Ecuador: Month 1
Construction of a mission’s school; kid’s programs; home/prayer visitations
Huaticocha – middle of the Amazon Jungle
Team Reckless Pursuit
I always:
+ crave Nanci’s (the Pastor’s wife) fresh bread which she provided for us every morning.
+ think swimming in a tropical waterfall pool is magical.
+ will remember how sacrifice includes the laying down of tragedy (relinquishing my right to be present, my right to fix, my ability to provide comfort.)
I sometimes:
+ think singing “Blessed Be Your Name” with a peppy, jarring, pre-recorded electric keyboard beat is my crowning moment of the Race.
+ wonder if proficiency in using a machete is an appropriate item to place upon my resume.
+miss riding in the back of Pastor Ivan’s white pickup truck—surprising, since it was always packed full of people and Ecuadorian driving is like a roller-coaster (quick starts and stops).
I never:
+ again want to kill a chicken with a dull butter knife.
+ desire to live fearful of speaking a language that is foreign to me. People love it when you attempt to communicate in their native tongue.
+ want to forget feeling the lavish love of my Father when I heard about the miraculous healing of my precious, little nephew.
Peru: Month 2
Garbage Dump Ministry; Sand-boarding Ministry; Construction
Trujillo
Team Reckless Pursuit
I always:
+ want to go sand-boarding (think snowboarding on steep sand dunes).
+ remember the sensory overload of being in the garbage village.
+ am thankful for the beginnings of life-long friendships.
I sometimes:
+ still do not understand what it means / how to live truly unoffendable—to be so full of grace that offenses bounce off and do not impress themselves upon me.
+ miss hearing the cacophonic calls of the comvi drivers (public taxis) yelling out destinations—“Huanchaco, Huanchaco, Huanchaco!!!”
+ forget how fun the many games of volleyball were—only because when I play, my inconsistent overhand serve tends to overshadow all other aspects of the game. I think it might be time for me to investigate and fight for change in my mentality in this.
I never:
+ thought I would spend hours and hours, days and days of moving wheelbarrows of sand. But, I did. And, a driveway was built.
+ want to live in the desert, even though I love, love, love hot weather.
+ will shake the image of a young child noticing left-over, rotten food in the city’s trash and then eating it because he had nothing else.
Bolivia: Month 3
“Ask the Lord” / Unsung Heroes Campaign
La Paz; Cochabamba; Santa Cruz
Team Reckless Pursuit
I always:
+ love remembering random moments of the Race—attending a Spanish Christian hard rock (screamo) show.
+ am sidetracked when I see antique skeleton keys. My favorite one ever I discovered here in a tiny, darkened store on the streets of La Paz.
+ will wonder why my friend, Juan Carlos, disappeared and did not meet us one final time as promised. Sitting with him on the streets, talking to him, and listening to him read the Bible are treasured moments.
I sometimes:
+ still wonder what the pastor meant when he told us “Cuidado. Estan jovenes con perros hasta seis y ocho en la noche.” (rough translation: “Careful. There are youth with dogs between six and eight in the evening.”) We never saw them.
+ hope I will cook saltenas and empanadas as good as the ones I tasted here.
+ struggle living in the heights and the depths. Yet, I choose to stay, to embrace the beauty of the gift the Lord has given me. I never want the safe cautious middle way. I choose the heights and the depths. I choose the heights of walking with the Lord and the depths of living in this broken world. Inexpressible joy. Indescribable sorrow.
I never:
+ expect anymore that estimated hours of travel on a bus will be true. The first (of many) delaying incidents occurred here – a landslide forced our bus to be stopped in the middle of nowhere for 8 hours. There were no bathrooms on the bus. And my seat was right next to the open door. I didn’t sleep for fear of mosquitoes, animals…oh yeah..and thieves.
+ got to see the sloths living in the trees in the Plaza Central of Santa Cruz. I’m still sad.
+ until now, saw how the Lord, by His Spirit, was maturing the gifts of prophecy and healing within me.
