A Day At The Beach And Other Unrelated Topics

Here we go again!  As we begin the process of wrapping up our time in Peru, we have committed ourselves, once more (a final last ditch effort, if you will), to share some of the memories that we have made over the course of the last two and a half years.  Some of these stories will carry us back to our arrival to Peru, while others will reflect our more recent adventures.  Through these accounts we will endeavor to also communicate some of the lessons that we have learned and the various ways that God has forever changed us during our time here in Lima.  Our goal is to publish these recollections every Friday for your reading enjoyment.

At the end of this past summer (in March), we decided to take our friends to the beach.  Three young ladies, a young man, and their respective kids piled into our car early one weekday morning, and we left the smog-filled foulness of the streets of Central Lima for the open-air splendidness of the beaches south of the city.  The car ride alone was worth the price of gas as we lifted our voices together to the blissful sound of Eighties music and filled the remaining moments with congenial conversation.

We arrived at our destination in time for lunch and hit a local eatery a stones throw from the beach.  The food was typical Peruvian cuisine.  True to form, Lily and Chi demolished adult sized portions of the delicious fare while Eli and Zeke bemoaned the fact that I wouldn't allow them to just eat the crackers and apples that I had packed for a mid-afternoon snack.  Our friends ate their fill quicker then usual, and we all felt a little anxious about being so close to the beach yet not quite there.

After lunch, we made the short drive to the beach where we passed the afternoon breathing deep of the fresh ocean air and bathing in the golden drops of sunshine that warmed us just enough to allow us to brave the frigid water off the Peruvian coast.  The kids attempted to burrow to China, and made amazing progress towards that end.  The youth played volleyball and dodged jellyfish in the sea.  As for me, I soaked it all in.

For just a moment, life was grand, literally, "a day at the beach."  We weren't standing on a street corner amidst the tumult and depravation of Central Lima.  We weren't surrounded by kids reeking of glue and looking like the streets that they live on.  We were on the sandy shore of the Pacific Ocean amongst the grandeur and glory of God's creation.  We were in the presence of young women and a young man, with their children, who seemed to be in all visible respects no different than me and my kids.  What a difference a change in venue can make.

On the drive back to Lima a solemness replaced the jubilant atmosphere that marked our trip to the beach.  Each of us seemed to be wrestling with words to express our gratefulness for the day God had given us, free from our normal worries, concerns, and battles, while sensing the impending return to reality that awaited us in Lima, very different realities to be sure, yet each weighty in their own respect.

As I pulled into downtown Lima to drop off my young friends, they identified the corner where they would disembark.  I stopped at the place they asked me to and immediately recognized it as the infamous intersection of Grau and Iquitos, where broken young women gather to sell their bodies to depraved men.  We were not at the beach any more.