Returning to Quito has been an exciting and smooth transition so far. My days have been filled with reconnecting with friends, pastoral visits with Luis (pastor of the Quito Mennonite Church), art projects with the children at the church's after school program (vida juvenil), meetings about my role here, translating documents for the upcoming Church Partnership meetings, visits to my previous host mom to ask for the secret to her delicious cooking, the monthly women's gathering at the church, and a bit of visa rigmarole. Settling in and finding my niche takes time, but I'd say I'm off to a good start. Normally I attend the Quito Mennonite Church, but today I took advantage of the opportunity to worship with my friends at the Mennonite Church in Calderón, just north of Quito. Here are a few photos to give you a glimpse into my day:
The view of volcano Cotopaxi from my window in the home of MMN workers, Delicia & Peter, where I am staying until my apartment is ready.
Nicolas & Victoria, affectionately know in the church as "los abuelitos."
María Helena, pastor of the Calderón congregation, checking in with los abuelitos.
Daniel & Matías watching the older kids play soccer in the courtyard outside the Calderón church.
Leslie with the donkey puppet she made in Sunday School.
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Welcome to my first blog post! I write this from the Fort Lauderdale airport where I am passing my 9-hour layover before finally flying to Quito, Ecuador. In Ecuador I will be working at the Quito Mennonite Church for the next few years as the Coordinator of Children's Peace Education and Youth Ministry through Mennonite Mission Network. This blog is a space for me to reflect on my experiences and share with you what I am learning.
The title of this blog comes from a song I first learned at the Quito Mennonite Church and then recorded with my friends Andrea Moya Urueña and Brisa Peacock Robison on our CD this past fall. The lyrics say:
Help me to see with your eyes
I want to feel with your heart
I don't want to live indifferently anymore
There is so much need, Jesus.
I ask you for peace for my city
I ask you for forgiveness throughout my city
Now I humble myself and seek your face
To whom shall I go, Lord, but you?
One of the things I have been mulling over lately is the concept of what sorts of things I see and what sorts I do not see in the world around me. Obviously I have a better idea of what I do see than what I don't. Yet, as I take seriously the limits of my own vision and listen to other people talk about what they see, I am learning to be on the lookout for things I normally miss. For example, the more I listen to other peoples' experiences, I realize that the world is set up so that I don't see certain kinds of injustice. Because I am able-bodied, I don't often think about whether spaces are accessible to folks with physical disabilities or not. Because police officers treat me respectfully, it is easy not to see how people of color are targeted and harmed by police. Because I am a North American, employed by a mission agency, living in the context of Quito I don't see... well, that's what I don't know.
As I begin this new chapter of life, I want to be pay attention to things I would normally miss. I ask for sensitivity to the experience of others and the voice of God in peoples' stories. I ask for perceptiveness to the the Spirit of Love in the world and to the wisdom of folks I will be doing life with. I ask that my vision be expanded, that I learn to see the social systems, people, and our earth through the lens of divine love. In this way, I ask for peace.
