My life in this moment...

The thunder rolls overhead and I snuggle deeper under my blanket. Strong winds from the coming storm blow through my window and gently sway my hammock, making me shiver… winter time in ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Peru…75º and I am freezing. Turning over I reach for paper and a pen sitting beside my eight foot perch. As I do, Monk grasps my finger in attempt to stop my movement with a pleading chirp to continue our nap. My mind however is to busy to sleep. Thoughts of my life here in Peru and those of the life I've put on hold for this short period of time, clamor and collide, battling for dominance. Letter after letter I've written this chilly Sabbath day, each adding to the pile of memories billowing in the deep of my soul. Memories of weekends at Southern, good times at Highland, and the warmth and comfort of home recall to my mind the loved ones so close to my heart but in a world out of reach. I left my heart in the United States, but small pieces of it have made the journey here, where forever they'll stay. I'm in love with two countries; my life has two names.
Finding a place to belong should not be this difficult. Although many who desire to belong come from feeling like they have no place to call their own, my desire is different… I feel like I belong in two worlds and haven't a clue which to choose. I know that when May comes I'll return to the U.S. where I'll finish my education and hopefully go on to med school. Going back will be great, for I miss my loved ones dearly, but who will I be when I return? How will this year have changed me, or will I let it at all? To come back unchanged is wrong and nearly impossible, but to return and not live the life I'd planned on living, the life I was comfortable with and had a mindset for, seems impossible as well. Both options before me are seemingly impossible, so where does that leave me? I suppose it brings me back to the question that has been brought to mind so many times the last few months… who am I? Am I the sometimes shy country girl with a southern twang from the sticks of Tennessee, or the "gringa" who walks around Pucallpa speaking Castillano to the locals with a somewhat decent accent? Is my name Senorita Tara, the English teacher of Peruvian children with rotten teeth and dirty clothes? Am I the timid but eager pre-med student who feels nauseous every time I give a shot in clinic, wanting to learn, but afraid to try? Do I live like my five soles per pitcher of limonada is a splurge? Or, am I the university student who buys a three dollar cup of coffe to stay awake while studying… even though this same amount more than pays for my daily food needs here? Is my mode of transportation my own two feet, and the occasional motokar, or is it my own little Ford Escape?
People often ask me if I miss the comforts of home, but what exactly are the comforts of home? There is nothing to give up, merely habits to change. Peru now holds for me the comforts of home. The light of the candles reflecting off the tin roof, Lola's welcome home bark after a night of teaching in Campo, the distinct clouds and blue sky nearly every afternoon on my walk into town, all give me a smiley sorta feeling… the feeling of this is where I belong. There is no lacking of warm water or electricity, but now more so a "wow, they have that there?" response when these so called "modern conveniences" are around.
I honestly don't know where I am going with this thought, for every time I try to complete it I am left with a blank mind and hanging words… thus making this blog I began 2 months ago still unfinished. What is the answer to these unending questions of my heart? Is there an answer at all, or should I just continue riding the waves of life, simply being content to know where I belong and what I should do for this moment? Maybe answers aren't necessary and willingness is all one needs. Right now, I just know that even though my life in this moment is full of confusion, it is also full of happiness and contentment. In this moment I am a deeply rooted country girl who decided to become Peruvian for awhile, and in doing so found fullness of heart and a love for two worlds.

Luz Divina... November Campaign

I walk around the curtained off corner towards pharmacy as Kristin comes running in the door. "She had the baby… I need vitamin K, 2 Kelly clamps, a scalpel…uh, 25 gauge needle, 1 ml syringe…" and the list continues as I call for Kaitlin to help us scour the "pharmacy" (really a small curtained off 4x6 section of a school building) for the needed supplies. Before we knew it Emily was dashing in yelling that she needed the kelly's and scapel stat. We hand them over and she flies out the door, Anita close on her heels. Half an hour ago a women approached us at the corner store explaining that her neighbor was in labor. She said that she hadn't been in labor long nor had her water broken, meaning there was still time… or so we thought. Jenni, Emily and Kristin went to the house to check on the mother's progress. Four contractions later, and out came a beautiful baby girl… way ahead of any of the needed preparations, leaving us to run around like crazy trying to find the supplies. This was the second of two births during this clinic… such an amazing experience. During the first one we had much more time and all the needed supplies. Doctor was there and we were merely bystanders watching the procedure as Jenni delivered the baby. However, the second one we were definitely more involved, and it is so wonderfully indescribeable to know you helped (if even in such a small way as prepping the shots and tying off the umbilical cord) bring a life into this world. Watching the pain fade from a mothers face as she gets her first look at her brand new baby girl is priceless. Now, this isn't a normal clinic experience… after all we have only had three clinic births this year (all girls now with the name of Jenni) but it is definitely something I will never forget, and has yet again reinforced my desire to become a doctor. There are days in clinic that make me wonder if the medical field is really for me. Every time I get handed a prescription with a shot on it, my heart still skips a beat and my hand shakes as I prep the medicine… I suppose calmness and self confidence is something that only comes with time and practice. But, those moments of nervousness are significantly outnumbered by the power of the toothless smile of an old man as he buckles his belt and thanks you for getting rid of his pain. The tears of joy and satisfaction streaming down a mothers face as she accepts the medicines for her sick child make the complaints of the randomly impatient person fade into the background. Bringing spiritual and physical healing is what our team is here for… not to shove the Bible down people's throats or claim our church is the best. We are here to show them Jesus, and the love of the great physician…. And this is what I hope to do for the rest of my life. Whether it be in the untouched jungles of ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Peru, or a huge hospital in the United States… or even if it has nothing to do with medical work, I know one thing for certain, and that's the fact that God has an amazing plan for me, and He has an amazing plan for you too. Let Him use you however He will and I promise you will not regret it. I hope you are loving life just like I am… I have found my place in this world for this moment and my wish is that you have found your place too. The place that puts a smile on your face and fills you with sighs of satisfaction… the moment where you know you could ask for nothing more to increase your happiness… the place that leaves you with one word to describe it, no matter the good times or bad, it's bliss.

Home

Home isn't a building, a country, or even a destination. Home is the smile that I can't stop each time I walk along the road to Campo Verde. Home is the hug from my daddy after being gone 4 months. Home is the longing in my heart when my mommie's voice says "I miss you sis" from the other end of the line so many miles away. It is the jokes in the kitchen about me looking haggard at 6am, and the plop monk makes when he lands on my shoulder. It isn't four walls and a big front door, or a thatched roof and dirt floor. It's craving MaMa's cooking and the excuses from friends telling you why you should eat at least one more piece of chocolate. Home doesn't change whether you can choose the temperature of your water, or if it's always cold, nor whether you have a shower head and curtain or buckets and half a tarp. It matters not if you use candle light only on special occasions, or everynight. Home is found in the smells that bring happy memories. It's the toothless grin saying "Buenos Dias Professora", and Sabbath hugs at Km. 38. It's the question of "Are you ok?" and the prayers from loved ones near and far. Home is more than a place could ever be... it's really a bouquet of feelings. Love and comfort, belonging and smiles, freedom and kindness, jokes and sunshine. It's the letter from a dear friend or a video from Matt. It's the promise of a lifetime in heaven and guidance here on earth. Home is the song in my heart, the bounce in my step, and the spirit with in me. Most of all though, home is the ability to be yourself, it's who I am, and what I love.

Meal Time

"¡A comer!" these words ring through the house and out to the jungle signifying mealtime again at km 38. This is always one of my favorite parts of the day. There are many wonderful things to love and look forward to about mealtime. I suppose the first and foremost enjoyment of a good meal is well…eating it. Food has the amazing ability to altogether change a grouchy mood to a smiling face. Secondly, the opportunity to use ones creativity for (hopefully) the enjoyment of all is another wondrous aspect of mealtimes. Thirdly, the necessity to eat gives a very plausible excuse to stop what he or she is doing and take a break and spend time with others. In Peru meals encompass so much more than even these three aspects, for they represent a journey all their own. So, let's go to the beginning of this adventure, that in the ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />United States we so simply call "food".
Quick trip to the grocery store? I think not. First of all, in a third world country, nothing is quick, and not being able to speak the local language slows down ones pace even more. When I first arrived in Peru, one of the most intimidating places was the market. People are bustling everywhere among the rows upon rows of fruits, veggies, raw meat, and randomly wandering animals. It is easy enough to point at an object if you don't happen to know its name, but this only shows your ignorance as a foreigner and makes you subject to high prices. So, our first lesson in Peru was to learn market phrases, food names. After mastery of Mercado Dos was achieved, mostly by trial and error, these trips have become less intimidating and actually enjoyable. It is so wonderful to go and converse with the friends we have made in our "little old bread lady" who showers us with kisses, or our "cute grandfatherly fruit man", who always throws in something extra for us to try. These experiences make up for the constantly varying time that it takes to actually get to and from market and the periodical frustrations of shopping.
Once arriving back to km 38 first priority is sorting out the smashed tomatoes and broken eggs as well as making everything ant and monkey proof. Now, it's time to cook. Well, that is if you have already soaked the beans and sorted the rice…every lunch must actually begin at breakfast if the meal is to be edible. Many of our foods here in Peru are similar to what we know from home, they are simply cooked in a different way. Much of the food we Americanize, bringing a new taste to our Peruvian friends. There are also many things they have taught us, such as how to NOT burn rice. Lunches usually consist of some form of beans, rice, salad, and bread. Suppers are usually small and almost always contain cancha (popcorn), while breakfast is based around some form of hot cereal prepared so kindly by the boys in the wee hours of the morning. The hardest part of cooking is the time it takes. I love spending time in the kitchen, chopping, mixing, and experimenting. Cooking is a great way to unwind and release the stress of a busy morning, but some days one just doesn't have time for the two hour lunch preparation. Many hands do however make for light work, and with all the willing hearts and smiling faces we have here at A.M.O.R Projects, no meal is ever a bad adventure.