The Sparkle sisters took on the Heraldsburg of Birthdays with their usual panache and style. The twinkling lights of the venue were a radiant echo brilliantly complementing the dazzle of the elegantly inventive and oh so enchanting trio.
The gala surrounded them with the cheer and energy that mimicked their own. The warmth of the red, pink and white sparkling bubbles and mead was second only to the scintillating smiling of the fellow revelers.
The room was narrow, the ambience magical and it opened to a lighted courtyard. The water centerpieces floating their delicate flower candles offered a dash of curious delight reflecting the surprise of the chandelier above.
The black salt hors d’oeuvres tantalized taste buds as the waiter made his purposeful rounds to our Sparkler of honor like a bee to his queen.
The lights of the camera were, of course, drawn to their inner shining, reminiscent of the puparazzi back home. They donned additional accoutrements that added the perfect whimsy to every outfit.
Off to the right was a secret door barely noticeable to all but the most whimsical. Lead by their honored Sparkler, they slipped unseen into the imperceptible realm.
There they found another courtyard of glimmery wonder. Small groups of soft spoken murmurers were gathering under the stars but as they entered, all eyes turned to the magnificence of the one born this day. In hushed whispers, they beckoned her into the castle.
Bacchanalians were raising their glasses of shimmer as she arrived. A raucous music joined them as they broke out into the song their hearts had been singing all along ever since the snowy, resplendent day when she had arrived long ago.
The song they sang, even without speaking, was the song of the truth of triumph, of connecting strength, of jubliating celebration. Look how far they had come! Look how sparkling a Sisterhood they had grown up together!
Their sister of origin, proudly smiling down upon them in her uniquely shimmering way, would be pronouncing the rightness and goodness of this night, of this gathering, of their Sparkling beam of birthday light!
What if their faces stuck this way in the sparkle doodling of celebration? Well, that would be creepy but nonetheless, there would be ibuprofen to pay for the splendour of being inseparable even when apart…
Happy Birthday, Sparkling ones. I love you more than air.
So I didn’t go to church today. I woke up with some nausea that might mean a migraine was coming but that wasn’t the reason I didn’t go. I sat and prayed beforehand and I felt like I was being directed back to bed. I wanted to argue because I don’t like using my migraines as an excuse to not do things, especially church, but God reminded me that He’s in charge of the migraines and is trustworthy. I went back to bed.
When I awoke, I took my dogs on their well anticipated walk and listened to the missed Grace sermon given by Pastor Logan McAdams.
I picked a rock on the path as he tied in his words with the message last week. What is it I am holding onto instead of trusting it to God? I’d been thinking about this but wasn’t landing anywhere.
Logan went on. He talked about the beauty of the Hebrew poetry in Genesis 1. He talked about how God was calling us to define ourselves by His image instead of by what we do. How resting is a part of God’s calling as He, Himself, did on the seventh day.
By this point, I was feeling pretty validated for staying home to rest but God wasn’t done. The rock thing still eluded me. It didn’t seem like the migraines fit.
I had to pause the sermon when one of the dogs, the 2nd most reliable, disappeared. It made me retrace my many steps back down the path. This always irritates me. The dog was nowhere to be seen and I was beginning to panic at the thought of the trouble he was getting us into now. Feeling powerless, I turned to prayer.
“You are good, Lord. You gave him to me and You’ve got him in Your plan for me. I trust him to You and relinquish my angst. Help me in my unbelief.”
Abruptly, Usko the dog, his name means faith, appeared and began to trot the long way back by my side. Walking by faith if you will…
I restarted the sermon: Logan continued. Rest means trusting in God’s provision. I smiled at this theme of my day.
God’s Word tells us that He needs us, me, to know that He has accomplished an end to our striving to earn our worth. As we learn to rest, to pause and focus on Him, we remember it is He Who will care for us because it’s what He does. We no longer need to work to earn love. We can now work because we are loved.
Our culture is saying we are only as good as what we can produce, like an obedient dog? I looked at the rock in my clenched fist of a hand as Logan continued.
Aha! These rocks symbolize what we cling to in our own power rather than giving it to God. And when we don’t give to God that which we believe relies on our own strivings, that thing will keep us from living out of the rest secured for us. It also makes us unable to take hold of what God has for us.
It seems clear that my dogs are on top of my rocky list. I put so much pressure on myself to achieve well behaved dogs and I fail every day in one dog way or another. What if I approached each walk with open hands in anticipation of His glory instead of walking in fear that my best effort will not be good enough?
Logan finished by citing the great commission in Matthew 28. If you follow Jesus, your job is to go. If there are things keeping you from going, (on dog walks?) and Logan suggests there may be more than one ( several dogs), it is time to give them up to God.
God wants to work in and through me to make His name and rest known among the nations, even among dog naysayers.
When we approach Him with open hands free of rocks, He gives us more of Himself and His goodness. Oh the wonders He could do and does! He even uses and, I dare say, specializes in, using the relative commonplace like a lost, disobedient dog named Faith.
Holy, Blessed Father! Look where You have sent me! Peru at night.
It is late, the dark seems foggy and there are cool ocean breezes. There is traffic galore and we are told that a concert has just let out. The flow is further hindered by a stopped car that blocks the packed road. The driver who, it seems, has no such hindering flow problems as he personally waters a nearby tree. The sight takes me back to the drunk man on my brother’s first day in Ganado long ago…
The flight from Houston was fine though a bit agitating with turbulence both inside and out. I dropped an ear bud, then a pen, then the partner earbud…bent over in half, head between my legs, flashlight out, hardly breathing…I was tempted to look for the candid camera staff in my suffocating comedy of errors.
The road to the hotel is oceanside. There are towering walls of natural rock to the left with some covered in a shadowy green. These draw my eyes up to the high-rise hotels on top. The Pacific Ocean is on the right with its imperceptible waves highlighted by the curiously illuminated eye catching white foam. As we drive past, cars randomly park on the highway taking in the view without, it seems, any thought for safety.
After a full day of traveling, I am surprised to find myself smiling and energized. It is well after midnight when I lay my head down.
Midnight Mischief,
PeruAna?
Saturday, September 20, 2025
Sunday
It’s a beautiful quiet Sunday morning as I walk to the Good Shepherd Anglican Church for their English service. There are all kinds of dog walkers out with their beautiful huskies to tiny fluff balls. Most people, even the doggers, are bundled in their down coats braving the 67° weather. I am in my gauze skirt and short sleeves relishing every minute of the breezing. In Phoenix, you can always tell who the tourists are because they wear shorts in the ‘winter’. I am clearly a tourist in every aspect of my being just as my son predicted. It makes me smile at my ridiculous self.
In the afternoon, I take a walk to find the ocean. I walk past a bar called Eden. I wonder at what possible meaning it could have… full of snakes perhaps?
It is not far and soon I reach the east end of the ocean cliff park, the Parque del Amor. The walkway is lively with lovers and flowers, families and gazers. The young couples hold flowers bought from vendors. The older couples hold each other’s hands. Philip loved to give flowers. I wonder which set we would take after.
I expected to see a celebration of bright clothes in the riotous colors reminiscent of Africa and India, but it is not so. The voices and laughter, smiles and play tell this story instead.
The lush greenness of the park is home to vibrant birdsong. Birdsong always acts as a portal of sorts bringing my imagination to the true garden of Eden. I like to imagine walking with God in the garden in the cool of the day. It is especially lovely as there is no need to hide anymore since Jesus became God’s righteousness.
There is a misty haze to the air and horizon. The ocean wind brings the smell of rain. I rise from the trail to a vista of the western shore. The sun has broken through and electrified the white waters with its shimmering, magical effervescence. It is as if the veil has been torn and the glory of God rises to welcome me to Peru.
It is a fine beginning.
Later, as the night gathers in, I reflect.
Holy, Blessed One,
How precious to be present in Your presence this day in Lima. I boast in your safe keeping of me.
Dayenue: which would have been enough, but You also gave me welcome at church and old hymns to sing and communion to share and a personal prayer from the pulpit for my safe travel.
Dayenue: which would have been enough, but You also gave me ocean views and birdsong and your light upon the water–crisp, stirring glimpses of Eden.
Dayenue: which would have been enough, but You also gave me an ocean overlook centering prayer to nurture and prepare me for this time.
Dayenue: which would have been enough, but You also gave me a text from Barb and a call from Joe and a lovely meal on my own and then a fine, free pisco sour with a new friend and teammate.
Dayenue: which would have been enough, but You also gave me a sister-in-law to come home to…
Thank You, Holy One, for this most amazing day. I am wholly blessed by You, indeed (and in deed).
Welcome to Peru,
PeruviAnne?
You look around
(NOT to be construed as Pervy Anne please)
Sunday, September 21, 2025
Monday
Yesterday it was dogs in jackets. Today it is cats in condos. Kennedy Park is a city park not far from the hotel. It has been dedicated to cats. It is the Peruvian equivalent to a cat rescue. Concerned cat lovers have built cat condos and placed bowls for meals and the cats have moved in. They get vaccinations and health care and the freedom to lounge and prowl at will. A few joined us for dinner at an adjacent open air restaurant. Langostino Risotto was on my menu and I was not inclined to share though my teammates did. Our visitors were clean and healthy looking and so affectionate. Support animals for all the weary travelers. I wonder if crime rates are down in this part of the city…
We toured the Huaca Pucllana Pyramid today. I walked past it on my way to church. It rises up in the middle of a neighborhood. It is considered an expensive status symbol to live near it.
It is not a cone shaped pyramid as I am used to but an asymmetrical one. Tall and long. It is made of mud bricks that are stacked like books on a shelf. In the wisdom of the ancients this allowed for flexible movement that provided survival during earthquakes. This is one theory to explain its survival 2000 years later.
Our guide told us that the pyramid is a solid fortress without an interior and was presumably built to get closer to God. I’ve been studying Genesis, Exodus and Leviticus lately and this set off a flurry of connections for me. Feel free to scroll down should you prefer a travelogue to an emerging dissertation.
Our guide also said that to the builder priests, creation consisted of 3 realms: the heavens for the gods, the earth for living beings and the waters below for the underworld.
The job of living things was to appease the gods into creating favorable life sustaining conditions. If there was a drought, for instance, the ancients guessed that they had displeased the gods and sought ways to make them happy. Not having any rule book, they had to guess what the gods might want. This escalated over time to human sacrifices. It didn’t matter when the rain came, it was attributed to the success of the sacrifice and so became a repeating cycle.
In the time of the writing of the Old Testament, the world was seen in similar terms. The world consisted of the same 3 realms; only the waters below symbolized the chaos of pre-creation. Creation was the order made out of the dark void of chaos. YWH’s original intention was for man to live in His presence and steward the world with His life promoting wisdom, extending His creation and diminishing chaos. When the first humans decided to rely on their own wisdom rather than trusting YWH’s, chaos extended instead of order.
With a rule book being written by man, the spiral began. The knowledge of how to please God was lost and replaced with the kind of guesswork above.
But YWH did not leave us in our own chaos. YWH raised up the nation of Israel to reclaim His original intention: His people living in His presence stewarding His creation with His life promoting wisdom. YWH took the guesswork out of the equation. He established His law so that His people would know exactly what would please Him and what would not. The rest of the world, however, still lived in the uncertainty of guessing what the gods wanted.
And here we are back at the pyramid. Our guide postulated that the pyramid was built to please God. I wonder if it was a cover for seeking to live in the presence of God but doing it our own way instead His way. It is a picture of the tower of Babel all over again…a repeating cycle in civilizations everywhere. People have attempted to get to God using our own power; to avoid listening to Him, we vainly attempt counterfeits.
This pyramid is another example of man’s grasping for this counterfeit way to obtain that which YWH longs to give us: His people living in His presence, the source of all true life, stewarding His creation with His life promoting wisdom.
This is a view of things to come
Mankind continually fails to understand that, that which God requires, He also provides. A back door is not necessary because He invites us into His presence through the front door!
There is so much more to this than I have words to fashion but even so… such a reaction to just one pyramid! I would exhaust myself if it wasn’t so energizing!
Another amazing day. Thank You, YWH!
Multilayered Mischief,
PeruAna
Monday, September 22, 2025
Tuesday
It is early morning-ish when we board a bus and leave Lima on the Pan American highway, a 19,000 miles road from Alaska to Argentina. It is an overcast misty air day. To the right, the Pacific Ocean peeks out at intervals. On both sides, the barren dirt hills rise and disappear in the clouds. Some have rocky nobs but most blend in with the color of the day, beige.
Down the coast, the hills begin to multiply and reach higher as they will become the Andes. Endless sand dunes pay homage at their feet.
There are scattered building projects on the way. Those that have been completed have sparkling white walls and lush green accoutrements. They stand out brilliantly against the beige and are completely foreign to the other side of the road. It is reminiscent of the early days on Sandy Beach in Rocky Point, Mexico.
As the day progresses, the hills fall away and we come to narrow, fertile valleys. Farms begin to take over the desert floor. Rows of scruffy palm trees and dusty green things separate the crops. Corn, cotton and peppers thrive here. The soil is rich with the glacier runoff of the Andes, add water and growth sets off.
We stop half way in Chincha at the 16th century San Jose Hacienda. It is a grand house with a long history. The house and grounds are lush and welcoming. We have a lovely meal on the veranda, are serenaded by a Peruvian woman with a gorgeous voice and Susan and I go out to see the immense Bao Bao like tree in the yard. We are lured to the front yard by a strange, loud wailing sound and we find the most extraordinary white peacock perched and posing for us. After lunch we tour the tunnels beneath the house where the family hid when Pirates attacked. It was much like I imagine the border tunnels to be in Arizona.
Our destination is Paracas, 5 or so hours south of Lima. We are staying at a beach side resort that is a walled oasis in the bleak dustiness of the town. The zero edge pool draws my attention to the sunsetting horizon with its magnificent pink and orange.
I sit, alone, hearing the waves lap against the rocky beach. I watch the birds fly so close to the water it looks like they are skipping on it. I am road weary but feeling so blessed and well as a bit of the white peacock’s elegance gathers in and settles in my inner being.
Thank you, Lord, for another most amazing day.
Mischief managed,
PeruAna
Tuesday, September 23, 2025
Wednesday
The 12 seater Sessna flight to the NASCA lines takes 20 minutes over the desolate sands of the coast. The smooth sands subtly give way to the endless, ever increasing heights of the Andes foothills that seem to peek (and peak) out from their coverings of dust.
It is not hard to follow the path of the water as there are natural wadis formed in the sand and dotted with random green bushes all along the route. Rain is non-existent but flooding caused by Andes’ glaciers comes once a year filling them up.
The lines or geoglyphs are really a variety of shapes in addition to lines etched in the sand. They are estimated to be 2000 years old dating back to the pre-Columbian era. There are about 300 different figures, including animals and plants.
I am told that the Hummingbird is the most famous geoglyph in the world and the Peru Preserve uses it for its logo. The hummingbird was believed to be a messenger between realms because of its ability to play dead and stop its heartbeat thereby having a foot in both life and death. Though there are many theories about the how and why’s of these mysterious lines, water has always been equated with life and it is believed to be a part of the answer.
Our first lines are found in the desert on the edge of the green valley of the city of NASCA. The valley abruptly appears between the barren sand mountains and, by contrast, is a visually, stunning surprise.
The little plane banks back and forth for ultimate viewing. This repeated movement disturbs my delicate balance and throws me into a cycle of intense nausea despite medicating beforehand. Nonetheless, I breathe deeply and try to pay attention though no photos are attempted.
There is the royal family with their fabulous hairs. The monkey, the dog, the flower, and the spirals! Doodles after my own heart only in football field sizing and all drawn with one continuous line.
In the afternoon, we are treated to a Dune buggy adventure. The Cierro Blanco dunes are golden dunes despite the name and are the only dunes in the world near an ocean. Their ever-changing, wind sculpted, wave-like shapes are the second highest in the world at 6,000 feet. They are part of a national reserve with controlled access and part of me is relieved that I don’t have to long for my Suzuki as I would not be welcomed to drive here on my own😉. (My mother would be secretly relieved as well).
The ride is compared to a roller coaster but it is way more fun than that. Wilbur, our driver, is a charmer and expert. The late afternoon is cool and the perfect time to speed. We dash along the ridges and dip abruptly into valleys. I have nightmares like this where I have to drive down impossibly steep hills where you can’t see the bottom but somehow this delights me here. I have been drawn to sand dunes ever since I missed going to the Muskegon, Michigan dunes as a kid. Today is extravagant!
The dancing shadows and light on the sand can be so mesmerizingly beautiful. We stop atop a tall dune whose edge is a bowl and out come the sand boards and down I go. It is a bit disconcerting when the bottom rushes up to meet me. I lose my nerve and tumble overboard halfway up the other side. Except for the walk back up, it was outrageously fun!
We toast the sunset with a glass of Peruvian Champagne and as the day gathers in, we ride off into the sunset, revived and satisfied with a well earned smile frozen in place.
Manic Mischief,
PeruAna
Wednesday, September 24, 2025
Thursday 🐧
Penguin Day!
And so I have been singing all day:
Penguin’s Lament by S. Boynton
“When you are a penguin
And see nothing but penguins
And frozen ground
When you are a penguin
And I am one
You have nowhere to hide
You have no way to run
Little leg cannot stride
So we rock side to side, side to side, side to side to move
We can’t even fly!
And I’m a little too cute
Oh, yes, I know
I′m all dressed up, but I′ve got no place to go…”
We board a boat for our excursion to Ballestas Island off the coast of Paracas, Peru. It is an island that non-scientific humans are not allowed to walk on but we are promised Humboldt Penguins, sea lions, Peruvian Boobies and red beaked somebodies.
The coast is desolation on steroids with its brown smoothness and not a growing thing in sight. The sky above is dank and grey. The air is misty and cold. Like a page out of Moby Dick, dismay hangs heavy on the horizon.
Nonetheless, our imaginations are quickly hijacked by stories of the bounty that is grown and exported out from this port. We are told of the scallops harvested here. They are the best in the world because of the icy and calm waters. Then there are the most exquisite blueberries, avocados and produce grown anywhere.
As we round the coast, we see the Candelabra geoglyph. It dates back 2000 years and is the symbol of Paracas. Some say it could be a depiction of the cactus used in ancient ceremonial rites. Others say it is possibly a rendition of the tree of life. I am surprised it does not have phallic connotations although tree of life might be an euphemism for such. In practical terms, it continues to function as a lighthouse pointing sailors home.
The limestone caves and arches captivate me and I turn from lush dismay to furtive expectation. The nooks and craggy bits are right out of a pirate movie and I imagine going exploring on the forbidden terrain.
We arrive at the caverns and caves and are treated to a rarely seen intimate moment between two sea lions.
We spot the Humboldt Penguins quickly. They are either solitary or in twos, with a dad and baby peeking out from a rock hole. The adults have a black stripe that is absent on the under-one crowd. There are two rounding a cliff and I watch amazed as they jump and waddle their way down the steep incline to the water’s edge. The one ahead of the other, he turns back abruptly and back up he goes, his companion in swift order. There must be a sea lion in the water. It is real life drama before my eyes:
When you are a penguin,
You have nowhere to hide
You have no way to run
Little leg cannot stride
So we rock side to side, side to side,
side to side to move
We can’t even fly!
Yet somehow their impossible movements bring them back up to safety. It is a nail biting wonder to watch.
Our afternoon is spent at the oldest distillery in the Americas. It creates Pisco, a clear alcohol made from grapes. The Pisco sour is the national drink of Peru. I was tired and reluctant to join but that which I resisted became my blessing. The beautiful sunny day, sweet breeze blowing, green grass, vineyard and trees, the Andes rising up from the plain… magnificent!
Magnificent Mischief,
PeruAna
Thursday, September 25, 2025
Friday
As I gaze out at the ocean this morning, Susan points out the Ballestas Islands off on the horizon and the Moby Dick harbor we passed is just across the bay. I was totally unoriented to my position yesterday. I suddenly feel my new eyes with wonder. In my mind’s eye, I know the vibrant we details of the forms I see only in shadows from here. The richness of color and movement, sight and sound, the freshness of the wind and the smells of the caves, not always pleasant. My spirit within me becomes giddy with the multidimensionality of it.
It is glimpse of the exquisite reality of 1 Corthinians:
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” 1 Corthinians 13:12
Some of my travel mates seem so eager to be known. They are friendly and kind and quick to share all their past adventures yet I often ponder why they do not seek to know others as fervently. There is even a tinge of desperation to some of them.
This morning has me wondering if they travel in search of the new eyes I was given today. Are they seeking to be transformed from shore sitters to those who know the intensity of life that awaits them in the distance?
“To know even as also I am known”. This is the marvelous two way beauty of being known by Jesus.
I am blessed to be born a listener and it frees me to receive their gifts and strivings. To give them a taste of the gift of being known if only in this moment.
We are heading back to Lima to catch a plane for part two of this trip: the Amazon!
Meandering Mischief,
PeruAna
Friday, September 26, 2025
Saturday
We arrived late and rested well. It is a cool morning in Iquitos but only because we haven’t left the hotel yet. Willie is our Naturalist for our journey. His fun and curious facts include::
The Amazon is 4266 miles long, the longest river in the world though not the deepest. It starts high in the Andes and winds itself to the Atlantic Ocean through Columbia and Brazil. We are just south of the equator here. There are few tall buildings because there are no rocks, only clay. An 11-story building was attempted but it sank and was labandoned. It lives next door.
Iquitos is a city of a million people. It is 645 miles from Lima and the only city in the world NOT accessible by any roads. You can take a 28-hour bus ride to southern Peru town, then take a 5-day boat ride but no road access, only boat or air. Oil, wood, tropical fish and tourism are the main livelihood.
Iquitos means ‘Slippery people’ and is named after the indigenous people who would disappear down the river when they spotted a missionary.
They have 255 days of rain a year: Dec-May so
there are no rings when a tree is cut down because there is no season change. So curious.
There is a festival for St. John the Baptist and they serve a meal in the shape of John’s decapitated head. It is considered a beautiful, snacky tribute. Again, so curious.
There is much talk of piranhas so of course I share about my brother’s pet piranha, Fred. Fred was a part of the family for 10 years or more. When he went to piranha nirvana, my mom taxidermied him and he hung on the wall for years. It is hard to imagine his golden, large self in the water I will be invited to swim in…
We spent the morning at the Amazon Rescue Center/Biopark. They rescue trafficked animals, heal and release them to the wild when possible. Birds galore: Macaws, toucans, parrots, parakeets and owls. Baby manatees, capybara, turtles, caimans, the tiniest monkey and fish.
The Piache are the largest freshwater fish in the world and can be up to 7 feet long. Their orange geometric scales are lovely. They have lungs and gills and are the only fish in the world like this. They breathe in through their lungs and out of their gills. Apparently, if you reach your hand down toward them they will jump and suck down your arm with their mighty suction power…
We rode one of the local wooden buses back to town. The base is metal and the rest wood. They play loud music to give it a fiesta vibe. Fun!
It is a humid day and our refuge in the hotel pool is refreshing and welcomed. Susan and I sip sangria before we call it an early night. Tomorrow! The mighty Amazon in earnest.
Mischiefing,
AmazoniAnne
Saturday, September 27, 2025
Sunday!
Commissioning day for my sister in San Francisco! It seems, the word of this has gotten out and the Iquitos military is setting up in the town square for the celebration! It is a sunny, fresh day in this neighborhood! Welcome Pastor Sally!
I still have the Penguin lament stuck on replay in my head. As I am not succeeding at replacing it, I’ve decided to change the words. If you are a rainforest, no one else like me, except every other rainforest, you ever will see. Miles of rainforest as fine as can be!
To the Amazon! Our rallying cry begins.
We are taken to the market to experience the local culture. Here we are given funding and a Spanish word on a paper with instructions to buy the item. Susan and I have Arroyo. We will give our purchases to those we meet along the Amazon way. There is every kind of wild animal and fish meat splayed open and ready for purchase. I pass a vendor whose produce is labeled ‘Phoenix fruit’ and another with lush jumbo sized vegetables. I exclaim with delight, “Oolala” which I then hear him repeat several times as I continue on my way.
We begin on the Italia river, a tributary to the Amazon. The banks of the river belong to the poorest of the poor community. It is free to live here con amenities… no water, power or sanitation.
The water level is low now but will rise 9 meters by May. You find all of life floating together on this river: the market, dentists, school, gas, mechanics, church, bars and garbage, both internal and external and all man-made.
We stop at the home of Ruth Milagros and her twin, Luna Milagros. Their mama named them her miracle twins. Ruth is a dark haired beauty with a brilliant, welcoming, red-lipstick smile. She lives on the river where she grew up and now in a house built by her husband. She is expecting her second child in a month or so.
They tell us they have never had foreign visitors and are as curious about us as we are of them. I am drawn to them and wish I was part of a clinic so I could stay awhile. We give our earlier market purchases to them. They tell us that this community doesn’t look out for each other unless you are related; that they must struggle for every advantage and yet joy flows from them. My joy expands by just being with them.
We reach the Amazon river which is visibly marked by a change of water color from black to brown. The contaminated water seems to be replaced with random floating green plants like lily pads, river lettuce. It is breezy and relaxing and very wide. I am surprised by the gratitude that overtakes me on the boat. My heart is filled to bursting. I am on the Amazon!
50 river miles from Iquitos, we are welcomed to the Explorama Lodge. During high water season, we would disembark at the Lodge but today we must walk 25 minutes through the iconic forest.
The lodge is an open air/screened in, handmade, thatched-roof wonder. The forest surrounds it on all sides much like the bugs of unusual size surround my mosquito-netted bed. It is a bit of a reverse zoo as I lay comfortably within and watch the wildlife march by.
This is the land of the Yagua ‘red people’. We are greeted by several members of the community. They share their names and we share ours. Manuel, the leader, remembers my name telling us it means water in his language. I think of the living water Jesus gives and wonder if I can live up to my name.
We are treated first to a traditional dance which they offer to Mayantoo, the spirit of the rainforest. A blow gun demois next and we are welcomed to try. The blow gun is 6-7 feet long and the dart is launched by blowing. The tip of the dart targets the nervous system and is made from a mixture of Curare, scorpion, hot sauce, and poisonous frog venom. Hot sauce, imagine that! Philip could have used his own blood, I bet.
It is sunset in the rainforest. The sun glowing off the high tops of the trees. As I thank God for my Sister being commissioned right now, the birds and twittering things join me in this celebration of life, for her and for us.
Mischief magnified,
AmazoniAnne
Sunday, September 28, 2025
Monday!
It is our first walk in the rain! I have been wondering if it would rain at all… We are told this is mild rain at best.
Today is our ‘Day in the Life of…’ The part of the trip where we visit a village and are hosted in a home for lunch. A short boat ride brings us to Ramon Castilla Community and School. This is the second visit from this travel organization. These people do not have many foreign visitors.
The community families greet us from the top of the river bank. They are eager and beautifully welcoming. Just for our visit, they have built 35 wooden stairs and railings to ease our ascent!
After a visit with the elders, we are escorted to the school, a short walk down the village path, where each student pairs with one of us to share their schoolwork. I take the teacher’s seat and am quickly surrounded by Senora Gladys’ kindergarten class of four. I am in my happiest place among them. I read in Spanish to them from their teacher’s workbook without having any idea what I am saying. This warms them to me and the real work begins. We point out the circlos, quadraticals and trianglos and then get to color them Azul, verde and rojo! We are very clever.
Senora Gladys has prepared a song and play for us: The Three Little Pigs. Three of mine hold sticks each with a pig on top and another holds the wolf. Senora G begins the song and, holding hands, my pigs follow her. The wolf is supposed to break in and take them but my lobo gets a robust case of stage fright so I step in surprising us all! I put on my mother’s witchy face and growl as I chase them.
We close with a round of the hokey pokey much to everyone’s delight. The laughter, even the elders, is contagious. This may be my even happier place!
We are welcomed into the Pastor’s home for lunch and feast on pollo noodle soup, El Dorado fish and rice. His midwife-wife and daughters and grandchildren gather with us. My little shy lobo is among them. They kiss me on the cheek and call me family. It is a delight and so reminiscent of my clinic trips!
On the boat ride home, Willie is at it again. The depth of his Amazonian knowledge seems as vast as the forest. This time we are looking for the famed but rare Amazon Pink Dolphin and we find him!
Pink dolphins are freshwater mammals whose skin is pink. Their snouts are long and their foreheads enlarged for enhanced sonar capabilities. They have tiny eyes and are almost blind but as the water is opaque and dark, they are not much needed. When a baby is born, the alpha male catches the newborn and throws the baby out of water to teach it to breathe before he gives it back to mom.
We catch multiple glimpses of its glistening pink self. Outstanding!
Arrival at our lodge has Susan and I running for a cold drink for revivication. There is nothing like a sweaty, hot day reversed with a Coke!
The forest outside our screened room is alive and awake. The song of the honking frogs, night birds and cicadas, which live everywhere I guess, become our bedtime lullaby. We, like the pink dolphins cannot see but our sonar is strong!
Blessings upon blessings,
Marvelous Mischief!
AmazoniAnne
Monday, September 29, 2025
Tuesday! Canopy Walk Day!
We begin at dawn just as the blackness of night gives way to the softness of sun tinged skies. A mist rises off the river giving a myst-ical majesty to the river bank. The light on the water is pure liquid silver and gold.
This part of the river is 5 miles wide. You can see how high the water rises by the clear high water mark on the trees. There is gunmetal grey mud on one side and brick red on the other. Willie tells us that the ground in this Amazon basin is made up of layers of soft clay and sand deposits over 13,000 feet thick. This means there are no rocks here. What a thought! This boggles my mind.
We begin our hike to the canopy from Exploronapo lodge. It is a rustic lodge 50 river miles from our last one. It is a haven for researchers. The last two weeks they have hosted ornithologists with telescopes! The Chachalakas are singing loudly today. Their voices tell this world that the river is rising.
This part of the forest is called ‘terrafirma’ meaning it is not reached during the high water season. It is, however, far from firm. Our journey is an impossibly squishy one. Muddy, bottom of the lake kind of mucky mud makes me alert for slippage. The leaves of every variety of plant and the air, drip with the moisture and soon I am as wet as they. The humidity has a way of calling forth my own inner wet. Even my back side is dripping in a steady flow like the army ants below my feet. There is a point in the process, however, when the complete drenching turns cooling but it doesn’t last as long as I’d like
Did you know that Tolkien’s Ents actually live in the rainforest? They are called walking palms here. They can move more than 5 inches over time as they look for nutrients and sun. Their roots are a good source of calcium for the lactose intolerant.
The canopy walk will take us to 120 feet above the forest floor through the five levels of trees:
Forest floor, Understory, Canopy, Upper canopy, and Emergent. There are a series of towers connected by cables with chest high wire mesh ‘walls’ and wooden board lined pathways. Each level has its own distinct smell and temperature. If my happy place was yesterday, then this is my happy adjacent place.
It is easier to walk on these swaying pathways than the ground below. I have to watch my feet down below but here I can ‘walk’ with my hands. Hands on the cable and head in the trees, since there is no slippage, my feet can be on their own.
I am giddy with the delight of it. I love the tops of trees! They call me to join them in their haven of clean lines, strong branches and vibrant surrounding colors; forest and sky connected.
My words are so inadequate in describing the beauty, joy and gratitude racing to gain utterance from my deepest being. So, my head up, I walk wordless in the presence of my Creator and soak in every moment.
I feared one pass through the canopy walk would not be enough and I would leave wanting more. The truth is, when I walk with my Creator in the cool of the day, He makes what I have, enough! What a soul filling, deeply satisfying crossing. The whole trip In a sentence!
Mesmerizing Mischief,
AmazoniAnne
Tuesday, September 30, 2025
Wednesday!
This hot, muggy morning, we are offered an open-air boat ride. I am reluctant until Susan suggests we bring our umbrellas! It is a brilliant suggestion and I am all in. We board our fishing boat and go in search of piranhas! I go with my brother’s pet, Fred, in mind. He was golden yellow and at least a foot long,
There is a fishing pole for everyone but I opt to sit with my umbrella and cheer on the others. Jean quickly becomes the Queen of the waterway with a whopping 20 catches! The others mostly feed the fish but a few catch a few.
The water is dark and dank. It is hard to see anything unless they swarm but even then they are the color of shadows and impossibly fast. When one is caught, they are transformed into shimmering, bright silver and gold beauties, small but mighty. Their famed teeth are sharp and jagged. Those we catch, that are big enough, are presented for lunch.
Our afternoon is spent on Monkey Island, a monkey rescue haven. They work with the police to rescue monkeys from trafficking. They rescue, heal, rehabilitate and release to the wild when possible.
These monkeys come when William, our 24 year old guide, calls. He knows everyone by name. They hang and swing on him and the trees and eagerly seek the pecans he offers.
Sabrina is a small, white darling with a fierce streak. She chases everyone else with her quick, ominous snarling. William has to call her name multiple times to get her to cease and desist. She shoots him a look with every calling of her name. William says she’s jealous of those who get pecans.
As I stand listening and watching, I realize I have a wooley monkey sitting behind me using me for shade. He and a friend become enamored with my red gauze pants, grabbing them and playing peekaboo. I try to capture the scene between my legs with my camera.
Magnetic Mischief,
AmazoniAnne
Wednesday, October 2, 2025
Thursday, Going home day
To start our day, we take a short walk into the forest with Willie. It is wet but not muddy. As we round a corner, the trees break and a giant tree appears before us in the clearing. It takes my breath away.
It is a Ceiba tree, 165 feet high, 45 feet wide and 300 years old. It has 50 feet long, above ground roots that slither like anacondas into the forest.
Willie tells us these trees are hunted for plywood and so few are seen near the river. It would take a 3 day walk into the forest to find another one.
The original locals would worship at the base of this tree calling it their earth to heaven connection. They believed there was positive energy here and so they would come to hug the tree when they were feeling low or ill. With time, they always left feeling better. do not have time so it’s lovely that the trees of the canopy did the job.
As I consider whether there is energy here, Romans 1:20 answers my query. Of course, there is energy here! Your energy is here. You are where beauty lives. This makes me smile all the more as I hug the tree.
“For Your invisible attributes, namely, Your eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made.” (Romans 1:20, ESV)
The rest of the day will be a series of boat, bus and plane rides. We begin with a boat back to Iquitos. AmazoniAnne is going home.
Philip loved South America so I decide it is time to release him into the wild. With Susan beside me, the Amazon rushing by, wind borne Philip joins the river.
Susan was not at Philip’s memorial because of Covid so this is deeply moving for both of us. Maralee sits with us. She is well acquainted with grief and is so very brave and beautiful to share our tears as we honor him. It is bittersweet but somehow so very affirmingly fitting.
This trip has been more marvelous than I could have imagined. I had no idea that my heart would respond with such joy.
This Easter season, I want to tell you about my puppies. I have taken to calling them my Ishmaels after Ishmael in Genesis, the first book of the Bible. Abraham had grown impatient with God’s promise of an heir and decided “to help” God out and take the matter into his own hands. Ishmael was born and the consequences of Abraham’s impatience still reverberate in the world today.
For me, I was struggling with financial problems and even though I felt assured by God that He would handle them, I didn’t trust Him. I, too, was impatient and made the unilateral decision to birth the puppies. I reasoned that the pups could be sold and “help me” out of my financial problems. As a result, we had nine adorable pups in October, in time for Christmas! It looked like my plan would be profitable… until it wasn’t. I could only sell five and then one came back…
Now God, as He does, has used the pups in my life in beautiful ways though, incidentally, none of those ways have been financial, but let’s fast forward to this season of Lent.
I have been so aware of my shortcomings lately. My lack of kindness, my self protection, my hiding. My lack of kindness acted like a glaring light exposing a deeper part of myself that was filled with need and grasping; with a desperation and fear hidden beneath my surface that I was unable to cast off.
I decided to sit in prayer with this sense of my own ugliness in a tenuous attempt to understand where it was coming from…
As I did this, I got a text from someone who took two of my puppies and is now in need of giving them back. This news pummeled me as my fear and guilt flared and this sense of my ugliness overtook me. I cried out, “Is this how You answer me, God?”
I then reacted, to fix it. I reasoned that I should take the pups back because it was the right thing to do and because it was far too painful to consider relinquishing them to a shelter. I knew it wouldn’t be wise to take them but I couldn’t give them up and so I was caught once again by the consequence of my own impatience.
I laid all this rawness before God, as I should have done in the beginning, and I pleaded in prayer for relief and direction.
His answer came in the words of my Pastor who quoted J. Eliot:
“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose
I became electrically aware of how outrageous it was for me to look for a way to make up for my own impatience and sin. In so doing, I was making Jesus worthless in my sight as I made myself in need of being my own savior. It was no wonder I was feeling desperately afraid and ugly. I was believing an impossible lie!
The truth is that it is not the work of my ugly grasping but His work on the cross that saves me. He saves me from my errors and redefines my priorities. He even allows me to treat Him as worthless so that I might truly know my worth to Him.
I can trust Him with my pups, among all things. I can give them up into His care because He is trustworthy! He is able to handle and redeem my burdens, of all weights and sizes. Because He first chose to be broken for, and by me, He now chooses to walk beside me in my own brokenness. He offers me His presence as the cure for my ugly!
And what’s more! He perfectly timed all of this right at the point of my need where He is always waiting to meet me.
I am no fool when I give to God what I, literally, cannot keep, to gain what I cannot lose with Him.
I am on my way home though it is a term I use loosely because I leave a part of my heart in Tanzania.
The family of God that surrounds me on a trip is always a reaching in and reaching out of grace. I go to bless and receive blessing in outrageous abundance in return.
God’s multilayered brilliance is a continual circle of life. Like His living Word, its depth is never plumbed completely. I listen and He sends. He speaks through, I speak out and am spoken into. I tire and I am revived and revive others. I am equipped and I equip and am equipped again. I love because He first loved me. Others love because I love and I love because they love me.
I know the sense of desperate need can feel unending. I have felt it in many countries but so much more is the neverending love of God. He invites us, all of us, into His way of being and doing. Listen and follow, doing what He places right in front of you. Surrounded by His love and guidance, you will come to see that His way transforms you. It opens you and so many others through you to the multilayered beauty only a focus on God can reveal.
Big trees that start in the valley and greet me on the rim. Little ones peaking through the undergrowth. The midliners stretching for the sky.
Their trunks are covered in vines or white bark brilliant in the morning rising. Their branches are moss laden or crumbling and moist and even a smooth greyness against the riotous greenness in all it’s variety.
This green verdance takes on innumerable shades. Watercolor softness; smudged subtlety; sharp, pointed brashness; brilliant, dancing lightness illuminated against the darkening depth of mystery and decay,
Trees speak to my soul. They open me to wonder. They beckon me to climb up and see.
Instead, we descend as we enter a sequestered magical place today. The Nogorogoro Crater. Overcast above and below, the clouds hover over the basin as we dip into the shrouded majesty. Grant’s gazelle and the crater’s disco chickens, the ginuea hens, quietly enjoy their morning meal beside the road.
A large herd of Zebras walk in a line of sorts across the road in a steady, slow procession. They keep the babies close beside them until one breaks out on his own. It is laughing, the only one among them making a sound. He runs with his head held high, wind brustling his black and white mane. Another baby joins him and joins him in both rthe run and the song. They are beauty and music in motion. Two older ones who have been running since we arrived, have completed their circle around the herd line and join these two babies. The runners are in the minority but the energy of the joy is big enough for all.
Two lions come up from an unseen river and take a languid glance at their mama asleep in the sun. She is motionless lying next to another young male who raises his head. The three boys wander off down the lane disappearing into the tall grass. Mama lifts her head, rolls onto her back and after a mighty stretch, lies motionless again, her large paw hanging in midair.
It is midday and the animals are gathering en masse at the watering hole. Like dogs in my living room at home, there are zebras everywhere! They surround our truck. They wait in line to cross in front. They run skiddishly up and out when we startle them. Mama’s with their fuzzy, brown striped babies are almost close enough to pet.
There are the elephants, fewer in number, but spacious in size; a pod of dark hippo piles in the water; bustards walking regally on their strong legs; crowned cranes with their fabulous golden mohawk crowns. This beauty in abundance is a feast for these eyes. The surrounding delight of God is the best place to be.
I am going to see Neema! Four years ago, I left our medical clinic in Ketumbeine with a young girl named Neema. She had severe burns after repeatedly falling in the fire when having seizures. She was ostracized and beaten by the community, malnourished, dehydrated and burned but found her way to us. My task was to accompany her to a faith based burn center in Arusha. Several months later, after her treatment course, she was welcomed at the Maasai Girls Rescue Center. (www.maasairescue.org) A beautiful place that offers a home to Maasai Girls like Neema providing a loving family environment, nutrition, education, and job training to all who live there.
In the last four years, the MGRC has grown in size and scope and it remains a haven.
Neema is happy, healthy and thriving today because of the work of many hands that were and are guided by God Who provides a way especially in the dark.
Tarangire National Park is our destination today. The upper park has the wide open fields of tall golden grass reminiscent of our amber waves of grain back home. Tall grasses for hiding any approach…The Acacia thorn trees spring up but are dwarfed by my favorite of all, the Bao Bao trees. Ancient, enormous trunked wonders. It reminds me of the Laihaina home tree, the Banyan. The Bao bao trees stand as sentinels along and within the elephant valley.
The six foot high termite Mound hotel welcomes it’s mongoose tenants who are lounging in the sun, ever vigilant. They receive free board to chase the aardvarks away when they come to call for a lunch of… termites.
There are elephants and zebras almost close enough to touch. Their babies stay close to their mamas’ sides and the sweetness and light radiates between us. The smallest of all antelopes, the dik-dik, darts out of the tall grasses, allowing only a glimpse, when two giraffes with their elegant strides glide past together. I imagine if they had hands to hold, they would.
As I bask in the abundant blessings of this trip, the soft, still voice of God whispers on the wind and He calls to me:
“Climb to the top of a Bao Bao tree, legs dangling, soft breezes blowing, and search from there to the horizon, listening.”
“What shall I listen for?” I ask.
And He replies, “ You will know when you hear it. Just be still.”
So up I go to the top of the Bao Bao tree. The trunk is rough as if the vines of the Banyan tree fused together to create a Bao Bao. It makes climbing possible with its grooves but still a challenge. I am reminded that God does not call the equipped, He equips the called so I am not deterred by the difficulty. One foot, one hand repeat.
The breeze is cooling and the cloud cover is welcomed as I ascend.
At the first sturdy branch, I stop, breathing hard. I close my eyes and rest my back against the trunk, legs dangling on each side of the branch.
Recovering, my breathing slows and I open my eyes. I have been so focused on the climb, I did not see. I gasp at the glory of God stretching out before me in every direction.
The lush greeness is a marked contrast to the thorny dryness of Ketumbeine. There is a shallow river wandering through in the distance with marshy grasses on this side. The trees close in on the far shore and it is all kind of green as far as the eyes can see with hints of wildlife just out of sight.
The birdsong is constant, intermittent, far away, close at hand; The crescendoing trilling, melodic fluting, intense buzzing like a swarm of frenzied bees. It surrounds and penetrates me. It is a palpable symphony of sound.
The cool fresh air carries whispers of a light floral scent. I close my eyes and breath it all in and the words of Psalms 24 tumble out:
“The earth is the LORD’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein… Let my head be lifted up. May my ancient doors be opened so that You, my King of glory, may come in.”
“That’s it!” I exclaim, as I let my head be lifted up.
“Well, done my child,” God says, smiling.
“When you allow your love of this creation, here in this beautiful place, to open you to the wonders to which I call you, then you allow Me, your King of glory, to come in. When I come in I am able to revive and renew your ancient closed places. When you open your wounded places to your King of glory, creation becomes a doorway through which healing and beauty can flow.”
“This is the message of the Bao Bao tree.”
TanzaniAnne March 10, 2025 Romans 1:20
For the beauty of the earth For the glory of the skies For the love which from our birth Over and around us lies Lord of All, to Thee we raise This our hymn of grateful praise. F.S.Pierpoint
After a night of nightmares, mosquito netting malfunctioning with biting incursions and electricity outage, I awaken immersed in my discomfort on many levels. I ask for a reboot from God and He sends me the silly, spontaneous song we crafted in the night. It makes me suddenly silly and spontaneously I am smiling and giggling. As always, a perfect, beautiful gift at the point of my need.
Today we will have our church celebration on the land that Pastor Peter and Zoe Hope have purchased. The ten year plan is to build a center for faith and community service here with a church, conference center and lodge to start.
Now a church service in Tanzania may have a start time but it is really more of a guideline rather than an actual time. We arrive late but hakuna matata! We will not start for at least two hours so I wander the Maasai fence line already in place.
The mist is again rolling down the hills obscuring the peak. It is breathtaking and I am drawn toward it. I stand and ponder.
I begin with the Bible verse on the side of Peter’s van. Isaiah 58:10 if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.
I pray this verse.
Still drawn to prayer I read more of Isaiah 58
6 “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into Your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh? 8 Then shall your light break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up speedily; your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry, and he will say, ‘Here I am.’ If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness,
10if you pour yourself out for the hungry and sati,,sfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. (Isaiah 58:10, ESV)
11 And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
12 And your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to dwell in.
As I pray this for Peter and this place, God points His word to my own scorched places. He tells me His word is multilayered and directs my thoughts to applying His words to myself as well as Peter.
He promises to make my bones strong again. He promises He is raising me up to be like a watered garden whose waters will not fail because He is my Living water.
The ruined places of my sorrow shall be rebuilt so that the foundation of many generations shall be raised. He will be the Repairer of my breaches, the restorer of the streets where He sends me to dwell.
I marvel at the grace of God. I went out toward the mountain to bless this place and I return having been blessed beyond measure.
It is a good day to praise the Lord!
When the church service begins, I share my testimony. I write better than I speak but I know God directs my words.
There is dancing and singing, clapping and jumping. The whole community from little to old join in. I use my own words to the music. It is a lively, jubilant celebration praising our God. God is so good, all the time.
It is baptism Sunday today and a temporary baptismal has been built out of cinder blocks and tarps for the occasion. The cool water from a hose has filled it. One of our teenagers is the first to take the step into the water. Baptism is a picture of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Himself. Pastor Peter takes her hand and has her sit in the shallow water. As he lowers her under the water we remember how doing things our own way leads to death. As he lifts her out, we rejoice for the new life we receive from Jesus when we believe. As she stands we celebrate who she will become as we welcome her as a daughter in the family of God. She is followed by an elderly Maasai woman who, I am told, made her decision to believe Jesus on our first day of clinic. I come alongside her and celebrate with a hug, no words needed.
We end by planting a row of 19 fruit trees in the afternoon. Each team member is given one. Mine is #10 and I name it Philip. It faces the mountain at the close of the afternoon. It is a sweet ending to this day.
Today is vacation Bible school day! We will travel to several remote Maasai family villages called Bomas. From the bus window, I am a spectator to the glory of the Tanzanian countryside that I missed on our arrival day.
I wave to a 10 yo boy who wears a baby securely tied to him. He waves with outstretched hand. There is no fear of dropping the darling, focused entirely, naturally, on waving back at us. It is a joy shared.
I see a small boy alone in the quiet dimness of the light brown backdrop of his house. His clothes pop with color against it and when he sees me wave to him he breaks out in the kaleidoscopic brilliance of being seen.
There is mist rolling down the green hillsides of Mount Ketumbeine. The towering top is hidden from view. I imagine it as a mini glimpse of Mt Sinai on 10 commandment day.
From a distance, the canopy of trees look soft and inviting but closer up is a different reality. The landscape is a mix of muted greens and browns with varying degrees of sharpness. The jagged thorned umbrella trees dot the plain, providing effective shade but messy hair. There is the intermediary cacaphonied tangled mess of bushes with their dagger thorns. And everywhere an explosion of rocks that splatter the ground in uneven barrages of chaotic inequity, as if they were pelted from above in a wild monsoon rock storm.
In ‘sharp’ contrast is the seemingly illuminated white softness of the goats. They wander about under the keen eye of their goat herding, shuka wearing, staff welding child, no older than a preteen. He leaves his 99 to run toward us waving in unbridled welcome.
Out the window, someone spots a goat giving birth so naturally we stop. The wet small thing lies on the ground where it was dropped from its mama. It struggles to stand and it’s unwieldy, never used legs slip and slide on the dust. It truly is his first day with new feet. Wobbly and unsure yet determined to get to Mom for life.
Our first boma is a 30 minute ride toward the mountain. A Boma is a grouping of thatched roofed one room dwellings that house multiple families of an extended family. These houses are surrounded by a Maasai fence made by laying multiple thorn thick branches upon one another to deter lions, leopards and hyenas, oh my! The livestock are sheltered in the center. This boma is remote and waterless. They must haul their water from town twice a week on the backs of their donkeys and it is an all day affair.
As VBS is set up, I wander over to the main shade tree just outside the city ‘gate’. There is a gathering of women and small children and babies. I greet the women and befriend the babies. I look up and one small friend darts from me taking refuge at the boma entrance. He stands like a sentry, his small staff firmly planted. His message is clear, ‘I shall Not pass’.
Others are shy but we speak the same language, unlocked by a ball. These are the under 3 crowd. Some can catch with their forearms and hands in solidarity, some prefer to chase the fallen, rolling ball. Some are robust overhanded throwers, some timid underhanders. How ever it is accomplished, they who were hesitant are now engaged, though not quite smiling yet… by the time of the parachute ball toss, we are all in! Laughing, chasing, our caution flying away with the balls, replaced with faces not big enough for our delight.
Our next boma sports a flat rocky area that we use as a soccer arena. The afternoon is spent in a vigorous soccer game: American team vs. Interpreters. It begins including the children but the olders are all-in and the children are lured away by the parachute. I sit beneath an acacia tree and marvel at the sweetness of connection that overrides spoken language barriers.
In the evening, we are taken to Pastor Peter’s sheep. They are being kept on a friend’s land south of town. There is a delicious breeze as the sun dips toward the horizon. When we arrive the olders have not yet arrived from their daily sojourn in the fields so we hang with the under 3 day old crowd. Baby goats, like baby dogs, are so beautifully quirky in their movements. They unexpectedly romp and jump, bounce and run. They are wildly endearing in their every move and sound.
I find that I can get them to all abruptly look my way by mimicking their high pitched bleating and my spontaneous giggling surprises us all. My heart is light and dancing, just like the babies.
At Pastor Peter and Nashipai ‘s home later, we are treated to fresh goat milk and nutmeg chai while we sit out under the stars. Others are just out of sight, ‘preparing’ a goat for tomorrow’s church feast. All of a sudden, before I even had a conscious opinion about it, I broke out in song.
It is truly the very first time since Philip had his come to Jesus moment, that my goof spirit burst from me with power, unbidden, and unsupervised. It was like a lightning jolt of spontaneous imagination. It was who I used to be. When my teammates picked up the next verses, my joy was made utterly complete. How wondrous to consider that I may be on my way back. How marvelous to share the journey prompted and joined by my friends!
🎵🎵 Oh they cut the head off of the goat and it falls in a bowl. And the blood spurts out of the neck and fills up the bowl. Oh please don’t do it twice cuz it wasn’t very nice When they cut the head off the goat and it fell into the bowl! 🎵🎵
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 