I’m looking at two trees. One in a pot and
one growing from the earth, The tree growing from the earth is mostly sticks.
The earth is hard, packed, dusty. The tree in the pot was placed against the
twiggy, earth tree for support. The pot tree is a limp vine with beautiful
leaves but cannot stand up on its own. It is not planted in the earth. It’s
green and strong, but it can’t grow up like the earth tree, The pot is placed
next to the sticky tree so that the vine is supported. The earth tree supports
the pot vine. Because it gives to the pot tree, the vine can grow up. One tree
makes the other stronger, and they are both more beautiful.
Pace means peace. As a Jesuit volunteer, I will intentionally spend the next two years engaged in social justice, simple living, spirituality and community. My blog is an invitation into my life as a peacemaker. I hope to share what I learn about justice and love through my experiences accompanying my brothers and sisters in Tacna, Peru. Thank you for your desire to walk with me in my journey.
Friday, July 14, 2017
Monday, July 3, 2017
Follow up to life in the desert: I took a walk...
I like to take a walk in the mornings. It
serves as a walking meditation. It helps me move my body a little and center
myself before I hurdle into the business of life. However, the other day I took
my walk in the evening before the sun went down. I was in wonder and awe at the
glory of an evening walk as opposed to the morning walk. I enjoyed the low sun
and the WARMTH. (We are now in winter here.) What really struck me were the
MOUNTAINS. I came home raving about my walk, and the girls told me that the mountains
always look like that. I refused to believe them on two counts. For one, the
mountains looked stupendous. There is no way they look like that all the time.
Secondly, I’m a little prideful and didn’t want to admit to being quite so
unobservant.
If you’ve been following the blog, you are
probably very confused.
I have written that Tacna has sand dunes. It is also an expansive desert of nothingness. It is a border town. It is a city. It is a beach.
You’re probably thinking, “Where the hell are these mountains coming from?”
Just go with it.
The Tacna terrain is something supernatural. On a clear day, from our tiny corner of the universe, we can see the tips of the Andes Mountains just over the sand dunes. But on the day of my earth shattering walk the dunes and the mountains seemed so close. I felt like I could reach my arm out and lift myself up over the dune and to the world beyond. I know the way to the center of town, the way to the beach and the way to Chile. I do not know what lies beyond that particular side of the sand dunes. If I just reach my arm out, I will be “on the way to something unknown, something new.”
I have written that Tacna has sand dunes. It is also an expansive desert of nothingness. It is a border town. It is a city. It is a beach.
You’re probably thinking, “Where the hell are these mountains coming from?”
Just go with it.
The Tacna terrain is something supernatural. On a clear day, from our tiny corner of the universe, we can see the tips of the Andes Mountains just over the sand dunes. But on the day of my earth shattering walk the dunes and the mountains seemed so close. I felt like I could reach my arm out and lift myself up over the dune and to the world beyond. I know the way to the center of town, the way to the beach and the way to Chile. I do not know what lies beyond that particular side of the sand dunes. If I just reach my arm out, I will be “on the way to something unknown, something new.”
I walked and marveled at the mountains and
the sand dunes. I noticed the cactus farms and the homes in my neighborhood.
The houses here seem peculiar to us coming from the USA. They have long metal
rods sticking out the tops of the bricks and cinder blocks. People construct
their home bit by bit as they have the resources to do so. The rods, jutting against the sky and the dunes, are signs of hope.
They are faith in the goodness of the future and trust in the prosperity of
days to come.
They are long, rusting, crooked metal rods that would probably violate about twenty health and safety codes in the United States.
They are long, rusting, crooked metal rods that would probably violate about twenty health and safety codes in the United States.
I say that Tacna is a living miracle
because it is a wonder to me how a city can exist in the middle of the desert. Tacna is a city of faith—faith that one
day roads will come, faith that there will be enough water, faith that the
cactus will bear fruit and the watermelons and olives will continue to grow. Tacna is also a city of workers. Living
in the deserts is work. People are constantly coming and going. They come
looking for work. They go looking for work. They are traveling, buying and
selling products. People are building roads, gas lines, water reservoirs,
houses, schools…
People work with the good faith that the desert can be their home. Together, this community of people creates life in the desert. And they become strong. For me, this is why Tacna is the heroic city. It isn´t because of the war fought long ago. This community courageously creates life. What comes forth isn´t perfect or ideal, but the people are strong.
People work with the good faith that the desert can be their home. Together, this community of people creates life in the desert. And they become strong. For me, this is why Tacna is the heroic city. It isn´t because of the war fought long ago. This community courageously creates life. What comes forth isn´t perfect or ideal, but the people are strong.
Living on this side of the dunes requires
faith, hope and courage. Inspired by my neighbors, I pray for these Graces and
the strength to lift myself over the dune and step into the great beyond. The
mountains are calling me to something unknown and new. This environment is not
natural. God’s creation is supernatural.
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