Drips of heaven

“I think heaven overflows and drops on the earth sometimes. This is one of those drips.” ­­­—Dr. Matson talking about mango smoothies.

I love that. Drips of heaven. That got me thinking about other little things, other drops that are dripping down from above.

Jenessa and I just got back from Lima. I had to apply for a new passport, because mine was stolen. Jenessa is such a good friend to come all the way with me. Just to keep me company and make sure I was safe. Chris Clouzet was also there to make sure that everything was okay. He even came along to the Embassy with me. And waited outside for a couple hours because he forgot his ID. His hospitality and humor are amazing. His taste in cookies, however, I beg to differ. People like Jenessa and Chris, good people whom you can have a good time with, people who care; those are drips from heaven.

The trip to Lima went really well. We rode 15 hours on the bus from Pucallpa over the mountains. There were so many twists and turns on the route that it felt like the whole bus was spinning in circles. I got a little nauseous along the way, mostly thanks to the guy who was sitting right behind me, barfing in my ear. We had bought some altitude sickness medicine in Pucallpa before we left, only to later find out that it was basically just a giant dosage of Benadryl. We all conked out and didn’t even know what hit us. So after our severely drug-induced bus ride, we arrived in Lima. We got to Chris’s apartment around 6:30 in the morning. I took my first hot shower in 2 months and then curled up in my sleeping bag and fell asleep on the tile floor. We went to the Adventist Union with Chris and saw all the work that he does. Jenessa and I got Starbucks, we met up for a way-too-expensive lunch at Chili’s, and then passed the afternoon walking around the city. It was just like being at home again. Except not. Something was different.

Observations: Lima is a lot like America. Which, I guess, was a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing was that it kind of reminded me of home. The bad thing was that it kind of reminded me of home. I realized that I don’t know if I even want that anymore. Example: We went into a supermarket in Lima. It was just Walmart. Only all in Spanish. I was so overwhelmed by all the food choices, the selection, the excess. I couldn’t handle it. In our little market in Campo Verde, there is one type of cooking oil. It comes in a water bottle without a label. And that’s our oil. Well in this supermarket in Lima, we walked down an aisle full of cooking oil. Different brands, different labels, different prices, different sizes. But all the same thing. Immediately I longed to be back in Campo. Back at our little market, talking to our friend Saul who works there. Back to our home. The big city is so impersonal. And then I got to thinking, America is so impersonal. No one really cares how you are or even who you are, for that matter. You mind your business and I’ll mind mine. And we never have to cross paths. Because it’s better that way. Even within the church. That’s the mindset and I can’t stand it.

I’m not saying that I had a horrible time in Lima. I had a great time. I ate a lot of really good food. And I bought some cool pants at an Incan market. I guess it was just a time of realization. All of the things at home that I take for granted. Like hot showers. And Walmart. And Wi-fi. That was all in Lima. Being there quenched a little bit of my homesickness for the States. I definitely miss the convenience of things back home. Like how here at Km 38, I can’t just get online and Skype my friends. But in Lima, I was able to. But more than that, going there made me realize that something inside me had changed. Something has changed. I realized that our simple way of life in the countryside – how we wash all of our dishes by hand, how it takes 2 hours to prepare a meal, how we go to the bathroom in outhouses, how we take freezing cold showers, how we burn our trash, how we play futbol and voleibol together on Thursday nights, everything – is good. It’s a good way of life, something that, after growing up in the city, I prefer. I like the simplicity. I even like how everything takes forever to do. And everything always breaks. It gives life more character. More spice. So, at least for me, right now, I know that I’m living in a drip from heaven.