Good-bye

I guess I write because I have a feeling that I will write here a bit more often. I am not sure if that is a good or bad thing? It comes from the fact that I just had to say goodbye to a good friend. Moving back overseas. You know living overseas means people coming into and out of your life a whole lot. You get used to good-byes. But maybe it isn't so much just the fact of living overseas but a bit more of being in and among people who come & go. Missions minded people may just have to learn to live, love and leave. A lot.

Okay, so why are "we" talking again? I guess because I realize that I need to talk...to process...to think out loud if you will. There is just a good chance that I will need to talk and share somewhere and that place might just be here.

Anyways, I just felt like I need to say that. I may be here more often. That's all. Thanks.

gone

When you decide to only bring six bags back from Peru, you really do expect that all six will make it. I mean really, six bags isn't much and you just hope for the best when it comes to having those things in your possession again. But, no! One got stolen back in February. It is just now that I am beginning to recall things that were packed into that bag and am kind of sad for my losses. I suppose this is just my way of acknowledging my loss.

Green Letters - But not just any old copy of this. It was the copy that I had used to disciple a few girls and it was full of notes. I had also sent it to Kim so she could add her notes. It was a precious journey that many had taken. Gone.

The Lord is My Shepherd - A book that Kim and I read through together in different hemispheres. I learned so much about psalm 23 and it was something I had been looking forward to reading once again upon arriving back here in the states. Gone.

A Woman After God's Own Heart - Another book by the same author. I called it my wife book. It seemed to be everything you needed to learn about being a godly wife and included so many subjects that I had to really wrestle with. Great teachings and something that again, I was looking forward to. Gone.

Large Workout Ball - Oh I have the manual. I have the DVD. But that actual ball to use to exercise with? Gone.

Dresses - My cute summer dresses, ones I hardly used there in Peru and was honestly looking forward to using here in the US, were packed into a ziploc bag. Now? Gone.

White blouse - I remember this one because it was the same one we had bought for Jael for her graduation from the Bible Training. I bought myself one because I liked it so much and it made me think of her every time I used it. Gone.

Metro Cookbooks - I went a little crazy when the small series of cookbooks went on sale at Metro and bought as many as I could find. I packed some with me in the first bags and the rest went into the last bag. I hadn't even looked through some of them, saving them until I arrived back here in the states as somewhat of a present to me. Gone.

Ceviche Cookbook - Sadly, one of my favorite cookbooks I think was packed into that bag since it would come later and I just didn't need it right away. I think that too is...gone.

For now, those are the things I remember. I will add more if I think of more.

Belonging

Well there is no time like the present to just jump back in and start to share. Sure I would love some great tale to tell, some thought to convey. But when it all comes down to it, I really have nothing profound. I am on a journey and cannot exactly see the destination and truthfully just wish I could go back. I am right in the midst of processing some pics from around my apartment in Peru and it makes me miss all of the sights and sounds, even smells of life there. I would love to pick myself up and just head back. Now.

I suppose I am struggling right now with belonging. I know it it the cry of our heart to belong. And I know as Christians that we technically belong to the family of God. But when family here in the US means the same last name and not much else, being part of that family is similar. Sure, we can meet on Sundays but really we just go about our week without much thought for the other person.

So belonging in my context? In many ways I really no longer "belonged" in Peru. The work I had done came to an end because the vision got distorted and sidetracked. So there was not really much to belong to. Now I am back here in the states. Sure, I am even back in the city I left from. But I continue to ask myself where do I belong? I am growing to hate that question because I have yet to answer.

I guess this will be a question I continue to seek the answer to. Where do I belong?

Where do you belong?

caught

So, I feel like I need counseling before I feel like I can start "real life." But I need to start real life to have the money for counseling. Seems that I am caught in a never-ending cyclical problem.

Any thoughts?

answer

People everywhere all the time ask why I moved back from Peru. I try to explain that the ministries I was working with had come to an end and it was time for me to return to a place of community. I jumble up all my words in an effort to explain the heartache I have in my heart. I try to convince people that it is for the best while in reality I think I am convincing myself of that very thing.

But, why don't I say it as it is? I am back in the states to stay aligned with God. Simple and sweet, yet oh so true. God showed me months before that I would have satisfaction through obedience. I really must trust His words in that.

Satisfaction Through Obedience...it is what will heal my heart.

here

So here I sit, Sunday night, and wonder what this week will bring. I am starting to feel more and more frustrated about life here and trying to figure out how to make it all work. I sense that I should be taking greater strides to make things happen and I cannot seem to get my mind wrapped around what the next step is.

I suppose I wish people cared about me being back here in the states. Too many days, I feel lonely and want to move my life back to Peru. I enjoyed my days there. It felt familiar. I miss the sounds, the people, the traffic, life. Here, it all seems unfamiliar. I am never sure where to turn. I feel as though I don't have anyone to turn to.

Sure there are moments that I enjoy seeing people and talking with them. But that ends. No one seems genuinely interested in my presence here, just in the moment at hand. So, a missionary comes home to visit, and I know there is a sense of needing to connect. A limited time. But here, I sit, without a time limit and cannot seem to make a move.

So, all this to say I am lonely, confused, hurt and want to pack my bags to head back down south.

perishable

It's funny really that we have such a fear of foods moving past their expiration date. Well, maybe my friend is the exception, I found a box of carrot cake mix that expired in 2002. But perishable items are a little more sketchy, I don't find too many things past their date in the fridge. One or two, but not a few.

A friend of mine, when he lived as a bachelor, held onto all kinds of bottles and cartons well after their time had come. In fact when my roommate and I cleaned out his fridge, there were milk jugs that had expired a year before. On the other hand, I have friends that once they see the date has passed will toss something in the garbage without looking or smelling. Mind you, they may be throwing away good items based on their "sell by" date alone.

I have learned, most things are worth checking out. In Peru, I made the most of most things and if my natural yogurt had an expiration of January, I still used it into February. Of course, I checked it each and every time I was about to pour it in a mixing bowl. You must take care with perishable items. Sooner or later they will perish.

But there are so many things in this life that are perishing and we forget. We hold onto them like my bachelor friend. 1 Peter 1:18-19 acknowledges that silver and gold will perish, unlike the redeeming blood of the lamb, which will not. We look forward to a day when the earth and all its works will be burned up to pave the way for the new heavens and the new earth (2pet 3:10-13). Yet, we continue to build up and store up. For what? To have more to lose in the end?

The pastor on Sunday morning made a quick and interesting statement. He was speaking about things we should focus on - the eternal and not the temporal. He stated that "the temporal will perish." Followed up quickly with, "these church buildings one day will be gone!"

So, sitting there with my mind half American, half Peruvian at this point, I couldn't help but think about the types of churches that I saw all over Peru and the types which I find here in the US. Seems like churches here are getting built up to be bigger and bigger, until the size of the lot is outgrown and a move "must" be made. I was intrigued by a small church in the jungle which had no doors. It had three walls and a roof, but that fourth wall was missing. Sure, it made for some work when they had to connect the lights to the electrical wires. It made for more work to carry the guitar and the offering plate down to the church. But, it was open and inviting. How many US churches these days have locked gates and security guards? What have we turned church into?

Anyways, it struck me that just like the milk that sits in your fridge has an expiration date because it is a perishable item, so the church building looks forward to a day which it will no longer stand. What will are the people inside. Therefore, the people's hearts and souls are *more* important than the building.

So, why is it that churches raise millions of dollars for building campaigns and are cutting back on missionary support?

weekends

I am not sure why the weekends seem to be harder on me. Maybe because what little routine I have on weekdays flies out the window on the weekend? Maybe because I think people will be freer to visit me and that is not the case at all? Maybe I get my hopes up only for them to be dashed?

I walked around a few stores today and longed to be back in Peru. I longed to speak Spanish. I longed to hear the sounds, smell the smells and see the sites. I longed to be with people who are my friends. I wanted to be in a place that I felt safe and comfortable.

I almost started crying a hundred times. I had to keep telling myself to wait until I got home. Wait until it is okay. But when I seem to want to let the tears out, they just don't flow. I feel unhappy and discontent.

I don't feel as though I belong. I know I need to find a place to fit in, a place to belong to. A community. I thought my community was here, and in some way it is. But my community is no longer one, it has split into many parts and I am not sure which I fit into. This has some resemblance to my parents divorcing and creating new families. I wasn't really a part of either although before I was part of the one. I think that is how I feel a little bit.

I wish I knew where to start. I wish I knew where I could fit in, where I could belong, where I could become a part of things. You know I always said it may be easier to "start over" and not return to a place I was once part of. Going back brings up expectations of what once was and will never again be. I don't really know how to release those expectations in order to allow God to recreate things.

I feel really alone here. And I don't like it.

reoccurring dream

I seem to keep having the same dreams, or dreams about similar topics. It seems to always have to do with packing myself up to move. Sometimes I am with all Peruvians, last night it was a gringa friend who was with me, helping me. Often I am racing to get things done in order to get to the airport on time.

Seems like last nights dream was a bit different. I was packing up the final things with my friend at the ministry office, merely for the additional space. My ministry partner was trying to enter the building by the front door, because he did not have a key. (The ministry office was actually my personal apartment.) He and several girls he had with him tried to find a way in through the door or through the windows. I wanted to head out the back but was just not quick enough. I think he had seen my friend inside.

He and his group went around to the side of the place where there was an open window with a wooden frame and a long curtain to cover it. The curtain was blowing in the wind. He prepared to go through the open window and I kind of popped up, visible to them all. He stopped what he was trying to do and backed off.

Somehow when we were finished packing things up, we were exiting. He felt it was his right to stand at the door and await our exit. My bags were still inside and would be going to the airport with me later on. He demanded the key to the door which my friend gave him and we left.

Later on, it occurred to me that the key my friend had given him was the only one. My bags were now locked inside the room and I would not be able to get my things out in time to head to the airport.

Then I woke up.

Seems like every night for the past several I have a similar dream, with different details. It is sort of exhausting. I am already here and really don't desire to relive those last moments.

dedication

If I could, how I would love to dedicate these verses to someone.

Then Job responded,
What a help you are to the weak!
How you have saved the arm without strength!
What counsel you have given to one without wisdom!
What helpful insight you have abundantly provided!
To whom have you uttered words?
And whose spirit was expressed through you?
Job 26:1-4

It amazes me how people think they are being helpful when in reality they are just doing harm.

death & grieving

When I mentioned that at the memorial service of their father, my friend and her brother made those in attendance laugh; my Peruvian friend found that strange. "I suppose we Peruvians are mas emocionales." I realized there are several differences between death in the different countries.

In Peru, the funeral and burial is almost immediate, within 24 hours typically. In years past, the chemicals were not available to inject dead bodies for the duration of funeral planning that I have seen in the US. In Peru, it was a quick service and quick burial to prevent the spread of disease. I have heard of stories in which those that came to do autopsies were asked to write false dates and times in order to give friends and family time to arrive. Although the burial may be rapid, transportation is not!

Grief and mourning seem to be different. There are times when I think Peruvians do not show very much emotion. I remember asking if my friend cried at his brother's funeral. I guess I just do not see emotion among Peruvian men. Ever. So, naturally one would wonder if that emotion would be released upon news of a death.

But then here's the catch, I think as Americans we seem to be much more deeply affected by death. Someone may die in our lives and we always go back to it. We talk about it and how it changed and affected us. Peruvians seem to know death is simply part of life. Maybe Americans think that their power extends to immortality too?

Anyway, back to my friend and her brother and their memorial service humor. They shared about their father and told the tales of their lives. Their father was a funny man and that came out in each and every one of the stories. Those that had come to pay their respects remembered their father in a similar way and enjoyed a trip down memory lane. There was no disrespect, of course they will miss him, of course they are sad. But for a brief time, they chose to remember the great things about their father.

Grief is an interesting thing and it makes us do interesting things. I like the custom we tend to have that we bring tales and stories which help people remember those that have passed in the most positive way. We walked away from saying goodbye with tears in our eyes and a smile on our lips.

sunday morning

This mornings sermon was all about legalism. Unfortunately it hits close to home for me after living in Peru and even dealing with some American churches.

All too often, we lose the perspective of the Biblical standards and begin to create our own standards. I really liked the explanation that the pastor gave of that this morning. Legalism comes from UNBELIEF. As in, one does not trust God enough, so one creates rules to not need to trust God. Interesting and I think, all too true.

When we remember that there really is nothing we can do to earn God's favor and no rules we can place on others to measure them up as spiritual or not, it does sort of bring things back to Christ living through us. You know, the whole point of Christianity?

Something hit me though, churches are defined by their rules and regulations. Denominations are defined by the way they do things or the things they find acceptable or not acceptable. Christians are known or are supposed to be known by their love for one another and their love for God. Unfortunately many Christians are instead known by their own personal rules & regulations or those they enforce with the people around them. Infrequently do we truly find people that serve Christ and others because that is what truly springs from their heart. What are you defined by? Are you defined by Christ or by the rules you claim to follow?

Anyway, there are some things I want to touch on further, such as the difference between legalism & discipline; the Do-To-Be Tree; Jesus + something = idolatry; legalism as I have seen it in Peru & the US. Those are all for a later time.

landed

What can I say? I have landed but am not home. I have arrived but am not really here. My heart and mind are in another place while my body is here on American soil. So many things run through my mind, so many emotions run through my heart. Again, I need to start writing them down, for I fear no one else can understand me.

hurting

This morning, I was contemplating the honesty of stating that I am not doing well. Emotionally and spiritually, I am empty. Not just at zero empty, but like in the red empty. Less than zero empty. I am hurting. Someone prayed for me yesterday that the resentment and bitterness that have taken root would be removed. Already taken root.

I guess what I began to contemplate was that if I had a physical problem, things may be different. It would be easier to say, "I have _____ and am returning to the states to get well." No one would think that was bad, no one would really question it. But instead, things have not been easy here. I have seen and heard things that have been hard, that have caused a lot of mistrust in me, a lot of hurt in me. And instead of saying, come home, we want to help...the very ones that "sent" me seem to have turned their back.

So, somehow you realize that physical pain is so much more acceptable than emotional pain. And if I am emotionally hurting, somehow people see me as "less than." I wish that were different.

If I could help churches and church leaders understand something, it would be that when a missionary returns from the field wounded, that does NOT make them disposable. Don't turn your back. Don't turn your face. Look them in the eyes and say that you will be there for them. And mean it.

Unfortunately, I have watch too many be hurt not just on the mission field, but at times more so when they return. Why is that? Why would people send missionaries out to serve, evangelize, disciple, etc and then when they return act as though they are the enemy?

Anyway, my heart hurts for myself and many others who desire or desired to return to open arms only to find a closed door.

Needs

We recently traveled to a small town on the side of the road. We went to deliver some Christmas goods like food and presents. I returned bewildered and still I wonder why we went.

The very first person to greet us began to explain how the mine waste sat on the other side of the road and when the wind kicked up, all of the pollution stirred around in the air. Could I do something about it she asked.

I went along meeting other people, the leaders from nearby towns. One of the first to introduce herself came armed with two letters, both asking for us to take on projects of building and repairing things.

They gave us a tour of the town and as we looked at the problems left by the mine, someone asked me what we were going to do about it. At that point I began to explain that I know nothing about mining, nothing about the leftover chemicals, that I could see the problem and had no plan to take care of it.

I was shown around the medical post. "We need a scale, we need oxygen tanks, we need bedsheets..." The list went on and on. They want a full running medical post when the nearest hospital is about 5 minutes away. Walking.

We went into the school's classrooms and they showed me the kids work and pointed out that the ceilings were deteriorating. I saw two spots where things had comes loose. As we were about to leave the school grounds, they decided that every town leader would send a list of the town's needs so they could compile it and submit it to us.

Truthfully, I wanted out. Out of these conversations, out of town! To wrap things up, they asked that I would say a few words. God had been speaking to me as I walked through the town. They really had many things, most apparent was the fact that the building were all made of cement. One town away was complete adobe. The cement buildings were from the mining days and remain to this day. So many towns we visit have no cement buildings but are homes with dirt floors, straw walls and roofs that are literally falling apart. I challenged them to see what they had instead of what they didn't have. Every single town could draft a list of the town needs. Even I have a list of things I need to do, repair or get for my home. But that does not mean that every visitor that walks through my door is shown the list and then asked, "Now what are you going to do about it?"

My heart hurt that day. Hurt for the fact that they are lost. Hurt for the fact that they look to people instead of to God. Hurt for the fact that a single mom wanted me to take her daughter to give her a better life. Hurt for the fact that they saw only their own needs and not those of people around them.

A Long Time...

I feel like a lot of time has passed since I have actually written. I figure that no one actually reads this and therefore I question why bother writing. I have been working a lot more at my blog Canela y Comino and found both my time in the kitchen as well as the time I write to be some what therapeutic. Okay, really therapeutic. You can check in with me over there on a regular basis.

But...the thing is...there is a lot in my head and my heart that I cannot seem to express. I keep telling people that I seem to settle down once I am in the kitchen. I chop. I puree. I saute. I cook. I bake. These things seem to help me process and pray about these things that are in my mind.

Something, though, has been nagging at me to write it down. I wonder if trying to write instead of verbally express myself would be better. De repente yo puedo escribir solo en espanol para que algunos no mas entiendan. No se que seria mejor. A veces pienso mas claramente asi than like this. It all just depends. Todo depende.

So today someone stopped by my house. Una visita. She came by to ask a favor. But instead of dropping by and running out as usual she stayed and talked. We talked about life and things of the past, the present and the future. But something she said will continue to molestarme como siempre. The comments I often hear include something along the lines of "we all try to be your friend." See...people drop by for something, por una razon, to see someone, to ask a favor, for something. Rarely is it to see me, to talk with me. It is not that that bothers me. It is that they see that as trying to be my friend.

She suggests that our perspective of being a friend is very different. I should drop by their houses more. I say I would like to but I haven't been invited. Exactly she says. Oh how we think differently. Somehow I am supposed to understand that someone coming by to ask a favor really means that they are my friend, that they are trying to spend time with me and in turn I am obligated to reciprocate that? How complicated. If they want me to visit, why don't they just invite me? Why not just say, come on over. See other do this. I am invited. I am welcomed. I don't wonder. Sure the Latin culture is full of visits, but still it seems odd to me. I think part of the reason is that it can take 2 hours by bus to go somewhere, so you would not likely go somewhere without previa aviso. You would not likely just be in the neighborhood.

Anyway, all that to say that I still struggle with figuring out how to "be friends" with people. I wish it was just easy. Porque no puede ser mas facil? Porque la gente no piensan igual como yo? Porque? Me gustaria entender pero tambien me gustaria que ellos me entendarian a mi. Porque siempre tengo que explicarme? Si, claro, yo se que 5 anos no significa que soy experta aqui.

So what do I do now? She came by. Does that mean that I need to visit her soon? Does that obligate me to respond in some way? Como hago?