Assignment

This is the first semester my classes have been specifically tailored towards my creative writing major, giving me the opportunity to be critiqued and grow in my art with a pen or keyboard. Many people say a pen is more powerful than a sword, I believe this to be true. My grandfather was a journalism major during his college days and still reminisces on his past teachers and experiences from his classes and constantly reminds me that I need to stick to this path because it is what I like and what the Lord has blessed me with. So, the six posts below this are all examples of the different works I am doing in my introduction class. Hope you all enjoy.

The appeal of decay

Assignment: write a poem about sin.

Following her or her kin is death,

A promise of satisfaction and power,

Allure in her scent which no man knows not.

A winding trail downwards,

to summit back is a task olympic.

Lies and power she feeds to all men,

Until the breaking point, reached, lies his decision.

A continuance of relations would strip him of his name,

but re-emboss “hers” on top.

With “hers” comes pleasure and failure,

intricately interwoven so failure lies beneath the shine of her promises.

Her trap’s success now laid,

the old magic forces her to reveal the third option:

To chose not hers or his own but the name of creator.

With it comes grace, with it reprimanding, with it fullness.

When choosing this name he sees her facade falter,

Her caresses and lips, retrospectfully viewed reveal carcasses and absinthe.

Turning from the fruit and choosing the blood.

Covered in it, he is king.

He has power,

he has a name,

he has a future,

he is conqueror because of Him.

Fiction Writing- "Isabel"

Assignment: creative a short story with character development, plot depth, past, allurement, surprise, a hint of disgust, and tension.

She has always been eclectic. Her one room home is full of babble: collages of photos from the old elementary school playground, half melted candles puddling up on the brims of old and shamed wine bottles, cigarette ash stains on her white sheets. It’s a beautiful room. Now she smokes Turkish Golds and always has a neon blue BIC lighter in her front left pocket. It has been a hard year on her. The young girl from the 1990’s in the matching mommy-daughter sunflower dress behind her picture frames would always cough dramatically when passing by a smoker and say, “don’t you know that smoking kills?” I think it was the strength she gleaned from holding her mother’s hand that led her to be so brave.

On her bedside dresser is a blue bible covered in dust and a mason jar filled with a beer caps. Empty orange pill bottles litter the floor confirming her anxiety issues, night terrors, and new lifestyle. Since the incident Isabel has been living on Tobacco for breakfast, pills for lunch, and alcohol for dinner. The rosy cheeked sunflower dress days are long past.

“Isabel you got any real food in here or am I gunna have to go to taco bell?” I shouted to her out the window.

She was finishing a pack of smokes and the porch air was dense with the fog. I could only see her one delicate hand with five fingernails carefully painted yellow resting on her crossed knees.

“I have humus, pita chips, snickers, raisins, and bagels.” her monotone voice answered, muted by the window screen.

It had been over a month since it happened. This is the first time I’ve seen her since. She got a pet cat. Isabel has always hated cats. She named him Edgar and always has him sitting in her lap, silently stroking his long black coat out from ears to tail. Since I got here they have been inseparable, he apparently does not mind her smoke like I do, he is always purring and kneading out the wrinkles in her jeans like some machine.

“You and Edgar wanna humus and raisin sandwich too?” I attempted to converse.

“No, he ate this morning.”

I sigh and start looking around the apartment for knives in all the drawers to cut my bagel in half. Rummaging through the silverware drawer I instantly remembered the reason I couldn’t find any. Thank God I didn’t ask her for where one was.

The door slammed and I turned around to see Isabel and Edgar shutting the door to their den. I noticed she is still barefoot even though the night air is steadily dropping in temperature and increasing in wind.

“Hey, come meet Edgar, I think he’ll let you pet him now.” Her melodic voice broke my reminiscing.

I walked over with my humus-raisin bagel and water, seating myself between them on the scratchy plaid couch and immersed myself into my strange dinner. My wandering attention landed on the portrait above her mantle, which painted a familiar scene seeped in sepia, her smile insanely similar to the man to her left and the woman to her right. The family was so happy and innocent a mere two years ago.

“I know why you’re here Matthew.”

She had caught me staring. I had nothing to say, no false surmise could be pushed to my lips, I took a breath and began, “Isabel you know you can’t come back yet, it’s still to soon. Its just not safe…”
Edgar stood and left Isabel’s familiar fingertips and cautiously stepped onto my lap. I reached out, attempting to fill the silence, and scratched his ears. He hissed and swatted at my hand, ravenous claws stabbing into my left thumb. I yelped and jumped up, the glass plate, cup of water, and remains of the bagel that had been resting my knee shattered on the carpetless floor under our feet. I froze, not knowing whether to apologize or leave or clean up the mess on the ground. We sat in awkward silence, the sound of the glass dinnerware hitting the floor still ringing through our ears.

“I’m sorry ‘bell, I guess let me clean it up. I don’t know what I did to that ca…what are you…?” I couldn’t finish my sentence because Isabel stood up and had started dancing on her wooden floor. Pirouetting around the broken glass, humming and looking down.

“Funny how small the pieces break into, don’t you think? All of a sudden something so whole is broken forever, repairable sometimes but never the same. The shattered pieces are just so damn small, it’s the littlest slivers of the break that can be the sharpest and stab in the deepest.” Isabel responded, stopping her dizzying show and standing at the edge of the wrecked glass.

Edgar was still in the corner mewling with hair bristled and ears flat on his head, trying to burn holes into me with his huge black eyes. I sat in silence not knowing how to respond to this strange performance. Isabel was just staring at the broken glass, pushing around pieces now with her toes, I thought she was going to clean it. She picked up her right foot and arched and pointed it in perfect form above the broken glass. She took ballet for years as a child and was always the most graceful one on the stage.

“Matthew I know I’m not ok, I think you know it.”

Her beautifully curved foot suddenly flattened into a hard line and slammed onto the sharp white shards of broken glass. Before I could react she slammed her left foot into the same chaos of razor-sharp glass shouting and laughing, “This is what it felt like! There was nothing I could do until the cops came but watch them bleed out on our floor! The blood was everywhere Matthew it was still running and warm when I touched it! I didn’t know whether or not to take the knives out of their chests, I didn’t know what to do and I still don’t!” She was shaking, “I accidently stepped into a puddle of it, that’s how I found them,” she was crying now, “that sick monster who killed them still hasn’t been caught and I have to live hidden in this apartment because the cops think he wants me too! I can’t mourn, I can’t move on, I can’t even feel anymore trapped in this box. These pictures, my allergies to little Edgar, and the cigarettes are the only things I can see or feel anymore. I died that night with the rest of my family.”

She was sitting in the pile of white glass with her red shredded feet bleeding out as her eyes desperately and hungrily stole up into mine.

“This is how the floor looked when I came home. I didn’t even notice at first until the warm wetness on my feet. He broke in through the window in the living room.” Her voice was breaking down from the screams to a shaking whisper, “Same room we used to watch ABC family classics in, it always seemed so safe ya know? I always knew Dad could protect us from anything. I just can’t ever get the feeling of the blood off my feet now.”

She lost control and began to sob as she looked down at her own feet. I slid off the couch and sat by her side, cautiously putting one arm around her shaking back. Our hands touched and our thighs brushed, she leaned into my arms and dissolved into tears. We sat like that for an eternity, intertwined and avoiding eye contact. We looked around at the pictures on her walls, the crystal and cobwebs that filled the empty corners, desperate for anything to take us away from this reality. When she looked up I could see it in her eyes as well as feel it her trembling fingertips.

“Isabel, it’s not your fault. It’s a blessing you are alive. It is not your fault. No look at me,” I grabbed her face and drew her in closer, “your family knew you loved them all. They loved you and you know that. This will not last forever, I promise you will get through this.”

We sat together on the floor a while longer in silence, watching Edgar bathe himself in the corner.
After midnight passed and we cleaned her feet, she instantly fell asleep on the couch. Edgar helped me clean up the mess with his moral support and then he too curled up on the couch exhausted by the day’s activities.

That was the last night I saw her. When I came back the next day to check in on her I was excited about the breakthrough we had the night before. When I opened the door to the apartment and eagerly looked around all I found was Edgar. I waited with Edgar until the coffee I brought got cold and grew a film of sugar skin on its surface and then I decided to call the police.

“Sir, please come into the station immediately,” the operator from the police station told me, “we need to ask you a few questions.”

My blood turned to ice, I grabbed Edgar out of blind instinct, and ran to my truck flying as fast as possible to the police station. In retrospect I think I brought him alone because he was the last living thing I could associate to her, it was definitely not because liked him.

When I arrived I was taken to a room where they told me that when they went to check on her early this morning she was gone and had put the tracking bracelet onto Edgar. The following hours were spent discussing our conversation from the night before and I repeatedly had to promise my ignorance of her whereabouts.

She left everything behind; all the cobwebs, pictures, and even her neon blue BIC.
Now, I feel like I'm pulling out shards of glass from my feet, like I'm stepping in a pool of her blood saying, "It's not my fault."

Blue Morning

Assignment: Write a 4 line stanza in iambic pentameter.

The rain and wind giggle on my window

Warm, cavernous blankets protect me peace.

Thunder seasons the air with a slow roar

Wistfully yawning, blue morning I greet.

The Fall of Mother Nature

Assignment: describe something mundane in a beautiful way in a poem.

The Fall of Mother Nature

Mother Nature is swaying in the breeze, her branches strong.

Her life full and alive she sings with flowers and dances with the bees,

But her mind is boorish to the oncoming threat of November.

The startling entrance of Fall is like fire to her leaves,

New electricity attacks her arm’s protectors; prepared with strong green shields.

Yellow, orange, then deep red bleed into a burnt, crackled brown and black ash.

As her melodic hum of green vanishes, a starling yellow spark leaps,

Ablazed chaos now runs on her twisted, knotted, and wise branch-arms.

Eruptions of heat and confusion Mother Nature is seen screaming,

Raptured coldly, her green peace is painfully and hollowly attacked.

Her first shiver yesterday revealed her weakness,

Her shade flees, no longer able to stand the icy-sharp stabbings of winter.

Her annual sigh of defeat inevitably followed, thus beginning her hibernation,

Her tired arms creak and break, letting down their burnt sheaths,

Slowly spiraling down, down, down to the hungry ground.

Closing down to mourn Mother Nature is unclothed and shamed.

Her once green body now dried, bare, and cracked.

Withering winter brings blue death and ice to her brown skin.

Naked she shivers and freezes for three months to come.

But Spring will bring her a new strength and humility.

Mother Nature’s momentary fall will only chill, not kill.

Benjamin Blue Jazz

My fingers ache, pulsate, and I clench with tangible apprehension.

Again, I push the rusty harmonica to my lips and the pack is hushed.

My pinky fingers are twitching as I play my starting notes.

The melody is hollow but I mean for it to be,

They’re all glaring with their innocent eyes, now I sigh and sing:

He’s a-comin’ sinners,

The trumps’ will sound,

A-riding the silver cloud,

Ain’t no one can hide.

The final notes shake, employed hurriedly for my purpose.

My dry fingers nervously sliding and pinching together,

I know these college kids have money, I know they do, I know they do.

Ammm Lord I’m-a sing,

Blue dawns a-breakin’

Ammm Lord I’m-a weep

Broken soul you’s takin’

They judge me because I’m homeless,

Because I lay crack, my skin, the white-powder, my sin.

My cracked nails and red eyes are thirsty for more,

They don’t know me, no, no, no I’ll prove they are wrong:

My sistah’s brother a-broken,

Cocaine hunger claimin’ this; his soul.

To the devil or against it He, I stand

Lord help me mend our broken soul.

Last note completed, I look up and see these college kids ensnared,

Now they’re thinking I need their pity, their money.

I don’t need it, I don’t need you, I don’t use drugs.

I am a drug.

Poem for my wife

Assignment: Freewrite a poem

Desire, depth of which plucks into my utmost guarded string,

Wholly definition of self I hear in the reverbial melody it booms.

Louder than my name, this cantor I find that I find in all that I sing,

Yet so guarded I hold it, woven deepest into my darkest solitary room.

Knowledge of its name eludes even myself, its captor and creator,

A fear of its power cripples my hands from playing this chord.

Yet, I hear it’s echo afloat in music and mountains, this power greater,

I feel the harmony in union with these and those who too remain unexplored.

Held onto so surely, so rigid and taunt, I slip,

With her, the melody rings loud yet without any sting.

It sings in my laughter, it tastes on her lips,

This defining secret note weaves us together and we sing.

This harmony is not pure, or true, nor real

This chord is alone and searching out her who too sings this tune.

One day when I find you and my chord’s song you steal,

I will join you in concordance, our song at last not concealed.

Seeking the Southern Cross

What a week it has been since the last team has left. As I mentioned in my last update, God is throwing me head-first into literally every different type of mission work possible during my time here in Peru. This past week I have been doing Construction. Not just your simple mixing concrete and nailing things together construction, Im talking hard hat necessity and steel toed boots for 10-12 hours work days. I wake up every morning around 5:45 (and if you know me AT ALL you know thats a big deal. I dread waking up early more than I do final exams) and eat and catch a combi or taxi to the work site by 7:45-8ish. During the day the boss man Mr. Gary, two teachers from La Molina Christian School, and myself worked. We put together metal jacks and studs and laid the foundations for the walls of the entire second left upstairs side of the school. We got the walls up and then began the fun work (sarcam) of lifting the rafters and trusses onto the top of the walls and nailing them down. Once all that was done we hung the celing planks and then put in insulation and drywall. If anyone ever needs someone to use a drill, saw, hammer, ANY type of construction tool from now on, Im pretty much a pro. Not to brag or anything. I enjoyed the work because as time passed it was obviously visable what we had done as the walls were built, celing put on, etc. It was also frustrating work in the begining because of having to learn new ways to use these "easy" powertools. Also, construction is nothing more than math, being the English and Spanish major I am that caused many a headache for me many a times. I had to almost hourly pray for patience not only for myself but also for those working with me. Thankfully today was our last day on site and tonight the last team comes in and we begin to prepare for the english camp trip we are taking the youth group on down to the beach. Apparently the beach is colder than the city so I am packing ALL my warm stuff. I am really excited to be able to work with teaching english! Speaking of, the owner of La Molina Christian schools worked with us a few days this week on the site as well and today when I left he told me when I graduate I have a job in his school teaching English if I want it. Job security in a foreign country at 20 years old? Terrifying. Not going to even think about that until the time comes.





More updates: I had worms. What does this mean? During my time in Manchi either during the first team and VBS or the third team and the Medical Clinic, I got the worms that literally every patient we treated had. How did I know this for sure? Due to the graphic context in how I discovered the worms in my stomach I´ll put it like this: I learned it in the bathroom. Thankfully a medical team was here and gave me Abendelzol which kills all worms for at least 6 months. So unless I get them from something in the US, the worms in my system are DONE. Thank God.





Also, Peru had its independence day yesterday, I had work until 6 but when I got done I went home and celebrated with my Peruano family. We ate Peruano food and watched fireworks and Peru´s volleyball match against the USA. On independece day here, every house is required to fly a flag from its roof. The streets were pure red and white, so cool. Tula knited me a Peru bandera to wear on my shirt all day. Vivé Peru!





I only have one week left here and as my time is wearing down I find myself at the paradoxical cross roads of extreme joy and unstated sadness. I can´t wait to return to my home and family and dog and friends but I dont want to leave the life I´ve come close to mastering here. Its a weird feeling and I have NO idea what I will say when I get the dreaded question, "So, Cary, How was Perú?" Not sure how to say I loved it and I hated it. I dreaded leaving and I was also ready to go. It was the hardest and best thing I´ve done thus far in my life.





The stars came out last night as the smog cleared finally over the city and I finally saw the southern cross in the sky. It is a constulation you can only see south of the Equator and it is absolutely beautiful.





One week left to eat, enjoy, love Peru and prepare for my return back home.





Chao.

Team Three

Hello all! Once again it has been quite a while since I have been able to update you all on the goings on in my life. It has been a little over two weeks and we have had another wonderful team come through here in Lima. But before I talk about them I want to tell you about the blessings I have had working with some of the members of the Church before they got here.

One of the members of our church is a very elderly man who I will name Fruvi. Fruvi is nearing tripple digits and is almost completely deaf. He lives in Salamanca with his wife right across the street from the church. When Fruvi wants to talk he screams and the majority of the time is is jumbled. His wife understands him perfectly and their love is so apparent. I had the opportunity to go sit with him and just talk for a few hours. He prayed to recieve Christ with Pastor Mark a few weeks ago and now loves to talk about Christ. This man has been set on fire and it is so blatently obvious. When he prays he sits looking up with his eyes open, just talking to God. His love for our Lord is so inspiring. I also got to work with a man I will name Diego. Diego is the last of his brother and sisters alive from their birth father. All of Diego´s brothers and sisters who were born from the same father have died from an un-named disease similar in every way to MD. Diego is now in a wheelchair and can hardly walk, I had the opportunity to push him around Salamanca in his Chair for an hour or so. We did not talk much but his joy at being outside and moving was tangible in his eyes. Never once did he complain about his life, his disease, nothing. I learned a lot from that short hour with Diego.

Moving on to Team Three:

This team was from non other than Sweet Home Alabama, bringing with the the joy of the South (Auburn family, sweet tea drinking, and even some Bammer fans, and other SEC loving brethren).

One of the things I have loved about this summer is also one of the things that has been the hardest. Every team that comes in comes with a different specific type of mission be it VBS, Scientific talks, or Medical Missions. This has been trying because it is exhausting to prepare yourself mentally over and over again for different week long focuses. But if you know me at all, you know I love to dabble in everything I can so the fact that I have been able to basically go on 3 mission trips with 3 different goals has been wonderful for me. I love being able to test the waters of different short term mission trip focuses to see where I can potentially be the most useful in the future.

Gettting back on track now. This third team from the glory land "up south" was geared towards medical missions. The team was composed of thee doctors and members of their church. It was incredible to see their heart to serve here, the first meeting we had with them they began by telling us even though they are here for medical missions their main purpose is to glorify God in any way they can be it babysitting for the missionaries, doing construction, anything. Their heart of service was beautiful and very apparent.

We spend the first day in Casa de Gloria with the girls and their babies getting medical check-ups and advice on how to better care for themselves and their children. It was great spending a full day in Casa and loving and laughin with the babies and the mothers whose ages range from 13-18. These girls are beautiful and the transformation they undergo in the house is incredible. Every girl that has come to the house has become a Christian, Praise be to God! I love these girls and am learning so much from them.

The next three days we spent up in Manchi doing a medical clinic from 9-3/4ish. We rented out a house where a bus is parked in the nighttime. In this alleyway where the bus is parked we set up our stations: Triage, three consulation areas with the three doctors, the pharmacy, and then the evangelism center. Over the term of the three days we got to see over 250 people. I worked in the Pharmacy as their translator. When the patients would get done with their docotor they would come to us and I would ask them to sit and waut for us to fill their prescriptions. I would help count pills and sort them into bags and write directions on the bags along with the other two Pharmacy Tecs who were both Auburn Family! Then I would be handed all the meds and would call out the name on their paper and explain the pills: what they were for, how many to take, how many times a day, amd to keep them out of reach of small children. It was wonderful for my spanish but very strenous for my brain, to say the least. I had to explain problems ranging from womenly issues to worms to constipation to calcium, iron, and vitamin pills. Needless to say, my vocab grew this past week. It astounded me that every single patient we say had either parasites, worms, or both. It was heart breaking. After I explained the medicine I said we also had medicine for the soul with our pastors in the evangelism center and incredible almost every patient wanted to talk to the pastors. It was beautiful to watch their gratitude for the medicine to turn prasies to God or even learn about him for the first time. It was a beautiful week.

In Manchi it is very needing. The houses are humble abodes composed of plywood, cardboard, tarps, and metal. The streets are pure mud and the air is a continual fog of rain and smog. It was hard to see people live this way, and even harder to see their joy. The children in the clinic and the parents all were smiling, they were so grateful and warm to us and it was so humbling.

The team left yesterday and it was hard to see them go, I consider myself blessed to have spent time with them this past week in Manchi.

Team Two

Hello everyone! It has been a while since an update post, sorry to keep yall waiting I have been really busy with the second team here in Peru. Since my last update a lot has happened.

I discovered that the reason my laptop won't turn on is because it got rained on in my room from one of the holes in the roof. I didn't even realize this until the rain coming in one night woke me up and I saw the puddle; right beside where I charge things. I consider it a blessing that nothing else has been ruined, God is good! The rain ended up making Black Mold form on the walls and all under the carpet, I discovered this when I discovered the awful smell in my room was not my old socks and shoes but the strange new formations growing on the walls. I learned the word for mold in Spanish (Moho) and told Tula who graciously moved me into the room next-door on the roof. It does not have as many roof holes and is incredibly warmer and mold free, a tad smaller but as I said from the beginning I don't really need a huge room, I'm never really home anyways!

Moving onto the team: This second team was from Virginia and their mission in Peru was completely different from the VBS of the first team. This team was 11 people composed of Nuclear Physicists, Biologists, and Nasa Employees as well as their wives and children and fellow members of their church. They took their team to "Uni" (Universidad Nacional de Ingenieros) which is Peru's most prestigious Engineering College. At Uni they put on four "Charlas" (conferences/ talks) about different things ranging from CH4 production and it's effect on the atmosphere to NASA's ideas on Wing Morphing and Transformation. It was really cool because while I could barely understand these concepts in English, the students at the school just ate up all the talks and loved asking questions at the end. The last talk was on how the design of the Universe and everything in it proves our Universe has a designer (God) and how science itself points to this realization. This caused many awesome opportunities to talk with the students about God and the Gospel over lunch in the cafeteria and the next day when we rented out a restaurant close to the school to continue to discuss these important questions. At the restaurant Alex and I talked with two students about the Gospel, one who I will name Brayford did not believe in God, Heaven, or Hell and preferred to only live day to day and said maybe if he ever had a big problem in his life, he would turn to God but for now because there is no formula that proves tangibly God's existence, he choses to believe in nothing. Nihilism. We debated with him a long time and battled using the sword of Scripture and by the end of our talk he said after his final exams (this upcoming week) he would come to our church. The second person we talked to I will name Brusella. Brusella did not believe in the divinity of Christ. What she believed is he was a man who lived a beautiful perfect life for us to imitate, but when he died, he died and is not in Heaven right now on the right hand on our Lord and God full of life and pure power, pleading to the Father on our case as we enter coated in his blood. We debated with her and turned to the Gospel in Scripture found in Ephesians and John, and after a long conversation she said she too would come to our church after her finals. We prayed with Brayford and Brusella and then went with the team to dinner.

Yesterday we went to market and also down to the ocean to watch the surfers on the waves. In Peru there is not sand, just rocks. It was awesome to watch the surfers tear up the huge waves. I grabbed a handful of the rocks, they are composed of so many colors and while it is unlike any beach I've seen, this beach is absolutely beautiful. As the water touched my feet I was reminded of my past summer in Myrtle Beach, SC on LP and my night time walks on the beach singing "Jordan's Stormy Banks." To all my LP friends, I love and miss you all. I will be at Furman this upcoming year so we must meet up and yall ALL need to come to a football game at AU in the Fall!

Yesterday we also got to go to Peru's pyramids in the middle of the city, completely encroached upon by buildings but still absolutely beautiful. On the tour I met a man who was traveling alone around the world. He was from Germany so I told him I have family in Frankfurt and my Dad was born there. We talked a lot about Germany, USA, and Peru and also the Gospel. He was a Christian as well and it was encouraging to spur each other on. Thats what has been happening in my life, I only have a month and 2 days left here which is so crazy to me.

Mom and Dad and Leiron and Mimi and Pops and Uncle Houston and Cleo and Elvis and Charcoal I love and miss you all and can't wait to be at Rosies with yall when I get back! Anne, Lisa, Isabell, Kelly, Emily, Julia and Emily I miss hanging out on the mountain with yall, I love you all and can't wait to get back together. Landrum, Ruthie, Matt, Suzanne, Laura, Stephen, Michael, Olivia, Chelsea, Cameron, Quads, Spoons, Claire, Ian, Sasser, Jay, Mark, Ian, Jack, Susie, Cecil, Tay-Swift, Ashy, and any/everyone else that falls into the category of my AU people I love and miss you all and can't wait for this fall!

If you have any questions you'd like to know, just post a comment and ask!

Romans 15:13

-Chao, Cary

Mystery or Schedules

"Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is an overdevotion to reason. " -G. K. Chesterton

Strange quote to start updates with, but this past week I have not been able to get Chesterton´s words out of my head. I am currently digesting "Orthodoxy" by Chesterton and I am finding so much of his novel is mirrored with my experiences here in Lima. Insanity, when I think about it, is a box that people are either put into or put themselves into. It is caused from an overdevotion to details; perhaps and obsession with acumulation, power, prestige, money, fun, love, experience, or perhaps a chemical disbalance in one´s brain. Whatever the cause, once one enters this "box" of insanity there is little or no chance for escape.

In America I see so many people on the television, on campus, my friends, even some of my own actions that, if continued, would lead to this, "overdevotion of reason." To some around me it is blatently an accumulation of power through title, friends, weath, and even experiences that ensnare. Once one starts on the track of building up your own image at the sake of everything else, little can be done to kill that beast. Trying to be "somebody" only promotes the temptation to further your own image as a body, but the problem is you are a soul and attempting to further the image of body over soul is sin. "build yourself up and be somebody" is a lie the world feeds us from our high chairs as we watch Sesamee-Street until we transition to watching Wall Street.

In Peru, the church promotes the building up of each other in Unity found through our equally dirty hands, constantly washing ourselves in Christ´s blood.

When I ride the combi from place to place I find myselff overly stresed if I am running late, but in Peru the common joke is not to worry about the time the watch tells you because Peruvian´s run on "Peruano Time" aka give or take 30 minutes on each and every end. I found myself questioning why I was so obsessed with this idea of time and realized because if I am late in to something in the States, it is rarely understood as acceptable. It either inconviences someone or disrespects them because they value their name enough to project it´s power upon this alloted time slot. But here, if you are late it is really 100% ok. Insanity or Reason?

Imagination is one of the reasons I love being in Peru. The mystery the desolate mountain´s hold, the beauty in the cold smog at night, the adventure of every dangerous Combi ride. For me and for Peruvians, these things do not die.

Imagination frees oneself up to be ok with accepting that you can not do it all, that mysteries must exist because if they did not, God would not be as powerful as he claims. What kind of god would he be if we could unravel all his mysteries by a mere 4-year degree at a college? But, thankfully, they do exist and for that we must praise God! His mystery and wonder is what imagination stems from. If it come not from the unknown and thus the creator of the unknown, it is not imagination; It is reason deduced from classes and books and harsh experiences. Imagination is a gift.

I love the mystery of Peru and am learning more daily to be ok with the unknown. Not because it is unavoidable (though it is) but because all that does exist, God rules. When I return to the states, I must try harder to stray away from the temptation of overdevotion to reason and the insatiy it spawns.

Imagination is sanity, and the two are both only found in our Lord.

Beauty in the Mud

I can not believe I am at the halfway point of my time in Peru. When I first returned, I told the stories of my 20 shots for rabies and how it was Gods providence I was sent home for them because I was able to help with my grandfather in the hospital almost every other conversation. Everyone was so glad to have me back but also so glad that I was there for my family during that trying time, they fully believe it was Gods providence I was bitten and I must say I agree. Tula (my madre Peruano) bought me a Pizza Hut pizza and balloons for my first night back in my home here. I love my Peruano family, they are without a doubt some of the nicest people I have ever known.

Since my return so much has happened. The first week I got back I was blessed to help lead a team from North Carolina with their work in Manchi. Manchi is a town in Lima about 30 minutes from where I live. It is not very large and all the houses are little more than plywood and metal with the streets inbetween muddy with excrement. It is not a "nice" place, but it has a strange sense of peace and beauty unlike anywhere else. I think it is because of how still Manchi is, even the people there are just still, content, and calm. I feel like I learned so much more than I taught during my time there. We were blessed to be able to work in this community. We put on an "EBDV" (VBS) and every morning would split up into 4 groups of 3-4 people, I got to lead one of these groups and we marched through the streets while I strummed the only chords I know (Wagon Wheel and White Blank Page, of course) and when people would poke their heads out of their houses I would eagerly say, "Que Paso!" and explain to them that we would begin EBDV at 3 on the court in the middle of the town. The first day I got many confused looks and laughs and later learned it was becuase in Peru, "Que Paso" is equalivent to "Hey, you there. What is your problem. You want to fight?" Luckily, all the people I talked to were children and mothers so no trouble came of it. Once 3:00 hit we would gather up on the courts and just play with the kids for about an hour. Futbol, Volleyball, Swinging in the air, or just tag. Then we would sing songs, the team would perform a short skit from the Bible, and then Maestro Bob would teach a lesson in English while Alex translated it for the gathered crowd. After the lesson we did a craft and worked on memorizing Juan 3:16 and by the end of the week many kids knew it and its deep importance. It was very sad leaving Manchi at the end of the week but I may return with another of the 2 teams that will be coming during the rest of my time here.

While the team was here the songs we sang in church were even more beautiful, I would close my eyes and just listen to the intermingled crowd of Peruvian and North Carolinian family singing in both Spanish and English and it was absolutely beautiful, the difference in the words being sang did not matter becuase the purpose and praise behind them was the same. The team has left now and I have been working at the MTW office and in my free time explored Jockey Plaza (a HUGE area of stores) and spent time reading in the park beside my house. It has actually been raining the past few days, not just the typical grey skys of Lima, legit rain. Today is the first day the rain has stopped and it feels great and Lima looks as if I got a bath.

My computer broke and wont turn on so no pictures for a while, hope my words will be enough to hold your attention. I love and miss you all!

"I am with You and will watch over you wherever you go" Genesis 28:15

Back in Lima

Hello all, I am back in the wonderful land of Peru! It feels like I never left, its a little colder and the skys ares still white but I love being back! This afternoon I will be working on VBS with a missionary team from ATL! Maybe I can make an Auburn family connection with this team! I can't wait to see my Peruano family and Dylan and Lindsey and Alex and Paulo and everyone else today! More stories to come later this week, hopefully no hospital involved this time. Hasta Luego, Chao!

From Home, to Home

The last post on here was June 7th and its now the 17th, the past 10 days have been some of the most trying days ever. My passion and my heart for this summer was Peru and being abroad, I was prepared mentally and fully ready to not be back in the states for 3 months. As you all know, I have been undergoing treatment for rabies and as of Sunday I will be fully vaccinated! I had to get 5 shots total for the Rabies Vaccine and 16 shots into my legs for the RIG-shot.

Now I can hunt down that dog in Peru and play with the monkeys and have no worries. (kidding mom) The second day I was home we got a phone call at 4:00 am and Pops had stopped breathings, Mimi called a HEMSI and they were off to the Hospital.

That was a week ago Wednesday so its been a week and two days now and Pops is still in the hospital. He had surgery and thankfully they were able to do it all Laparoscopically! Recovery time has taken a while and he is still on a liquid diet, hopefully he will be out before I go back to Peru this Sunday. I am not a fan of hospitals, I love the work and relationships doctors and nurses have with their patients, but the unspoken fear of the occasional inevitability of avoiding death is felt in every fake smile and dark corner in every hospital, be it in Lima or Alabama.

I am more than ready to be back in my room on the roof of Tula's house in the foothills of the Andes mountains, eating delicious Peruano cuisine and singing Spanish Hymns with my Peruano friends and family in the open aired church in the heart of the town of Salamanca, Lima, Peru. Only two more nights in the states, three airports, 10 hours of flying, and I will be home again.