I recently read a book by Bob Goff entitled Love Does. [First, let me tell you to stop, make a note right now on the nearest post-it or back-of-hand to get this book immediately after reading my blog. I mean it. Immediately.] I can’t wait to buy a copy of this book when I get home, read it at least once a year and mess it up with personal notes to myself. One of the chapters in Bob’s book is entitled ‘Palms Up’ and he talks about how he instructs his clients from his law firm to sit with their palms up in their laps during depositions because it’s harder for them to get defensive and easier for them to be calm and honest during rapid fire questioning from other lawyers.
“Something about the hardwiring that God gave each of us links the position of our bodies and position of our hearts.
It was Jesus who taught me there was nothing I could really lose if I had Him. He taught me to be palms up, just like He was. Palms up means you have nothing to hide and nothing to gain or lose. Palms up means you are strong enough to be vulnerable, even with your enemies. Even when you have been tremendously wronged. Jesus was palms up to the end.” (Love Does)
Going from a month of living with 60 people to a month of living with 6 is like coming home from youth camp. This extrovert spent February fighting her FOMO (fear of missing out, I’ve diagnosed myself) and now is spending March recovering from the business. Original plan was to spend March in Bolivia, but on the World Race plans change every second. Instead, my team of 7 is living in Chincha, Peru, a couple hours south of Lima on the coast, working (and living) with Iglesia Adonai and the Salazar’s: Pastor Rodolfo, Maritza (or Momma), Karem (26) and her 15 mo old Camila, Melody (17) and Eli (16); oh and I almost forgot to mention Theodore Juan Adonai Primero, our pet turkey. In an instant we were members of their familia. I’ve never had younger siblings but as we cooked for Eli last night and played another daily game of Spanglish charades I realized that I like it. I’ve learned more Spanish in the past couple weeks than I had in the past 2 months on the Race.
We spend our days walking around the small community of Chincha, “talking” to people about our church services, or whatever else we can talk about using the limited Spanish words in our English brains. Sometimes we pile into the family station wagon and head to Hoja Rodonda to play sharks and minnows or pato, pato, ganzo with a park full of kids. And we’ve held 2 or 3 impromptu English lessons in the past two days (lesson plans are for pansies).
All in all, I love it here. The planner in me had a small anxiety attack the first night we arrived as I realized we’d live day to day not sure if we understood what time Rodolfo said we’d leave in the morning…or maybe he said afternoon?…Did he say we were going to Pisco?…or the park?…I’m pretty sure I heard the word for ‘horse’…but it could’ve been ‘head’…
That’s my life here. I woke up this morning with zero expectations for my Saturday. If we talked to Angie about coming for another English lesson at 2:30 maybe we’ll do it by 3 or 4. We told those 13-yr-olds at the park we’d play basketball with them today at 4, but that may be more like 5? Whatevs. We’ll see. I’m realizing schedules don’t always matter. Plans don’t have to rule my day. We didn’t plan to hang out in the Plaza the other night and eat ice cream, but we did. Then we didn’t plan to meet a Canadian/Peruvian evangelistic rapper named Christian while we hung out in the Plaza, but we did. Life is super cool that way.
It’s such a waste of energy to stress about tomorrow, or to worry if our ministry is effective enough, or to get frustrated that it takes 3x longer to explain something with a combination of Spanglish conjugations and charades. Waste. Slow down. Despacio, por favor. Tomorrow will look completely different than you expect. Our ministry responsibility is to give 100% to what we’re asked to do; who’s to say that teaching Eli to eat popcorn with hot sauce and helping Momma Maritza make ceviche can’t be ministry? And Spanglish charades has become my favorite daily game, one that I’m getting really good at playing.
My teammate and tent neighbor Jesse says the phrase ‘my best life’ frequently when we talk. We ping pong ideas around usually including living in Spain, learning Spanish and the guitar, drinking wine and eating ice cream everyday. That’s just straight happiness–best life dreams. Your best life definitely changes as life changes. I’m convinced that currently, Saturday, March 16, 2013, I am living my best life. I’ve never been so sure that I’m exactly where God intended me to be. My current best life consists of living in a tent on a dusty sanctuary floor, never straightening my hair, eating mangos everyday, napping on the Pacific beach on my day off, giving and taking words of life to and from my teammates, sometimes feeling really alone or frustrated, sometimes being physically uncomfortable, sometimes being really sick of vulnerability, backpacking to 11 countries, being away from my family for 11 months and living palms-up, no expectations.
