Ale La (Go There)

I have been getting a lot of questions lately. Number one is, "So... How was Peru?" And Number two is, "So, what's it like being home?" Well, I don't really know how to answer question number one. I think that my memories, the things that I learned, the Spanish and the stories are just going to come out as I live here. I will be talking about Peru for a while, and I'm okay with that. Question number two is also pretty hard to answer, and here's why. It seems like I go through my days here either feeling a LOT or just in a haze. When I'm really overwhelmed, everything starts to get fuzzy. It's like I'm listening to people talk from underwater. I have no idea what my face looks like, or how I come across in these moments. It's kind of like being stuck in puberty, when you just didn't understand anything but thought that you knew everything. The most awkward thing is that I used to live here, and I feel like I used to be a...

I feel so proud of myself that I still remember how to spell continuum. Yes. Really. Have I mentioned that I like things to flow smoothly? Or that I like closure? I think I have. Well, it's true, and if I had my way life would make sense like a movie with a really bomb soundtrack. You would be able to predict the next general plot point, the cinematography would be epic, and everyone would be happy at the end. But, as much as we try Life continues to refuse our efforts to make it conform to the standards of others. So, even though I would have loved for my time in Brazil to have strung along the same continuum as that of Peru, it did not. It continued to amaze and confuse me. It broke my heart again. It showed me that when people are placed in your heart, they are there for good.  I haven't been to Brazil for four years, and I was so happy for a chance to get back there and reconnect with some people who are really important to me. I met the kids in Piratininga over 7 y...

Love is the currency that keeps it's value, despite distance, time zones or experiences. I am so rich and blessed in love. Lately I have been thinking a lot about family. Some of the members of my "real" blood family came to visit me for this last MMI project in Cuzco, I have been saying goodbye to all the people who have become my family here in Peru, and I have been hearing about how one of our patients is  struggling through prognosis of terminal cancer without a family, so "family" has been on the brain. My "real" family arrived on the Saturday before the Cuzco project; my Mom, Dad, brother Michael and cousin Laura. I met them at the airport. We cried a little and hugged a lot. They got to meet all my MMIers and spend a week with us in the clinic. Having my blood family and my MMI family together for one week was both really wonderful and really strange. I kept wishing for more time, for more meals, for a larger table so that we all could si...

This morning I looked at my journal and realized that I've been neglecting all the stuff that is swirling around in my heart. It's cheesy, and I know a lot of people don't journal any more, but for me my journal is a place where I realize what I'm feeling in my day to day life. It's like talking to a close friend. It's the most honest place of my prayer life. It is full of mistakes, bad spelling, terrible handwriting and sometimes bad words, but I know that God can take it. He already knows all of that anyways. The problem is that for the past week, I haven't been journaling very much. It's more like I have been bullet pointing the things that happen in my day to day life, and avoiding how I feel about them. I arrived in Lima on Thursday afternoon and got settled in to my guest house in San Miguel. This guest house was a surprise plan. Which means, I thought I had a plan and then SURPRISE, this happened. I had originally planned on staying with some ...

"How do we understand God in this?" This was a question that really struck home with me over the past two weeks, as I was translating for our MMI trip to Puno/Juliaca. How do we understand God in this, when a woman grabs your hand with tears in her eyes and says "Help me," when you have to tell a woman with no insurance that she may have cancer of the spleen, when a mother of two deaf/mute girls tells you that she will sell her organs so that they can have cochlear implants? How do we understand God in this? When a patient comes in with a fungal growth the size of a cabbage on his foot. He says he has been cleaning it with urine and that it's "getting better." The team manages to convince him that he needs to be hospitalized, it is a potential emergency, and that he could contract sepsis. But, when he finally agrees to go to the hospital they tell him that all his paperwork has been transferred to Arequipa, where the health care workers are on ...

I have a confession to make: I brush my teeth with the water here. I also carry a rock with me whenever I run in a strange city. Thank you Steph for that advice. It´s crazy how quickly you get used to things you never thought you could. For example, I used to hate the fact that I had to speak Spanish to do everything. Now I love it. I used to feel claustrophobic when it took a long time to make things happen. Now it´s a part of the adventure. I don´t have to shower everyday to sleep well at night. And whenever we drive anywhere I just fall asleep rather than freaking out. One time I made this face and someone took a picture. I know. It´s a little embarrassing. They call this face "the eye," and when we play cards I try to intimidate people so that I can win. Note to self: Sportsmanship = a good thing to learn. There is dog poop on the street, there are taxi drivers honking so close that your left eardrum ruptures, and there are bus driv...

Where do stories start? Do they start on a dusty path in the silence of the wind? Or do they start with a 5 year old girl who hears the story of Dr. Livingstone for the first time and says, "I want to do that someday."? Either way, the stories inside of our hearts start somewhere. This past week I found myself at a crossroad type feeling, even though, in the moment, there was only one way ahead. We were walking through the Colca Canyon, on an MMI trip that traveled from one rural pueblo to another, doing health clinics, and giving away toothbrushes. During those two weeks something deep was stirring in my heart, the opportunity "the call" (if you like) to surrender myself. That morning my friend Vicente shared a devotional and I translated. He talked about how he, when he was a young Christian, had said "God I give you my life." And then proceeded to live his life exactly as he wanted. Five years later, on bed rest for a work related back injury, he ...