Deep gladness

I am currently sitting in the room that overlooks the parish lobby, drinking coffee, listening to the music of the Mass below and letting the not altogether unpleasant bitterness of the incense waft pass me. As such, now seems as good a time as any to share the simple pleasures I have come to appreciate about life here at the parish.

About three weeks ago, Mom and I (and two of our favorite staff members) were driving home from one of the most remote villages and I found myself smiling like a goon. This felt somewhat counterintuitive in so much as we had just finished several harrowing and truly heartbreaking home visits. By all intents and purposes, it should have been another day that I broke down and questioned the humanity of our choices, actions and circumstances. Instead, I felt my cheeks stretch and a familiar wrinkle around my eyes deepen, and it occurred to me that I was really and truly happy. Not happy because of the makeshift homes I had just seen. Not happy that a mother is sharing a plywood room with dirt floors and a single bed with her four children. Not happy to see or smell pungent trash littered roads. Not even happy that we were able to deliver food to people who depend on it for their lifeline (because really, should anyone really have to depend on the generosity or whims of others enjoy one of the most fundamental human rights?). But happy to be in this moment, with this community, in this place.

One of my favorite reflections comes from Frederick Buechner (Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC): "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."

As a sit here this Sunday morning and consider all the gifts that have been bestowed upon me these past weeks, I think the greatest must be the recognition, realization and fulfillment of deep gladness that comes from living well and living intentionally.

For the last six weeks, I have been sleeping 7-8 hours a night, drinking 10 glasses of water a day, eating fresh and non-processed foods, attending daily Mass, reading, meeting new and interesting people, forcing my brain into overdrive to accurately interpret Spanish and working hard physically and mentally to do the tasks that have been charged to me. (I have also been brushing my teeth 3-4 times a day, though this is largely due to the amount dust that creeps into my mouth from riding in a truck bed for hours at a time. Still, I can't help but think my dentist would be proud).

I feel for the first time in a long time that I am truly living well. And not just because of the aforementioned physical aspects of life here in Piura, but because the work we are doing makes me feel fulfilled. Like I am finally in the right place at the right time doing the right thing. And for me, this is deep gladness.

I feel more like myself riding in the back of a pick-up truck, sharing a concrete bunk bed with my Mom, delivering food and bicycles, meeting people and staying up late playing Bananagrams than I have in a very long time. This is both empowering and challenging because I can't stay here forever. And I don't know that I should, even if I could. I think the challenge for me now (and for both of us really), will be finding away to rediscover that "deep gladness" when we get home.

Until then, I will continue to enjoy the simple pleasures of watching the sunrise, lying Vitruvian Man style on roof at night and loving the staff and people we encounter on a daily basis. 

Kathleen