Painting Poverty

What a week! First, we are blessed to have Mariya´s mom and sister here visiting which has added some fun to the gringo house. Next, in honor of the family visit, Mariya, myself and the family went to Cuenca (middle part of the sierra) for the weekend. While there, we mixed business with pleasure by taking a jaunt out to investigate a foundation for disabled children in the hopes of placing one of our precious babies, 8 year old Jamil with cerebral palsy, with them so that he might receive the therapy and attention that we can´t provide for him here. We also went to a symphony (free presentation), had a literary conversation with an American owner of a bookstore in Cuenca and meandered through seemingly endless knick-nacks and works of art. But as I was wandering through paintings, clay figures and such, I kept thinking to myself, ¨this isn´t my Ecuador.¨ It may have partially been because we were in the Sierra and they have their own traditional clothing and such. But more than that, even the Sierra doesn´t always look like that. Well, it got me thinking...

Why doesn´t anyone paint poverty? Why can I only find palm trees and toucans from the Galapagos, women in colorful shaws and felt hats sitting with baskets from the Sierra and sunsets over the beach from the coast? Where are my barrios, my houses made of cane and cement blocks, my little boys selling juices in plastic baggies, my old men mending their fishing nets before the next tide, my women poking sticks into open fires roasting corn and plantains, where is my Ecuador? All of these things are so beautiful to me that if I had any artistic talent, I would paint them in the bold colors of salsa dancing and the softer ones of the ocean outside my window. I would paint them with the humor of Norman Rockwell and the tranquility of Thomas Kinkade. But I can´t paint (unless there are numbers) so I can´t capture this beauty that I find hiding in the often times horrible reality of life. I can only hold it in my heart, to guard the memories there as I learn to love it even more, despite the abrasive smells, the mud, the chickens and dogs. Maybe no one can paint my Ecuador or maybe no one has tried.

I challenge anyone out there with artistic talent to try to capture this life around me. But capture it in a way that isn´t dreary and sad, doesn´t hide the reality of what it, but shows the joy, the life, the beauty amidst the garbage and dirt floors that I see everyday.

In the meantime, I will remain your little missionary, still learning Spanish, still learning Ecuador and still learning how to love in the way I am meant to. May you all have a great next week, hope all enjoyed the MLK weekend, many prayers to those at the March for Life in DC, and as always, more to come next week from life on the flipside...