Los Niños

Just wanted to compose a short post about the children I've encountered here.


As most of you know, I'm kind of a child magnet (in the least creepy of ways).  I've been working with kids in a myriad of capacities for around a decade now.  I know how to talk to kids, now to play with them, even how to teach them (somewhat).  I love making friends with children.


Lima, Peru, has presented a challenge.  It's not as easy to befriend a child when you can't even speak her language.  Or so I thought.  Last Saturday, at the wedding, I found out otherwise.  I had my camera out, and when three amigos pequeños saw that I was pointing it at them, they had fun posing for pictures, and then looking on the screen to see themselves.  The two little girls wanted a picture without the little boy, but he kept pushing his way in.  With my ninja camerawoman skills, I managed to snap a picture of the two girls just before the boy jumped forward.  When the one girl saw the picture, she threw her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.  I was in.


A little later, the girls came over and asked my name.  I told them, and then they told me theirs.  Jasmin, Radha, and Misael (sp?).  The girls turned to each other, whispered together for a couple seconds, then turned to me and said in English together: "You are beautiful."  These little girls broke through the language barrier and made me their friend, just like that.  Sunday evening, during church, I made a little bird out of a sticky note, and gave it to Rhadha.  She immediately sat me down and made me show her how to do it.  When I tried to make her an origami elephant (a much harder feat), she tried to have me show her each step of that as well.  At one point, she was asking me a question.  I knew the answer to it, but I didn't want to tell her.  I didn't have the words, so I just shook my head.  She turned to her friend and said something like "She doesn't understand what we're saying."


Since then, Radha comes and gives me big hugs each time she sees me.  I can't tell her stories or jokes or everything I want to.  I'm pretty much limited to telling her that I love her and that she's pretty.  But it's OK.  More isn't needed.




Then there's Juan David.  Karen and I went to have lunch with him and his mother last week.  Juan David soon realized that I would make a great playmate.  He pulled out all his toys and showed them to me, and blew bubbles with me, and dragged me all around the room looking for his pencil (which we never did find).  Whenever I'd say something in English, he'd ask: "¿Qué significa? ¿Qué significa?" until Karen told him what I was saying.  The fact that I didn't speak much Spanish amused him.  At one point he brought me a dictionary and asked me to find a, and then to find z.  I'm not sure if it impressed him very much that I found both.




In summary, though, I think I've learned not to be so worried that I can't do the same things or be the same person in another place.  Did I break through the language barrier with these kids?  Somewhat.  Are these children still enjoying the fact that their vocabulario de español is bigger than mine? Undoubtedly.  But who I am doesn't change just because of where I go.  I'll still love children in any part of the globe.  And, thankfully, they'll still love me.




Mis palabras en español para hoy: Jesús le ama los niños en todo el mundo.

Learning to Sit Still...

I've never been good at sitting.  Even now that I'm "grown up," I'm rarely able to sit without crossing and uncrossing my legs, or tapping a foot, or at least twisting and turning around in my chair to see what's going on around me.  Anyone who's seen me at work can testify that I'm not one to stay seated at one desk, but am usually bouncing around the classroom to help any kid that even looks the slightest bit lost.  It's not always that I'm eager to help everyone.  Sometimes it's just that I'd rather be on my feet.


One of my reasons for coming to Peru was that I didn't want to spend the summer "sitting."  Last year I found a job that, at best, was somewhat challenging, but didn't give me a whole lot to do over all, and left me with rather empty stretches of time when nothing was going on.  I felt like a lot of my time was wasted last summer, and I didn't want that to happen again.  Sparing myself the grief of looking for a GOOD six week job was just a big bonus.


So I'm here in Peru, expecting that I will be kept busy, constantly going places and doing things.  That's what the missionfield is, right?  At least I should be kept captivated and interested by the difference in the culture, and what I see around me.


That's not exactly been the case.  There's been church, outreach, Bible college.  I've been to a wedding, and I've gone with a friend to see the ocean.  It's not that I've had nothing to do.  But during the day I'm finding big gaps of free time.  I can't just hop in my car and go someplace.  I can't just pick up the phone and call or text someone.  So I have a lot of time to sit, and think, and read, and pray.  It's funny, really.  One of the reasons God brought me here was to force me to be still.


I'm learning a lot.  I'm gaining a vision for Bible college in the fall.  A specific message really answered one of my biggest issues.  P. Stan spoke at a ladies' Bible study yesterday about laying what we have on the altar.  He said that God doesn't want us to lay what we have down because it's precious.  The gift isn't more precious than the altar.  It's when it's ON the altar that it finally becomes worth something.  It's hard to lay things down and then let God take them.  I so desire to always have control.  I've found that nothing I do works, though.  When I strive for the thing I want, I have no peace and no satisfaction.  When I avoid that thing like the plague, thinking that it's the right thing to do, I'm really no more giving it up than when I was reaching for it.  The thing to do is to place it in the hands of God and then just let Him do what He wants without my interference.  It's not an easy thing to do, but it's the best thing.  Here in Peru, the problems and struggles that I had in the U.S. have not gone away or lessened.  But maybe I just needed to learn to rest.


I'm not completely worry free.  My money worries aren't gone, my heart struggles haven't relented.  I'm not suddenly 10 years older spiritually.  But I'm here, I'm resting, I'm learning, I'm growing.  I'm Martha being turned into Mary.  God's personally got some work to do in me, and if the whole reason I came to South America was so that I would hold still long enough allow Him to do that, then I'm OK with that.


Mis palabras en español para hoy: Espera en Dios.

Cosas Nuevas y La Boda de Karol y Enrique

Lots of things happening in the last few days.  I'm starting to adjust to the pace of life here.  It's not that it's a very different speed, but that it's more of a different canter.  In the mornings I've been getting up, creating some semblance of a breakfast, and sitting down by 9am for morning devotional: usually with Grace Hour (no Daylight Savings here).  Then the afternoon is pretty much free, with a late lunch/early dinner around 2 or 3pm.  The evenings vary, depending on the day.


New things:  Let's see, so far I've ridden in taxis and buses, and even in one of those little three-wheeled car/motorcycle things.  I've been to the mall, eaten at the food court, shopped in an open air market and in the grocery store.  I've gotten to try a couple native drinks and desserts.  Oh yeah, and I got to sing at a wedding of someone I've only just met, and I "caught" the bouquet.  But that's getting ahead of myself.






The wedding was on Saturday evening.  Earlier in the week (Wednesday night, in fact) I got to meet the sweet, the kind, the talented and all-around incredible Helem.  One of the first things she asked was whether or not I could sing.  When she found out I could, she asked me to listen to "Deciphering Me" by Brooke Fraser.  It was the only English song being sung at the wedding, and she thought maybe I could help her with it.  By Friday night, it was decided that I would sing with her.


Friday night and Saturday afternoon were spent setting up.  Christmas lights on the windows, tall vases and dividers on the stage, and flowers around the room (the church looked incredible when we were done, by the way).


Finally, it was Saturday evening, and all the guests had arrived.  It took longer than normal for the wedding to start, though: because the bride was almost an hour late!  As Karen told me, in the United States we would worry that the bride had gotten cold feet, but in South America brides are supposed to be a little late, and are sometimes as much as an hour and a half behind schedule!


The ceremony itself was not unlike an American wedding.  There were no bridesmaids or groomsmen walking down the aisles.  The groom seated his mother, and then the bride walked down with her uncle (or brother or cousin: I'm not sure which).  A song was sung, and then P. Stan preached (en español).  Then came preparation for communion, during which Helem and I sang.  Then communion, the vows, and the exchanging of the rings, and the pronouncement of man and wife.  All in Spanish.


It got really interesting a little later.  Instead of throwing her bouquet, Karol decided to get all the girls in a circle around her.  Then she closed her eyes, spun around, and walked toward one girl to hand off the bouquet.  I had already sung in her wedding.  I had already managed to get into her bridesmaid picture.  Helem had said earlier that I was a part of everything there.  Karol stopped and began to walk, angled slightly away from me.  As she walked, though, she began to turn.  A second later the bouquet was in my hands.  I've wanted a wedding bouquet for the past few years, ever since I began to go to weddings for people close in age to me.  Suddenly here, in Peru, it's finally happened.  The older ladies all began to ask where my groom was, and a few people joked and said that I'll be getting married in a year. No se.


The sad part is that I don't think I'll be able to bring my bouquet home.  I'm drying it out, and praying the customs officers in Miami decide to let me keep it, but I don't expect them to.  I'm pressing one rosebud to keep.  It's alright, though.  Wedding bouquets do not bring husbands (not that I'm particularly looking).  But Helem is right.  I'm here, and I'm a part of what's going on.  God's little ways of showing that HE is the One Who loves me are not missed.  God is speaking directly into my heart, some of the same lessons I should have already learned, but He's patiently teaching them to me again.  God is doing something here, and I am a part of it.


Mis palabras en español para hoy: "Las muchas aguas no podrán apagar el amor."