Sometimes I learn simple lessons in Peru. Don't eat the lettuce or drink the water unless you want to spend your trip in the bathroom. Speaking of the bathroom, always throw your toilet paper in the trash. (Gross, I know.) Never pay full price for anything in the market, and definitely never hop in a car with a random taxi cab driver.
Sometimes the things I learn are deeper. After a week of hard manual labor, I come to appreciate modern machinery...and construction workers. I am also reminded that it is okay, and often good, to disconnect from technology (on these trips, I don't really have another choice). As I view the extensive poverty and corruption, I consider how blessed I am to have so much.
Humility. Selflessness. Acceptance. Joy. Kindness. Strength. These are the greatest lessons, the best reminders. In trips past (and on this one, too), I have truly come to understand the meaning of these words through the people who live in Peru. This time, I learned their meaning through my people.
On my four previous trips, I have traveled with excellent teammates, but all of them have looked very much like me. 2008 and 2010: All college students. 2011: My husband. 2012: All 20-Somethings, some married but none with kids.
This was the 2013 team, age range of 58 years, in all stages of life:
-My brother, Tim: 23, single
-Ben: 30, single
-Jack: 55, divorced
-Ted: 75, married but traveling without wife
-Chase (grandson of Ted): 17, high school senior
-Sam: 25, married (to Sarah)
-Akeilah (daughter of Jack): 25, single
-Whitney (daughter of Jack): 28, single
-Aimee: 22, recent college grad
-Sarah (wife of Sam): 25 (and obviously married)
-Me, Mary Rachel: 25, married with baby but traveling alone
Seems like a recipe for conflict and disagreement. It was actually the blueprint for something beautiful.
I saw strength as I watched Ted push wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of dirt into the street without a complaint (and consequently learned humility as my own stamina paled in comparison to a man 50 years my senior). I understood selflessness as our flights to Trujillo got split up and people willingly offered to spend the night in the airport, skip dinner, or take the last flight. I experienced kindness when Ben lugged around my camera all week and consistently made sure I was surviving without my six-week-old baby. I heard joy in the voice of my roommate, Aimee, as she tried to sing along to the words of a Spanish hymn in church and then laughed at her own futile attempt.
Mostly, though, I returned from the trip with a whole new definition of acceptance.
As we all sat around the fire on our last night in Trujillo and shared highlights from the week, Akeilah recounted her experience. And I cried.
"You know," she began, "Dad has been part of City Pres for awhile now. I came to church with him when he became a member, but I haven't been involved in a church community in quite some time. Being with all of you this week made me realize how much I want that again. You are all amazing. In many places where I go, I feel judged, and I don't feel that at all here. You actually love each other and you've made me feel welcome."
This isn't a tribute to me and my awesomeness (I'm not awesome). It's really just thankfulness for my church, which I don't talk about nearly enough. You see, a year and a half ago, I was Akeilah. Because while many churches proclaim that "everyone is welcome" and that you should "come as you are," what they often mean is that "everyone is welcome to become our project" and that you should "come as you are but don't come back if you have any major issues." In the past, I've felt trapped into being someone I'm not. What I have experienced at City Pres is something different entirely, something rare. I feel free.
I've realized that church doesn't have to be what I always thought it was. In this place, community is real and not forced. I hang out with church friends because I want to, not because it is an obligation. I'm being honest with people, with myself, and with God for the first time ever. I've been angry and I've said things I shouldn't have. And I've been loved anyway.
The diversity of our team to Peru and the unity that we experienced throughout the week reminded me of just how accepted and encouraged I've been over the past eighteen months- in spite of my crazy self. Sometimes it takes a trip across the world to make you realize what has been right in front of your face all along.
I can't convince you to come to my church, or even to come to church at all. But I'm suggesting that maybe you try. Perhaps church doesn't have to be what you always thought it was either.
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| Our team, minus Jack |
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