A soft breeze floats my way from the lazy flapping of wings. Multifaceted eyes peer out into blue that is the day. All that hinders this gentle creature from the freedom it deserves is thin, green screen. Wanting to take on the world but not knowing where to start, it sits in silent wonder. Gathering up courage, it tries again, beating its wings more fiercely this time. So focused on what is directly in front of its face, it fails to see the better way. Less than a foot to its left there is a wide open door. An entrance to the nature it calls home, a life it is searching for. I try to coax it to come with me, to give me trust to free it from its one-sided cage. It dodges my hand and flaps its wings in debate. Coming one step closer I feel its shifty gaze evaluating me. Will it proceed to freedom or choose to remain inside, dreaming of what could be?
I am often like this delicate creature. A beautiful life which God has envisioned, trapped in a cage I have placed before myself. Yearning to move ahead into the potential which could be mine, but wanting to take my own path. I point out to God the obstacles that lay ahead and why I can’t proceed to what He desires for my life. I fail to notice the door He has opened for me, just by my side and easily in reach. Sometimes I fight His help and direction, but if I would just crawl onto His finger and let Him cup me in His hands, I would be on my way to live His ideal life for me. To take that step can be scary, daring, and full of uncertainty. More than anything however, it is worth it. By stepping forward and saying “please, carry me” I can give myself the opportunity to find a life and a happiness I never knew I could have. I see it in the distance, imagine the possibilities, but doubt they could really be mine. God knows what I truly want, He knows what I truly need, and He knows me more than I could ever know myself. I hope to always choose to take a deep breath, send up a prayer of faith and step forward into hands which love me. Only He can free me from my self-imposed cage, and take me to freedom.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Unintended Gestures
The most remarkable thing happened to me today, something out of the ordinary and in its own significant way, a glorious occurrence. There was nothing particularly special about this moment in time, I was just sitting in my taxi in Campo Verde, watching passengers get in and out at their various destinations, waiting to be taken to home. My focus, lost in the mental lists of all I had to do for the afternoon, was suddenly punctured by the words “here is your change”. Realizing I was the only one left in the taxi, I was quite bewildered by this interruptive statement. I had already paid my four soles for passage to km. 38 and was ready to get a move on. Looking at my driver, I saw in his hand 50 centimos, making my cobra S/. 3,50, the cost for a trip between Pucallpa and Campo Verde. Now normally when I get in a taxi and ask them to take me to km. 38 there is never an issue. On occasion they will up the price or not want to take us the extra distance if it as night, but never before has this been a daytime scenario. I asked him kindly if he would take me to km. 38 for the normal four soles, but he replied with an immediate “no, it is too far and too expensive”. Gathering my bags I hopped out in search of a motocar. “Hmmm…while I am here I might as well visit my fruit man and stock up the house with vitamin C” I thought to myself. So off I trotted to complete more errands, still slightly irked by having to pay two soles instead of 50 centimos for the extra four kilometers. I didn’t realize until I reached home how much of an accomplishment getting kicked out of a taxi really was. Today, I was treated like a local. It didn’t matter that I was a girl, that my eyes were blue and my skin was “gringa”. He didn’t try to get more money out of me or take me along simply for more conversation. The simple truth was that he didn’t want to take me, so he didn’t. To him, I was just another passenger in his car. I was a person who lived in Peru who had a request he wasn’t fond of. Although I do prefer one continuous, cheap ride with people who are friendly and don’t mind the extra effort, these words really touched me today. I don’t know if he was meaning to pay me this compliment in his actions but I will take it as such none the less. I was kicked to the curb by someone who didn’t see me as a tourist, someone special, or even different. It is the most wonderful feeling to be recognized for who you are. And who I am is partially Peruvian. I feel at home here. I ride in taxis, go in search of motorcars when told to do so, and walk dirt roads on occasion. This is life here and I am enamored by it. Frustrated by it at times too, but you have to love the pace all its own. So what was remarkable about my day? I was treated as an equal, a normal person in a beautiful country where for one person outward appearance didn’t make a difference.
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Return
Helloooo everyone! As most of you know I am returning to Peru for the year. Unexpected yes, but God has new and exciting plans for all of us...plans that we would never have dreamed of on our own. I will try to keep you posted as life unfolds yet again in the jungle. Keep me in your prayers and you will be in mine as well. Lots of love and many hugs...until next time!
Change
July 2009- Another Summer in Peru
Back again! I love my Peru and am so blessed to have returned. Two years ago I was doing what many are right now, making preparations to live in another country for 9-12 months. Scared, excited and absolutely clueless as to what I was about to get myself into. Here I am now, on the other side of my Peru life, returning to befriend those as they arrive and help them as they hit the ground running. Life in Peru has changed and AMOR Projects has made many new developments. It is so hard to get used to having electricity, which includes a fridge and a washing machine. This is so odd to me and I will selfishly admit I also find it a bit sad. I know that development and progress are both good and necessary, but nothing can ever replace the feeling of candlelight dinners and worship, or washing your clothes by hand. It is however wonderful to not have to worry about leftovers spoiling or using 3 much needed hours sitting at the well. Person after person continues to arrive, and I love watching their reactions. Faces of awe and surprise, many questions and long glances. I am so excited for the day where those faces reflect a look of comfort and home. Still full of awe, but awe in a grateful and blessed manner. Where what they see is life, not questionable newness. When every street becomes familiar and people become friends and family. Language may always be somewhat of a barrier, but actions, as they learn to use them, will speak so much louder and will change them in ways they never new possible. Here, change is key. And even though at times I selfishly regret it, change of the land brings progress, and change of the heart brings joy and peace. As the soul, their inner being, is slowly given away and exchanged for a piece of this new life, this new world, developments will take place that they didn´t even know were necessary. Change can come with difficulty and change can come unnoticed, but the one thing I wish for each of these new volunteers is that they allow themselves to be changed. I hope they return home different...keeping of course their prior good, but embracing and viewing life as so much more. Pray for them as they journey, pray for them as they LIVE, and pray for them that they always keep what they are sure to discover here. Life as they never knew it before and as they will never know it again. Change can be good no matter where you are. Look for it, embrace it, grow with it, and live the life God has given you...no matter how many changes it may entail. Be they easy or tough they are bound to bring you to a place you would have never found yourself otherwise. A place of good and discovery...and maybe, like these volunteers, even a place called Peru.
Back again! I love my Peru and am so blessed to have returned. Two years ago I was doing what many are right now, making preparations to live in another country for 9-12 months. Scared, excited and absolutely clueless as to what I was about to get myself into. Here I am now, on the other side of my Peru life, returning to befriend those as they arrive and help them as they hit the ground running. Life in Peru has changed and AMOR Projects has made many new developments. It is so hard to get used to having electricity, which includes a fridge and a washing machine. This is so odd to me and I will selfishly admit I also find it a bit sad. I know that development and progress are both good and necessary, but nothing can ever replace the feeling of candlelight dinners and worship, or washing your clothes by hand. It is however wonderful to not have to worry about leftovers spoiling or using 3 much needed hours sitting at the well. Person after person continues to arrive, and I love watching their reactions. Faces of awe and surprise, many questions and long glances. I am so excited for the day where those faces reflect a look of comfort and home. Still full of awe, but awe in a grateful and blessed manner. Where what they see is life, not questionable newness. When every street becomes familiar and people become friends and family. Language may always be somewhat of a barrier, but actions, as they learn to use them, will speak so much louder and will change them in ways they never new possible. Here, change is key. And even though at times I selfishly regret it, change of the land brings progress, and change of the heart brings joy and peace. As the soul, their inner being, is slowly given away and exchanged for a piece of this new life, this new world, developments will take place that they didn´t even know were necessary. Change can come with difficulty and change can come unnoticed, but the one thing I wish for each of these new volunteers is that they allow themselves to be changed. I hope they return home different...keeping of course their prior good, but embracing and viewing life as so much more. Pray for them as they journey, pray for them as they LIVE, and pray for them that they always keep what they are sure to discover here. Life as they never knew it before and as they will never know it again. Change can be good no matter where you are. Look for it, embrace it, grow with it, and live the life God has given you...no matter how many changes it may entail. Be they easy or tough they are bound to bring you to a place you would have never found yourself otherwise. A place of good and discovery...and maybe, like these volunteers, even a place called Peru.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
midnight jabber about everything and nothing
I know many people think I am crazy, and to some extent they may be right. Why go back so soon? That’s a lot of money for just 3 weeks to hang out… To the normal person, going back to Peru 3 months later for just 3 weeks right before school starts is a little strange. I mean aren’t you glad to be home… in the “good ‘ole” U.S. of A. ? Aren’t you glad to have all your home commodities back? Yes, it’s nice to see family, or not to have to leave an hour before everything “just in case”. Yes, it’s nice to have food from home and a refrigerator to put things in. But this isn’t who I am. It is what I have, but not where my heart is. Unless you’ve been away from home to a place you love, you will never understand the homesickness you can feel for a place and a people you were afraid of for so long. I can’t believe that a year ago, I was running around stressing out, trying to buy everything I would need and fit a years supply into 2 small suitcases…wondering how I would fit into a new country or spend nine months away from my loved ones. Now I am wondering how to make life work without all that.
The first two weeks crept by, but then we got into a routine and the next thing I new it was time for Christmas vacation. You wouldn’t think that in five months 10 complete strangers could become your dearest family and friends… those you share everything with, live for, and can’t wait to see at the end of the day. I missed my “real” family terribly and wished my US friends were there many a time and wouldn’t trade them for the world, but the Lord blessed me greatly with my Peru home and Peru family. After vacation the group felt even closer… there were some additions and subtractions, but the feel was always the same… blessed and loved. Of course there were trying times…times when we got on each others nerves, or when I was ready to go home, but you are bound to have days like that.
In my time away I realized that I am NOT cut out to be a teacher and that medical work still excites me, but it wasn’t the eye opening experience I was looking for in terms of where I was going in life. Being in Peru didn’t tell me what career to pursue, what or who to be. It didn’t give me a spiritual high like I was expecting, or this new found reliance on my Creator and King. Peru didn’t hand me a road map to life… but it helped me to live mine and to follow someone Who knows where I should go. I can’t live my life for anyone else but Him and me, and that is one thing I learned there. Life’s decisions can’t be made by what other people think or feel, I have to be me, and in Peru I got to do just that, whoever “me” may be.
Although I can see myself becoming a doctor and raising a family here at home in the country hills of Tennessee, I can just as easily see myself working in the “Clinic de Esperanza” on Km. 38… or doing jungle clinics, and this scares me. It scares me not to know where my life is heading or what direction to take… where I’ll make my home or what my loved ones will think, but this isn’t up to me to decide. People may say I’ve lost it to love a life so simple…one without the hassles of electricity and a grocery store, and where exercise is a way of life and not just 20 minutes you might squeeze in five times a week… one where you get laughed at for slaughtering another language every time you open your mouth, or have to use a wooden booth to call home. Honestly, I can’t tell you why I love and miss it soooo much. Is it the culture, the land, my Km. 38 home and family, the people, the work, or is it something more? No where inside of me can I find the words that say “this” is why I need to go back…why I need to be in Peru. I just know that is where part of me belongs and will forever be. I did choose August for the fact that they desperately need translators and extra hands for a large group coming from LLU… not just to hang out, but that still doesn’t explain the longing inside of me. Although I would love to be able so say I just want to go back to help out, that wouldn’t be entirely truthful… I know that’s not the only reason. Maybe I just need to escape for a bit, it can’t be a longing to see people, most of them are in the states…unless it is the people of Peru in general, not just those from km. 38. This makes just as much sense to me as it does to many of you. I know this isn’t the hugest of deals, I’d actually be surprised if anyone reads this far, but I guess you aren’t really meant to, it’s just mindless jabber. Besides, it’s not another year...Albeit tempting, I’m smart enough to know that education is essential; it’s only 3 weeks of a random friend’s life that doesn’t affect you. It’s just that, I don’t know, maybe I need to be that bit of Peruvian I was for so long and learn how to bring her back with me… to not lose the change I’ve found and try to make my heart whole again. It may hurt worse or it may hurt less to leave again, but I guess I’ll find out. I love Peru and the life I had there, and although I am happy with my life in the United States and don’t want anyone to think of me as miserable or ungrateful (because I am neither of these), I will still miss it more than many will ever understand. Just a little bit of two worlds all wrapped up in one crazy and confused girl who talks too much at midnight…and that’s all there is to it.
The first two weeks crept by, but then we got into a routine and the next thing I new it was time for Christmas vacation. You wouldn’t think that in five months 10 complete strangers could become your dearest family and friends… those you share everything with, live for, and can’t wait to see at the end of the day. I missed my “real” family terribly and wished my US friends were there many a time and wouldn’t trade them for the world, but the Lord blessed me greatly with my Peru home and Peru family. After vacation the group felt even closer… there were some additions and subtractions, but the feel was always the same… blessed and loved. Of course there were trying times…times when we got on each others nerves, or when I was ready to go home, but you are bound to have days like that.
In my time away I realized that I am NOT cut out to be a teacher and that medical work still excites me, but it wasn’t the eye opening experience I was looking for in terms of where I was going in life. Being in Peru didn’t tell me what career to pursue, what or who to be. It didn’t give me a spiritual high like I was expecting, or this new found reliance on my Creator and King. Peru didn’t hand me a road map to life… but it helped me to live mine and to follow someone Who knows where I should go. I can’t live my life for anyone else but Him and me, and that is one thing I learned there. Life’s decisions can’t be made by what other people think or feel, I have to be me, and in Peru I got to do just that, whoever “me” may be.
Although I can see myself becoming a doctor and raising a family here at home in the country hills of Tennessee, I can just as easily see myself working in the “Clinic de Esperanza” on Km. 38… or doing jungle clinics, and this scares me. It scares me not to know where my life is heading or what direction to take… where I’ll make my home or what my loved ones will think, but this isn’t up to me to decide. People may say I’ve lost it to love a life so simple…one without the hassles of electricity and a grocery store, and where exercise is a way of life and not just 20 minutes you might squeeze in five times a week… one where you get laughed at for slaughtering another language every time you open your mouth, or have to use a wooden booth to call home. Honestly, I can’t tell you why I love and miss it soooo much. Is it the culture, the land, my Km. 38 home and family, the people, the work, or is it something more? No where inside of me can I find the words that say “this” is why I need to go back…why I need to be in Peru. I just know that is where part of me belongs and will forever be. I did choose August for the fact that they desperately need translators and extra hands for a large group coming from LLU… not just to hang out, but that still doesn’t explain the longing inside of me. Although I would love to be able so say I just want to go back to help out, that wouldn’t be entirely truthful… I know that’s not the only reason. Maybe I just need to escape for a bit, it can’t be a longing to see people, most of them are in the states…unless it is the people of Peru in general, not just those from km. 38. This makes just as much sense to me as it does to many of you. I know this isn’t the hugest of deals, I’d actually be surprised if anyone reads this far, but I guess you aren’t really meant to, it’s just mindless jabber. Besides, it’s not another year...Albeit tempting, I’m smart enough to know that education is essential; it’s only 3 weeks of a random friend’s life that doesn’t affect you. It’s just that, I don’t know, maybe I need to be that bit of Peruvian I was for so long and learn how to bring her back with me… to not lose the change I’ve found and try to make my heart whole again. It may hurt worse or it may hurt less to leave again, but I guess I’ll find out. I love Peru and the life I had there, and although I am happy with my life in the United States and don’t want anyone to think of me as miserable or ungrateful (because I am neither of these), I will still miss it more than many will ever understand. Just a little bit of two worlds all wrapped up in one crazy and confused girl who talks too much at midnight…and that’s all there is to it.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Finally... december hike
“Okay Tara, one foot in front of the other… what have I gotten myself into?” I thought to myself. The first ten minutes weren’t so bad; actually I was enjoying our guideless adventure through the mountains of Peru to Macchu Pichu. Two hours later, still hiking straight up the mountain with at least another hour to go before our STEEP descent, and I was having second thoughts. If no map, no plans, no tent, and no guide weren’t adventurous enough, you can always add in the cable car ride “bridges” strung 100 feet above the Santa Teresa’s swirling rapids, trails covered in rock slides, and steep stone stairs with a thousand foot drop on one side and I am sure adventure might come to mind. But, there we were... four crazy S.M.’s on a wonderful vacation having, for the most part, the time of our lives. This three day adventure was only a short (although significant) part of our two week visa renewal trip.
Now, back to the part where I am huffing and puffing up an incredibly large mountain. Starting out was wonderful… the weather was great, the views astounding and the company most grand… then, we started going up. I mean REALLY up. Boy was I regretting not training! I never knew there was such a thing as steeper than steep. However, the view from the top was breathtaking and definitely worth the trouble, as was the feeling of physical exertion and the lovely backpack tan J. We continued our hike through parts of jungle, a very rocky beach, and a path cut through vines and bamboo with rock stepping stones over a swamp, until we reached the “bridge”. Now, if you would close your eyes and use your imagination for just a second… this bridge was a long cable reaching from one side of the roaring river to the other. Connected to this cable was a “cart” made of rebar and wooden planks. The cart was open on all sides with the exception of a rebar “safety rail” and it had just enough space to hold two medium sized people sitting cross-legged holding their backpacks. This was our bridge. The only means in which to cross the Santa Teresa river, a river that because of it’s huge boulders, whirlpools, and swift current, would most likely bring death to anyone brainless enough to try and raft it. Needless to say we all survived this exhilarating ride, even though being stuck in the middle waiting to be pulled (or pull yourself) to the other side is a bit worrisome, and then hiked another 45 minutes to the thermal springs.
After spending about 2 hours there we decided to finish our hike up yet another steep climb to Santa Teresa, a small but touristy mountain town. Although my mind and body were trying ever so hard to convince me to take the 20 minute bus ride with the other group instead of hiking, being as stubborn as we all are we decided to choose the 45 minute road hike half in the dark. Being thoroughly exhausted we thankfully found yet another good place to camp outside of town where we literally crashed. It was so gorgeous to wake up (freezing) at sunrise looking at the snow capped mountains and all the beauty around us. That day’s hike was a little different though, for there was no group to follow, just educated guesses along the “boulder beach” of the Santa Teresa. We alternated beach and road for about 4 hours before coming to a lunch stopping point. This hike wasn’t nearly as strenuous as the other although I felt at least equally as tired from the day before. Guess I wasn’t really cut out for back packing. After lunch was a 2 hour hike on railroad tracks. Talk about going crazy. Bar after bar after bar of wood on theses never ending tracks. Half the time covered by rocks or broken, this proved to be the most annoying and head hurting walking I have ever done. The scenery was amazing here as well, but not quite as worth the trouble. It really reminded me of parks in Tennessee with all the creeks, greenery and trees.
After reaching Aguas Calientes (the city at the base of Macchu Pichu) we finally got rid of our tiresome back packs and searched for a hostel in the pouring rain. To my directionally challenged self this little city seemed to be a maze of look-alike alley ways, none of which had a cheap and decent hostel. Eventually we prevailed and had the opportunity of hot showers for our VERY stinky and sopping selves after three days of rain and sweat with no baths or change of clothing. Such a relief!
Day three… up to Macchu Pichu. One hour up slippery and steep stone stairs with an elevation change of ??????? feet, yet again in the soaking rain. At least we weren’t sweating right? I can’t express the feeling of excitement, joy and contentment to know that we had finally made it to the top. Of course, after we reached the top we accidentally hiked up another ?????? ft. to a mountain actually behind the ruins thinking we were still on our way. An hour and a half later the fog cleared and down below us… way down below us laid the traditional Macchu Pichu souvenir shot. It was a wonderful secluded place for Sabbath worship, but more walking? Not so fun. None the less however, reaching the top and having my ticket stamped was such a wondrous feeling. I can only imagine how great of a feeling it will be when we complete the journey to heaven and have our names checked off in the book of life. This life’s road is much more difficult than my three day journey to Macchu Picchu could have ever been and the reward is sooooo much more than a silly mountain with some ancient ruins. No matter where this life is taking me and you, or the hardships it has in store, the end reward is worth it and we will know a joy indescribable. So, just keep on keeping on.
Now, back to the part where I am huffing and puffing up an incredibly large mountain. Starting out was wonderful… the weather was great, the views astounding and the company most grand… then, we started going up. I mean REALLY up. Boy was I regretting not training! I never knew there was such a thing as steeper than steep. However, the view from the top was breathtaking and definitely worth the trouble, as was the feeling of physical exertion and the lovely backpack tan J. We continued our hike through parts of jungle, a very rocky beach, and a path cut through vines and bamboo with rock stepping stones over a swamp, until we reached the “bridge”. Now, if you would close your eyes and use your imagination for just a second… this bridge was a long cable reaching from one side of the roaring river to the other. Connected to this cable was a “cart” made of rebar and wooden planks. The cart was open on all sides with the exception of a rebar “safety rail” and it had just enough space to hold two medium sized people sitting cross-legged holding their backpacks. This was our bridge. The only means in which to cross the Santa Teresa river, a river that because of it’s huge boulders, whirlpools, and swift current, would most likely bring death to anyone brainless enough to try and raft it. Needless to say we all survived this exhilarating ride, even though being stuck in the middle waiting to be pulled (or pull yourself) to the other side is a bit worrisome, and then hiked another 45 minutes to the thermal springs.
After spending about 2 hours there we decided to finish our hike up yet another steep climb to Santa Teresa, a small but touristy mountain town. Although my mind and body were trying ever so hard to convince me to take the 20 minute bus ride with the other group instead of hiking, being as stubborn as we all are we decided to choose the 45 minute road hike half in the dark. Being thoroughly exhausted we thankfully found yet another good place to camp outside of town where we literally crashed. It was so gorgeous to wake up (freezing) at sunrise looking at the snow capped mountains and all the beauty around us. That day’s hike was a little different though, for there was no group to follow, just educated guesses along the “boulder beach” of the Santa Teresa. We alternated beach and road for about 4 hours before coming to a lunch stopping point. This hike wasn’t nearly as strenuous as the other although I felt at least equally as tired from the day before. Guess I wasn’t really cut out for back packing. After lunch was a 2 hour hike on railroad tracks. Talk about going crazy. Bar after bar after bar of wood on theses never ending tracks. Half the time covered by rocks or broken, this proved to be the most annoying and head hurting walking I have ever done. The scenery was amazing here as well, but not quite as worth the trouble. It really reminded me of parks in Tennessee with all the creeks, greenery and trees.
After reaching Aguas Calientes (the city at the base of Macchu Pichu) we finally got rid of our tiresome back packs and searched for a hostel in the pouring rain. To my directionally challenged self this little city seemed to be a maze of look-alike alley ways, none of which had a cheap and decent hostel. Eventually we prevailed and had the opportunity of hot showers for our VERY stinky and sopping selves after three days of rain and sweat with no baths or change of clothing. Such a relief!
Day three… up to Macchu Pichu. One hour up slippery and steep stone stairs with an elevation change of ??????? feet, yet again in the soaking rain. At least we weren’t sweating right? I can’t express the feeling of excitement, joy and contentment to know that we had finally made it to the top. Of course, after we reached the top we accidentally hiked up another ?????? ft. to a mountain actually behind the ruins thinking we were still on our way. An hour and a half later the fog cleared and down below us… way down below us laid the traditional Macchu Pichu souvenir shot. It was a wonderful secluded place for Sabbath worship, but more walking? Not so fun. None the less however, reaching the top and having my ticket stamped was such a wondrous feeling. I can only imagine how great of a feeling it will be when we complete the journey to heaven and have our names checked off in the book of life. This life’s road is much more difficult than my three day journey to Macchu Picchu could have ever been and the reward is sooooo much more than a silly mountain with some ancient ruins. No matter where this life is taking me and you, or the hardships it has in store, the end reward is worth it and we will know a joy indescribable. So, just keep on keeping on.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
My life in this moment...
The thunder rolls overhead and I snuggle deeper under my blanket. Strong winds from the coming storm blow through my window and gently sway my hammock, making me shiver… winter time in ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Peru…75ยบ and I am freezing. Turning over I reach for paper and a pen sitting beside my eight foot perch. As I do, Monk grasps my finger in attempt to stop my movement with a pleading chirp to continue our nap. My mind however is to busy to sleep. Thoughts of my life here in Peru and those of the life I've put on hold for this short period of time, clamor and collide, battling for dominance. Letter after letter I've written this chilly Sabbath day, each adding to the pile of memories billowing in the deep of my soul. Memories of weekends at Southern, good times at Highland, and the warmth and comfort of home recall to my mind the loved ones so close to my heart but in a world out of reach. I left my heart in the United States, but small pieces of it have made the journey here, where forever they'll stay. I'm in love with two countries; my life has two names.
Finding a place to belong should not be this difficult. Although many who desire to belong come from feeling like they have no place to call their own, my desire is different… I feel like I belong in two worlds and haven't a clue which to choose. I know that when May comes I'll return to the U.S. where I'll finish my education and hopefully go on to med school. Going back will be great, for I miss my loved ones dearly, but who will I be when I return? How will this year have changed me, or will I let it at all? To come back unchanged is wrong and nearly impossible, but to return and not live the life I'd planned on living, the life I was comfortable with and had a mindset for, seems impossible as well. Both options before me are seemingly impossible, so where does that leave me? I suppose it brings me back to the question that has been brought to mind so many times the last few months… who am I? Am I the sometimes shy country girl with a southern twang from the sticks of Tennessee, or the "gringa" who walks around Pucallpa speaking Castillano to the locals with a somewhat decent accent? Is my name Senorita Tara, the English teacher of Peruvian children with rotten teeth and dirty clothes? Am I the timid but eager pre-med student who feels nauseous every time I give a shot in clinic, wanting to learn, but afraid to try? Do I live like my five soles per pitcher of limonada is a splurge? Or, am I the university student who buys a three dollar cup of coffe to stay awake while studying… even though this same amount more than pays for my daily food needs here? Is my mode of transportation my own two feet, and the occasional motokar, or is it my own little Ford Escape?
People often ask me if I miss the comforts of home, but what exactly are the comforts of home? There is nothing to give up, merely habits to change. Peru now holds for me the comforts of home. The light of the candles reflecting off the tin roof, Lola's welcome home bark after a night of teaching in Campo, the distinct clouds and blue sky nearly every afternoon on my walk into town, all give me a smiley sorta feeling… the feeling of this is where I belong. There is no lacking of warm water or electricity, but now more so a "wow, they have that there?" response when these so called "modern conveniences" are around.
I honestly don't know where I am going with this thought, for every time I try to complete it I am left with a blank mind and hanging words… thus making this blog I began 2 months ago still unfinished. What is the answer to these unending questions of my heart? Is there an answer at all, or should I just continue riding the waves of life, simply being content to know where I belong and what I should do for this moment? Maybe answers aren't necessary and willingness is all one needs. Right now, I just know that even though my life in this moment is full of confusion, it is also full of happiness and contentment. In this moment I am a deeply rooted country girl who decided to become Peruvian for awhile, and in doing so found fullness of heart and a love for two worlds.
Finding a place to belong should not be this difficult. Although many who desire to belong come from feeling like they have no place to call their own, my desire is different… I feel like I belong in two worlds and haven't a clue which to choose. I know that when May comes I'll return to the U.S. where I'll finish my education and hopefully go on to med school. Going back will be great, for I miss my loved ones dearly, but who will I be when I return? How will this year have changed me, or will I let it at all? To come back unchanged is wrong and nearly impossible, but to return and not live the life I'd planned on living, the life I was comfortable with and had a mindset for, seems impossible as well. Both options before me are seemingly impossible, so where does that leave me? I suppose it brings me back to the question that has been brought to mind so many times the last few months… who am I? Am I the sometimes shy country girl with a southern twang from the sticks of Tennessee, or the "gringa" who walks around Pucallpa speaking Castillano to the locals with a somewhat decent accent? Is my name Senorita Tara, the English teacher of Peruvian children with rotten teeth and dirty clothes? Am I the timid but eager pre-med student who feels nauseous every time I give a shot in clinic, wanting to learn, but afraid to try? Do I live like my five soles per pitcher of limonada is a splurge? Or, am I the university student who buys a three dollar cup of coffe to stay awake while studying… even though this same amount more than pays for my daily food needs here? Is my mode of transportation my own two feet, and the occasional motokar, or is it my own little Ford Escape?
People often ask me if I miss the comforts of home, but what exactly are the comforts of home? There is nothing to give up, merely habits to change. Peru now holds for me the comforts of home. The light of the candles reflecting off the tin roof, Lola's welcome home bark after a night of teaching in Campo, the distinct clouds and blue sky nearly every afternoon on my walk into town, all give me a smiley sorta feeling… the feeling of this is where I belong. There is no lacking of warm water or electricity, but now more so a "wow, they have that there?" response when these so called "modern conveniences" are around.
I honestly don't know where I am going with this thought, for every time I try to complete it I am left with a blank mind and hanging words… thus making this blog I began 2 months ago still unfinished. What is the answer to these unending questions of my heart? Is there an answer at all, or should I just continue riding the waves of life, simply being content to know where I belong and what I should do for this moment? Maybe answers aren't necessary and willingness is all one needs. Right now, I just know that even though my life in this moment is full of confusion, it is also full of happiness and contentment. In this moment I am a deeply rooted country girl who decided to become Peruvian for awhile, and in doing so found fullness of heart and a love for two worlds.
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