Love and Potato Peels
Part ll
The next morning, I woke before the sun and had coffee at the long wooden table in our hotel. I listened to roosters crow and the city of San Vincente come awake. I needed this time alone with God. I needed to remember the mission - showing the love of Jesus - and ask for the heart and wisdom to fulfill it. This repelled the anxiety parasite.
After breakfast, a Shelter employee drove our van out of the city for nearly an hour. Then, to my delight, we transferred to the back of a truck that could take us down rocky, rutted “roads” to our build site. The land and tropical foliage were beautiful, as were the people I could glimpse along the road and in their rickety shelters. Seeing people live like this stirred my heart, steadied my mission, and plucked the parasite from my chest.
Our van arrived at a rocky, dirt path that led uphill to the building site. Standing in the middle of the path with a wide, welcoming smile was Soila! Seeing Soila smile at me is the closest I’ve come, I think, to seeing Jesus smile. Soila’s home would be built on the same site as her daughters’ homes. Sometimes I think about those three families flourishing safely and securely together.
Our building team, along with local volunteers and employees (whose wages are included in the cost of building the homes), stood in a circle. Everyone introduced themselves. When it was my turn to say my name, the locals smiled and said, “Paulina!” It felt so right to be called Paulina. Then someone prayed for the day, and the building began.
The heat made me feel unsteady, and I silently asked the Lord to keep me from fainting. We began our first and most labour- intensive task. Digging holes. I grabbed a shovel, jabbed it into the brown earth, and struggled to lift the heavy soil. I was determined to be helpful, though the relentless sun was trying to kill me, and the hot, humid air was its ally. Within minutes, I began to question my ability to help.
Eduardo, our interpreter, came and asked me to drill some holes in metal tubing. A simple job that he had set up under the shade of a large tree. An act of kindness and a blessing.
Then I resumed digging. After a few minutes, I stood up to relieve my aching back and shake my sweat-drenched T-shirt. I glanced over at the building beside our work site where Soila and her family were staying. It was made of scrap metal, rotted wood, blankets, and black plastic. Soila stood in the doorway holding aside a blanket that poorly served as a door. She was smiling at me and gesturing for me to go over. I put my shovel down and went to her. She led me inside and held up a large, plastic basin filled with mandarins and bananas from nearby trees. Gentle Spanish and gestures prodded me to take a fruit. I was awed by her care and hospitality as I grasped a still-green mandarin.
I went back outside and noticed someone had taken over my digging. I felt like I had failed. Then I heard Jake’s question in my head. “What would the love of Jesus look like here?” With Eduardo’s help, I asked Soila if I could help her in some way. Soila said she was making lunch for the workers, and that I could peel potatoes for the soup. I have never been so excited to peel potatoes!
Soila led me back inside the dim building. There was a white plastic table on the dirt floor. She pushed a flimsy lawnchair up to the table and gestured for me to sit. I felt like a guest of honour. With a huge smile on her face, she dragged a tall fan over, plugged it into a suspicious-looking electrical socket, and turned the fan so the air would blow on me. Then she left, probably to pluck and clean the chickens I had seen in the concrete sink outside or to build the fire that would smolder and smoke while the soup simmered.
I sat alone peeling potatoes. Some peelings landed on the dirt floor, causing young, scraggly chickens to run over and peck them. I looked around and tried to imagine living there. I could not. I felt a little guilty sitting inside with a fan blowing on me as my teammates toiled outside under the burning sun. I felt privileged. Loved even, in a way that I had not felt since my mother died eight years ago. I was sitting in the most impoverished place I had ever been in, yet I felt cherished and blessed. The love of God is astounding.
Part 3 will soon be posted.
In the meantime, please consider helping me to return to El Salvador this November. I am responsible for fund-raising the cost of one home. The cost of the home is 4,000 dollars. Any amount would be appreciated! $ 25.00 anyone?? Tax receipts provided by Shelter.
Donations can be made online using the link below.
Please contribute to the team, Sunwest Church –week 1, and my name where it says "Team Member."
Let me know if you donate, and I will send you a haiku written with love.
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