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 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.

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.

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.