The November Update

Coming at you in la hora Peruana, here is the promised follow-up to the October Update. Highlights: Playing the gypsy in our haunted house, dancing my first traditional Peruvian dance, teaching nuggets and celebrating community.

Pictures abound.

On October 31 the volunteer house hosted its annual Casa Embrujada, haunted house. A big thanks to our family and friends who made this possible!

We invited the whole neighborhood to come and be scared in the Circo de Terores. The kids lined up to see this crew in action. I was the Gitana, a gypsy who heard more “Hola Miss Maddie!” and less AAAHHH. Apparently I’m not scary. We had some road bumps, but overall the night was a success. I was proud to participate in a strong TacBloc tradition and open our house to neighbors and students. Looking forward to next year… probably working the front door and not acting.

In November we celebrate the anniversary of Colegio Miguel Pro (my school) and host día familiar (family day). We showed off some of our students’ work and ate some delicious food. But the main event of family day is the dance competition. Every single grade in the school—from three years old to seventeen years old— rehearses a tradition Peruvian dance for months. (There are literally thousands of traditional Peruvian dances. Dance is a principal aspect of Peruvian culture. In addition to rehearsing, each grade studies the heritage of their dance.) Then on family day, each group presents their dance to family, friends and selected judges as part of a school-wide competition. Everyone dances on family day: students, parents… and teachers. I danced carnavales de Putina along with about ten other teachers. As intimidated as I was to present a tradition dance in front of just about everyone I know here, I enjoyed practicing with the teachers and participating I the celebration. And I was genuinely complimented on my performance!

Celebrting family day with... my family 

The best part of the day, however, was seeing my students dance. TWO of the classes I teach won their categories (4^th grade and 5^th grade). I loved supporting my students in their practices and felt like a proud mama cheering them on in their final dances. Participating in the disappointments and the celebrations of my students on this day has been one of my favorite experiences of accompaniment.

4th graders dancing a traditional dance from the Sierra (highlands). 

5th graders dancing a traditional dance from the Selva (jungle).

Teachers dancing carnavales de putina.

On family day I jumped and spun in my ojotas to celebrate Peru’s land and people and to celebrate our Miguel Pro family. I was honored and grateful for my invitation to the party. I get to dance and work and live en Ciudad de Dios… for and in the Kingdom of God.

We recently became a community of SEVEN! Well, temporarily. Welcome to Tacna, Hannah, Kristin and Ani! I hope I can share even a small part of the enormous love Tacna has to offer you. Already in the two, short weeks you’ve been here you’ve each shared your heart and spirit. Thanks to you for being you! Looking forward to walking this journey with you. Soon to come La Gran Fiesta (goodbye party) for the two greatest gals around, Christie and Emily… But it’s still not time to say goodbye… not quite yet. And that’s good news for me because you are the greatest compañeras God could have given me this year. God GRACED this house and ME with your presence. There is just as much excitement as there is sadness in our big community transition. And God is here in it all. For where two or more are gathered in my name, there I am.

Hannah, Ani, Shannon, Kristin and I at the beach for a new community retreat.
Props to Hannah and the self timer for our first community pic!

We recently celebrated my 24^th birthday! Friends and family came over to the house for some mango margaritas and the most delicious birthday cake made by my incredibly talented host sister. (Mangoes are currently in season and way better than anything you’ve ever eaten in the states. Guaranteed. Birthday cake was chocolate with nutella and manjar and 24 written in m&ms. All of my favorite things in one cake. We really are sisters.)

My 4th year students surprised me with a banner... everyone lent a hand!

For me December 2 wasn’t a celebration of my life. It was a celebration of all the other people in my life: past, present and future. I received lots of love from home, from the people who made me who I am. (Including an excellent morning phone call from Mom. Her Sonic order is a large iced tea with three splendas, and she’s a great tipper. In case you were wondering. I personally was most surprised by the concept of a drive thru…#reversecultureshock)

It´s custom to present the cake at midnight.
We sing both Happy Birthday and feliz cumpleaños.

These people have helped me come to know God, see Grace and live life. They are a blessing to be celebrated. 

December 2 was also a celebration of my students. Birthdays are a pretty big deal here, and I was showed in hugs and well wishes at school. Also, two of my students have the same birthday as me. I was honored to share the day with them! My birthday party felt like a celebration of our community here—of the friends and family who have welcomed me and supported me this year. You take me for who I am, and I am filled with gratitude. Thank you for your kindness and care. Thank you for teaching me how to love and be loved.

My community goes beyond New Orleans, Mobile and Tacna. I am part of a greater community: the mystical body of Christ. (Yeah, I pulled that card.) Y’all know December 2 is an important birthday because on this day some of our sisters were born into a new life in heaven. On this day a group of nuns were martyred in El Salvador. It feels much more important to celebrate their lives than my own. Ida, Dorothy and Jean, thank you for your lives. You also are my family, my inspiration and my future. Everyone can chill out. I don’t want to die. But I would like to know such a perfect love. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. (John 15:13) I would like to know such true charity and kinship. I would like to know these ladies one day.

But for now I’d like to celebrate each December 2 with gratitude and hope, friendship and love, mango margaritas and chocolate cake.

Thanks to everyone who made this one special.

Friends and family came to the house for another TacBloc birthday party. Thanks for making my day special!

This week I finished my English workshops in 3^rd, 4^th and 5^th grades. We did some really fun things this year like learning English grammar through good literature! My first year teaching was a lot of creativity and innovation… perhaps even more challenge and failure. Sometimes it was both creativity and failure; like the time I tried to teach English through yoga. I am grateful to my nuggets for their enthusiasm and willingness to learn. I am grateful for the teachers who advised and supported me. I am grateful for this school community in which we help one another go one step further, siempre más alto.

Still to come! School lets out December 23. (Thanks to June sandstorms for the extra week of classes.) We’ll begin summer vacation by celebrating Christmas… I’m dreaming of a white Christmas… This Christmas is extra special because I’ll be celebrating with Peruvian and United States family. That’s right. MOM IS COMING TO TACNA. The long-awaited meeting of the moms is almost here. They are potentially the only people more excited than me. Brushing up on my history of the Incas for a mother-daughter trip to Machu Pichu. Did you know the Andes Mountains got their name from the Spanish mispronunciation (Antis) of an Incan ethnic group, the Antisuyu?   

Lucha por la verdad

My blog is titled paz. That’s peace in Spanish for those of you like my loving father who don’t understand the beauty and simplicity of google translate. If I, a person of far too many words, had to choose one word, it would be paz. OK, I need to choose two words. Love and peace. After all, “the final word is love.”  Love is that divine, all-consuming goodness that has the power to transform everyone and everything. It is all I am and all who I can be. (If of course I give God an inch of wiggle room to work in me. Still very much working on that.) If love is the final word, the what, then I think peace is the how. It’s my dream, my hope, faith and charity. It’s my dream—for myself, for my brothers and sisters, and the world at large. Peace is how I hope for this dream and where God leads me. I wait in good faith, with the peaceful trust that my prayers will be answered. I know the peace of being at home with God like I know a good friend. It’s the peace of sharing a good beer and good conversation with a great friend. Peace is my charity. It is how I love. Like the disciples were sent forth to bring peace into each household they enter, I am also sent forth to bring good news. That good news doesn’t come forth in my words. (We’ve covered how I have issues with words sometimes.) God asks me to sit, eat, drink and stay in each household I enter. I’m a peacemaker. However, it has taken me quite some time to learn that God and I have this peacemake’n deal going on (this covenant). I wasn’t the gal given the peacemaker necklace in pre-K.

            All this is getting to the point that I want to write about peace. But here’s the thing. Just like I know peace, I also know the insufferable impatience for which Teilhard de Chardin wrote his prayer (“Patient Trust”). I know the restlessness that St. Augustine has helped so many of us name. “Our hearts are restless until they rest in you, Lord.” I know the leg-twitching, list-making, mind-spinning utter impatience. I know the uneasiness that precedes its arrival, and I know the desire to cast it off like Dumbledore’s army fighting the dementors. “Get this shit out of my house.” I know that restlessness. I can even see the restlessness: when I check my agenda 10 times a day, tear through the dvd cabinet, read two chapter of every book on the shelf, wash copious of laundry. However, the state of my laundry basket suggests that last symptom may not be so terrible. It’s the smallness of the restlessness that’s insufferable. Merton wrote that which makes me feel better. I guess he also felt like he hadn’t yet reached the level of Teresa and Therese who knew the joy of suffering. The smallness is so frustrating because it doesn’t stop us. We’re just restless. We’re just impatient. I still teach my classes and do my chores. I still smile and laugh and live. I keep going. Sometimes when I don’t encounter a foot-stopping, breakdown-making event, I forget to stop myself. It is totally possible to live with restlessness.

            I won’t take this time to write about how we idolize our schedules and productivity. Far smarter people have already done that. I just wanted to take a page to write about the other side of paz. I wanted to speak to my embarrassingly normal experience. I still struggle to find a good exercise routine and still eat one too many cookies. I still hit snooze in the morning. I worry if I say and do the right thing.

I still struggle to love and be a pacemaker.

I still get up each day and try again.

            For our closing song at the chapel in my neighborhood, we often sing Santa María del camino. And I mean often. It’s a simple song, which I believe is why we sing it. (We don’t have any musicians or a choir.) However, like many of the songs sung in mass here, it is the simplicity of the words that allow them to enter right into your heart and speak to your soul. The refrain says, Ven con nosotros a caminar, Santa María ven. Come with us to walk, Mary; Mary, come. But my favorite part (which I sing loudly, enthusiastically and off-key like all the other grandmas in mass) is the second verse.

Aunque te digan algunos

que nada puedes cambiar,

lucha por un mundo Nuevo,

lucha por la verdad.

            Even though some people tell you that you can change nothing, fight for a new world. Fight for the truth. Fight for the truth. I like the sound of that. It sounds like my dream, my faith, hope and charity. It sounds like my call to be a peacemaker. It also sounds big and bold and a little bit intimidating. But just as the restlessness is frustratingly small, peace is miraculously, wondrously small. The world-changing truth is that we still get up each day and try again. We’re all fighting for the truth the best we know how. Now that’s something worth getting out of bed to go see. So I turn off the snooze button, put on my teacher clogs and try again. I see little kids deeply concerned with playground justice. I see teachers trying their best. I see parents working hard. I see a lot of failure too—on big and small scales. I see it all, the world turning and turning, and I thank God I get to participate in the good fight.

I see how I’ve grown, but I also see how much more there is for my to walk. While standing with the impatience at the trailhead and wishing I was on the mountaintop, I pray for the courage to give God my hand and let Her lead me out into the gracious darkness and miraculous wilderness. With the Graces of hope, faith and humility, Santa María and I walk out together singing. We witness miracles.

The October Update

I´m taking a break from the usual ramblings and reflections to bring you the October Update. This is a big month for the Tacbloc. Recently we teamed up with the volunteers from the two other JVC communities in South America and our program director for our annual reorientation/ disorientation retreat. Liz (our awesome program director!) and the volunteers from Santiago stopped by Tacna before the retreat. We had a great time sharing our home with them. We did some fun things like eating salchipapas, eating hamburgers, eating ice cream, eating travesuras, and climbing a sand dune.

Then we all headed up to Mejia, a beach town in southern Peru, and met the volunteers from Andahuaylillas, Peru. There we had a week of fun, prayer and reflection of the past year. It was challenging to honor and hold the ENTIRE YEAR. It´s been one for the books, yall. But I also felt the desire to renew my commitment to this JVC life and enjoyed the space to marinate the sacredness of it all. (Marinate- Greg Boyle shout out)

I´d like to title this photo: a year of processing.

More than anything, I was grateful for a beautiful week with good friends! This photo doesn´t do justice to our beauty, but I loved this moment surrounded by my girls. Had to share.  

Meet the current Jesuit volunteers in South America! We enjoy chocolate, ricoto relleno, large playing cards, madlibs, skimboarding, sunsets on the beach, service and justice.  

After the retreat, Liz came back to Tacna with us for the annual site visit. Always good to feel that love and support from the JVC office! We got to do some cool stuff like having mass in our home, seeing a procession of Señor de los Milagros while eating pizza, hanging out with MEGAN, and catching up on how life is for us here. It was great to share my experience—Liz even got to share in the glory of primary classes! Here´s a couple of action shots from my fourth grade class. We had a fun lesson. We read Head to Toe by Eric Carle and learned the word ¨Can¨ with some new verbs  

And October is still going! The TacBloc is gearing up for Halloween. The volunteers have a tradition of transforming our lovely home into a haunted house for the kids in the neighborhood. Blood and guts and screams and… clowns? OH MY!
I´ve embraced the role of dance mom recently. The school is preparing for family day. Each grade presents a traditional Peruvian dance, and I´m hoping a couple of the classes I teach will win the big competition! You can find me in the patio, cheering them on. The teachers also present a dance on family day. You read right. My first Peruvian dance will be performed in front of the entire faculty, student body, parents and neighborhood. As Jim Halpert once said, ¨Lord, beer me strength.¨ 

Liberation theology and my big hair

Ever since I was a little girl I have hated my hair. I know just about every girl says she hates her hair, but y’all I’m telling you. This was different. Algo fuerte. I hated my big, fluffy, puffy, knotty, unbrushable, untamable, home beauty shop disaster. And I detested every time some old person crouched down and told me how they would just love to have some of my pretty, thick hair. After many years of a puffy pony tail, I eventually learned some new tricks: the straightening, braiding, cutting, thinning that normalized my mane. I hadn’t reflected very much about my hair since coming here. * Then during a Skype conversation with my mom, she commented on how long my hair has gotten. This struck me as strange because my hair, a little more than shoulder length, is still shorter than most women here. Actually, I have much, much less hair than most women here. Peruvian women pride themselves on their hair. This ranges from my primary students who show up with their hair carefully done, to my secondary students who braid each other’s hair during my class, to the old woman on the bus with her beret placed just so, to the traditional pueblo women whose two braids reach their legs. I was once informed, “You know people pay for Peruvian hair. Did you know they sell it in the United States?” Yes, actually. I learned about the weave industry in my high school English class.

            My big hair is something that I am learning to peacefully, comfortably—not accept—know about myself. My cousin observed that I am challenged in every part of my life. She said that I am working really hard. I find truth in this observation and comfort in her comment. But it’s interesting to me. In a lot of ways what I’m finding and how I’m living is so normal. Rather than waking up and tackling a to-do list, I’m moved through my days. And the way that I’m moved seems to come very naturally. It only seems right to start and end my day in prayer. My body moves through my yoga exercises; the books I read hop right off the shelf and into my hand. I speak with and teach to whomever I encounter at work. Sometimes that means a busy day with rowdy students. Sometimes that means catching up with friends from home and chatting with some moms at the market. My choices are coming less from a place of habit or obligation. I’m getting to know what I desire.

This is a whole different algo fuerte.

            When all else falls away and it’s just you and your God, whom do you encounter? When you’re off the tracks and given the time and space to simply be, what person do you become? What do you desire? I’ve had these moments of encounter before, these moments of waking up as Merton calls them. I can recall certain times and spaces when I experienced purity of purpose… glimpses of myself. With letting go, dying to self, sacrifice, humility… whatever phrase you would like to use really… these moments arrive with greater frequency. I’m still a beginner.

            Some of these sacred moments came through learning (and witnessing) about liberation theology. These writings and people reached through my being and touched my heart with perfect clarity. As much as I was moved, I also felt stopped in my tracks. Sometimes it’s as if I’m facing something that scares me to stillness and silence or as if I’ve been hurt. It’s kind of like shock. It’s the shock of my own privilege. There is something about liberation theology that I will never really know because I’m not oppressed. There isn’t a whole lot I need to be liberated from. I felt the shock of disconnect while being called to radical, passionate solidarity. I still feel that sometimes.

However, in a very small way by coming here I too am liberated.

            (And I cannot reiterate enough the blessed smallness of my own liberation.) In the moments of encounter, I discovered my desire to fall into downward mobility (shout out, Dean Brackley). I chose to take a step aside, away from the upward mobility and competition. I decided to give up academic success, career, culture and status. I decided to simplify my life: my material possessions, my schedule, my priorities, my work, and even the relationships I hold. I am blessed with clarity of mission: live a life of community, spirituality, social justice and simple living. By side stepping culture and status and viewing life in this way, I find the moments of encounter come running to me. On the side, I find myself in a place to welcome these moments with full-being, to live into them.

            When I was little, my big ponytail and I liked to lie in the backseat in the car sometimes while we were driving. I would look up through the window, watch the leaves and the clouds roll by and entertain myself with the different perspective. I´m still carried through places that change my view.  By arriving here and living into this experience, I´ve chosen a different perspective. I see my peers and loved ones. I hear the news from the United States. But I have a different view than the other passengers. Through my grateful and joyful participation in my own liberation, I´m learning how to see from my own point of view. Rather than taking ownership of my perspective, I know that the person I find is a gift from God. I pray for the humility to offer myself to God. I´m a beginner.

¨The beginner has only one assignment: work hard at making your will conform to God´s will. This is important. Don´t forget it.¨- St. Teresa of Avila, Castle

My cousin is right. I am working hard… but I also let me hair down sometimes.

Another view: the cerros (sand dunes) from nearby beach town, Arica... with me in the way

Gratefully welcoming sacredness and joyfully living into being.

*Except when I thought I was being intentional and living simply by not washing my hair for a couple months. Note: Moving from 23 years on the gulf coast to a desert climate is not an opportune time to “restore the natural oils in your hair.”

Compartir- to share

As many words I learn while living here, compartir transcends the translation. Compartir means food and drink, family and friends, and time together. This week was a special time to compartir here in Tacna. Now I’d also like to share with you—family, friends and those of you who like a good drink.

This week was important for the community here because we said goodbye to Father Fred Green. This beloved Jesuit priest and Tacna hero has moved to live and pray at an elderly home in Lima. Although he is just a (long) bus ride north, all will miss Father Fred dearly. Padre Fred, originally from Hawaii, served in Tacna for 57 years. He founded two schools- Colegio Cristo Rey and Colegio Miguel Pro. He was also influential in the other Jesuit works here: Colegioi Fey y Alegria, Centro Cristo Rey niño y adolescente and Centro Loyola. Over the years the Jesuit works, true to the Jesuit mission, educate the youth in Tacna. Their mission reaches a variety of young people—from the most affluent to those with great economic need. The Centros also offer after school programs, support for families and pastoral ministry. Over twenty years ago, Padre Fred brought volunteers from JVC here. Today, we serve in all of the Jesuit works and live alongside the community in Habitat, a neighborhood on the outskirts Tacna’s center. Our neighborhood was built by Habitat for Humanity, also brought here by Padre Fred.

Our neighbors tell us stories. They walked for miles in the middle of the desert like God’s chosen people. They carried their food, water, equipment and hope for their future. Together as a community they built their homes, one by one. They built our school, Colegio Miguel Pro, which started with just one grade in a house. They built the capilla (church) on the only piece of sturdy, cement ground. Padre Fred, with great humility, arrived here allowed the Grace of God to work through him. Padre Fred chose these people. He led them here in the desert, helped them organize and create a strong Christian community. Now, like the capilla, this community will always be here. It lives on. The people laugh and cry, celebrate and mourn, survive and support all together. They never forget give thanks to God for Padre Fred who brought them here and brought them together. They always pray for his health in their prayers of petition. Y para el salud de Padre Fred.

That’s the thing. I realized it sitting in the cathedral at Padre Fred’s goodbye mass. I looked around the large cathedral packed with friends of Padre Fred. I saw every occupation, every socioeconomic status and every age represented. Padre Fred brings people together. I see him in the physical space- the neighborhood and the schools he built. I hear him in this chosen people’s stories. I hear how he gave his time, talents and love with extraordinary humility. The way he serves is far more striking than the works and accolades that bear his name. The way shows how he lives and accompanies this community. Because of the way he is these people’s saint and hero. It’s like the Gopel of John says, “I am the Way.”

Each JVC house bears the name of one of our Christian heroes: Oscar Romero House (Newark), Henri Nouwen House (Baltimore), Casa Dorothy Day (Oakland), Helen Prejean House (Houston). In addition to our litany of modern day saints, the international communities carry the names of heroes who inspire our new cultures: Beatrice Cayetano House (Belize City), Wangari Maathai House (Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania), Paulino Cantero House (Pohnpei, Micronesia). In Casa Fred Green, we are blessed to know the person from whom we draw our inspiration. This week, we partook in the celebration by inviting our friends, family and neighbors to our house for a compartir with Padre Fred and dedication/blessing of our home. Our home carries his name, his love and his service. It honors the sacred service of each volunteer who has lived, breathed and found their being here. Our community delights in the sacredness. We carry Padre Fred into our work and while we live our mission. Each day his name reminds us how to walk along The Way. He will continue to light the way for each community of volunteers who brightens this sacred space. Our community shines, with all its Grace and vulnerabilities, as a beacon of Christian hope, an oasis in the desert. Each time someone passes Casa Fred Green, I pray they are reminded to see the stars that brighten the dark, desert sky.

Colca: An invitation

The Canyon opens her grand stage. She gifts a space worthy of her magnificence.

The Condor plays in gratitude to Mother Earth.

We are grateful for the performance—the gift to those who are full-hearted enough to bravely and respectfully enter the wide-open space.

We enter.

We bravely venture into the space and make ourselves small enough to step into the openness and allow Her to envelope us.

We, with out full, grateful hearts, bask in the stillness.

We see her walls and depth. We admire her beauty fearfully; seeing the challenge that lies all around us.

We are challenged.

Humbled

Reminded of our small, small place in this wide open space

She helps us check our ego, humble ourselves so that when we arrive at her stream we are again filled with gratitude

for the cool life-giving water

that not only fills us but creates life all around.

The current is a mover and a shaker, breaking through and creating life. She allows us to just barely dip in, tape into the new life.

“Like a deer that yearns for living streams, so my soul is yearning for you, my God…” (psalm 42)

Today I very humbly and lightly gave thanks, glory and praise to you, God.

For I witnessed where your hands touch the earth.

The canyon walls and their colors.

The miraculous oasis

The sun and clouds and blue, open sky

And then, Mother, you gifted me stars!

So, so many stars descending through the night sky to touch the tops of the earth.

Mother, you wished me a sweet sleep and big dreams.

That’s what the canyon does.

Just like a mother reminds her daughter she is special and loved.

It’s an invitation to enter a space for big dreams and bright, full possibility.

We only need to look up.

 Some snapshots of the adventure.
Lauren and I spent three days hiking in El Cañon del Colca (Colca Canyon) during our mid-year break. Peruvian schools have about a week of holiday for Fiestas Patrias (independence days).

Glory and praise to our God!
For good times with a greater friend
All in the glory of God´s creation