“So, I guess you’re really staying,” one of my friends wrote in an email. I paused for a moment to search myself for any doubt, and acknowledged with a sense of belonging that yes, I am here, and I am staying.
In staying, I am no longer the anonymous foreigner passing through for a visit. I now know the name of the woman who sells crackers and candy in a cart near my office. She let me huddle under her doorway during a rainstorm while I waited for my office to open. I think she realized that I‘m here for a while, at least long enough to watch together as the sky cleared.
For the first few weeks, I felt utterly dependent, floating along wherever others led me. I was a quieter version of myself, hyper-observant of my surroundings yet not quite able to express myself or understand my new environment.
I’m grateful for the disorientation that took place. It called on me to trust others, to ask for help, to struggle to find new words, to really open my eyes and listen - in essence, to refine all my senses in order to adapt.
My own speech has altered as I choose words more carefully from my limited Spanish vocabulary. Like a tricky puzzle, I search for the pieces that best reflect my thoughts, usually settling for the most basic means of expression. I find this to be a more meaningful way of communication, deliberately choosing phrases and keeping to what is essential.
My shortcomings in Spanish have revealed the beauty of others’ facial expressions, the subtlety of their hand gestures and changes in intonation. I have found myself laughing aloud along with my host mother at the dinner table, having completely lost track of what she is saying, but simply responding to her wide grin and busy hands as she tells a funny story.
I can now chit chat in Spanish and make silly jokes. I find myself singing popular songs from Church as I walk to work. I can even give instructions on how to make Origami cranes and lilies with the young ladies from el Colectivo Tamar. However, as my language improves, I want to maintain the simple and intentional means of communication that I relied on during the first several weeks.
My adjustment to the language is a reflection of a more profound feeling of integration. I am communicating, participating and engaging with the world around me here in Huánuco. I am no longer hiding behind a curtain of timidity, wondering where I belong. Instead, I am finding myself very much a part of something real, within a community where G-d is alive and present.
I felt especially integrated this past week when one of the pastors at Paz y Esperanza invited me to lead the Bible reflection during our Monday morning devotional. I was initially stunned by the responsibility of finding a meaningful Bible passage, reading from la Biblia in front of the entire office and connecting the verses to our lives here in Peru. However, despite my initially anxiety, I deeply appreciated the opportunity to be an active part of our traditional morning gathering.
I selected the Old Testament story of La Torre de Babel, with its reference to the confusion of language, destruction and the need to rebuild. The story felt appropriate to share, in this diverse country where earthquakes and violence call on the people to constantly pick up the pieces and start again.
The story also calls on us to include G-d in our struggles. Like the builders of the tower, at times, I’m so intent on achieving a certain outcome that I exclude G-d in the process. By avoiding G-d and trying to succeed on my own, I become disabled and I am left with the remains of a bad decision.
Always looking for a fun art project, I prepared a puzzle to reflect the messages of the story. I handed each of my co-workers a piece of the puzzle and invited the group to rebuild the image, without speaking. In doing this, the group found other means of communicating, leaving space and silence for G-d to enter the equation.
As the image came together, eyes lit up and sighs were released as my friends saw a globe, with Peru in the background, and two hands of different color crossed in the center. I’m not sure how each person reacted to the activity, but it was clear that the image of their country touched them deeply. I felt that G-d had allowed me a moment to express, without words, that I feel honored to be a part of this community.
In staying, I am no longer the anonymous foreigner passing through for a visit. I now know the name of the woman who sells crackers and candy in a cart near my office. She let me huddle under her doorway during a rainstorm while I waited for my office to open. I think she realized that I‘m here for a while, at least long enough to watch together as the sky cleared.
For the first few weeks, I felt utterly dependent, floating along wherever others led me. I was a quieter version of myself, hyper-observant of my surroundings yet not quite able to express myself or understand my new environment.
I’m grateful for the disorientation that took place. It called on me to trust others, to ask for help, to struggle to find new words, to really open my eyes and listen - in essence, to refine all my senses in order to adapt.
My own speech has altered as I choose words more carefully from my limited Spanish vocabulary. Like a tricky puzzle, I search for the pieces that best reflect my thoughts, usually settling for the most basic means of expression. I find this to be a more meaningful way of communication, deliberately choosing phrases and keeping to what is essential.
My shortcomings in Spanish have revealed the beauty of others’ facial expressions, the subtlety of their hand gestures and changes in intonation. I have found myself laughing aloud along with my host mother at the dinner table, having completely lost track of what she is saying, but simply responding to her wide grin and busy hands as she tells a funny story.
I can now chit chat in Spanish and make silly jokes. I find myself singing popular songs from Church as I walk to work. I can even give instructions on how to make Origami cranes and lilies with the young ladies from el Colectivo Tamar. However, as my language improves, I want to maintain the simple and intentional means of communication that I relied on during the first several weeks.
My adjustment to the language is a reflection of a more profound feeling of integration. I am communicating, participating and engaging with the world around me here in Huánuco. I am no longer hiding behind a curtain of timidity, wondering where I belong. Instead, I am finding myself very much a part of something real, within a community where G-d is alive and present.
I felt especially integrated this past week when one of the pastors at Paz y Esperanza invited me to lead the Bible reflection during our Monday morning devotional. I was initially stunned by the responsibility of finding a meaningful Bible passage, reading from la Biblia in front of the entire office and connecting the verses to our lives here in Peru. However, despite my initially anxiety, I deeply appreciated the opportunity to be an active part of our traditional morning gathering.
I selected the Old Testament story of La Torre de Babel, with its reference to the confusion of language, destruction and the need to rebuild. The story felt appropriate to share, in this diverse country where earthquakes and violence call on the people to constantly pick up the pieces and start again.
The story also calls on us to include G-d in our struggles. Like the builders of the tower, at times, I’m so intent on achieving a certain outcome that I exclude G-d in the process. By avoiding G-d and trying to succeed on my own, I become disabled and I am left with the remains of a bad decision.
Always looking for a fun art project, I prepared a puzzle to reflect the messages of the story. I handed each of my co-workers a piece of the puzzle and invited the group to rebuild the image, without speaking. In doing this, the group found other means of communicating, leaving space and silence for G-d to enter the equation.
As the image came together, eyes lit up and sighs were released as my friends saw a globe, with Peru in the background, and two hands of different color crossed in the center. I’m not sure how each person reacted to the activity, but it was clear that the image of their country touched them deeply. I felt that G-d had allowed me a moment to express, without words, that I feel honored to be a part of this community.
