for chances to spend time with people, and for the blessing of having so many people who’ve touched my heart.

The clinic’s despedida (goodbye party) was so much fun and, although hard to say goodbye, it made me appreciate again what a unique feel of family the group has. It’s difficult, sad, and definitely surreal saying goodbye, and I’m sure it won’t really hit until I’m back… and even then, little by little. (Be prepared for periodic reflections and realizations.) However, I don’t feel like I’ll never see these people again. They’re a part of me, and God has taught me so much through them. And, Lord-willing, I’ll get to see them again. As my mom wrote me before I came to Peru, “See all you can, make lots of memories, and leave part of yourself there.”

Check – more than I could have hoped. Praise the Lord.

Hospitals

It’s funny… I kind of expected that, after going to Cajamarca a few weeks ago, I’d have a pretty normal life here in Trujillo for a month, return to Cajamarca for the medical campaign the week of July 4^th, and then finish out my time in Trujillo. Funny how things change.

The last few weeks have certainly not been calm, and I’m thankful to have a chance now to just sit still in the apartment (actually, it’s not even my apartment – staying with another nurse from the mission since the other interns left). But I’ve spent the better part of the past three weeks with one of our patients in and out of the hospital. He’s an 82-year-old man named don José, and we’ve been trying to get him an endoscopic surgery to remove nasal and sinus polyps since December. So, after lots of appointments, delays, and endless lines and paperwork relating to his government insurance (which, in spite of everything, thankfully covers just about everything), he finally had that surgery about two weeks ago. After a night in the hospital, he went home…which is actually a room in the church, since he has extremely limited resources, no family, and a few months ago could no longer live with the family he’d been with.

Patients waiting to make an appointment with the government insurance.

Lots of waiting...

But a week after his surgery, he started having some pretty severe stomach issues (won’t go into detail) that left him so dehydrated and week that he couldn’t even stand up. So, to make a long story short, we took him to the hospital and he spent the next 8 days there to get rid of his stomach infection, recover fluids, and get his distressed kidneys working right again. Like I said, the insurance helps a ton, but in the government hospital it’s pretty imperative to have somebody with you because if the doctor prescribes a medicine or test, you have to go pay (or get it approved by the insurance) and then pick it up yourself. Perhaps one of the understaffed personnel could take care of it later, but the medicine would probably be delayed way too long, or the tests might go undone. So, rotating with a few ladies from the church and a couple of clinic staff, I was in the hospital with him for a good part of the last week and a half.

Pretty crazy there for awhile. But I learned a lot, saw a lot, thought a lot, and got to know (at least by recognition) several people who worked there. Of course there are all types, but the majority – at least on his floor – were very good to us. And when he began to recover appetite and strength enough to be more talkative, it was really cool to get to know don José better. This little man – who was born in Cajamarca, only went to school through 3^rd grade, has educated himself through enviable curiosity and reading, lived in Lima during his young adult years, was in the army for two years, ran the 100 and 400 m, likes soccer and basketball, was in love once better never got married, had everything stolen from him 40 years ago, moved to Trujillo, grew old without family, sells candies in the big Hermalinda market, and became a member of the Wichanzao church a month ago – has been through a lot. And, despite the nature of the circumstances, it was cool to get to hear some of it.

Don Jose in his hospital room.

Thankfully, don José went home Thursday. He seems so much better, and we’re praying that he keeps recovering his strength and can return to the rhythm he had before. But even so, the truth is that he’s getting older and living alone in the church probably isn’t a viable long-term solution. I was thankful to get to care for him over the last few weeks, but there’s always a little doubt of “How much is okay?” Because the truth is, I’m leaving in a month, and the economic and family situations of many of the church members don’t give them much leeway to dedicate the care he needs. But, I also think that I/we haven’t done more for him than we would for an elderly family member, and I don’t think he should be denied the same attention just for being poor and without a family. But the next decision will be how to best care for him in the future. I probably won’t be part of that decision, but I’m praying for wisdom for those that are and that God will open up the right options.

Paces and Peace

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the pace and rhythm of life. I think it’s always changing, but there are some things that always seem to crop back up. Goodbyes, for example. A year ago, I was saying goodbye to the places and people that defined my college experience. In these last few weeks, I’ve said goodbye to the other six interns I’ve worked with for the past ten months. I guess when you live, work, and learn together in such tight community (especially in a different country and culture), you get pretty close. The group was very special to me, and I’m thankful we’ll always have this bond. But things will look a lot different now that they’re gone. Besides missing their friendship and doing life together, I’m living in a different place, and I don’t have the schedule of two weekly intern studies or teaching SALI English classes anymore.

But, despite missing the companionship of my compatriots, I’m looking forward now to the different pace of this last phase of my time in Peru. The pace of the month leading up to their departure was frenzied, to say the least. Practically, people were finishing up SALI classes, packing their belongings, and saying difficult goodbyes to their friends and lives they’ve made here. Emotionally, all of that is combined with processing what

this past year has meant, how it has impacted them, the struggles, joys and lessons they have experienced, how God has worked in their lives. In a way, I went through part of that process with my friends – at least in a supportive, observant way. But I know my turn’s coming soon and, although I definitely don’t want to get ahead of myself, I think their goodbye process started my reflection wheels turning. Which, considering that I get to spread that process over the next couple of months, is a good thing, I think.

But I was pretty worn out by the time they all left, so I was thankful for another change of pace: I spent last week in the mountain city of Cajamarca, helping a couple there with some ideas for conversational English classes they’re starting at the church. I hope some of my presence was helpful, but I also just appreciated the chance to learn from their relaxed way of doing life and to enjoy being out of the city-pace of Trujillo. Seeing the room where the Spanish conquistadors held the Inca king Atahualpa hostage was a wonder. Going for a run in the dairy fields outside Cajamarca was refreshing. Visiting a few of the mountain churches gave me a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively as I saw the distinctive, difficult, and beautiful reality of the culture and congregations in towns like Huacraruco, Manzana Mayo, and Quinoapata.

Whether it’s guiding a horse in a circle for four hours making a brick mixture, selling vegetables and fresh cheese in the market, or working in the clinic in Wichanzao, I guess we all have our own pace. Maybe God gives part of it to us, depending on our personality. Maybe sometimes it changes, depending on our circumstances. Maybe we should always be aware of it, running hard enough to make the most of every opportunity but slowing down enough to relish relationships, take in the scenery, and take care of ourselves. I’m pretty sure I’ll be trying to find that balance my whole life. But I’m thankful for the chance to try, and for people who inspire me to run hard and those that show me how to slow down. I think God gives us peace somewhere in the middle, when we run for Him but aren’t striving to be enough on our own…when we’re close to the pace He’s made us for.

Agradecida

There's much to be thankful for recently. Mother's Day here is a big deal - and with good reason, as the women here work extremely hard. Most of the time during the medical campaigns, and even in the clinic itself, the women are those who come, who bring their kids, who have to leave in time to cook the traditionally main meal for lunch by 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Of course there are all kinds, but I've met some really strong women. The Friday before, we had a small little party at the clinic for our two staff members who are mothers. Nila is a sweet LPN in her early 60s who makes sure you've had your coffee break and always tells you "you haven't eaten anything!" Below, I'm with la hermana Marina, an active member of the Wichanzao church, mother of 4, a hard worker at the clinic keeping everything clean for us, and one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet.

Speaking of people like that, I'm thankful for my mom and grandmothers, both Liz, who's still living, and Virginia, who was a loving and strong woman herself. Thanks for being wonderful examples to me and so many others.

Also, transitioning a little, it's been and will be (at least in parts) a little bit of an emotionally draining month. Heidi, one of my roommates and dearest friends here, left tonight. She had to leave a couple of weeks before the rest of the interns at the end of May when the fellowship program ends, but it's fitting, I think, as she's been here two years. This way, I think she got a special thank-you and goodbye from a lot of people. Anyway, she has touched and will be missed by so many people in Trujillo. As have/will the other interns when they leave in two weeks. I'm so thankful to get to stay for 2 more months, but it's strange going through this goodbye process with them all - knowing I'll be doing it soon, but not yet. Just hope I can be with and helpful to them as they do it, while, at the same time, being present and thankful for the time we've had. So Heidi... the first... many, including Karina and me, will miss you a lot.

Perseverance

We have a patient at the clinic named don José. He's not wearing his trademark hunter orange cap or his mischievous grin in this picture, but you can at least see is face. Don Jose is in his early 80s and, since a couple of major surgeries he had about a year ago, he’s been close to the heart of everyone at Bethesda. Thankfully, he’s still mobile and self-sufficient, selling his candies every day at the Hermalinda market and regularly attending church at Wichanzao. However, in December, he came to use to let us know about some growths that appeared in his nose, nearly blocking his airways. After tests and scans, we were thankful that these tumors were benign, but the polyps do extend throughout his nasal and sinus cavities and need to be removed.

The problem, however, is that if your condition is not emergent, it’s difficult for it to become a priority. So, for the past few months, don Jose has been attending sporadic doctors appointments and hospital visits, jumping through the necessary hoops to get his surgery scheduled. It’s been a frustrating process, especially learning which lines to wait in, whom to ask what questions, and then which line to wait in next. Often, even after a few hours of this process, you might still leave the hospital with a “Your appointment will be next week” or “Come back in two weeks to schedule the surgery. There are no rooms available right now.” And I imagine that if I, unfamiliar with the language and process as I am, am frustrated with and confused by the inefficient process of bouncing from line to line like a pinball, it must be incredibly overwhelming for someone without much exposure to or education of the health care environment.

Yet, the perseverance, the patience – perhaps it’s submission engrained by years of disappointment and being told to wait – I see in everyday people inspires me. Granted, there are those who jump to the front of the line, who gripe and complain. But there are also those who, after getting to the hospital at 5 am, leave at noon without the appointment they hoped for. And then they come back and do it again.

It’s pretty sad. And the system of having to ask all the questions and make all the appropriate arrangements yourself doesn’t work. But I’ve learned a lot by watching the people waiting with me. They shouldn’t have to wait, look confused as they’re brushed off as some other department’s responsibility, and then come back for another round the next day. But they wait patiently. And they come back. And so, in my relatively painless bouts of waiting a couple of hours for the doctor or getting up the nerve to call him day after day to see if he was able to get a surgery date for don José yet, I thought about those faces.

And it reminded me of Jesus’s parable about the woman continuing to ask the judge or the neighbor who refused to stop knocking until his friend gave him some bread. I didn’t want to be a pestering bother, but I couldn’t stop knocking, couldn’t stop asking. I think perseverance is definitely a lesson in humility. But it’s also hopeful. Because we have a Savior who wants to help us, who waits for our knock, our call, our request. Sure, it might still require perseverance and patience. It might not happen in the timeline we think it should. But if even the stern judge, the reluctant neighbor, and the busy ENT surgeon finally give in to a persistent request, won’t our Father who loves us be so much more ready to do the same?

I hope you have a beautiful Easter.

Leaving marks

So, there've been a couple of gorgeous days this week. Not that there are many extremes in the weather here, but sunshine and perfect temperatures are hard to beat.

Last Sunday were Peru's presidential elections. With escalating intensity the past couple of months, political conversations everywhere you went, and the ubiquitous billboards, flyers, and creative range of campaign paraphernalia looking down on Peru, the five-year time frame to choose the country's new leader finally arrived on April 10. I actually spent it going with my friend Karina to vote.

In Peru, voting is mandatory, and you have to vote wherever you are registered. So, many people have to travel to their hometown to vote, or else pay a federal fine or multa. Some people actually choose to pay the fine, as it's cheaper than transportation expenses, but a lot of people just never change their residency and use the elections as a chance for a little family reunion. Karina is from Casa Grande, a small town almost an hour outside of Trujillo, so it wasn't a big deal to join the crowd of people taking public transportation to surrounding towns to cast their votes.

After an early church service (official meetings are prohibited between 9 and 4 on election day), we caught a couple of seats on a crowded combi and rode to Casa Grande. It was a cool experience. Of course, the actual voting wasn't too exciting. We went to the school where her voting group was assigned, and she joined the hundreds of other people milling around with telltale ink-stained fingers, marking them as having left their huella, fingerprint and performed their civic duty, casting their vote for Alan Garcia's replacement.

We were only there for the afternoon, but it was fun being in the small-town environment, seeing the places important to Karina, meeting several old friends on the street, as happens in a small town. We went by her dad's parents' house and ate a late lunch with them and her aunt, who directs a kindergarten on the second floor of their home.

Then we went to her house. It was definitely cool to see the place where she grew up, but it was hard, too. Karina's granddad - more like her father, really - died in a tragic accident at the end of January, and it was the first time she'd been back to the house where her grandparents raised her. Another step in the grieving process. Most of her mom's family was there, and seeing everyone without her grandfather was tough. But I appreciated her welcoming me in, showing me the green bike he always rode, his room, his carpenter's workshop, and the cabinets, chairs, benches, and wardrobes he'd made. He'd left his tangible marks all over the house, and his prints of love and care were obviously still very evident in the hearts of each of his family members there.

In the end, of the five main candidates (five out of about 12 total), Ollanta Humala received the most votes, followed by Keiko Fujimori, the daughter of Peru's president in the early 1990s. However, neither received the 50% majority required to win, so there will be a run-off - segunda vuelta - on June 5. Most people I know were supporting one of the other three candidates (PPK, Toledo, Castañeda) and are pretty worried about the results. Ollanta, a former military officer, is pretty extreme leftist and, although his campaign this time was toned down from his in 2006, many are worried that his sympathies for Hugo Chavez-like politics will be a dangerous turn for Peru if he wins. However, his large support base does show that there is still a huge percent of the Peruvian population that wants a change, is tired of corruption, and feels marginalized. So, something's got to give... but I don't know if this guy's the right one to bring a stable kind of change to Peru.

We'll see, I guess. Only God knows what June 5th will reveal and what mark Peru's new leader is going to leave.

Taking out the trash

A couple of Saturdays ago, several of us had a unique opportunity to spend time with a gentleman named Francisco. Don “Panchito” is a 79-year-old patient at the clinic who collects recycling for a living and lives in a 4.5 m² adobe brick squatter house in Wichanzao. But more than that, he’s a sweet guy who works hard, cracks jokes, and always expresses his genuine appreciation. Which is one reason why, when we found out that his roof (one layer plastic, one layer woven straw material) had collapsed, we wanted to help.

So, after consulting with Pastor Juan from Wichanzao church, collecting some money and volunteer interest, and checking out materials, we headed to don Panchito’s house to give the project a shot. We ended up having a good group of 15 or 20 people, consisting of several people from the clinic, the Wichanzao church, SUSA and Cristo Rey, and a couple of his neighbors.

We thought the primary job would be replacing the remains of his old roof with sheets of tin, or calamina. Of course, that was the main task, and the more experienced guys did a great job with its construction. However, I found myself in an interesting role: emptying shovelfuls of debris from don Panchito’s house. You see, the house was full to the top of everything you can possibly imagine, and this man had literally been living in a trash dump. Some things he had piled to the ceiling to keep his roof from falling completely, some things he was saving to recycle or sell, and some things I think he just didn’t know what to do with. It was definitely intimidating to see the house so full and to think about beginning to make it more livable.

At first, don Panchito didn’t even want us to take anything out. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t trouble yourself. There are probably rats and fleas. I can take things out little by little.” But we eventually coaxed him into letting us clean a little bit of it. Although we left a lot in there, the room has much more space now, and there’s at least clear path to his bed. It was hard finding the balance between respecting his dignity and right to make decisions and convincing him that he didn’t deserve to be living in such conditions. Plus, a lot of what looked like junk to our eyes was a valuable piece of plastic, glass, or iron to be sold, or even a meaningful memoir or possession to treasure. So we had to be careful, to respect, to receive his guidance, to look through his eyes. And I’m sure, at the end of the day, it was hard – probably even embarrassing – to see so much that had been filling his house piled on the road for all to see.

The entire experience actually convicted several of us, and we realized how much we are like don Panchito. We get accustomed to seeing the messy realities of those around us and, especially, to living in our own trash dumps: bad habits, broken relationships, resentment, bitterness, mistakes, regret, addictions, complacency. It’s too hard to fix, we’re too far down that road, it’s really not that bad, I’m doing alright like I am, I’m working on improving it. “I’ll take care of it. Really, I don’t need the help. It’s ugly in there. I can do it, little by little.” We’re ashamed to let the world see it. We don’t want help. What’s more, we don’t want to let go of the trash we’ve come to treasure. Surely we can do something good with it. Or at least it reminds us of something we once loved.

But the reality is, we can’t clean it up by ourselves. And we forget that no one should have to live in these circumstances. Jesus longs to take us out of this junk we’ve become so attached to. We don’t dare to imagine how much better things can be, the marvelous alternative that is possible, but God wants to work beside us and make it a reality. To redeem us from our rubbish, to make something beautiful out of it. To give us a community to love us and to help clean things up.

It’s hard to give it up. I think it was for don Panchito. But we need an extreme makeover just as much as he did. And, if we can humble ourselves to receive the help, it’s scarily exciting to think about what God can do in our lives and in His kingdom. And, with what Jesus has planned, I think it’ll be a heck of a lot better than one afternoon’s work of putting on a new tin roof.

Introducing Peru

I’ve got to get better at updating this again…

But I do kind of have an excuse for part of the delay this time – I was out of town for one of the weeks. And the reason was a good one: my mom and dad came to visit! The interns had a week off from SALI, so my parents took advantage of the break and came to visit Peru. We had a fantastic time. I went to Lima to pick them up, and we spent about a week traveling in Southern Peru, going to Cusco, stopping through towns and Inca ruins in the Sacred Valley (Pisac, Ollantaytambo, Chincero), visiting Machu Picchu. I had the opportunity to see it several months ago when Haley and Katelyn visited, but it was just as magnificent again. I decided I’d be okay visiting this one of the new 7 Wonders of the World every 6 months or so… J

Looking over Cusco

Near the ruins at Pisac

Postcard picture at Macchu Pichu

Overlooking Ollantaytambo

Part of the fun, too, was taking public transportation, meeting lots of really nice people along the way, eating good Peruvian food, and just seeing them get to know Peru a little big (at least, as much as possible in the most touristy area of the country). After four days in Cusco and the Valley, we took a night bus to Arequipa and spent a couple of days there. The environment was a little more professional and “real life,” and our pace was a little more relaxed in this colonial, “white” city in southern Peru (called thus because of the ubiquitous use of white “sillar” volcanic stone). Some beautiful, 20,000-ft peaks (Misti and Chachani) hover above it, and we toured the city and some surrounding towns, enjoyed a couple of cool museums (including one where they have an Incan mummy they found frozen and excellently preserved on top of Misti), and watched the sun set at the beautiful Santa Catalina convent.

Early morning view of Chachani from Arequipa plaza

View toward the mountains

Santa Catalina convent

But I really loved getting back to Trujillo and introducing Mom and Dad to my place and my people. I showed them the Plaza de Armas, took them to SUSA Friday night, gave them a tour of the market and some of the vendor areas, and watched the sunset at the beach and at ceviche at Huanchacho. They also got to come to church, Sunday missionary lunch, and then the clinic on Monday. José, a friend/former student/baker we ran into Friday came over and made empanadas for several of us Saturday, and Karina and Flor hung out and conversed in Spanglish for awhile on Sunday evening. And of course they got to know the interns – especially Heidi, Linda, and Rachel. Overall, I was really just thankful that they got to meet so many people that are important to me and get a great taste of my life here and why I love it. It was wonderful and humbling to see how welcoming people were to them.

Sorry – I didn’t get any pictures of their time in Trujillo, but if I get any I’ll put a couple up. Back to normal and trying (with varying degrees of success) to catch up this week. It’s been good though. Hope yours has been great, too…

Ready, Set, Go!

Whew, it’s been quite a full few weeks! I apologize for being so far behind on updating. Here are a few highlights.

• Parrillada (cook-out) with SUSA, our jóvenes (young people) ministry

• Seeing Trujillo’s famous archaeological site, las Huacas del Sol y la Luna (pyramid/ tomb ruins from the Moche culture), with my friend, former student, and official tour guide Roxana.

• The opening of a new café at our church in Wichanzao – the clinic staff is quite excited about the tamales, papas rellenas, and cakes available right across the street.
• Trying to round up new Sunday School students and figure out how to teach the book of Judges to 6-9 year-olds. That’s pretty interesting. J
• Enjoying a few trips to Huanchaco, Trujill's beach town, with friends and (below) the clinic staff on this paseo (afternoon trip). Good bonding time and some fairly intense volleyball. :)
  

Celebrating the engagement of our friends Bruno and Briggith – they were thrilled to finally receive the go-ahead after being together since high school.

• Finally getting a better mattress to facilitate better care of Fermin’s bedsores. Fermin is the young man the clinic staff visits regularly who was paralyzed in an accident a year and a half ago. José Madrid, an elder at the church, also welded him a trapeze apparatus he can use to begin pulling himself up with his own strength. Now his sisters, who’ve been doing a great job caring for him, are headed back to the jungle so their kids can start the school year. Please pray that whatever family member(s) replace them would be just as capable of continuing his good care!
• Enjoying the presence of Dr. Mont Berry, an ENT doctor from Tupelo, MS, who saw over 60 patients at the clinic in 2 days!
• Spending all last week in campaigns with a medical group from a church in Memphis. I enjoyed translating (mostly for the dentists – I saw my first of many teeth extracted) and being with the fun group as we offered free medical care to people in low-income communities near Wichanzao and in other areas of the Esperanza district. Hopefully many were encouraged, served, and even informed about our clinic for future needs.

• Visiting a few patients in their homes this week. It’s nice to do that without as much of an agenda or timeline, as I was able to do with Noemí last Wednesday. And I spent all day yesterday with a Teodicia, an older lady in the neighborhood, and her daughter Lorena, at the hospital going through a series of tests and exams. Looks like it’s diverticulitis and, although very painful, thankfully treatable.

Sorry for the very brief run-through. It’s been a great couple of weeks, but definitely full. Maybe the comments and pictures will give you a taste. It’s cool to get to be a part of serving, building a variety of relationships, and just living here – even if it feels like life’s on steroids and running on fast-forward sometime. Thanks for your prayers and encouragement. Much love to you all.

P.S. Are the Bradford pears blooming yet?

Silence

So, a week ago today, my friend Karina was traveling with her aunt in Iquitos, a city in the Peruvian jungle (on the Amazon River, actually - the biggest city in the world inaccessible by road, if you're interested). But she received some tragic news. Last Monday, at about 5:30 pm, her grandfather passed away after being hit by a mototaxi that morning. A mototaxi is the Peruvian equivalent of a rickshaw - basically a motorcycle pulling a covered, 3-seated cart. He was brought from Casa Grande, the town where he lived, into Trujillo (abou 45 minutes-1 hour away), but they couldn't get him stabilized and he passed away before the could operate.

I can't imagine getting that phone call about your grandfather when you're hundreds of miles away and, because of flight/bus schedules and tickets, can't get there for 36 hours. On top of all this, Karina's grandparents essentially raised her, so this man was more like her father than her grandfather. She got to Trujillo Wednesday morning, with barely enough time to see her family and begin to process things before the velorio (viewing) and entierro (burial). And it was probably the most intense funeral I've ever been to. Several family members, including Karina, were distraught, and it was really difficult to see someone such a close friend in that much pain.

I just wanted to take it away, to share it, to know what to say or do to make it better. And I realized that I can't. I mean, I can be there for her - and don't get me wrong, I know what a huge gift that can be - but I can't heal her hurt. And that was a helpless, humbling place to be. But I think it helped me realize better that there is only One who can. And I'll be praying for and walking with her through that process.

Since last Wednesday, Karina has been better. She's been gracious to express sincere thanks for friendship and support, she hasn't let herself be swallowed by sorrow, she has allowed herself to talk about her grandfather - the kind of man he was, how he made her laugh, memories with him, confusion about the grieving process, openness about how she feels, honesty about questions as well as about her faith, hope, and the opportunity this tragedy could offer. I'm impressed. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose someone like that, and it will take her a long time to get through it. But I'm thankful for the person she is and for the chance to be here with her now.

Marinera

Currently in Trujillo, the Marinera Festival is going on. It started about a week ago, and it will continue this week with an international competition in the Plaza de Toros. The marinera is one of Peru's traditional dances (called the "National Dance of Peru") and, although it has different styles that hail from distinct cities and regions, this coastal dance is particularly characteristic of Trujillo. The two go together like Idaho and potatoes, D.C. and the White House, Texas and the two-step. When you say "Trujillo," you think "marinera."

All this week, they've had rehearsals (ensayos) open to the public at a nearby club. Not wanting to miss this typically Trujillan tradition, I decided to take advantage of the last night of rehearsals last night. It was great. Other observers packed the small stands surrounding a gym-like space, and couples filled the floor practicing their paces to the tunes of the Trujillo municipal band. In typical marinera, the man is dressed in "chalan" clothing, or a sort of formal, old-fashioned rancher costume, complete with a wide-brimmed straw hat. The women dance barefoot and wear traditional dress from their region, including a flowy skirt ideal for catching up and swishing dramatically. Both partners carry a white handkerchief, which they wave and twirl with a flourish. The participants for the rehearsal weren't dressed in their costumes, but they all had their handkerchiefs, and lots of the men and boys used their hats. The dance is bien coqueto (pretty flirty), as it's meant to reenact the different steps of a courtship ritual.

I love watching people dance, and you could tell that everyone on that floor - from the elderly to the teenagers to the 5-year-old couples striding sharply and flirtatiously - was enjoying what they were doing. That was the best part. A caller announced which type of marinera would be played, and then the floor was a sea of twirling handerchiefs, swirling skirts, spinning steps, sharp taps, and quick flicks of wrists and skips of feet. Enjoy these pictures and videos to give a little taste of Trujillo's marinera.

Demonstration by a young (I think Peruvian) couple from Spain.

This little guy was so cute. He will undoubtedly be on the dance floor in just a few years.

Generosity

Anywhere you go, you meet all kinds. But, within the last week, I have been struck several times by the open, spontaneous, natural generosity of Pervians. Last week at the clinic, after staying late to make a home visit to Fermin, Noemi (one of the nurses) suggested we get lunch together back in Trujillo. Having planned to eat at home, I hadn't brought enough money for lunch. Without a second thought, she immediately invited to treat me, and we enjoyed a delicious menu (cheap, fixed price lunch meal) downtown - much needed by 3 pm! And then she bought me an ice cream cone.

Saturday, at the central market, I was standing at a booth, undoubtedly calculating the cheapest possibility of getting my desired combination of produce. A humble, elderly gentleman, stooped over the ragged basket of lemons he was selling, asked to be excused as he tried to pass. Still focused on my vegetables, I moved aside to give him room on the narrow aisle but declined his offer to buy any lemons. However, the lady from whom I was buying immediately reached over and gave him some coins. I felt about the size of a grain of dirt.

Then, yesterday I was sitting next to a woman in the combi on the way back from Wichanzao. Her mother passed away last week, and she was heading back to her home in Jaen today. After talking most of the ride back to Trujillo, she thanked me for the work I am doing and, before I realized what what was happening, she had already paid my pasaje to the cobrador who takes everyone's bus fare. I can tell you that often, this work I'm doing feels much smaller than the voluntary acts of encouragement and kindness I see and have received, like that from this lady yesterday, given without reservation or a second thought.

Would I have done the same? And another thought came to me, as well: what am I saving my money for? Financial responsibility and frugality are important - I firmly believe that and, I think, often even hold a little too tightly to that principle. I think it's fine to look for a good deal on vegetables in the market, especially if I'm trying to make sure what I save is going to a good cause like the Wichanzao clinic or a food offering at church. But, even though these are good things, being too stubbornly fixed on giving only to "this" or "that" can impede the beauty and sincerity of spontaneous generosity. Lord, forgive me for focusing so much on the lower prices, even out of well-intended motivation, that I fail to notice and give your love freely to the elderly, those in need, or a traveler in a strange land.

This year, I want to live more like a Peruvian.

Returning

I wasn’t sure how being back in the States for Christmas would be, but it turned out to be really nice. It included a very enthusiastic welcoming committee at the airport, a day at Pickwick, seeing friends in Tupelo and Birmingham, and mostly lots of family in and around the Rice house for various birthday and Christmas gatherings. Although many days were pretty busy, it was really nice to see everyone and spend the holidays there. Plus, it was just about worth the ticket home to see Tupelo’s white Christmas.

The trek back south went smoothly (despite almost missing a flight due to a delay) until fog in Trujillo limited visibility enough to force our plane to wait on the runway in Chiclayo (a nearby city) for almost 3 hours while the flight crew tried to decide if we should try to land in Trujillo or go back to Lima. Much of this time was spent by listening to a large group – almost every passenger, in face – of very opinionated Peruvians contributing their two céntimos as to whether to stay in Chiclayo, try Trujillo, or return to Lima. Because apparently these decisions are made by committee. I could only laugh and go back to sleep. Eventually, we had an unsuccessful attempt at landing in Trujillo, went back to Lima, and eventually made it to Trujillo on a later flight. Upon finally landing, Trujillo never looked so beautiful.

Exhausted as we were (Heidi and Seth were on the same flight), I had to get out and move to cure myself of 30 hours of traveling. So I went for a run. And fell in an uncovered hole on the sidewalk accessing the water main. Long story short, I got a pretty good cut on my shin and spent part of my New Year’s Eve getting a few stitches in the office’s library (after a delicious supper at the Ueltscheys). Thankfully, I know some good doctors here, and Julton was kind enough to sew me up. And, although I was taking it easy, I still enjoyed ringing in 2011.

However, after having to say goodbye to family (which was more difficult than I'd expected) and traveling so long, that mishap was definitely not the first thing I wanted my first day back in Trujillo. Thankfully it really wasn’t bad, and I didn’t break anything, but I found myself asking “Why today?” I don’t know. But it did make me stop and think a little more. As much as I’d like to convince myself otherwise, I don’t have it all figured out just because I’ve already been here 5 months. I still can’t do this on my own strength. Nor should I. So my prayer for this new year is that I would not be concerned with doing a lot of important, significant things myself. While certainly taking seriously my work and responsibility to help here as much as possible, I hope my focus is more on Christ: sincerely growing in my relationship with Him, seeing Him be significant, and letting that be enough. Through that process, I trust that He will work in and through me. But I hope some arbitrary proof of my own work's importance is not my focus; rather, that I just seek Jesus. Because He can – and is – at work in bringing God’s kingdom.

So I guess I can deal with a few stitches for awhile. And it’s nice to enjoy a week that’s a little more relaxed without having to teach. It’s been helpful in getting settled again to reunite with the other interns, see some friends, and get back to work at the clinic. It's great to see everyone again. Below are a couple of pictures: the first, when Heidi and I took Linda (our new roommate) on an adventure to Las Delicias, a nearby beach where we saw some absolutely monstrous waves; the second, passing through the Plaza de Armas, still adorned with the trees and decorations from Christmas. Sometimes, you’ve just got to love Perú.

As I get a feel for things, I’ll try and synthesize some goals for my work at the clinic and the rest of my time here. So, if I get ambitious, be on the lookout for that soon. I wish you and yours a very blessed 2011. (Can you believe we’re there?!)