Cachora is a small town of hard-working people in the mountains of Peru and it has truly stolen my heart. Saying goodbye to the children, our hosts, the people we have met at the various hostels where we make pilgrimages to use the spotty wifi, and Elizabeth, my dear friend who owns our favorite store in town was difficult. We almost missed saying goodbye to a group of girls and we happened to pass them walking in the opposite direction on our way out of town. We leaned out the window and waved as they turned and began running after our van. It was almost a scene out of a movie and without a second thought, I called up to our driver Walter and asked him to pull over. We all piled out as the girls reached us and we hugged and said our final goodbyes. Walter even took pictures for us. It was definitely a God-ordained moment. I am going to miss each and every person I got to meet these last few weeks and while I am excited to continue working in Cusco, I can’t help but daydream of the simple life we left behind in Cachora.
I’ll miss my natural alarm clock that is my skylight waking me up at 5:30 every morning.
I’ll miss the cows that would take over our path home when we heading back from town after 5 pm.
I’ll miss the pack of puppies that we passed almost every time we walked into town. I won’t miss the fact that they often followed us to places where they were not welcome and then needed us to carry them back home but puppies will be puppies right?
I’ll miss all the confused looks and questions from locals who always assumed we were tourists who were hopelessly lost looking for the Choquequirao ruins. We always smiled and reassured them that we knew where we were going but it was nice to know that they always cared enough to try and point the silly Americans back in the right direction.
I’ll miss talking with Elizabeth and playing with her daughter Killary. I pray that she continues to learn more and more English and that she is able to find a job in Cusco in the future so that she and her husband can be reunited.
I’ll miss working alongside Hermana Rina in the kitchen and trying to not cut my fingers along with the vegetables.
I’ll miss wondering every day whether we’ll have a clear view of the glacier or if it will be shrouded in clouds all day.
I’ll miss all of the dogs both at the orphanage (even if they bark half the night) and the ones that typically follow us on certain paths on the way to and from town.
I’ll miss the sound of the meal bell (Did I say bell? I meant car alarm.) that tells us Hermana Rina has finished an awesome meal that would almost certainly contain potatoes or bread.
I’ll miss all of the kids yelling “hermana, hermana” when they would see us in town after school or walking along the road.
I’ll miss the hugs, the laughter, the endless games of rock, paper, scissors, and the unconditional love that we get from the kids each and every day.
I’m realizing that the World Race comes with a lot of goodbyes, goodbyes that hurt more than the goodbyes when I left home initially because there is a certain finality to them. A finality that reminds me that the likelihood that I ever see these people again is slim. I know they are coming each and every month but they don’t get any easier. I find comfort in knowing that the Lord is here and while I will be little more than a memory to most of the people I meet these 11 months, He will always be there for each and every person that I encounter. I also know that He gives me the strength to keep on loving and to keep on opening my heart to new relationships even though I know I am setting myself up for sadness when I have to pick up and move on. I’ll be the first to admit that it does hurt and that sometimes I question whether it is really the best thing but the Lord reminds me that it is always worth it. I may never know how much of an impact I have on a person’s life but if just one person is saved because I was willing to let my heart be broken, it was worth it. What is a few days of sadness compared to someone getting to spend eternity in Heaven? So, I’m sad to leave Cachora but as we continue on this nomad-esque journey, I will continue to be bold and form relationships knowing full well what is coming at the end of each month.
I’ve never been to Heaven but I hope it looks a lot like this little piece of God’s creation called Cachora (but maybe without so many bugs- I’m not sure if my legs will ever look the same).
