Tuesday, March 24, 2015

We Eat Rice (and other communal observations of a life in solitude)

It's been a while since my last post (nearly a month!) and no, I really don't have a good excuse for not writing. I've been working away on an online Master in Education, hosting pastors from all over South America, and most recently, enduring round two of the flu. All this to say, my life is a bit lonelier than I would prefer (being bedridden yesterday was not fun), and I have been reading Frankenstein and spending way too much time on facebook, which should explain the oogles of 'likes' you may be seeing  from me.

While there are perks to this solitude (productivity, telling the negative/perfectionist/guilt-tripping voice in my head to kindly shut up), my highlights have been time spent in community, both improvised and intentional. So I thought I'd share them with you.

1) We eat rice. I went grocery shopping with my neighbors Abner and Salomon at a buy-in-bulk place, which is interesting not only because none of us knew where to find anything or calculate the real price (what DO you read when there are four labels?) or that they are guys and immediately gravitate towards toilet paper and salami, but also because they are northern South Americans and felt that 20 pounds of rice for three people was a reasonable amount for "oh, a week or so." They might not have been exaggerating too much- we've been eating a lot of rice. Fried rice, chaufa rice, cheesy rice, boiled rice, orange rice, chicken and rice...conclusion: if it has no rice, it's not a meal!

2) Silent music. A few days ago, I took my guitar to the park and started quietly playing to myself. A 3 year old toddled up to me and started swaying in time, gasping in sheer delight. He looked curiously at his mom and then at me, and so I let him strum while I changed the chords. He would gently strum, then immediately press his curly head against the body of the guitar to hear the echo. He was clearly enthralled, and kept making that funny gasping noise. When he leaned away from the guitar, I saw the reason for the gasps: a hole in his throat (tracheostomy?). "He sure likes music, huh?" I asked his mom. "Oh yeah! His dad plays a bunch of instruments and I sing. Someday he'll take after us both".

3) Waffles like from the movies! I made waffles one Sunday afternoon, and sold one of my first to a group of high schoolers. Five minutes later one of the girls came running towards me (at which I started running towards her): "we want another one- they are good!" They ended up buying 3 more waffles, and got talking about English after they remarked that I talk funny. "I've seen waffles in movies from your country," one said, "but this is the first time I've tried one. Is this why- no offense- people there are so fat?"

4) And now it is time to say goodbye. While I've been at a loss as to how to define my purpose for this brief extended time in Argentina, I believe part of it is God's gracious way of letting me say a good goodbye to many of my friends/family here. This is not to say it has been easy- it is no easier to hold back tears with a hug than it is to allow any door to close- but it has been necessary. "I'm glad you are here," several have told me, "but I will be happy to know you are home". Me too, dear friends, me too. 

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