Four lessons from Peru
Katie Bahr | Catholic Herald
Last month, I spent a week serving the poor in Peru with Commissioned by Christ, a local organization that plans short-term Catholic mission trips for adults and families. This was my second trip to Peru with CBC — my first was featured in the Catholic Herald (8/30/2012) — and in many ways, both trips were similar. I taught English in the same school, delivered food and supplies to some of the same poor families, and even did the same kind of bamboo building projects.
This year, I was more familiar with the living conditions and social hardships of the community, so I was able to focus on other things: building relationships, figuring out new ways to serve and learning from the people we met.
The truth is, I could talk for hours about the trip — and in fact I already have — but when it comes down to it, there are four main lessons I’d like to share from my mission experience.
Be present
In Piura, the parish of Santisimo Sacramento already provides countless services to the local community. Our job as volunteers was not to save people or tell them what they needed, but simply to help the parish workers in the long-term projects they already are doing.
Often, the most important thing we did each day was spend quality time with the people we were serving. During my week, I spent a lot of time in vans and truck beds talking with people about their lives and the needs of the community. When helping children at the school and the parish, I praised drawings and played games. And while visiting people in the distant villages, I admired babies and wedding photos.
None of those acts were life-changing for the people I met, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t valuable. Getting to know people on a basic level without high-tech distractions, sharing meals with them, laughing and even praying with them are all acts of love with real purpose, sharing God’s message that they are loved and that they have dignity. I’ll strive to remember to have this same focus and attention when interacting with the people I encounter daily.
Be grateful
It’s one thing to hear about what poverty in a developing country is like, but it’s quite another to see those conditions for yourself. After being welcomed into homes with dirt floors and thatched walls, where plumbing is nonexistent and kitchens are little more than a fire on the ground, I really appreciate the luxuries of my life — the working appliances, the warm water on demand and the stable walls that I shouldn’t take for granted.
Along with that gratitude comes a bit of guilt. After visiting the hospice in Piura, where I was given a hotel-sized bottle of lotion to moisturize a hospice patient’s arms and legs, I am embarrassed by the shelves of lotions I have accumulated over time. The more grateful I am for what I have, the more uncomfortably aware I am of having too much.
I “adopted” a Peruvian family last year through Santisimo Sacramento’s Family to Family program. I’ve been sending money for food and other supplies they need and the highlight of my trip this year was spending time with them.
On my last day in Piura, I brought them a gift — some plastic bowls and plates and a plastic set of drawers I was told they needed. My family was blown away by the gift.
Later that night, they came to the parish to say goodbye. The youngest children ran up behind me and hugged my legs and the father gave me a plastic bag. I couldn’t tell what the netted item inside was at first, but I thanked them anyway.
Only too late did I realize they had given me their hammock — one of the few pieces of furniture they had, which I casually had complimented after watching the kids happily playing in it days earlier. Though my initial reaction was to try to give it back, I was told I should keep it since it was a gesture of thanks.
This gift shows me that owning things is not as important as I sometimes make it out to be. Even though they had so little, my family was ready and willing to give me something they loved. I hold onto my possessions more tightly, even when I have little use for them. Having that hammock is a reminder to look more closely at the things I own, to figure out why I am keeping things and whether someone else could use them more.
Take action
Everyone on our trip was especially moved by one cause or another. For several of us, it was the girls’ orphanage that most grabbed our hearts. Run by four nuns, the orphanage is a home and school for 50 girls aged 12 to 17. The girls are protected by tall concrete walls topped with broken glass and barbed wire, as well as seven German shepherd guard dogs. Their biggest need, the sisters said, is sewing machines and other craft supplies so the students can learn handicrafts to help raise money to keep the orphanage running.
During the week, volunteers visited the orphanage several times. Once, after going to market to help buy the food and supplies the orphans would need for two weeks, we learned that the program relies completely on donations. The support is there much of the time, but when it’s not, the nuns go to the market and beg for food.
Stories like that made our volunteers want to do more to help either by raising money or awareness. Those same stories also led us to question who is most in need in our own community. In the weeks since returning, the conversations have changed as we ask, How can we best give our time and talents to support life-changing organizations here and overseas?
Have faith
The final lesson I hope to keep with me comes from a pilgrimage we took during the trip for the feast of the Virgin de la Merced (Our Lady of Mercy) Sept. 24.
Many Catholics participate in an annual pilgrimage honoring Mary, making long journeys on foot to visit the famous statue of Our Lady of Mercy at a cathedral in Paita.
The local Peruvians convinced us to walk with them, saying that it would be hard, but very rewarding. I’ve heard it said that pilgrimages are not supposed to be easy and they should involve sacrifice. During ours, we walked overnight for 30 miles through the Peruvian desert, with nothing but the clothing, food and drinks we had in our backpacks.
Early on, the walk revolved around chatting and getting to know new friends. Other times, the pilgrimage was deeply spiritual, staring up into the dark sky in the silence of night. And toward the end, when stiff legs and blistered feet made me want to quit, it became a lesson in trusting in God to get me through.
Looking back, I can’t help but think of that ever-popular “Footprints in the Sand” poem. I can remember every painful and agonizing step so I wouldn’t say God was carrying me, but I’m confident that toward miles 29 and 30, He was right there with me, pushing me forward and not allowing me to stop.
Some of the Peruvians walked in flip-flops or with few supplies. One woman was still limping days later. When asked if the experience was worth it, she responded that of course it was, because she offered every step for the sick people in the world. Another person said the pilgrimage was a chance to offer penance for our sins to God. And another said it was a chance to show our love for God for one whole night.
Of all the things I did in Peru, I was most inspired by the unending faith of the people I encountered. Though their lives are hard, they trust in God and rely on Him completely. I hope one day to have that kind of faith myself.