More pics

(1) Little crab on the beach

(2) Seth Shim-Shim listens to the crab

(3) Ruben is doing his homework on an ironing board

Some sights

(1) Augosto

(2) Mollendo, a beach near Arequipa

(3) New Hope Children's Home: this is the beauty we see every day

(4) It's amazing what you can fit in and on top of a small taxi

The Life Adapted

Many days and experiences have passed in Arequipa, Peru, leading me, each day, in a different assessment of how ‘things are going’ – probably because I have a fastidious, fleeting heart, which determines how my mind interprets ‘how things are going.’ I can say right now, I am extremely happy to be here – though this morning I woke up in a complaining, foul mood. The reason, I’ve determined, is because I had no sense of purpose: the driving force of life. This questioning of my purpose has happened many, many times on this trip. Where are we without purpose? No matter your beliefs or worldview, a life without purpose is dead, or lifeless, the opposite of purposefulness.

So this morning I felt no purpose, not in life, but my current role here at the orphanage - a ‘tutor’. The word is much more than it implies, it’s like a house parent. The ‘tutor’ gets the kids up, leads a short devotional, checks to see if anyone wet the bed, makes sure everyone does their morning chore, and makes sure each kid is ready or school, among other things. As the tutor, I woke up this morning and felt like my presence didn’t matter (a human’s worst fear – and a dreadful thing to believe) because the older boys took care of the younger boys – even the special needs boy – and I didn’t have to do much. I piddled around and watched everyone in a foul mood.

Three hours later, I talked to Debbie, one of the directors/founders, who reminded me of my purpose – to be a loving presence in the lives of each child on a daily basis. Wow. How’d I miss that? Because I thought, as I planned my arrival here, that my purpose was to “learn Spanish, volunteer at an orphanage, and work on my film projects (in a calm, comfortable atmosphere)”. SO in my head, I’m not studying as much Spanish as I thought, I’m volunteering a lot, and I don’t have as much time to do my film work. The purpose in my head wasn’t matching up with waking up at 5 am to be unproductive and unneeded by kids who can do a fine job on their own. I couldn’t see the bigger purpose: to love kids who, for many different reasons, don’t have a mom and dad in their life. So I have found the purpose and will, most likely, lose it again.

So what do I do with my planned purpose? I’ve learned from my last couple months in India and Peru –adapt. I’ve seen many people good at adapting. I think I’ve decided – the adapted life must be divine, because the life adapted is richer, fuller, and deeper, in my experience, compared to the ideal life, which is often boring and selfish, that we’ve planned for ourselves. It’s understandable that I cling to that ideal – I truly believe it’s for my best. So how do I release the ideal life and seize hold of the adaptation? I don’t know. As a Christian, Christ must be at the center of it all, but how it is actually done, I have no idea. But, just as in the great rule of storytelling, I suppose it is shown (lived out) and not told – because telling would be too boring.

Rickshaw filming

Here's Webb filming in a bike rickshaw, I was in one right behind him. Check out the lady in yellow's expression.

My favorite thing about India

If you're a dude, you can pee anywhere and it's ok.

The Taj - a sweaty experience

It's one of the first things you think of when you hear 'India' - The Taj Mahal. For many, it's a much anticipated wonder of beauty and history. For me (and perhaps others like me) it was something I felt obligated to get out of the way. Perhaps with that attitude - being in India for work and not tourism - I found the whole experience grim - which, I think, is appropriate considering 20,000 laborers lost their hands after committing 22 years of their lives to building it. I'm not good with crowds - it was crowded. I don't like being sweaty - It was 90 degrees, humid, and at that point, I had been wearing the only pair of jeans I packed for about 2 weeks - they were quite thick. The building itself is breathtaking, and every small detail has been handcrafted with jewels from all over the world.
Our guide, who may have been homeless, gave us a good tour and pushed others out of the way so that we could see something. The other people didn't seem to mind and listened to what he had to say, while he explained things to us.

There was one moment I stood back in wonder, imagining everything that went into it, and was overwhlemed that one building could be so many things - the work of 22 years, the cause of so many handless men, the gift to a wife, the cruelty of a king - and still be so beautiful. It was 4 hours each way, and unpleasant most of the day - but i was still glad that I had seen, for that one moment, when I forgot about the crowds and my sweaty jeans, and appriciated the tomb, the Taj Mahal. For me, it is much easier to see beauty in the quiet and the hidden.

Darjeeling Limited wasn't available

After spending a day of adjusting in New Delhi, myself, Ben, and a group of pastors started a crazy week of traveling around North India, learning from our guide, a knowledge man. Despite the ridiculous schedule and lack of sleep (averaging less than 4 hours), we have been learning tons about the history of India, both political and religious as well as the work of DBI.

We began the crazy traveling with an overnight “sleeper train” that goes from Delhi to Dehra Dun. The train is filled with beds, al beds. 6 hours of laying uncomfortably on a something that resembles the plastic foam-filled mattress from summer camp. Nonetheless, it was fun, the novelty and experience. Ben was on top bunk. Across from us was a tip-giving, grey haired German, in India for 30 years, who uncorked a bottle of wine with his friend, a woman and another man, both mid forties. The wine was gone quickly and it was mostly laughing I heard through the thin curtain that wouldn’t have blocked one decibel of sound. But again, the novelty and experience was a joy. One of our team, Josh, got stuck in with the German’s, right above the grey haired man. All three Germans apparently stripped down to their underwear, I heard later. Josh, in the middle of the night, woke up to the grey haired German putting a blanket over him. “You look cold,” he said.

I woke up with the first signs of light and for an hour peered through an orangish-grey dusk. It was my first introduction to people everywhere. As crazy as Delhi is, the majority of people live in rural India. Village after village and people were everywhere. How could so many people live by the train tracks? Mud huts , mopeds, rickshaws, occasional big houses, but mostly shacks, some had thatched roves, some tin, thousands and thousands.

We arrived, without much sleep and headed on our way to a place on the River Ganges.