you can't make this stuff up

Okay, so apparently there is this thing in Peru called “crazy hour”. When someone throws a party, for any occasion (weddings, formal get-together’s, birthdays, etc.), you can hire a group of people to come to your party and throw a crazy hour. In the case of the crazy hour I experienced, it was a first birthday party. Fifteenth and first birthday parties are a big time in a girl’s life and come with grand parties. One of the community members had a daughter who was turning one. My host mom was catering the entire party, which consisted of a couple hundred people. She, my sisters worked all day to get the food and the elaborate cake made. I’ll post pictures of the cake, because I’ve never seen a birthday cake like it. It was so elaborate and creative – a Tinker Bell cake with candy flowers, trees, magical mushrooms and even the Neverland treehouses. Crazy! In America, the first birthday is usually a few family members over at the house, maybe a meal and an itty bitty cake for the baby to enjoy. This party was probably a couple thousand soles.

Crazy hour seemed normal for a first birthday, a clown to entertain the kiddos. The clown was wearing green eyeshadow and pink blush, white lips with a black nose. His outfit was orange with some wicked sneaker-style clown shoes. But then the clown starts dancing very provocatively. Moving his hips a little more than I expected, and then thrusting his pelvis to the music. He walks over to an older woman and gives her a lap dance! I’m freaking out and wondering if anyone else finds this inappropriate when he walks over to a man and starts giving him a lap dance. He stops to make a few jokes and then he is waving his crock and his butt in other people’s faces. I started looking around for the reactions of the crowd and my fellow volunteers.

Two girls (maybe 16 years old) ran out with the clown. They were wearing hot pink school girl uniforms that just covered them. They started dancing for the crowd. I was waiting for the stripper pole to fall from the ceiling. The clown called all the kids to the middle and had a dance competition. It stayed semi-clean except for a few sexual dance moves on the part of the clown and the kids. And then there was a moment where I thought the clown was about to make two kids kiss. I was sitting in my seat, very uncomfortable, very reserved. The clown looked over and came up to me and said something. I didn’t understand, but it made me realize I needed to chill out a bit.

Everyone ended up dancing the kumbia in a circle. People running the party came around with funny animal hats, glittery antennas, foam ties, and shiny masks for everyone to wear. We had long balloons to wave in the air as we danced. Then the clown and the “strippers” put two chairs in the middle and started pulling a man and a woman into the middle for lap dances. One by one, many of the guests were selected and pulled to the middle. Every gringo in the place was spotted and selected. The clown started walking towards me and I started screaming “no, no, no!” There was a moment where the clown seemed to be thinking whether or not to leave me alone. Before I could do anything about it without making a big scene, that clown grabbed my arm and sat me down. I received this incredibly graphic lap dance from a clown with a couple hundred people watching, many with cameras. All the while I’m screaming no, no, no. The men were given lap dances from the girls, often both at the same time. And all of this took place at a first birthday party. It is a story that few can tell. You can’t make this stuff up.

In the Beginning

I am writing this after being here for 11 days, but I felt it was important to go back a bit and talk about when I first arrived. Our group of 79 volunteers met up in Washington D.C. for staging. My cousin Kristen, her boyfriend Andy, and their friend Chris picked me up. We got stopped while we were putting my luggage in the car. The security officer said it was because Kristen's tags were expired. We're sure it was because Andy didn't have any shoes or a shirt. We arrived at the hotel and my roommate was already out on the town.

After we ate some terrific pasta that Kristen made, we headed out for a night on the town. On the way, a foreign student from Greece walked up to us and asked if she could talk with us. She was doing a fellowship in D.C. while working on her Ph.D mideival art at Harvard. She said that Andy and Kristen reminded her of her “Bohemian” friends in Greece. We went to Paradiosio Pizzaria on M St. The place smelled of olives, which I thought smelled more like baby poop. The pizza looked great and I would definitely recommend it because of the five page menu of beer. A-mazing.

After saying my goodbyes to my cuz and new friends, I finally got to meet my hotel mate, Gina. Gina just graduated with a Religious Studies degree from Yale. She was one of 10 graduating with that particular degree. The next day, I met many people I would be spending the next 10 weeks with (and some I would get to know very briefly). The Health volunteers left us after the weekend was over. Water and Sanitation (Wat-San) would end up at the same site with us in Santa Eulalia.

When we arrived in Lima, it was after 9pm. We didn't actually leave the airport for the retreat center until after 11pm. Apparently, the big buses that were supposed to be picking us up got into a car accident on the way. We ended up piling into these small vans. Keep in mind that all of us are carrying at least 3 bags that total out to about 140 pounds. So here we are, packed in these vans with our bags stacked to the roof of the vehicles. I'm stressing about the van getting into an accident and the damage these bags could do to us. If we were to flip the wrong way, we would be crushed. So I'm insisting that everyone should untie the seatbelts that have obviously never been used. I get mine and frantically try to loosen the string around another volunteers belt. We get the seatbelt situation worked out just in time to pull over on the side of the highway and wait for half an hour. We're on this crazy highway with cars zooming by and our driver exits without explaining. Ten minutes later, he's back, but only to eat a sandwich. I guess the other 6 or so buses were not ready and so we were going to wait for them...on the side of death's highway.

We finally get rolling and our driver is doing a good job of navigating through the roads. There seemed to be no rules at smaller roads, just hundreds of cars coming in different directions trying to push there way through. We learned fast that honking is not a rude exclamation, but a way of communication. It signifies changing lanes, speeding up, “get out my way” and “hey, would you like a ride?”. At this point, it is really late at night and we are all exhausted. Some have fallen asleep, but I am fighting it since this is my first hour in Peru. I'm to capture every image. The buildings are painted colorfully under all the dirt and graffiti. There are dogs everywhere. People are congregating outside of houses and businesses, many circling up on cinder-blocks to share a beer (Peruvian drinking ritual).

I kept falling asleep and waking up to the van screeching to a halt and in different dangerous states. One time, I fell forward and woke up while doing so, screaming and near tears. Our driver was a bit slower than the other drivers and they would pull up beside us and wave for him to go faster. We ended up losing the group and getting lost for about an hour. When we finally arrived, all of the other volunteers had already unloaded and had settled in. All of the other drivers were hanging out in the parking lot and applauded and cheered for our driver for his excellence sense of direction and know-how. We stayed at a retreat center. The food in Peru is pretty great and I loved it right away. It is interesting to note that, though Peru grows coffee as a major export, everyone drinks instant coffee. I’ve gotten used to that difference.

Miss Gina

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http://highcallingblogs.com/7638/mothers-day-project/

As I kid, my sister and I would go to this church group every Wednesday night during the school year. It was called Girl's In Action (GAs as some of you might know it). My Mom was a leader for our group every year. We would go and learn about the lives of various missionaries, how they sacrificed and the really cool projects they implemented abroad. Because of this program, I gave my life to Christ at the age of 8, and my life to missions at the age of 9. Since then, I have had an obsession with living abroad, which should hopefully happen in the next year. But this blog is actually about my mother.

I think I can safely say that my mom was the favorite mom. The girls all called her "Miss Gina". I think it was because she was so silly. She made everyone laugh. They played games and told jokes. Sang ridiculous songs about fried ham for example. But at the same time that she was the fun one who would let us break the rules - put frogs in people's sleeping bags and stay up late - she was also silently living what Christ taught. She didn't have to be overt about what Jesus taught. She was living the essence of the fruit of the spirit - patience, gentleness, kindness, compassion, faithfulness, love, joy, self-control and so on (and I realize compassion isn't written, but it is implicit). I think it is my mother's humility and selflessness that I admire the most. It seems beyond my capacity to understand or imitate, though I try. She works so hard for everyone but herself. And I believe God will reward her generously in the end. But it is here and now that I am puzzled and inspired by the consistency.

Thank God for my mother who teaches me everyday, in the simplest of ways, how to walk in Christ.

John

Recently, I worked the Solar Rock concert. Afterwards, I was supposed to meet up with some friends from CRU for a worship night at The Kingdom (a friend's house). I asked my boss if I could take some sandwiches to share with my friends. On the drive, I knew that the sandwiches would bless my friends. If only I knew how true that would be. The worship night itself wasn't particularly moving for me, but what followed was incredible. One of the guys at the worship night suggested that we go share our sandwiches and our love with people on 4th Ave in such a way that Jesus can't help but be brought up. We split into groups of 3 or 4 and hit the streets with 7 sandwiches, 7 apples, and 7 waters. As we walked, I thought about Jesus feeding the people.

We walked up and down the avenue sharing our food. One particularly funny encounter was when Karyn was hit on by an old man. "Girl, I can barely see, but you are FINE!" Of course, Karyn took it with grace as we all chuckled.

We met up with a gentlemen named John who was digging through the Goodwill pile. He had just found himself a book on Saints. We talked with John for quite a while about life's hardships. He had lost his backpack, and began to tell us about how little 'things' really matter. We talked about the importance of a relationship with God, and his love for Jesus. We took turns praying healing prayers, lifting John up to God. I could tell we had touched him at a soul-level. He had truly touched us all.

I personally felt God laying his past sins on my heart. I didn't have a feeling that he needed to repent. I felt that he needed to know for sure that God had forgiven him, and that God was preparing the best for him in heaven. I quoted "the first will be last, and the last will be first". I encouraged him that God could answer prayers in this life, too. I can't tell you how much compassion we all felt for John. We ran into him later that evening walking back. We got to hear more about his past, how he had t-boned a family when he was driving 85 mph trying to escape the cops. He had been drunk at the time. The father died 6 times on the operating table before he was revived. Apparently, he was under the influence while he was driving his wife and their 6 week old baby. When John got out of his wrecked car, he thought he had killed that little baby. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Thankfully, the baby was just asleep.

John taught us that night that we are all capable of wretched things. I knew this about myself already. But we all need to be reminded so that we don't forget. He warned us that just one mistake can set your life on a completely different path. I will remember that when I see people like John on the streets, people like me.

Parachuting Hearts Smiling As They Fall

So, it has been a while since I did this project. There were a few more encounters that I had during the rainy season. Unfortunately, I cannot remember them all. There is one that sticks out in my mind.

I went to the bus station in downtown Tucson one more time. I had this special umbrella. It had artsy drawings of hearts with smiles parachuting from the sky. The umbrella was chipper, joyful. I knew that it would take a special person to give that umbrella to, not just anyone. So I sat at the bus station, unsure who I was supposed to give the umbrella to. I prayed while I waited. Some time passed. I was nervous. Here I am - a small girl waiting at the downtown bus station late at night. Did I mention that I was all alone?

Anyway, finally this women comes and sits down across from me. She's different from the rest of the crowd who doesn't seem too happy about being out in the cold rain. This was a hispanic woman, probably in her late thirties or so. She was wearing crocs with socks. (Keep in mind it's raining.) Her gray sweatshirt has a picture of Grumpy from Snow White. She smiling while she sits. I smile back, refreshed that someone could be happy waiting to catch a bus in the rain. She struck up a conversation with me about what a rough night she had this evening. She said her partner had to be rushed to the hospital. She wanted to go meet her partner, but didn't know how to drive a stick-shift - her only means of transportation. So, she and her friend jump in this stick-shift Jeep and try to improvise. They ruin the Jeep, and have to find other means to get to the hospital.

The whole time she was telling me this story, she was cheerful, smiling even. She laughed as if she just knew that troubles were part of life. There was a joy there, worthy of a parachuting heart umbrella. I stood up and told her I wanted to give her that I had been waiting for a kind person to give the umbrella to. She smiled. I thanked her for being so very kind and friendly.

Every time that it rains, I remember stories like these. I remember the passion that I felt when I got in my car truly believing that God would send me someone to help. I just wanted one life to be touched, even if only by a small gesture like an umbrella.

fill us up and send us out

A couple of days ago it started raining some time after 10pm. I had been at my friend Ashley's house and was really tired. I decided that I would just go home and forget about giving out an umbrella that evening. When I got home, I decided to look up this song on YouTube that TaNeika had recommended. Some of the lyrics of the song include "we must go: live to feed the hungry, stand beside the broken; we must go." It inspired me to go ahead and go out. Other than the gentlemen that I ran into at the gas station, all of my other encounters had been on 4th Avenue at this point. 4th Avenue is a safe place to approach people. I'm very comfortable there.

So I started to head towards 4th Avenue, but the road was under construction and led me on a detour downtown. I felt that God was calling me to go somewhere else this time. I went to the bus station. At this point, it is eleven thirty at night and the buses stop running at midnight. There are just a hand-full of people sitting around. There are several security guards and policemen patrolling the area. I sat there for nearly ten minutes with no clue what to do. I began to pray that God would direct me. This security guard in his late twenties approach me. "Do you need to get on that bus? There are only two more buses that are coming by." I said, "oh no, thank you, I have my car over there." Looking a little startled and confused, his body jerked backward. I told him that I had come to find someone who needed an umbrella.

"Oh, it's okay. I understand. Sometimes I have things on my heart that I just have to go out and do, too. I think I know who you can give the umbrella to. He's sleeping over there against that wall. If you want I'll walk you over to make sure that it's safe."

He watched me as I walked across the street and woke the sleeping traveler. "Excuse me, sir. Do you need an umbrella?" "No." "Well do you know anyone who needs one?" "Probably someone over at the bus station." I strugged and went back over to the bus station. On my way back to the benches, I past a woman with a plastic sack. She was an older woman with worn clothes and red hair that showed grey roots. I asked her if she could use an umbrella. She said yes, but seemed confused, probably wondering what I wanted from her. I gave her the umbrella, said good bye to the kind security guard and went home.

The Gentlemen with the small radio

I haven't posted in a while, but that isn't from a lack of giving out umbrellas. So I will attempt to catch up. The last week of fall semester, there was a day that it monsooned. I bought an umbrella that I intended to give away after class. On my way to class, I stopped at a gas station to fill up. There was an african american gentlemen sitting under the lip of the roof up against the building. I felt that he needed the umbrella more than I needed it. I walked up to him. He had a black womens glasses with rhinestones on the sides and a small battery operated radio. I ask him if he needed an umbrella and he said he did. He didn't seem like he wanted to talk so I just left. On my short drive to class I dreaded going on the outdoor field trip. When I got to the meeting area I found out the field trip had been canceled due to the rain.