At the risk of sounding cheesy I want to write about how excellent my trip to Uruguay was. There are some events in my life that stick with me as pivotal experiences, turning points that mark a new beginning in my life. My trip to Uruguay was one of those moments. Something about it was completely renewing for my soul. Perhaps it was the break from the metropolitan jungle of dust and concrete that is Lima—the novelty of waking each morning and being able to look out across the verdant, rolling landscape and walk around at dawn in the dew-kissed grass until my socks were soaked through. Perhaps it was the music, songs of el pueblo, whose words capture the reality of the fighting tender heart of Latin America and whose folkloric rhythms sent sparks through my whole body. Most definitely it was the moments of connection—the encounters with young people from all over Latin America. The diversity and passion that emerged from the union of thirteen different countries, at least 5 different languages, and one common theme, “unafraid to dream.”
I had the privilege of being a facilitator for the small group sessions that we had all week. We called these times, “mateando juntos” which means to share mate, a traditional herbal drink, together. But sharing mate means much more than simply passing a drink back and forth, it is communal ritual that elicits conversation and inclusion. It enables a circle of trust to be formed where ideas can be shared and voices heard. Through my experience as a group facilitator I was challenged to listen and respond with an awareness that each person’s contribution to the dialogue had infinite value, and that together we could create new ways of articulating a response to our reality that are coherent and relevant to our diverse contexts.
I also facilitated a “family group” which was an intimate small group where we had time to share what we were thinking about and learning, and pray for one another. It reminded me what an incredible grace we are given as children of God, transcendentally bound with one another by the Holy Spirit, that we can join together on a Wednesday with “strangers” from foreign countries, and by Friday we are sisters and brothers with bonds that will remain across time and distance inasmuch as we let them.
So, I am romanticizing everything. I have a tendency to do that. But that’s why I put the disclaimer at the beginning of this note. I don’t mind being cheesy if it means that I get to share a bit of the pure joy and freedom that we are meant to live this life with. When I was in Uruguay I felt like I was 15 years old again—that was the time in my life when I used to laugh so uncontrollably that I got the nickname, “lawnmower” for having this uncontainable laughter that would get revved up and just keep growing louder and stronger. I love laughing like that. To laugh until it hurts and to cry until there is nothing left—those are two extremes that I don’t mind arriving at, because it means that I am alive. In Uruguay, I felt fully alive, and fully aware that the God I serve is the God of life, el Dios de la vida. Everything God is and everything God does is directed toward the impartation of abundant life to all people.
Since I’ve been back it’s been my goal to remain fully alive. What I am discovering in these days, or better said re-discovering, is that abundant life is marked by growth, but the process of growing is often a painful one, as it involves pruning and requires careful attention. Human growth and character development isn’t a passive process, it’s a surrender of will and an opening up to possibilities that are out of my control. In the last month it has meant cutting things off—letting go of relationships and plans, things that I thought were solid and that I had figured out. It has meant taking initiative and making time to do the things that give me life and joy, things like writing this note, baking brownies, inviting my friends to lunch, and buying nice things without feeling guilty. It has meant facing my own fears—fears of being lonely, of living in San Juan de Lurigancho by myself, of living through another Lima winter, fears of my own shortcomings and insecurities—and actually believing that I can overcome them and thrive in my life here. It has meant living in the present and not fretting about the future, but it has also meant reawakening dreams and the desire deep within me to do great and profound things with my life. It has meant being true to myself.
So, once again, I am grateful to be alive, and grateful specifically for the life that God has given me. No one else can live it for me, so I intend to live it abundantly.
