I watched monkeys swinging from their unnatural habitats roof and drove along a garbage littered street in Mazate to a church filled with people and a language I struggle to grasp and love. I left to go to a birthday party where we toasted champagne and abused a hanging paper man until his leg fell off and the group of mid-twenty year olds suddenly became nine years olds grasping for their portion of the lot. I sit through church without an interpreter any longer and yet barely comprehend a single flow in the conversation around me. Laughing, talking, teasing and singing – all such familiar things to me suddenly become a citadel to overcome.
I am not big enough for this, my mind and heart protest. I am not strong enough for this, my weak faith contests. I am not made for this my nature contends.
‘Ah, but I am’ comes the voice I’m beginning to really hear.
