Photograph and article by Nicole Wood, from travels in Peru
Concrete stairs. Barren walls. A dirt
floor. A mostly empty room. Plastic chairs. A rickety table. An unadorned red
tablecloth. Plain food - giant corn, baked potatoes, fresh goat cheese, warm
milk. No utensils. Shared plates. A smartphone and a digital camera.
It felt off, this clashing of worlds. As I sipped from my mug and munched on salty cheese, the iPhone in my pocket felt more like a brick. I was on vacation with my Peruvian host family. That morning, we had ridden in a fifteen-passenger van to one of the remote villages in the mountains of Abancay. We were there to visit their family, people who did not even speak Spanish, let alone English. While our visit with them was brief, it greatly impacted me.
At this point in time, I had already been
living in my small apartment outside of Lima for months. I had limited
furniture, sporadic wi-fi, and a shower that often would stop working
mid-shampoo. I naively thought I understood what it meant to live simply.
Yet, here were people surviving off of the
food they grew and sharing padded cushions for beds on an earthen floor. They
were so secluded that they only spoke the indigenous language of Quechua and
rarely interacted with people outside of their village.
But, they had a church. They knew their Savior.
It was refreshing to be reminded of God’s
blessings, both physical and spiritual. His message to me was clear - God will
provide all that I truly need; physical blessings do not correlate to spiritual
blessings. These villagers knew that, and they laughed and smiled with us
despite our communication barriers. They were content with God’s grace.
And, as we left, an elderly farmer pulled
out his flip phone to take a picture of us.
No comments:
Post a Comment