Well, month 9 brings me to a neighborhood an hour outside of the capital of Peru. I can honestly and comfortably call it the ghetto. Also, it smells like dog food every morning due to a nearby factory. I guess we’ll get used to it? We’re living there at a church and working with the pastor, his wife, and some of their staff.
This first week my team is helping kids ministry team members of the church put on a kids program in a community even further outside of town. When taking in that place– it’s streets, abandoned storefronts, unfinished buildings– it feel like I’m looking through a nostalgic, washed-out instagram filter. There is so much dust and so little color there. Brown streets, brown walls, overcast sky. Walking through quiet streets, passing by sleeping (occasionally angry) dogs and peaceful, elderly people-watchers sitting outside makes me feel like I’m on a movie set.
The program we are doing this week takes place on their new, cement basketball court. We walked around the first day, spreading the word, and kids filled up the tent we set up on the court. The kids bring out the life in this community.
They play and sing, and we play with them. Some are shy, and we encourage them. We are telling them the Gospel through a series of skits, games, and lessons, and they are learning they are incredibly loved. And I LOVE that I get to speak to them. They have the most adorable little spanish voices, and even when we could get along fine speaking different languages, I feel so blessed that I get to know the difference between a smile that says “come here!” and one that says “where are you from?”. I’ve never been more grateful to speak Spanish. They are precious.
Today, I carried one little girl home on my back to her brown second-floor home, and her mom came to the door. The little one said “Mommy! This is my friend!” She has no idea how much she has made my week.
Meanwhile, back at the church, I’ve had the honor of translating our orientation, my first spanish sermon (shout out to Zach, who brought the Word from Judges 18 our second day here!), and a women’s meeting. A huge part of my ministry here is bridging gaps by translating. I’m far from perfect, but I’m also far beyond “hello”, “good morning!” and “thank you!”, which is as far as I’ve gotten in some of these countries. And my teammates are rapidly picking words up too!
I’m excited to be in Peru this month. I’m not sure what all will be placed in front of us, but things feel right despite all the bland-ness. I love sleeping in my tent, I love serving with my amazingly energetic team, I love falling asleep whispering to Jesus in Spanish, I love tasting a new, unfamiliar fruit every day, and I love soaking up this culture.
Best of all, I love living daily in the truth that I am loved–the same truth I hope to bring to everyone the Lord puts in my path. Conveniently, a Justin Bieber song just came into the Youtube mash-ups I’m listening to. . .
“As long as you love me, we could be starving, we could be homeless, we could be broke. As long as you love me.”
I haven’t experienced any of those things, but I have met plenty of people who have. You probably have too. And to those people, I hope they feel the love of their Father so deeply that these lyrics could easily be theirs. Because no matter what, the Father’s love is something we can count on.
