Spit in the bag, please

Today was a day. I felt like I was given a toothpick and asked to paint the Sistine Chapel. Actually, I was given a needle, a vestibule of anesthesia, and asked to numb someone’s mouth. I have never felt more inadequate or nervous in my life. I mean, people go to school for dentistry for over 10 years. And you want me to give injections and pull out teeth? After only 4 days of training? Wowzers. All I can say is, Dear God, Help me. Ayudame, por favor. Help us all. I guess that’s kind of what being a missionary is all about. Feeling inadequate and completely scared, but then just letting go of yourself and your fears and letting God work through you. Because I know I’m no dentist. Not in the least. I’m an art major. I don’t know anything about the mouth. I know how to draw. And take pictures.

I think that’s one of the things I really like about being in Peru, though. People don’t ask you if you know how to do something. And frankly, I don’t think they care. All I know is, that when things need to get done, they do. Everyone works together and tries their hardest. Everyone jumps in even if they don’t know what they’re doing. I never cease to be amazed at the amount of things that can be strapped to the top of a motocar or truck. You don’t have to be an expert. You just have to give your best. I guess it’s just a little more scary when you have someone’s mouth in your hands.

I typed up a paper of things that we’re supposed to learn how to say to our patients in Spanish. Stuff like, “Voy a ponerle una inyección para anestesiar la encía.” Which roughly translates into, “I’m going to give you an injection to put your gums to sleep.” And also, “Escupa en la bolsa, por favor.” Meaning, “Spit in the bag, please.” The dentist told us today that if we don’t specify that la bolsa, or the bag, is the place to spit, the patient will just spit on your feet. Or on you. Or on whatever is near. Tomorrow the dentist is bringing in a pig’s head. A big dead pig’s head to practice extracting teeth.

“Hello, I’m going to be your dentist today. The only other patient I’ve had was dead. And it was a pig.”  But seriously, all I can say is God, help me. It’s not going to be easy, but I know You will go with me where ever I go. You promised me that You would. So I believe it. 

Ormigas, sudado, y ampollas

Even though I’ve only been here for a week, I already feel at home. We have a schedule. We are a family. We work together to prepare meals. Morning and evening worships are my favorite times of the day. Culto, as it is called here. This week has been kind of slow as far as my job goes. I went with the boys to la selva. Deforestation at its finest. They handed me a machete and I went at it. I learned some new words in Spanish: ormigas, sudado, and ampollas. Ants, sweat, and blisters. Which pretty accurately described my morning. It was the greatest feeling in the world though, to be able to chop at thick vines and plants and have them fall at your feet in a heap. But when the ants come pouring out of the trees onto your back and down your pants – yeah, not such a good time. But nevertheless, I feel like I got a lot closer to the boys after going to work with them. It was cool to be able to just sit and talk with them. Even though my Spanish still sucks. Yesterday and the day before, I designed a new newsletter template, took lots of pictures, and just helped around the house. There’s a lot to do before the first health campaign and clinic. This morning I got a little distracted from my work and played the two little boys that live on the base, Jean Pierre and Alex. We ran around together and they showed me how pick and eat all the fruit on the grounds. We have guavas that don’t look like the guavas I’m used to at all, mangoes, cashew fruit, and ubillas which are a kind of big grape fruit. They were so squishy and gooey and so so good. And the best part: they’re right outside my front door. Right now, I’m sitting in the airport in Pucallpa and all the locals are crowded around a window watching the planes come in. The internet is painfully slow today so I don’t even know if I’ll be able to post this today. Oh well. Next time. My next goals are to learn how to ride the motorcycle and to make papusas for dinner.

I will never take internet for granted again. I feel like I wrote this blog ages ago, but I haven´t been able to post it until now. 

A prayer and naked people

Dear God,
I have many things that I am thankful for. I am thankful for taxi drivers who will take us all the way to the front door of Km 38. I am thankful for air conditioning at the corner market. I am thankful for homemade tortillas and freshly harvested honey at every meal. I am thankful for Rut, the owner of the vegetarian restaurant in Pucallpa, who makes amazing food. I think I had the best meal of my life today. I am thankful for soccer, the sport that brings us all together. No matter what language is spoken. I am thankful for calling cards and satellite phones. Hearing the voices of the people I love made my day. I am thankful for squat pots. ¨Less mess, no stress.¨ I am thankful for the Spanish language. It flows off the tongue so smoothly and sounds so beautiful. Of course not from me. Yet. You´re going to have to help me out with that one. I´m thankful for your love and grace that keeps me going and keeps me sane everyday. Y finalmente, gracias por mi famila nueva aqui en Peru.
P.s. This is not part of my prayer. But today when we were in Pucallpa, we saw a guy walking down the street. Naked. Just walking around. And then we saw him a little bit later just sitting on the ground. I never in one million years would have guessed that I would have seen such a sight when I woke up this morning.

Details

Motocars, taxis, buses, and trucks flying every direction. Honking. Swerving. The doctor was driving over 100 mph. I was a little scared. This is Peru. I am here for real. Traveling was a huge blur. And then I crashed under my mosquito net atop my wiggly bunk bed and woke up two hours later to roosters crowing. Who cares that I didn't sleep at all last night? I'm here and there is lots of learning and exploring to do. Km 38 is a beautiful place. There are lemons the size of my face, a lovely outhouse, cold showers, and warm people. 
The rest of my first day in Peru consisted of venturing into Campo Verde, cramming 7 people in a motocar, playing Uno, deciphering Genesis 1 in a Spanish bible, eating a fabulous lunch prepared by the doctor and his wife, and lots more. First, let me tell you about this food. Arroz con frijoles (the staple food). Ensalade de pipinos (cucumber salad) with a lemon dressing. And a big bubbling pot of chicken. I wasn't brave enough to try the chicken just yet, but I'm sure it was good. It smelled good. It was a real fiesta. The doctor gave an introduction of the various projects that we would be working on throughout the year and I am very pleased to announce that I understood everything that he said. Now I just have to learn to speak. My mind always draws a blank. I guess that will all come in good time. After eating, the doctor and other Peruvian workers decided that it would be a good idea to go the the lagoon for a swim and some futbol. So all 15 of us got into Doctor's tiny pickup. It was a painful ride to say the least. But well worth it.
There was a sort of peace down at the lake. The sun was about to set, the water was warm, the mud in the water was extremely squishy, it was serene. There were cows and chickens and dogs and kids running around. We were trying to catch little fish with plastic cups. We played volleyball, futbol, and some Peruvian game called "Murderer" that was kind of like dodgeball. 
I then got my first taste of what my showers are going to be like for the rest of the year - cold. And good. So good. The hot, sticky air mixed with a cold shower is pure bliss. There was a little frog hopping around by my feet while I was bathing.
Details. I know it's a lot of details. But it is these things - the smells, sounds, tastes, sights - these things that I don't want to forget. 
Necisito practicar mi espanol.
Badly.

No school? I like the sound of that.

School is starting tomorrow. But not for me. This is a brand new thing. I don't think I've ever not been in school. Since I was 4. It's crazy. And I kind of like it.

Worrier or warrior?

Lately, I've been a worrier. I don't know what my future holds, so I think about it. And I think some more. And it doesn't get me anywhere or gain me anything. Here's how Matthew puts it: Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes (The Message).
I like how he adds the part about not worrying about missing out. Because that's exactly what happens when you worry. You miss out on the beauty around you.
In his book I Don't See It That Way, Ken McFarland points out five truths about worry:
Truth #1: Worry never works. Worrying about the past doesn't change it. Worrying about the future can't make anything happen or not happen.
Truth #2: Worry paralyzes. Worrying about something makes us freeze and hone into that particular problem. So why not come up with solutions and take some action? Ol' Kenny says that "Action is worry's worst enemy." True dat.
Truth #3 (My favorite): Worry is a choice. Just like happiness. Just like love. We have to make a conscious decision not to worry. To hand everything over to God. To step out in faith onto the wildly amazing ride that He has planned for our lives.
Truth #4: Worry is the child of fear. Having peace of mind is the child of trust. When we internalize the promises that God has made to us - worry just slips out the back door. Promises like Jeremiah 29:11, 1 John 5:14, Psalm 55:22 tell us that God has our absolute best interests in mind. Just trust.
Truth #5: Worry is a hand shadow. A hand can cast a shadow on a wall many times its size. Likewise, worry can make things seem a lot bigger and scarier than they really are. I remember when I was younger being scared to death that there was something under my bed. I would hear a little creak from the house breathing or some other noise from my cat running around and become undeniably convinced that there was a person under my bed just waiting for me to fall asleep. So they could get me. So I would stay up and not move a muscle. Listening for any other little sound that they might make. I was too afraid to get up and run out because I thought they would grab my feet and pull me under the bed. I was too afraid to call out for help. I was too afraid to move. Eventually I would work up enough courage to jump out of bed, run to the other side of the room and turn the light on. Then I would look under the bed. No one. Nothing. Nada. How bo-bo.
So, I am making a decision. I don't want to be a worrier anymore.

I am a warrior.

What I like

1.) Minimalistic magazine spreads. Less really is more appealing.















2.) Portraits. Especially candid ones. Black and white, please.





3. Wood floors.



4. Apple chips



5. Scribbly drawings.



6. Mmmmmmmate.



7. Typography. Especially hand lettering.







8. Feet shoes. Yikers! :]



9. Architecture.



10. Dreadlocks.





11. Yarn and all crafty things pertaining to yarn.



12. Forts.



13. Mustaches.





14. Good ideas. New and fresh ways of thinking.



15. This. Great album. Great art. It doesn't get much better.



16. Nice hands.



17. Christmastime. Don't mess with Christmas.



18. The wash behind my house. A great place for thought, rotting citrus, graffiti, longboarding, and just an all around good time.



19. Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. I'm not finished with it yet, but it's an awesome read. Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-check it out.



20. Drawing lines.



And the list goes on...