To Feed a Llama (Peru pt 1)

       I wasn't sure how seriously he took me, which seemed fair: I wasn't sure how seriously I was myself.  An offhand comment, "Dad we should go to Peru and hike the Inca Trail to Macchu Picchu," pretty much was the entirety of that initial conversation (which uncharacteristically for me was actually a rabbit trail in a conversation about something unrelated).  I honestly didn't even think that much about it until a month later when I picked up the phone to hear my Dad saying, "Alright Drew, I'm in."  Confused, I asked, "In what Dad?" "I'm in for the Peru trail or whatever its called." "Oh. OH!"
       Six months later, here I am.  Sitting in my new apartment in Quito, Ecuador trying to figure out what just happened in the last two weeks.
       The trip that began as a joke evolved into a full-fledged two country, twelve day adventure.  My Dad and I left the USA on August 24, one week after my 23rd birthday. First we stopped through Quito for two days, and spent a considerable time walking around (and above, note the pictures below) the city.  Its bigger than I expected! (I think technically it is approximately 2 miles wide and twenty something miles long with a population a little over 2.5 million. Tulsa all the sudden seems small. )  I'm pretty pumped to continue exploring; there is just so much of it!

        Our time in Quito quickly came to a close.  I'm glad we came so my dad could see where I would be living.  We were excited to go, for we had our sights set on a different fish: Cusco, Peru.  

        We came into Peru slowly.  Customs twice over, check-in twice, four hours waiting in airport lines, but we finally made it to the Rumi Punku (our hotel) on the night of the 27th.  

      We spent the next two days exploring the ancient Incan capital.  Cusco is a beautiful city!  The historic center of the community is lined with extravagant old cathedrals, craftsman, and masseuse parlors.  Most of the buildings are set upon Incan foundations, and some even have integrated the ancient Incan walls into the modern buildings.  In one of those walls lies the world famous 12 point stone.

        At night, everything comes alive in Cusco and the mountains surrounding the city twinkle with house light after house light, climbing towards the sky until they blend in with the stars. (FYI! We found out Inca culture did not have constellations. Instead, they found representative shapes in the few dark spaces in between the stars of the milky way. I guess living at 11,000 feet means you have too many stars to connect.)  Can you see the llama, man, turtle, and fish in the stars below?

       One story to end this post with...

       On Tuesday (the day before we left for the Inca Trail) we visited the Incan Sun Temple, the ruins of which are now located inside a convent.  The site was really impressive.  Inca stonework involves huge rocks cut with such precision that mortar becomes unnecessary.  It astounds me to imagine the skill and patience it would have taken to get those rocks to fit so perfectly.  After my dad and I left the sun temple, a girl ran up to me and asked me to take a picture with her baby llama.  At first, I refused, but realizing that I only encountered baby llamas once every 23 years, I turned back around figuring I would be willing to pay a buck or two for the opportunity.  Then, right before we took the picture a lady, whom I presume to be the girl's mother hobbled over and jumped in with us.  Alright! Peruvian, llama flavored Drew-wich. 

       We took the picture and I gave the girl (on the right in the picture) some soles (local currency).  She proceeded to ask for more money, a request I denied, thinking what I had given was fair.  Then with her head down and a tug on my sleeve, the women (on the left) held out her hand and begged me for more.  My head start shaking no as I followed her gaze down to her foot.  The slow limp I had noticed when she hobbled over was the result of a serious foot infection.  The skin of her swollen foot was stretched tight, and flesh resembling raw ground beef burst through in several spots.  My heart caught in my throat. I didn't know what to do or say.  Horrified, I gave her another coin and started to walk away.  Coins clicked in my pocket with each step I put between us.  Ashamed of my miserly generosity, turning around, I walked the twelve steps back and gave her the rest of my coins (bringing the total money given to about three dollars.)  Feeling like I had done all I could, I walked away relieved. 

      I walked down the hill and further down the street. Theories of community development crashed through my head.  Questions of theology bounced around my heart.  Still, I felt fine.  I passed my mental check lists: I think I done all I could.  Time to move on. 

      Avoiding a taxi, I crossed the street and continued my day. The sun shone brightly. Spanish bubbled through the crowds of people filling the sidewalks.  I felt fine, in fact good: I had done all I could.  I mean, maybe God would even use those three dollars in some miraculous way.  Yeah, that would be cool.  I wonder what he could do.  I mean, I had done all I could. 

      I walked further down the chaotic street, a restaurant owner invited me in to look at his menu.  My smile said no.  Then, with that distinctive peace, things became a little quieter.  A small voice tugged at my heart saying, "Yes you did all you could do.  But what if I wanted to do something?"  When I tried to ignore the prompting, it repeated itself.  I protested, "But I don't even know how to say that in Spanish. How do you say, excuse me random llama lady, I think maybe God wants to heal you or something." Instantly, the question "Puedo orar?"(Can I pray?)  leapt into my head.  That would be enough. 

      However, my feet kept walking away.  "Drew" the peace said again, "What if I want to do something?"  Still protesting, I thought, "Well, I'm too far away now God.  It would be ridiculous to turn back now." What if I want to do something?  "Come on God, I'm embarrassed to ask my Dad to walk back four blocks with me to pray with someone."  I understand. You can keep walking or you can see what happens if you act like I'm real. Learn to live with me. What if what I want to do isn't about you?

     I stopped walking. Alright.  Nervous, I called out to my Dad. I want to go back and pray for her foot.

     She was at the same spot.  Kneeling, I looked into her eyes, and asked "Puedo orar a Jesus por su pie?" (Can I pray to Jesus for your foot?)  Slowly, she smiled, nodded her head, and closed her eyes.  I had seen people who seemed to know what they were doing touch the afflicted part of a person's body when they prayed.  But I was afraid to touch that foot, so compromising, I lightly rested my hand on a safe section of her shoe.  Follow me.  Okay. I slid my hand onto her foot and prayed that Jesus would bring His kingdom here and for His glory and heal my sister.  I looked up and smile into the woman's eyes.

     Then I quickly stood up, side-stepped a police officer who had come over to investigate what was happening and walked away.  Right before she was out of view, I glanced back at her.  She was slowly running her hand over her foot, staring intently. I ducked through an alley and smiled.  

     

     Did God heal her?  I don't know, one way or another, and in many ways I'm not sure it is mine to know.  Not everything that God wants to do through me is about me.  I do know this though, I want to learn to walk with the Holy Spirit.  To know what prayer that doesn't center around me feels like.  I want to live like God is real, and I want His kingdom to come.