If someone had asked me a year ago if I saw better times coming, I would have laughed bitterly, snickering, and probably just cried my way through a sad monologue, trying to convey the depth of hurt and pain that I felt. No one would ever have understood what I was going through, I was convinced of this.
While 2010 saw agony and regret and bitterness and sorrow and many, many tears, 2011 is bringing redemption and healing. Praise God.
God is bombarding me with words and lessons and, perhaps more important, love. I still have hard days; I believe everyone does. To be honest, my winter, though it is leaving, shows its face every now and then. But the cool thing, the heavenly thing, is that when remnants of my 'winter of the heart' reappear, God has told me, ingrained in me, and given me the desire to take whatever hurt, whatever frustration, or whatever circumstance--and give it fully to Jesus and let Him have it. He knows what I'm going through. And in everything, I trust Him and give Him thanks for this moment, for just simply living life with me.
I'm seeing God's face and provision in countless small things. If anything, just reading my journal and tracing Scripture I've recorded, or conversations I remember having with friends and mentors--those are the things that help me remember that I am always going to be learning new things while I walk with Christ. He is teaching me about decision-making, being wholly confident in the Gospel, trusting Him and leaning into Him in everything, understanding that He is FOR me, how my attitude affects everything, seasons that come and go, and seeking first the Kingdom of God. This doesn't even scratch the surface, really.
Here is a song I wish I had written; instead, Sara Groves penned words that I know to be very true in this moment. It's a miracle that I can finally identify with this healing. Enjoy! :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtpZfYG1nBs
It's been a hard year
But I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it's
Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember
And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character
Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending
And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars
Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come
And I need you
And I want you here
And I feel you
And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars (x3), and more like character.
25.4.11
21.2.11
Top 15
Oh, how I love music. I mean, I adore music more than most really good things in this world. I love how it moves people, how it often means many things or sometimes nothing at all. I love the creative process that must go into it, though I know nothing of that. Above all, I love a good lyric. Poetry in music is profound.
I've been to several concerts of late, and then I saw pieces of the Grammys, and it made me start to think about some really wonderful songs. So, I've decided to share some with you, along with some thoughts as to why they mean something to me.
In no particular order, here are my songs and the stories behind why I chose them:
1. "Psalms 23," Trevor Morgan and Geoff Moore
This comes off the Glory Revealed II cd, and I didn't really discover the song until I was in Peru, though I'd had the album for awhile. My friend Ginny was talking to me about a verse in 1 Timothy (I think), and it made me trail off into Scripture and find some other relevant verses, and I came across Psalms 23. The performance is beautiful--the way Morgan sets the Psalmist's cry to music is deeply powerful. "You anoint my dead with oil, my cup overflows."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYtWlMURWsM
2. "Be Set Free," Josh Garrels
I was visiting some friends in Portugal and we got to go to a pro-surf competition in Peniche (one of the most breathtaking beaches I've ever seen). Afterwards, we hooked up with some missionary friends who work with Christian Surfers. Just being able to see this ministry in motion was a blessing; we helped with their event that night, which involved showing "Walking on Water," an evangelistic film with pro-surfer Bryan Jennings. I was completely astounded not only by the film, but by the passion for Jesus within the surfing community--it was very cool. The movie's soundtrack was awesome, too, and I ordered both soon after I returned to Peru. This track is one of the most chill songs I've ever encountered. I've worn it out pretty well, but one particular memory surrounding it involves a trip to Puno, Peru. I'm sitting on a boat, looking out on Lake Titicaca (blue beyond blue), and absolutely soaking up God's creation. He says to be set free every day.
http://www.walkingonwater.com/themovie/
3. "Abre Que Voy," Miguel Enriquez y Su Salson
I have to include a salsa song on my top list. I'm back in Orishas in Peru, dancing my heart away with Julia, Edu, Cesar, Rosmi, y Manuel. This song is beyond fun and takes me back to lots of salsa dancing. I miss it. :) "Salseros, se llaman, 'yo vengo'...and la clave starts.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMfCCQUBwg4
4. "Your Love is Strong," Jon Foreman
This man is pretty much one of my heroes of the writing world. The man can write. I can't say enough about Jon Foreman; if I could just have lunch with him one day and pick his brain, I'd be a happy girl. This song is on his Spring EP--all of his "seasonal" EPs are whoa-crazy-good...go get them if you don't have them already. I remember walking around a retreat center at night in the middle-of-nowhere Peru and stumbling upon a group of our summer missionaries singing this song at the top of their lungs. I just sat and listened and soaked it up in the darkened room.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hA7YIqWzKfQ
5. "Come and Listen," David Crowder Band
Who doesn't love some awesome DCB? I remember getting "A/B Collision" and being absolutely blown away-Crowder is a creative genius. I would play this song on repeat at UGA, driving around campus-the song is so simple and beautiful. "Let me tell you what He has done for me..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUxF3LULDG4&feature=related
6. "Gold Digger," Kanye West
Alright. After a few Jesus songs, I know it might seem weird that this is a top song for me. And yet, it is a top song based purely on the fact that every memory that pops into my head when it is played is a fun one. The one that will always stand out is the night my senior-year roomies and I hung out at our apartment waiting for Sara Lawrence to come back as a soon-to-be Mrs. Mitch Kimbrell. Christy, Mel, and I were absolutely ecstatic and high on the adrenaline of the knowledge that our friend was getting engaged. We danced to many songs (including this one, in which they and only they know what dance move I pulled out), sang, jumped up and down and laughed in general. CT and I even set a record driving to the store and back to get chocolate and sparkling Champagne to celebrate.
No link needed--everyone in the world knows "She give me money, when I'm in need..." and the notes that follow.
7. "Hold You in My Arms," Ray LaMontagne
I first discovered "Trouble." Then I fell in love with Ray. When I discovered "Hold You in My Arms," I made Stephanie listen to it at full volume, pretending Ray was singing to us or something. This is an epic song that moves everyone who hears it, I believe. His voice is beyond powerful and soulful and sexy; his writing-genius is on display here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6O-8crNF_M
8. "I Exalt Thee," Chris Quilala
I had never heard this song until August 2008. I was at the two month training with the International Mission Board and some of the Journeymen began to meet in the small chapel at night for worship sessions. We crammed upwards of 40 people in a space meant for 10 or 12 and sang our hearts out to Jesus. Chris Black usually led worship and he pulled this one out one evening and it blew me away. It's so simple. I will never, ever forget worshipping with those people and having that incredible acoustic sound waft through the wooden rafters, lift into the clouds, and reach the throne of God.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-lY8VQpSTY
9. "Mexico," James Taylor
This is one of the most fun memories I have in life: The James Taylor concert in North Carolina with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in 2005. I was working at a summer camp around there so I was able to spend some time with them. We went to James Taylor one warm evening and sat on the lawn and soaked up summer. It began to rain during "Mexico," and we danced on the lawn in the rain. Best night ever. This is a great clip, but we heard the full-band version-a little more upbeat. :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FVAUP_Yigw
10. "Your Love, Oh Lord (Psalms 36)," Third Day
I loved Third Day even before I became a believer, which happened in September of 2009. I have been to more Third Day concerts in my life than anyone else (Bebo Norman is a close second). I love their sound, their lyrics, but above all, their purity in worship. This song is amazing. I will always rememeber my first mission trip: Honduras 2005. I went with Prince Avenue people, and one evening, Jacquelyn Gillette (who would later become my roommate and "JG") and I stood in a field, sky black with millions of stars lighting it up, and sang this song to Jesus. I close my eyes and can still see our shadows in that dark field.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEF7IoQ3eUk
11. "Wildfires," Josh Ritter
Laying on Ryan's couch in Lima. An unexpected sunny day in May. All doors and windows open, breeze and warmth coming in. Music on at full blast, Josh Ritter singing this haunting song. A beautiful afternoon.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtCWvBpi37c
12. "Arise and Be Comforted," Watermark
This song is similar to "Psalms 23" for me, except I knew immediately the impact it would have on my life the moment I heard it. I bought a Watermark cd in 2006 and fell in love; I found more songs by them and happened across this one. I wore it out. Took it to Peru with me and wore it out there. It's an anthem for people who hurt, and we all hurt at some point in our lives. Christy and Nathan Nockels captured hurt and healing in this song perfectly.
13. "Lejos de Ti," Gian Marco
I'm not sure why I love this man, but I do. He's bald and at first look, not that attractive. Then I saw him in concert in Lima, Peru and pretty much almost fainted. There is something charming about him when you see him in person, and he is very attractive and has a beautiful voice. He has an awesome way with words in music, and he puts on a fantastic concert. Go see him, even if you don't speak Spanish. At the very least, listen to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZWI5XqZLDQ
14. "Sunday Morning," Maroon 5
Open up all your windows on a sunny-day drive through the country and tell me if you don't smile with this song. I've done this many times and it never fails. Enough said.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Cti12XBw4
15. "Kind of Blue," Miles Davis
I didn't know much about instrumental music other than my Kenny G cd I had as a child (this is a fact that is hard to admit). However, as I started experimenting listening to other music, I heard a song by Miles Davis. I was about 13 or so, I think, and I went out and found two tapes of Miles Davis at Target. I bought them and began to fall in love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEPFH-gz3wE
I've been to several concerts of late, and then I saw pieces of the Grammys, and it made me start to think about some really wonderful songs. So, I've decided to share some with you, along with some thoughts as to why they mean something to me.
In no particular order, here are my songs and the stories behind why I chose them:
1. "Psalms 23," Trevor Morgan and Geoff Moore
This comes off the Glory Revealed II cd, and I didn't really discover the song until I was in Peru, though I'd had the album for awhile. My friend Ginny was talking to me about a verse in 1 Timothy (I think), and it made me trail off into Scripture and find some other relevant verses, and I came across Psalms 23. The performance is beautiful--the way Morgan sets the Psalmist's cry to music is deeply powerful. "You anoint my dead with oil, my cup overflows."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYtWlMURWsM
2. "Be Set Free," Josh Garrels
I was visiting some friends in Portugal and we got to go to a pro-surf competition in Peniche (one of the most breathtaking beaches I've ever seen). Afterwards, we hooked up with some missionary friends who work with Christian Surfers. Just being able to see this ministry in motion was a blessing; we helped with their event that night, which involved showing "Walking on Water," an evangelistic film with pro-surfer Bryan Jennings. I was completely astounded not only by the film, but by the passion for Jesus within the surfing community--it was very cool. The movie's soundtrack was awesome, too, and I ordered both soon after I returned to Peru. This track is one of the most chill songs I've ever encountered. I've worn it out pretty well, but one particular memory surrounding it involves a trip to Puno, Peru. I'm sitting on a boat, looking out on Lake Titicaca (blue beyond blue), and absolutely soaking up God's creation. He says to be set free every day.
http://www.walkingonwater.com/themovie/
3. "Abre Que Voy," Miguel Enriquez y Su Salson
I have to include a salsa song on my top list. I'm back in Orishas in Peru, dancing my heart away with Julia, Edu, Cesar, Rosmi, y Manuel. This song is beyond fun and takes me back to lots of salsa dancing. I miss it. :) "Salseros, se llaman, 'yo vengo'...and la clave starts.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMfCCQUBwg4
4. "Your Love is Strong," Jon Foreman
This man is pretty much one of my heroes of the writing world. The man can write. I can't say enough about Jon Foreman; if I could just have lunch with him one day and pick his brain, I'd be a happy girl. This song is on his Spring EP--all of his "seasonal" EPs are whoa-crazy-good...go get them if you don't have them already. I remember walking around a retreat center at night in the middle-of-nowhere Peru and stumbling upon a group of our summer missionaries singing this song at the top of their lungs. I just sat and listened and soaked it up in the darkened room.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hA7YIqWzKfQ
5. "Come and Listen," David Crowder Band
Who doesn't love some awesome DCB? I remember getting "A/B Collision" and being absolutely blown away-Crowder is a creative genius. I would play this song on repeat at UGA, driving around campus-the song is so simple and beautiful. "Let me tell you what He has done for me..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oUxF3LULDG4&feature=related
6. "Gold Digger," Kanye West
Alright. After a few Jesus songs, I know it might seem weird that this is a top song for me. And yet, it is a top song based purely on the fact that every memory that pops into my head when it is played is a fun one. The one that will always stand out is the night my senior-year roomies and I hung out at our apartment waiting for Sara Lawrence to come back as a soon-to-be Mrs. Mitch Kimbrell. Christy, Mel, and I were absolutely ecstatic and high on the adrenaline of the knowledge that our friend was getting engaged. We danced to many songs (including this one, in which they and only they know what dance move I pulled out), sang, jumped up and down and laughed in general. CT and I even set a record driving to the store and back to get chocolate and sparkling Champagne to celebrate.
No link needed--everyone in the world knows "She give me money, when I'm in need..." and the notes that follow.
7. "Hold You in My Arms," Ray LaMontagne
I first discovered "Trouble." Then I fell in love with Ray. When I discovered "Hold You in My Arms," I made Stephanie listen to it at full volume, pretending Ray was singing to us or something. This is an epic song that moves everyone who hears it, I believe. His voice is beyond powerful and soulful and sexy; his writing-genius is on display here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6O-8crNF_M
8. "I Exalt Thee," Chris Quilala
I had never heard this song until August 2008. I was at the two month training with the International Mission Board and some of the Journeymen began to meet in the small chapel at night for worship sessions. We crammed upwards of 40 people in a space meant for 10 or 12 and sang our hearts out to Jesus. Chris Black usually led worship and he pulled this one out one evening and it blew me away. It's so simple. I will never, ever forget worshipping with those people and having that incredible acoustic sound waft through the wooden rafters, lift into the clouds, and reach the throne of God.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-lY8VQpSTY
9. "Mexico," James Taylor
This is one of the most fun memories I have in life: The James Taylor concert in North Carolina with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in 2005. I was working at a summer camp around there so I was able to spend some time with them. We went to James Taylor one warm evening and sat on the lawn and soaked up summer. It began to rain during "Mexico," and we danced on the lawn in the rain. Best night ever. This is a great clip, but we heard the full-band version-a little more upbeat. :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FVAUP_Yigw
10. "Your Love, Oh Lord (Psalms 36)," Third Day
I loved Third Day even before I became a believer, which happened in September of 2009. I have been to more Third Day concerts in my life than anyone else (Bebo Norman is a close second). I love their sound, their lyrics, but above all, their purity in worship. This song is amazing. I will always rememeber my first mission trip: Honduras 2005. I went with Prince Avenue people, and one evening, Jacquelyn Gillette (who would later become my roommate and "JG") and I stood in a field, sky black with millions of stars lighting it up, and sang this song to Jesus. I close my eyes and can still see our shadows in that dark field.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEF7IoQ3eUk
11. "Wildfires," Josh Ritter
Laying on Ryan's couch in Lima. An unexpected sunny day in May. All doors and windows open, breeze and warmth coming in. Music on at full blast, Josh Ritter singing this haunting song. A beautiful afternoon.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtCWvBpi37c
12. "Arise and Be Comforted," Watermark
This song is similar to "Psalms 23" for me, except I knew immediately the impact it would have on my life the moment I heard it. I bought a Watermark cd in 2006 and fell in love; I found more songs by them and happened across this one. I wore it out. Took it to Peru with me and wore it out there. It's an anthem for people who hurt, and we all hurt at some point in our lives. Christy and Nathan Nockels captured hurt and healing in this song perfectly.
13. "Lejos de Ti," Gian Marco
I'm not sure why I love this man, but I do. He's bald and at first look, not that attractive. Then I saw him in concert in Lima, Peru and pretty much almost fainted. There is something charming about him when you see him in person, and he is very attractive and has a beautiful voice. He has an awesome way with words in music, and he puts on a fantastic concert. Go see him, even if you don't speak Spanish. At the very least, listen to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZWI5XqZLDQ
14. "Sunday Morning," Maroon 5
Open up all your windows on a sunny-day drive through the country and tell me if you don't smile with this song. I've done this many times and it never fails. Enough said.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Cti12XBw4
15. "Kind of Blue," Miles Davis
I didn't know much about instrumental music other than my Kenny G cd I had as a child (this is a fact that is hard to admit). However, as I started experimenting listening to other music, I heard a song by Miles Davis. I was about 13 or so, I think, and I went out and found two tapes of Miles Davis at Target. I bought them and began to fall in love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEPFH-gz3wE
9.2.11
The Beautiful Thorn
Today I found a Peruvian thorn in my scarf.
Driving down 316 into Athens, passing familiar sights on the way to Walmart, I fingered the blue and brow-striped cloth wrapped around my neck for warmth on the chilly Winter day. I started a little as something stabed into my finger.
I looked down and saw Peru. My eyes registered memories instead of the actual object sticking through the end of the scarf. I felt very little pain from this protruding object; instead, happiness engulfs me as my lids shut and I remembered:
Trudging through the plants, I realize the thorns cover my cltohes, embedded into the threads that interwine. I try to pick them out, but no use. My failed attempt doesn't phase me in the midst of such beauty.
I feel the wind in my hair as I climb up enormous hills in Tinajani, sharp, jagged rocks flanking my sides; behind me, a green valley with a river cutting through tall grasses. Ahead, clear blue skies, the sun casting shadows on the images carved into the rocks by the hand of God. Dancing.
I hear the brush underfoot as I trample through plants with unknown names. I hear other footsteps, but am wrapped up in my reverie. I pick tiny flowers to hold onto throughout the trip. No reason or rhyme to this. Holding them lightly so as not to crush them, I stand in silence among years of ancient story, known only to the natural environment in which I find myself. And of course, to the Creator.
----------------
The Walmart parking lot is full of money, old and new. I enter thrhough the automatic doors, walk straight to my destination: The photo center.
I pay for the 33 prints of Peru. I smile as I open them up and touch my friends--some familliar, some strangers. I gaze around the store aimlessly. My steps lead me swiftly out of corporate hell.
I clutch the paper memories, climb into the car, find the thorn in my scarf, and smile in the silence.
Driving down 316 into Athens, passing familiar sights on the way to Walmart, I fingered the blue and brow-striped cloth wrapped around my neck for warmth on the chilly Winter day. I started a little as something stabed into my finger.
I looked down and saw Peru. My eyes registered memories instead of the actual object sticking through the end of the scarf. I felt very little pain from this protruding object; instead, happiness engulfs me as my lids shut and I remembered:
Trudging through the plants, I realize the thorns cover my cltohes, embedded into the threads that interwine. I try to pick them out, but no use. My failed attempt doesn't phase me in the midst of such beauty.
I feel the wind in my hair as I climb up enormous hills in Tinajani, sharp, jagged rocks flanking my sides; behind me, a green valley with a river cutting through tall grasses. Ahead, clear blue skies, the sun casting shadows on the images carved into the rocks by the hand of God. Dancing.
I hear the brush underfoot as I trample through plants with unknown names. I hear other footsteps, but am wrapped up in my reverie. I pick tiny flowers to hold onto throughout the trip. No reason or rhyme to this. Holding them lightly so as not to crush them, I stand in silence among years of ancient story, known only to the natural environment in which I find myself. And of course, to the Creator.
----------------
The Walmart parking lot is full of money, old and new. I enter thrhough the automatic doors, walk straight to my destination: The photo center.
I pay for the 33 prints of Peru. I smile as I open them up and touch my friends--some familliar, some strangers. I gaze around the store aimlessly. My steps lead me swiftly out of corporate hell.
I clutch the paper memories, climb into the car, find the thorn in my scarf, and smile in the silence.
30.1.11
A Long Wait.
Well hello, 2011.
It's been about three months since I posted anything on the ol' blog; to be honest, it's been about that long since I've written anything substantial at all.
I continue to journal and write things aimlessly, but nothing that I've aimed at developing to post and actually do something with.
This is me declaring my highly anticipated (wink, cough, laugh) return, after a short break, to the internet sphere of the writing world: The ever-present, sometimes hated, and never boring BLOG (cue dramatic music).
The blog is a funny entity to me. There are serious ones, stupid ones, funny ones, useless ones, useful ones, entertaining ones, boring ones, inspiring ones, etc, etc. Apart from channeling Dr. Seuss in that catalogue of blog-attributes, I would like to adopt an attitude based purely on sharing with you thoughts, stories, and the happenings of my not-so-interesting life (for the moment) on this blog.
I will attempt to convey something of worth or value as I write. This is not an evangelistic effort by any means; if anything, it's to share, through written word, life with anyone who happens upon "Washed By the Water," to the glory of Jesus. Not your Central American neighbor Jesus--Jesus Christ, Son of God, only Way to the Father God.
No apologies. No regrets. No false words. Just truth, reality, and life (maybe with some questioning, lamenting, rejoicing and cheesy emoticon "happy" smileys thrown in). That's my aim.
If you read these words, be blessed. More to come in the next few days.
It's been about three months since I posted anything on the ol' blog; to be honest, it's been about that long since I've written anything substantial at all.
I continue to journal and write things aimlessly, but nothing that I've aimed at developing to post and actually do something with.
This is me declaring my highly anticipated (wink, cough, laugh) return, after a short break, to the internet sphere of the writing world: The ever-present, sometimes hated, and never boring BLOG (cue dramatic music).
The blog is a funny entity to me. There are serious ones, stupid ones, funny ones, useless ones, useful ones, entertaining ones, boring ones, inspiring ones, etc, etc. Apart from channeling Dr. Seuss in that catalogue of blog-attributes, I would like to adopt an attitude based purely on sharing with you thoughts, stories, and the happenings of my not-so-interesting life (for the moment) on this blog.
I will attempt to convey something of worth or value as I write. This is not an evangelistic effort by any means; if anything, it's to share, through written word, life with anyone who happens upon "Washed By the Water," to the glory of Jesus. Not your Central American neighbor Jesus--Jesus Christ, Son of God, only Way to the Father God.
No apologies. No regrets. No false words. Just truth, reality, and life (maybe with some questioning, lamenting, rejoicing and cheesy emoticon "happy" smileys thrown in). That's my aim.
If you read these words, be blessed. More to come in the next few days.
5.11.10
I Believe In Miracles: A Reflection
Since returning to the United States on August 9, I have gone through more valleys, high mountains, big storms, hellish waters, calm waters, and beautiful fields where peace has indeed overcome my soul. With such differing circumstances, you can imagine my emotions have exceeded what one might classify as an "emotional limit," if such a thing exists. I've cried for hours on end, only to be followed by very happy times, whether spent with Christ Himself, family and friends, or just experiencing something new and being blessed in that.
Here are a few things that I've been astounded by over the last three(ish) months:
1. Soon after returning, I received a car loan from a ministry in Jonesboro, GA that gives cars to missionaries on furlough. I get to keep this car for about three months (ie, my time with the Nissan is coming to an end). It's been such a blessing to have a cheap car for such a time as this.
*Prayer request: I am going to need a car after I give this one up (there is a waiting list; believe me, I've checked to see if I can extend).
2. The International Mission Board kept paying me. There is a reason they keep the paychecks comin': I had zero desire to work once I got back, mainly because I couldn't figure out all my emotions and what was going on around me. So it's been nice to live off of what they (ie, Southern Baptists) have been giving me.
*Prayer request: I need a job. Yes, I've applied to a lot of things. Yes, I've interviewed with several of those things. Nothing has come of it. This job hunting thing pretty much sucks, but I'm confident God knows what is happening and something will come in time.....[PLEASE GOD, let it be time soon!!!]
3. I have been able to travel some and visit good friends. I've been to Greenville, SC, Raleigh/Durham, NC, Memphis, TN, Nashville, TN, Moultrie, GA, Athens, GA and Macon, GA. If I could, I would have hit up FL, TX and KY. Those are on the to-do list.
4. A kind lady named Brenda in Nashville counseled me. She was the first person who was willing to sit down with me and just listen. I cried more than anything, but she was okay with that. I debriefed with her, her husband, and some friends in Nashville and spent time on her farm, which is one of the most peaceful places in the world. And I grew to love Nashville (and Brenda) in that time. So thanks, God.
5. I spoke to Jesus. I mean, I'm still speaking to Jesus. I've spoken with Him in the past, but never like when I got back here. I had an encounter with Him like I've never had in my entire life, and a healing process started because of that encounter, for which I'll be forever grateful. I'm relearning a lot of things and discovering new ones. Praise God for He is good. Beyond good...Great...Enough.
6. I have gotten to talk to my parents. Some things have been revealed to me through observation and conversation, and God has moved in incredible ways--restoration, understanding, and maturity have come.
*Prayer request: Keep it comin'!
7. My sister Cristina has been someone to lean on. Praise God.
8. I met a lady at Starbucks the other day. I was listening to her conversation (yes, eavesdropping is bad, I know). But this was a God thing. I ran after her once she was done counseling a couple to ask where she goes to church. One thing led to another and she asked to meet with me and hear my story. We went to her church to chat (a really big one around here, that I like--it's just so BIG) and she sat with me during the singles/college worship deal and introduced me to some people. We'll see if God does anything with that. Regardless, the sole fact that I met her, and that she was such an encouragement to me and willing to help--that was enough.
9. God sent me someone right before I met Karen, the Starbucks lady. Jason was another Starbucks guy (I go to Starbucks a lot). I knew he was going to be in town; he works with the IMB as a Hispanic Mobilizer and he wanted to meet with me. Despite me showing up on one day and him showing up on another, we eventually connected twice during his time in Atlanta. I had no clue what this guy was going to say. In the end, though, he was a God-send. He too wanted to know my story and ended up listening and working through some things (mainly forgiveness issues) with me. So thanks, God. And thanks, Jason--a new friend who calls me "mija" ('my daughter') and prays for me.
10. Some might already know that I went to San Francisco for a visit. I went with the purpose of visiting a seminary (Golden Gate Baptist Theological). I came back with new friends and a newfound interest in being in the Western United States. I loved the school, the people, everything--there exists such passion among Christians there to see people around them come to Christ. It was refreshing to be out of the Bible Belt and see the need for Christ IN OUR OWN COUNTRY.
*Prayer request: For San Francisco, the whole Western US, to come to the Lord; that people in the Bible Belt would get up and move and see that this area of the country can stand to lose a few Christians to go be missionaries to North Americans in California, Oregon, Arizona, Washington, etc.
And finally, the big one: I would like to move out there as well. I would like to go to seminary. I would like to devote my time to walking with Christ in purposeful ministry while studying the Word in a formal context. Ask me about my goals, I have a lot of them that come along with moving out there.
The point of my "Top Ten Cool Blessings/Miracles" if you will is this: I may be continuing to walk through the waters, but God is walking with me. Sometimes (a lot of times), He even picks me up and carries me. I see that now. He did it in Peru, too.
My life isn't all about crying right now. Yes, there are some very hard days. But through my grieving and through lament and sorrow and pain and not understanding, Christ Jesus has blessed me immensely, even in the last few months. I just wanted to share it with y'all.
Much love to you.
Here are a few things that I've been astounded by over the last three(ish) months:
1. Soon after returning, I received a car loan from a ministry in Jonesboro, GA that gives cars to missionaries on furlough. I get to keep this car for about three months (ie, my time with the Nissan is coming to an end). It's been such a blessing to have a cheap car for such a time as this.
*Prayer request: I am going to need a car after I give this one up (there is a waiting list; believe me, I've checked to see if I can extend).
2. The International Mission Board kept paying me. There is a reason they keep the paychecks comin': I had zero desire to work once I got back, mainly because I couldn't figure out all my emotions and what was going on around me. So it's been nice to live off of what they (ie, Southern Baptists) have been giving me.
*Prayer request: I need a job. Yes, I've applied to a lot of things. Yes, I've interviewed with several of those things. Nothing has come of it. This job hunting thing pretty much sucks, but I'm confident God knows what is happening and something will come in time.....[PLEASE GOD, let it be time soon!!!]
3. I have been able to travel some and visit good friends. I've been to Greenville, SC, Raleigh/Durham, NC, Memphis, TN, Nashville, TN, Moultrie, GA, Athens, GA and Macon, GA. If I could, I would have hit up FL, TX and KY. Those are on the to-do list.
4. A kind lady named Brenda in Nashville counseled me. She was the first person who was willing to sit down with me and just listen. I cried more than anything, but she was okay with that. I debriefed with her, her husband, and some friends in Nashville and spent time on her farm, which is one of the most peaceful places in the world. And I grew to love Nashville (and Brenda) in that time. So thanks, God.
5. I spoke to Jesus. I mean, I'm still speaking to Jesus. I've spoken with Him in the past, but never like when I got back here. I had an encounter with Him like I've never had in my entire life, and a healing process started because of that encounter, for which I'll be forever grateful. I'm relearning a lot of things and discovering new ones. Praise God for He is good. Beyond good...Great...Enough.
6. I have gotten to talk to my parents. Some things have been revealed to me through observation and conversation, and God has moved in incredible ways--restoration, understanding, and maturity have come.
*Prayer request: Keep it comin'!
7. My sister Cristina has been someone to lean on. Praise God.
8. I met a lady at Starbucks the other day. I was listening to her conversation (yes, eavesdropping is bad, I know). But this was a God thing. I ran after her once she was done counseling a couple to ask where she goes to church. One thing led to another and she asked to meet with me and hear my story. We went to her church to chat (a really big one around here, that I like--it's just so BIG) and she sat with me during the singles/college worship deal and introduced me to some people. We'll see if God does anything with that. Regardless, the sole fact that I met her, and that she was such an encouragement to me and willing to help--that was enough.
9. God sent me someone right before I met Karen, the Starbucks lady. Jason was another Starbucks guy (I go to Starbucks a lot). I knew he was going to be in town; he works with the IMB as a Hispanic Mobilizer and he wanted to meet with me. Despite me showing up on one day and him showing up on another, we eventually connected twice during his time in Atlanta. I had no clue what this guy was going to say. In the end, though, he was a God-send. He too wanted to know my story and ended up listening and working through some things (mainly forgiveness issues) with me. So thanks, God. And thanks, Jason--a new friend who calls me "mija" ('my daughter') and prays for me.
10. Some might already know that I went to San Francisco for a visit. I went with the purpose of visiting a seminary (Golden Gate Baptist Theological). I came back with new friends and a newfound interest in being in the Western United States. I loved the school, the people, everything--there exists such passion among Christians there to see people around them come to Christ. It was refreshing to be out of the Bible Belt and see the need for Christ IN OUR OWN COUNTRY.
*Prayer request: For San Francisco, the whole Western US, to come to the Lord; that people in the Bible Belt would get up and move and see that this area of the country can stand to lose a few Christians to go be missionaries to North Americans in California, Oregon, Arizona, Washington, etc.
And finally, the big one: I would like to move out there as well. I would like to go to seminary. I would like to devote my time to walking with Christ in purposeful ministry while studying the Word in a formal context. Ask me about my goals, I have a lot of them that come along with moving out there.
The point of my "Top Ten Cool Blessings/Miracles" if you will is this: I may be continuing to walk through the waters, but God is walking with me. Sometimes (a lot of times), He even picks me up and carries me. I see that now. He did it in Peru, too.
My life isn't all about crying right now. Yes, there are some very hard days. But through my grieving and through lament and sorrow and pain and not understanding, Christ Jesus has blessed me immensely, even in the last few months. I just wanted to share it with y'all.
Much love to you.
31.10.10
Northern Adventures: Part 3
I don’t want to leave this place, but Julia and I are hungry. Our intended hippie-jewelry browsing is apparently not going to happen, as we catch up with Sandro, who offers to take us to one of the best restaurants in Mancora, of which I forget the name. Just take my advice: When you arrive in Mancora, walk towards the center, and this restaurant will be on your right with a wooden patio in the front.
Walking through Mancora, I realize quickly just how ‘cholo’ (redneck) it is. But this town has its charm, manifested purely in the hippie presence. We find this ‘spectacular’ café (per Sandro) and Julia and I order to-die-for sandwiches and Maracuya drinks. It’s at this dinner that we start to get to know Sandro better. Not because he is drinking (though he wants to, and reassures the waitress that he would except that he is our chaffeur); instead, he opens up to us about his life in Peru:
Sandro, fifty years of age, knows everyone in this town. I really think he must be famous. He wears shirts unbuttoned one-button-too-many. He is divorced, a pituco from Lima who claims to actually be more Italian than Peruvian. He tells us stories about people he has gotten drunk with. It’s a running list, including former President Toledo, current President Garcia, and maybe even, as Julia and I conjecture later, ex-lover Jaime Bayly, pundit extraordinaire and my favorite Peruvian, next to Gian Marco, of course.
We love every semi-truthful claim Sandro makes. We believe him because he is our friend in this moment and because the Pisco from our Maracuya sours is making us laugh more than usual.
After dinner Sandro suggests a drive through the “better” beaches: Vichayito, Las Pocitas, and others. We agree and he drives like he owns the private properties and hotels that we enter, using the excuse that we are interested in a stay, when in reality, we are exploring solely for the sake of exploration. All I know, in this moment, is that we’ve left the “big lights” of Mancora for untouched darknes, and incredible stars, accompany my growing desire to move to this place. My stargazing lasts the whole ride home as Julia and Sandro tell stories and I half-listen, stumbling out of the car and moving away from the few lights illuminating the bungalows so I can take in the peace being imparted into my heart from each star. They are the fingertips of God.
The next morning Sandro takes us to a taxi stop to get a ride to Tumbes. He is chatty today—saying he knows the guy clearing that piece of land, that those cows used to graze on his property, etc, etc. He knows everyone, including cows, apparently. On the way to Tumbes, the landscape overwhelms me. Green takes over brown to my right, and the ocean continues, unending, to my left as we move north toward Ecuador. I can’t place the smells around me; Julia tells me it’s burning land. Rivers and inlets and waters are everywhere. A woman naps in a hammock just off the road.
Once in Puerto Pizarro, Rigoberto, Sandro’s friend (of course), approaches us. We don’t have to approach people here for help, as we do in Southern Peru—the people here are so much friendlier. I’m in love with Rigoberto and the Manglares. “Rigo” or “Berto” doesn’t wear shoes, but I notice he has flip flop tan lines, and he smiles and jokes with us and asks for English lessons. Our tour includes a Portuguese girl, which adds to the mix of tongues. English, Portuguese and Spanish float around my ears as the boat calmly penetrates through rivers and estuaries and makes ripples in the river-forest.
The estuaries cut through bushes and shrubs. Birds take over and color is everywhere, as are boats and the ubiquitous smell of fish. “No hay vago” (There isn’t a bum) here, says the man with a constant smile. I could live here, too, in this never-ending heat, this perpetual summer. They were right for once, the Peruvians—summer lingers here forever. Clouds come and go and tropical rains invade. But I like that.
We say goodbye to Rigo and leave our adventure in Tumbes, which is not an impressive city, but it overflows with happiness. We drive back and I can only think of the wave of fatigue that has rushed over me, but I can’t close my eyes, not yet, because I’ll miss something beautiful.
Our last afternoon on the beach is spent sunbathing. I am the only one on the beach, and my codependent tendencies vanish in the knowledge that My Creator is next to me. The Spirit is here, speaking and teaching; Jesus and I chat about life. It's an all around really great late afternoon. This time of day is incredible, with the wind picking up and the clouds coming in. The sunset will be spectacular. The water starts to change colors. As I sit on the sand, I observe a man paddling far out in the water, standing on a raft. My reverie is interrupted as a plethora of crabs inch closer as if they are going to attack me.
The last night in Zorritos is peaceful. That sentiment characterizes this place: Peace. It’s July 4th, but Julia nor I know it because we’re the only Americans on the beach and drunk on relaxation. I celebrate with another sunset, crabs poking out of the sand, and, later, a drink with Jaime Bayly talking on TV. I suppose if Sandro had been around, my last night would have been spent drinking with him, Jaime Bayly in the background, and hearing Sandro’s stories about their love affair.
Walking through Mancora, I realize quickly just how ‘cholo’ (redneck) it is. But this town has its charm, manifested purely in the hippie presence. We find this ‘spectacular’ café (per Sandro) and Julia and I order to-die-for sandwiches and Maracuya drinks. It’s at this dinner that we start to get to know Sandro better. Not because he is drinking (though he wants to, and reassures the waitress that he would except that he is our chaffeur); instead, he opens up to us about his life in Peru:
Sandro, fifty years of age, knows everyone in this town. I really think he must be famous. He wears shirts unbuttoned one-button-too-many. He is divorced, a pituco from Lima who claims to actually be more Italian than Peruvian. He tells us stories about people he has gotten drunk with. It’s a running list, including former President Toledo, current President Garcia, and maybe even, as Julia and I conjecture later, ex-lover Jaime Bayly, pundit extraordinaire and my favorite Peruvian, next to Gian Marco, of course.
We love every semi-truthful claim Sandro makes. We believe him because he is our friend in this moment and because the Pisco from our Maracuya sours is making us laugh more than usual.
After dinner Sandro suggests a drive through the “better” beaches: Vichayito, Las Pocitas, and others. We agree and he drives like he owns the private properties and hotels that we enter, using the excuse that we are interested in a stay, when in reality, we are exploring solely for the sake of exploration. All I know, in this moment, is that we’ve left the “big lights” of Mancora for untouched darknes, and incredible stars, accompany my growing desire to move to this place. My stargazing lasts the whole ride home as Julia and Sandro tell stories and I half-listen, stumbling out of the car and moving away from the few lights illuminating the bungalows so I can take in the peace being imparted into my heart from each star. They are the fingertips of God.
The next morning Sandro takes us to a taxi stop to get a ride to Tumbes. He is chatty today—saying he knows the guy clearing that piece of land, that those cows used to graze on his property, etc, etc. He knows everyone, including cows, apparently. On the way to Tumbes, the landscape overwhelms me. Green takes over brown to my right, and the ocean continues, unending, to my left as we move north toward Ecuador. I can’t place the smells around me; Julia tells me it’s burning land. Rivers and inlets and waters are everywhere. A woman naps in a hammock just off the road.
Once in Puerto Pizarro, Rigoberto, Sandro’s friend (of course), approaches us. We don’t have to approach people here for help, as we do in Southern Peru—the people here are so much friendlier. I’m in love with Rigoberto and the Manglares. “Rigo” or “Berto” doesn’t wear shoes, but I notice he has flip flop tan lines, and he smiles and jokes with us and asks for English lessons. Our tour includes a Portuguese girl, which adds to the mix of tongues. English, Portuguese and Spanish float around my ears as the boat calmly penetrates through rivers and estuaries and makes ripples in the river-forest.
The estuaries cut through bushes and shrubs. Birds take over and color is everywhere, as are boats and the ubiquitous smell of fish. “No hay vago” (There isn’t a bum) here, says the man with a constant smile. I could live here, too, in this never-ending heat, this perpetual summer. They were right for once, the Peruvians—summer lingers here forever. Clouds come and go and tropical rains invade. But I like that.
We say goodbye to Rigo and leave our adventure in Tumbes, which is not an impressive city, but it overflows with happiness. We drive back and I can only think of the wave of fatigue that has rushed over me, but I can’t close my eyes, not yet, because I’ll miss something beautiful.
Our last afternoon on the beach is spent sunbathing. I am the only one on the beach, and my codependent tendencies vanish in the knowledge that My Creator is next to me. The Spirit is here, speaking and teaching; Jesus and I chat about life. It's an all around really great late afternoon. This time of day is incredible, with the wind picking up and the clouds coming in. The sunset will be spectacular. The water starts to change colors. As I sit on the sand, I observe a man paddling far out in the water, standing on a raft. My reverie is interrupted as a plethora of crabs inch closer as if they are going to attack me.
The last night in Zorritos is peaceful. That sentiment characterizes this place: Peace. It’s July 4th, but Julia nor I know it because we’re the only Americans on the beach and drunk on relaxation. I celebrate with another sunset, crabs poking out of the sand, and, later, a drink with Jaime Bayly talking on TV. I suppose if Sandro had been around, my last night would have been spent drinking with him, Jaime Bayly in the background, and hearing Sandro’s stories about their love affair.
26.10.10
Northern Adventures: Part 2
From my spot in the front of the bus, I finally see a small sign for our hotel. I collect a still-drugged Julia and we disembark in the middle of the highway to the bungalows that have been beckoning me since late May. Our bungalow is about 30 steps from a private, deserted beach, and I almost cry because I’m so happy.
In our relaxed state, we sink deeper into this idea of doing absolutely nothing in Zorritos. Sun and clouds mix together. No one is around, save for a couple on their honeymoon. I walk around in my swimsuit, trying to talk myself out of stipping off everything altogether. Our first future friend arrives to welcome us to Bamboo Lodge: Sandro. We don’t know he will become our friend and ‘pituco’ (snobby) Northern Peru chofer/Sugar Daddy.
Between doing nothing and getting a sunburn, Jenny the cook makes us some incredible fish and Sandro takes us into town. He plays European club music in his car. We come to find out he lives in California and has his own business there; he’s in Peru to see family and help with their business.
Zorritos is everyman’s town. I wander around, in awe of the people not wearing clothes or shoes. I’ve just come from the cold weather in Arequipa and Lima, where scarves are worn in 65 degree weather. I drink a cold, icy, glass-bottled coke and relax while the Peruvians watch me. Not many tourists get to Zorritos—most stop in Mancora, about 30 minutes south.
I leave the shack-restaurant and wander back to Sandro. No matter if he leaves, though, I could stay and live here. I’ve convinced myself of this already. And anyway, someone would certainly give me a ride or find me a ride back to the bungalow.
On the way back, Sandro stops for gas in front of a shanty-town area. Two houses with people just hanging out are the main attraction, and you know their source of income is the gasoline sold to travelers. Sandro hops out and fills up, talking to the guys outside while Julia and I take in the all-too common poverty. Sandro gets in the car and knows what we are doing, as he watches us survey the situation. He says this, in the Spanglish he has adopted for us (even though Julia and I both speak Spanish): ‘There is poverty, pero se viven felices’ (There is poverty, but they live happily). It’s true. Just from my fifteen minute adventure to town, I can see this. I wonder if tourists understand that there is more to Northern Peru than nice bed and breakfasts; that life here often means nothing and everything all at the same time. People eat together, sit outside together, wave to each other from the road. A light is in their eyes, a happiness that seems different even than the Southern North Americans that I know.
After more beach time (I literally could stay on the beach all day), I move from doing nothing on the beach to doing nothing in the hammock. Sipping coffee and listening to waves, I hear a stranger’s voice talking to Sandro.
‘Sarita, this is Pascual, the artist I was telling you about.’ This is not what you might be thinking. Sandro was not trying to set me up with Pascual as a potential love interest; rather, Pascual, ‘spelled with a ‘k’ because it’s artsy’ wants to show me his paintings. In my free-and-easy state I humor this guy as he begins to show me geometric paintings that are just okay. Geometry and I have never gotten along—this goes for book learning AND understanding the aesthetic value of shapes on a canvas: I don’t understand either.
Surprisingly, Paskual with a K opens up a breathtaking piece, and I know I have to have it. I don’t know how you are about art, but my theory is this: If it takes your breath away, it’s for you. Don’t buy something to fill a room—buy something because it was created for you and you know this in your bones.
My painting is a horizontal blue and black view of the ocean. Paskual has captured the ocean and waves perfectly, reflecting the moonlight and stars off the water—A simple and not-enough description.
I pay Paskual and find out he is coming with us into Mancora. Sandro has offered to take us because ‘we have to see Mancora, it’s fabulous.’
Julia and I pile into Sandro’s crappy car once again, this time with my new artist friend, who is chattering away about beach life. I realize I’m having a mini-adventure with the man who painted my new present-to-myself, and a smile fills my face.
We stop to take some pictures in Cancas, a port town. Its full of boats, and the smell of fish saturates your nostrils. The boats float on the calm ocean and pelicans inundate the blue ocean that conspires to float into an even bluer sky, which tonight, promises a spectacular sunset. We leave our perfect vantage point to get to Mancora on time in hopes of catching the sun disappearing underneath the water from an even more perfect vantage point.
Julia and I thank Paskual for his kindness and make our way to the ocean, pausing only long enough to tell Sandro we’ll find him later (it’s a small town, and everyone knows Sandro). It’s funny how ugly can so quickly give way to beautiful: Mediocre streets populated with people asking if you want marijuana lead to a serene beach with surfers crowding the water in a perfect, not-too-crowded way.
If you’d taken a survey of the people on the beach watching the sunset with us, you would have encountered representation from the following countries: Poland, Great Britain, Spain, Argentina, Australia, North America, Peru, Sweden, Germany, Italy and maybe a few people from France. I didn’t ask for said survey; I just know they’re there. I’ve met these people as I’ve traveled Peru—this mix of people from around the world that just leave wherever they are to take a chance at seeing things they’ll only see once or twice in their lives. I know this because I recognize this sentiment as the common bond that knits us together.
Julia and I find a spot on the small strip of sandy beach, joining a multitude of people who apparently had the same idea as us: Watching what must be a daily display of glory, magnificence showing up in the form of a massive star sinking under the ocean, painting the sky canvas a myriad of colors.
Since being in Peru, I’ve come to love sunsets even more because you’re never disappointed. As a girl who grew up on the East Coast, I would have grand aspirations of waking up early on beach vacations to catch a sunrise. However, for a girl who is not a morning person, this goal was never successful. Instead, good intentions almost always morphed into me hitting the snooze button and rolling out of bed at 10 AM.
So today I take it all in with Julia and the tourists. Fifteen minutes allows us to feast on visual pleasure that includes watching surfers live it up on wicked waves that make this beach famous.
In our relaxed state, we sink deeper into this idea of doing absolutely nothing in Zorritos. Sun and clouds mix together. No one is around, save for a couple on their honeymoon. I walk around in my swimsuit, trying to talk myself out of stipping off everything altogether. Our first future friend arrives to welcome us to Bamboo Lodge: Sandro. We don’t know he will become our friend and ‘pituco’ (snobby) Northern Peru chofer/Sugar Daddy.
Between doing nothing and getting a sunburn, Jenny the cook makes us some incredible fish and Sandro takes us into town. He plays European club music in his car. We come to find out he lives in California and has his own business there; he’s in Peru to see family and help with their business.
Zorritos is everyman’s town. I wander around, in awe of the people not wearing clothes or shoes. I’ve just come from the cold weather in Arequipa and Lima, where scarves are worn in 65 degree weather. I drink a cold, icy, glass-bottled coke and relax while the Peruvians watch me. Not many tourists get to Zorritos—most stop in Mancora, about 30 minutes south.
I leave the shack-restaurant and wander back to Sandro. No matter if he leaves, though, I could stay and live here. I’ve convinced myself of this already. And anyway, someone would certainly give me a ride or find me a ride back to the bungalow.
On the way back, Sandro stops for gas in front of a shanty-town area. Two houses with people just hanging out are the main attraction, and you know their source of income is the gasoline sold to travelers. Sandro hops out and fills up, talking to the guys outside while Julia and I take in the all-too common poverty. Sandro gets in the car and knows what we are doing, as he watches us survey the situation. He says this, in the Spanglish he has adopted for us (even though Julia and I both speak Spanish): ‘There is poverty, pero se viven felices’ (There is poverty, but they live happily). It’s true. Just from my fifteen minute adventure to town, I can see this. I wonder if tourists understand that there is more to Northern Peru than nice bed and breakfasts; that life here often means nothing and everything all at the same time. People eat together, sit outside together, wave to each other from the road. A light is in their eyes, a happiness that seems different even than the Southern North Americans that I know.
After more beach time (I literally could stay on the beach all day), I move from doing nothing on the beach to doing nothing in the hammock. Sipping coffee and listening to waves, I hear a stranger’s voice talking to Sandro.
‘Sarita, this is Pascual, the artist I was telling you about.’ This is not what you might be thinking. Sandro was not trying to set me up with Pascual as a potential love interest; rather, Pascual, ‘spelled with a ‘k’ because it’s artsy’ wants to show me his paintings. In my free-and-easy state I humor this guy as he begins to show me geometric paintings that are just okay. Geometry and I have never gotten along—this goes for book learning AND understanding the aesthetic value of shapes on a canvas: I don’t understand either.
Surprisingly, Paskual with a K opens up a breathtaking piece, and I know I have to have it. I don’t know how you are about art, but my theory is this: If it takes your breath away, it’s for you. Don’t buy something to fill a room—buy something because it was created for you and you know this in your bones.
My painting is a horizontal blue and black view of the ocean. Paskual has captured the ocean and waves perfectly, reflecting the moonlight and stars off the water—A simple and not-enough description.
I pay Paskual and find out he is coming with us into Mancora. Sandro has offered to take us because ‘we have to see Mancora, it’s fabulous.’
Julia and I pile into Sandro’s crappy car once again, this time with my new artist friend, who is chattering away about beach life. I realize I’m having a mini-adventure with the man who painted my new present-to-myself, and a smile fills my face.
We stop to take some pictures in Cancas, a port town. Its full of boats, and the smell of fish saturates your nostrils. The boats float on the calm ocean and pelicans inundate the blue ocean that conspires to float into an even bluer sky, which tonight, promises a spectacular sunset. We leave our perfect vantage point to get to Mancora on time in hopes of catching the sun disappearing underneath the water from an even more perfect vantage point.
Julia and I thank Paskual for his kindness and make our way to the ocean, pausing only long enough to tell Sandro we’ll find him later (it’s a small town, and everyone knows Sandro). It’s funny how ugly can so quickly give way to beautiful: Mediocre streets populated with people asking if you want marijuana lead to a serene beach with surfers crowding the water in a perfect, not-too-crowded way.
If you’d taken a survey of the people on the beach watching the sunset with us, you would have encountered representation from the following countries: Poland, Great Britain, Spain, Argentina, Australia, North America, Peru, Sweden, Germany, Italy and maybe a few people from France. I didn’t ask for said survey; I just know they’re there. I’ve met these people as I’ve traveled Peru—this mix of people from around the world that just leave wherever they are to take a chance at seeing things they’ll only see once or twice in their lives. I know this because I recognize this sentiment as the common bond that knits us together.
Julia and I find a spot on the small strip of sandy beach, joining a multitude of people who apparently had the same idea as us: Watching what must be a daily display of glory, magnificence showing up in the form of a massive star sinking under the ocean, painting the sky canvas a myriad of colors.
Since being in Peru, I’ve come to love sunsets even more because you’re never disappointed. As a girl who grew up on the East Coast, I would have grand aspirations of waking up early on beach vacations to catch a sunrise. However, for a girl who is not a morning person, this goal was never successful. Instead, good intentions almost always morphed into me hitting the snooze button and rolling out of bed at 10 AM.
So today I take it all in with Julia and the tourists. Fifteen minutes allows us to feast on visual pleasure that includes watching surfers live it up on wicked waves that make this beach famous.
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