Ale La (Go There)

Thankful. People have been using that word a lot this week. As it turns out, this time of year is a good time to look at all the things you have in your life, to count your blessings, to name them all, and then to celebrate. Lately, I've talked a lot about the emptiness that I sometimes feel. I've talked a lot about the open handed, bleeding kind of love. I've talked about my tendency to throw myself  pity parties and think " Why is life so hard ?" What has been missing from this narrative are the moments of deep thanks and satisfaction; the full moments, or thankful moments- if you like. The truth is that I usually feel like one really lucky girl. My friendships are the kind that you cross oceans for, the ones who let you cry on their shoulders, and the ones who give you pep talks but also tell it to you like it is. We celebrated friendship and life a few weeks ago when we all passed around Megan's baby. A baby! Our little friend group, our ci...

On Monday I lit a candle and prayed about Faith, Hope and Love. It went something like this; “Let our Love keep burning when Faith and Hope flicker.” A beautiful prayer…  Except that my innermost being was saying something more like this. Ahem. “shit, shit, shit. F***” So, I guess that should be filed away with my other not so beautiful, and yet honest, prayers.  I also said to God, “I have nothing. And I have everything.” I didn't understand that statement but it felt real, and it kept coming up throughout the week. I had nothing and everything when my family sat together grieving, crying, and praying. When we called each other to see “how it was going,” and when other people outside of our immediate family asked to come and to BE there. You realize how many people you have when you really need them. Later in the week I walked with a dear friend. We were talking about singleness, and circling a reservoir while the stars and gl...

Everybody knows about my llama problem right? I love llamas. I take pictures of llamas. I talk about llamas all the time. The hashtag #llamasofinstagram is a real part of my life. I know, I know. It's ridiculous. I think that God speaks to us each in unique ways, which is why He sometimes speaks to me using llama references. Do you ever feel sorry for yourself? I do. In fact, I sometimes spend a significant amount of my day thinking about how hard life can be and wishing that the next thing would hurry up and happen so that I could escape the reality of what is happening right now. Oh, this thinking is flawed in so many ways... And YOU are thinking. Why? Why are we talking about llamas and feeling sorry for yourself. Don't worry the answer is coming. Boom.  The other day while I was praying this clip from Disney's The Emperor's New Groove popped into my mind.   This is the part of the movie where Cuzco is feeling sorry for himself and sitting the rain s...

I sit in an alleyway of sillar stone. The white walls collect the heat and shine it back at me. I have just ordered a pizza a la leña from a tourist trap restaurant behind the cathedral. When it comes a man walking by comments, "Asu, que rico! Provecho!" Only he's not looking at my pizza when he says that. I have forgotten that to wear a tank top here often invites a full body glance up and down, a lingering stare at the blondish streaks in my hair, or some incarnation of a whistle. I have tentative plans for today including eating tres leches cake at least once, drinking a cappuccino with some friends, and perhaps drinking a cusqueña negra in the airport. I have to catch up on my caloric intake after the colossal effort that my metabolism made in the high altitudes. And my Peruvian mom's voice echoes in my head, "Amandita! Porque tan flaquita, mi reina?" I love the sound of my name here, Amandita. Teresa managed to fuss over me all morning, even while...

The high places break me every time. My hands crack open and bleed from the dry air and from the wind. My breath comes in gasps. When we sing hymns in the morning it comes in an unsteady line of rich notes, full yet breathless. The meaning is full. Eyes around the circle of faces are full. There is a pressure in my chest and I don't know if it is from the thin air or the emotion. Somehow the severity of the landscape breaks off my hardness. Is it the people walking out of the empty painted hills, the way they call me Tia or doctorita, or is it the way that Venus actually shines like the star of Bethlehem illustrations from years of Christmas cards? Is it the intensity on Cathy's face as she stands in the main square in Choco reading the Bible to people who cannot read themselves? Or maybe it is the baby girl, born two months premature at home, because the hospital is 2 days away, who is now cooing at me from within the brightly colored blanket that wraps her to her mothers ...

What is it like to arrive somewhere after walking kilometers through the dust, dirt and thin air? Maybe the altitude is sucking your breath away, maybe you have blisters or an ingrown toenail, maybe you are feeling good, or terrible, and maybe you are thinking What did I get myself into? as you realize that the only way out is more of the same mule trails stretching on in a seemingly perpetual pattern of ascents and descents. Here is a brief description of each of our arrivals: Llanca. We saw Llanca first from across the canyon. We were going down a slippery gravel road in the back of the cattle truck and looking up at the crisscross of the line that was to be the next 4 hours of a nice little hike/climb. It's always discouraging to go down before you have to go back up. After climbing up in the dust and wind for a few hours, we started to pass the fields and a few of the towns people came running down the path to do the afternoon chores and shouted encouragements to...

A reprise: The repetition of a piece- played again at the end or repeated throughout a score. A reprise stirs again the thoughts and emotions of before, reshaping them and calling to a deeper place, perhaps, perhaps not. It is an invitation to feel. The joy may be rekindled, the flames may rise a little higher. This reprise is a rest from the weight. It is a burden of a different kind. It is a return to the dusty trail where I felt the heft of surrender digging into my palm. It is a reflection on a year that was surprising, challenging, heartbreaking and life giving. I’m going back to Peru… Going back to the Canyon… Going back to the windswept highlands that are barren and empty, lonely and full. I’m going back to Peru. The music plays through my head. The first time I remember feeling alone and feeling uncertain. That underlying melody is the same, but the bridge is different. Because last time I was given a family and last time I surrendered my certainty. Thi...