Before coming to Peru, I attended my first “wine and paint” class with my sister. Before painting any of the objects easily discernible to the naked eye, we were instructed to paint with broad blue and black brushstrokes across the whole canvas- this would become the foundation of my rookie’s work of art. Paintbrush in hand, apron strapped around the waist, and a hint of champagne on the taste buds, I remember the entire blank canvas staring hesitantly back at me as if to say, “please don’t mess this up.” At that time it was difficult for me to see just how exactly this large homogeneous rectangle would eventually develop into a moonlit, tropical landscape in the style of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.” I was doubtful of the final product that would result in just a couple of short hours. I began to feel uneasy, anxious, and excited as I dipped my brush into the unknown. In the end, it was hope in a beautiful final destination, faith and trust in the painting instructor’s guidance, perseverance and obedience in each artistic variation in color and technique, and patience in the drying of paint between layers that the unknown would finally reveal itself with time.
I have been in Peru for a little over one week now, and I find myself experiencing a similar feeling as I venture into the unknown. I suppose the painting lesson I received only a matter of weeks ago taught me a thing or two about approaching the unknown of the next few years. In eager anticipation of the beautiful and complete work of art waiting for me on the horizon, I am reminded of the foundation that has been painted in broad strokes before my eyes. I am reminded that it is only a matter of time before the blank canvas will come alive with a colorful palette of unique persons, intimate relationships, deeply human experiences, and truly divine works of love. I am reminded that the brush will need a periodic dip in the water, a cleansing reset amidst the constant interchanging realities of worldly disorder and the progressive heaviness of desiccating paint. And I am reminded to allow sufficient time for the previous layer to dry before I add more paint to a delicate, yet incorruptible canvas. For it is our steadfast hope, faith, and trust carried along in perseverance, obedience, and patience that cooperates with time to reveal to us what we have been anticipating all along.
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On my journey to Santa Clotilde, my home for the next three years, I found myself simultaneously moving along a blank, white canvas with those broad, homogeneous brushstrokes that would serve as the background for what I hope and trust will be an extraordinary masterpiece composed by God’s infallible hands during my time here. These broad strokes of reality came alive as I embarked on the long journey.
First the vast, muddy reaches of the serpentine Amazon River greeted me with a cool morning breeze skimming across the water’s surface as the boat sped forward, barely noticeably, but surely, bobbing side-to-side. Lofty white birds neatly nestled in the canopy of the jungle trees in the distance alternated with scattered black birds, focused on their own earthly journey, soaring under the continuous warping of the expansive clouds above. I briefly recall my aerial trip only a couple days ago over the majestic, towering Andes mountains and the frigid, snowcapped glaciers that lay below. The beauty of nature- always and everywhere present, I think to myself, as I recognize the broad stroke of Creation clearly slide across the blank canvas.
Disembarking to catch a “motocar” across the small stretch of land separating the Amazon and Napo rivers, another broad stroke catches my glance. Children dressed in battered clothes and no shoes running downhill to the port offering to carry my bags to make some “extra," though hardly superfluous, cash. We situate ourselves in the seat of the sputtering, rickety “motocar,” and on our way we pass stilted homes made of wooden panels and roofed with layers of woven leaves, many of which have no electricity or running water. Glimpses of poverty and abandonment on the surface begin to reveal the deeper realities of corruption, misused power, greed, and inequity. The canvas begins to take on a darker hue.
Later, I am reminded of another broad stroke of reality- that distance does not equate to disconnection. My small traverse of the far-reaching Amazon basin reminds me of the small, but undoubtedly integral, role each of us plays in the lives of our brothers and sisters around the world. Though the Amazon River flows only through Peru and Brazil, she and her tributaries feed into eight countries and cover 44% of the South American continent. It finishes its 3,977 mile course in the Atlantic Ocean where through a series of invisible yet powerful hydrogen bonds, it connects to the rest of the world. If the Amazon basin, a conglomeration of merely physical phenomena, is so integrally connected to the entire Earth, how more extensive and profound is our connection to one another, physical and metaphysical vessels of both body and soul. How more essential our role in the physical, spiritual, and mental well-being of all. I am reminded that selfishness and apathy are the enemies of love, unjust and uncharitable responses to what lies “over there” and what happens to “them.” The colors on the canvas now begin to blend together.
Soon I arrive in Santa Clotilde, my home for the next three years, a small community along the winding Napo River that intimately connects its peoples of Ecuador and Peru. As I sit at the table with our hospital administrator from Poland, our obstetrician and gynecologist and a visiting physician from Spain, our handful of religious sisters from Mexico, and more missionary sisters and a friar from Peru, our shared humanity becomes readily apparent. It is Mother’s birthday, the tres leches cake has survived the seven hour journey up-river, and Sister takes out her guitar and begins to play a familiar tune. We all join in singing “Happy Birthday” to the eighty-something year-old woman who has dedicated more than twenty years of her life to serving God and her fellow brothers and sisters in this remote community of the Peruvian Amazon. Five countries with transforming borders throughout history seated around one fixed table. Is this not the mission and vision of our Creator whose one table He has set for all, the one table to which we are all invited every Sunday? United in prayer and the sign of the cross, our birthday feast ends and our journey together begins. The bright gradients across the canvas begin to take form, reminding me that while the world continues to breed division, it is God who unites.
Who knew that painting tropical “Starry Night” would guide me along my journey here today, where I live among the glistening rain-dusted palm trees and moonlit skies on the banks of the Napo River? If you haven’t done it yet, may I suggest trying your hand at a “wine and paint” class?
Thank you for your continued support and prayers as I adjust to my new home. Please know you are all in my prayers as well!
