Pilgrims on Purpose-Travel Adventures Launches TODAY!

Greetings family, friends, interested others and thank you for following my posts in recent years....today marks the beginning of a new journey and a new small business venture!

Announcing Pilgrims on Purpose!

Pilgrims on Purpose, led by myself, Pastora Fran Schmidt, former missionary to Peru, offers faith-based, life-changing, missional travel experiences offering a variety of Mission Exposure Trips to locations around the world. This is a new and exciting way to travel!

You will:

• meet local people and share in their joys and sorrows
• work alongside community/congregational members on a mission project in their community of their choosing
• learn about the host country, its culture, people, history
• discuss issues of social justice, poverty, and wrestle with appropriate responses to globalization
• grow in your own  spiritual journey by interaction and sharing with group members and those of our host country

We invite you to join us on amazing adventures!

Please follow my new blog: pilgrimsonpurpose.wordpress.com 

AND...like and follow us on facebook: Pilgrims on Purpose 

Defining "home"

Greetings family, friends, supporters, and those who somehow find their way to this blog!

As many know already, I've returned not once but now a second time in the last four months (what a blessing & gift!) to my beloved second home, Peru. It has been a time to reconnect with old friends, dear parishioners, lively children, accompany a visiting group, as well as time to reflect on many things, including how I define "home".

It began with a Garrison Keillor article we were to read as part of our online writing course, from National Geographic's February 2014 issue "There's No Place Like Home". Then, a couple of days ago, Tracy, a member of the visiting companion congregation asked, "Pastora Fran, where is home for you?" The question is more profound than she could have imagined. How could she know that I have thought of this question, and struggled with it for the better part of the last two years? How could she know that even within myself, I still did not have that answer, the answer I have longed for, searched for, and prayed for!

Where is home for me?

Saskatoon, in the western part of Canada, has been a temporary home for the last couple of years. I've lived there three times in my life and the accumulation of those years adds up to almost as long as the years growing up in my home town. The home town I left when I was 23. In Saskatoon, I have a few long-time friends and colleagues. It is the home of my alma mater. I love Saskatoon. A windy river stretches through the treed Meewasin Valley Trail that hugs the river and goes on for miles. Several bridges hundreds of years old cross that river and are the subject of many a visitor and local artist's canvas or photo. On the University campus, the stone buildings are a beige color of limestone (originally) and Tyndall Stone, even new buildings are mandated to use it, according to university by-laws. In the summers it is picturesque. Areas like Broadway offer quaint cafes and restaurants. There is a wonderful live music scene, art galleries, Farmer's Market, local artisan shops and live theater to enjoy there. The downtown as well as the city itself is enjoying a time of revitalization. Though the winter is my least favorite season, in a certain part of the city, even winter sparkles here. It is the city that keeps calling me to return. This time, living in a quiet corner of the university campus, we are a unique mix of International and Canadian students at every level of University and Seminary studies. We form a close-knit community. And in these short two years, through new friendships with immigrants from Spanish-speaking countries, all that I love about Peru: the people, the culture, the language, food, and even the music and dance are all alive in this place I call home...

Yet, this is only my temporary home. I have known it all along. A one year contract was renewed, allowing the opportunity to extend my temporary stay. But this time has always been transitional. It is much like sitting in the belly of the whale. Only unlike Jonah who resisted being sent to Nineveh, the place to which I am being sent is, as yet, unknown. I hope it is not like Nineveh. But I am still in the whale's belly and the where is not entirely mine to know right now. It is God's call after all.

But, where is home for me?

During this transitional time, that some in my life have found incredibly long, this question has hovered, it has lingered, it has challenged, followed, pursued and pushed me in a thousand directions. Some look to geography to determine "home". I used to think this way, too. They are rooted profoundly, deeply, right where they were born, or right where they have chosen to settle for a good portion of their lives, the place that holds memories and story. But as a wise, dear, global friend pointed out one summer day: for some of us, "home" is not determined by our geography. Rather, our roots grow above the ground to surround the earth and include the global village in which we find our home. Our roots grow far and wide, stretching above and around, instead of growing vertically, underground. It is a different sense of rootedness, a different sense of "home". One definition is not of more value than another, it is simply how we are created and how we exist in this world. 

A wonderful, liberating image for me, this is the story I shared with Tracy. 

Home, then, is everywhere.

With blessings, love, peace, and joy wherever you are rooted, wherever home this day is for you!

Pastora Fran

A return.......

In February, I returned to Peru for the first time in about a year and a half with a group of 20 members and their pastor, from Zion Lutheran in Saskatoon. It was a returning to my heart, to something of myself that had been left behind and of which I try to bring back to Canada each time.

San Juan and Zion members

 In the survival mentality of those I served in the barrio of San Juan de Lurigancho, each day is a blessing of God and each day is work and grit. It is work to find a job with a steady income, work each day to stretch financial resources far enough to feed the family, work to wash clothes often by hand, ironing them for days after they dry to kill bugs that might have found their way onto damp clothes. It is work to just get around and accomplish the most simplest of tasks, that which we find mundane and easy: getting a few groceries. There is a ride in a bus, not many have their own vehicles in this barrio, it is congested and weaves in and out of the millions of vehicles on the road, not stopping at designated stops but perhaps at each corner if there is someone waiting to get on. Competition among several bus lines is great, so the bus is packed fuller than it could ever be. Without regulation for catalytic converters and with many vehicles using diesel, buses that we sent there in the 50's and 60's are still utilized, spewing out fumes as they take off for the next stop. The ride to the market might take ten minutes by car, but it is more than a half an hour by bus. This is the prefered market, as prices are cheaper than the larger commercial markets that keep getting built around the barrio. Peruvians in this area of the city are smart, though, they know that the local market supports the local people so they rarely shop at the larger, foreign-owned stores.

At a local market
in San Juan de Lurigancho, Lima-Peru

One arrives at the local market, filled with people. Each little shop spills out onto the street in this neighbourhood and is built back up into the hillside, taking in about ten square city blocks. Each merchant sells one thing, be it shoes, purses, fish, vegetables, or fruit. There is produce, that is where it is purchased, but it all looks bruised and several days old, no doubt rejected from the larger commercial stores. Pushing the way through the crowds, there are smells of fish, poultry, and images of ducks and chickens, of sides of beef even, hanging above the displays of other pre-cut meat. Packs of dogs follow the scent, some even eating the blood or other pieces of meat that have fallen onto the gravel below.

Incredible image: meat, intestines, legs and thighs
just hanging open at the local market

It will take a couple of hours to shop for food that will likely only last in the household for a few days. This rhythm is repeated a couple of times throughout the week. Arms full of products, there is the return bus trip home. Heat, crowds, screaming babies, one waits at the stop for however long it takes for a bus to come along. Then the task of preparing food begins.

Life is gritty here. You have to be a survivor. You have to push your way through crowds and not be concerned about personal space or boundaries. Yet something else beautiful has emerged from the dusty, gritty, daily survival of life in the barrio: a deep trust and faith in the risen Lord, Jesus Christ.

And as we returned in February, we encountered it once again. We saw it in the faces of the children and parents, grandparents. We heard it in their prayers, in their stories of daily life. We experienced it as they asked us to dance and sing along with them.The trust and reliance on God is something that is not only deeply felt in the people, but it is a lived and daily reality. It is what we felt when we were there. And it is one of the missing pieces I feel upon returning to my own culture.

In Canada, we take so many things for granted: clean water; consistent electricity; basic services provided by the local and provincial governments; jobs that contribute to the running of the society; basic human rights that allow us earn a minimum wage; good health care services; an established, good education; opportunities for sports, music and arts. Yet, we often feel entitled and even deserving. We take these rights for granted and in doing so, can forget that they are gifts of God, that which God has provided for us. In our sense of entitlement, we forget that all we have has come from God and lose this sense of humility.

Yet in countries like Peru, in the barrio where San Juan Camino de Esperanza (St. John Way of Hope) is located, there is a deep sense of trust, of humility, of gratitude. There is an acknowledgement that people cannot survive daily realities of poverty, disease, poor education and health-care without God's intervention And what we have seen is God's glory, breaking into the darkness of greed and inequality which causes such disparity. We have seen God's glory, in a glimpse, in these ten days in Peru. It is here, too. God is here, in Canada. Yet it is seen with such clarity in a place like this barrio in Lima. Daily struggles, daily humility, daily walks to survive each day and make a better world for the children.

So, we continue in our mission and service to God and our neighbour, as we seek to deepen our understanding and bridge the gaps of culture that lead to strengthened faith and a deeper trust in God. May we come to acknowledge our need of God in our struggles, not the same as those of San Juan members, yet loss, change, transition. And in these times, we pray that with Christ at the centre, the church can be the safe, strengthening place for all.

With thanks to all of the participants of this Mission Exposure Trip, members of Zion Lutheran Church and Pastor Randy, for the opportunity to return to Peru and be a bridge of language and cultural understanding, to see and experience God on other soil....and become aware of how God is at work in all times and places in the world! 

Pictured with Pastor Randy and Pastora Ofelia

Grace and peace to all who pilgrim in these experiences of self-awareness and challenge. May God bless your journey and discovery, strengthening your sense of faith, humility and gratitude.

Pastora Fran.

 

Joy & Peace!

Greetings all, peace and joy to each of you!

The 10 days' return to Peru was marvelous, with a chance to reconnect with former parishioners, walk alongside friends and pastors, and to accompany a wonderful inter-generational group of Canadian Lutherans as they discovered, learned, and journeyed together!

Stay tuned...more stories  and pics to come from all of our adventures in the return to Peru!

Returning...to my heart!

Dear friends and simpatizantes,

Peace and greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, the source and centre of all life, peace, goodness, well-being and every blessing!

It has taken some time, but yes, it is true: I am a hybrid. There are the Canadian parts of me that I value and treasure,  along with some things that I reject quite strongly now! There are also the Latina parts of me that beg to be heard as well, along with some frustrations in the years living in Bolivia and Peru, things I rejected there (like showing up an hour late for a meeting and it is somehow ok?!). All in all, there is agreement of the "hybrid-ness" and the piecing together of identity, holding both parts with equal value and enthusiasm. And, as other missionary friends have re-affirmed, fully re-adapting is not the goal, but rather integrating all parts of life and experience. It has been happening, as God turns the mourning into dancing!

And there are many reasons for dancing now, as there is rejoicing and thanksgiving for the years in missionary service. And there is dancing and rejoicing as now, a year and a half later, there is a returning to Peru, a return to the children who captured my heart, a return to a church whose mission is clear, a return to the Latina who struggles to come out in this cold, frigid, hostile winter environment, and a return to a great big part of my heart that was left behind....

Our adventures in the return to Peru begin on Friday....and we pray for the Lutheran church in Peru, for the youth, children, and adults who support them, we pray for guidance and humility, for safe travels and joyous celebrating of the mission in which we are privileged to participate as children of God!

With peace, joy, and hopefulness,

Pastora Fran.

Some more reflections....

There was a shock that caught me by surprise one day, when a parishioner in my little congregation in Peru prayed (during the prayers of the people) for those who have nothing, those who live several miles from "us". He prayed that we remember the "humble, poor". It was remarkable to this young, naive, new pastor, new to this mission, new to Peru. I believed I was already serving among the humble poor, and he thought those who lived further up the main street were the poor ones.

It was a shock, yet that realization has formed and transformed me deeply. There are those who, quite literally, are orphaned, homeless, suffering with addiction, subjected to violence, suffering with illness, who cannot provide for their children or even themselves, and with next to no government support and limited medical care, these ones are, essentially abandoned by society, living with next to no hope. Those who Carlos named as the humble poor, those abandoned by their families because of their disease or illness, because of conflict or addiction, those left with no support, limited resources and often with challenges to find stable work, beaten down by the many layers of systemic injustice. These are the humble poor, and it is for these that the congregation of San Juan exists: to welcome all with the love and grace of Jesus, to provide tutoring, nutrition, health, and spiritual support and accompaniment as we witness the transformative power of Jesus Christ in our midst.

Those I served called themselves "los humildes", the humble ones. And although many struggled to provide the basics for their families, they did not consider themselves the humble poor. They were able-bodied, they had a home, a humble home but still, a home, shelter. They had some work, they had support of their families and everyone contributed to the household. It is this way because oftentimes several generations live in one household. Providing enough, that which is sufficient, meant focusing on the basics: power; potable water; food like rice, potatoes, chicken, beans, cooked vegetables. Generally for "los humildes" providing that which is sufficient means no frills, not all the cutlery or plates will match. Napkins are 1/4 of what we would consider "normal". Sometimes there are serving dishes, more often than not, food is dished up in the kitchen then served in the large dining/family area. And care and attention are given to ensure that nothing is ever wasted. Even the peel from the pineapple used in making juice for dinner.

These are the humble ones, because work can still be found, most of the time. Not a living wage, mind you, but it is something.  The humble poor may not have family or friends from which to borrow, but the humble have other resources, others willing to help, either family or friends. And sometimes, it meant they could sell a toy, a tv, cut off the power for a few days just to survive. And as was experience, most everyone in Peru and many developing countries, know how to make a dollar stretch, they re-purposed and recycled long before it was popular. How wonderful their trust in the Lord to provide, they are humble in every wonderful sense of the word. 

Ministry among the humble taught me that we can reuse and re-purpose almost anything. In our parish, we would keep and store everything, as there would be a time that it would be of use to us again, and indeed, it happened time and again. That which I would have thrown out in at attempt to clean things out, was seen as wasteful and at first, Haydee would have to stop me. What did they think of this strange, wasteful Canadian pastor? If there was any possibility of fixing that which was broken, certainly Carlos could fix it, if not his brother or cousin, or the other handyman down the street. Old plastic chairs were somehow molded together again, a new wood leg added to the old wood table to make it more sturdy. Every rusted nail kept. Even in our ministry with the children and youth, pencils, crayons and pencil-crayons were used until they could no longer be sharpened. I'd never seen such a short pencil before! Yet the necessity is there to use each item to its fullest purpose. Precious money is not invested in anything "new" until it is necessary. This is perhaps why I still use my 7+ year old lap-top with one key missing and letters hardly visible!

These years, the impact of what my Peruvian parishioners taught me is all still being reflected upon, debriefed, and integrated into my life in Canada. I hope to share these memories and value the learnings from those much more wise than me. And I also hope, as a good friend suggested, to never fully re-integrate into "northern" living but instead to be a hybrid and value both parts of my life and experience...

So...some more reflections as I pray God to keep me humble, to help us all become more humble so that we may trust in God more fully, more deeply and know a richness and depth of faith that "los humildes" experience and live each day.

With peace and grace,

Pastora Fran

Different kinds of re-entry

Dear family and friends,

The last sixteen months have resembled a roller-coaster ride; a bumpy, twisting, uncomfortable, exhilarating, emotional, and gut-wrenching ride. And I've never much appreciated amusement rides. There have been many ups and downs, unexpected turns, loud screams, fearful moments, joyous moments, and challenging, strange feelings about all of it. I still tremendously miss those in Peru who I left behind about a year and five months ago. I still pray the Lord's Prayer in Spanish as a feeble attempt to still feel connected to all that those four years meant to me and to acknowledge how transformative they were. I hold those memories, those experiences, those I served so dear in memory and in heart.

Most of our community of San Juan Camino de Esperanza,
Saint John Way of Hope

As Canadian astronaut, Chris Hadfield, returned to earth after several months on the International Space Station, there was an image on the evening news of him being helped from a helicopter, taking his first steps on earth. There was something in the image, in his stumbling walk, how he was held by others at his side to which I could relate. His adjustment involved the return to gravity with weakened muscles. And although my "re-entry" last year from life in Peru has its own unique story and was not a literal return to gravity, perhaps it was a return to a gravity of a different sort, instead to the North American "bubble".  The "bubble" of consumerism, materialism, secularism, and individualism to name a few.

It has been a vulnerable time. For several weeks and months I was just very sad and depressed, lonely for those I came to deeply love and care about. Sad for what was left behind and those whom I left behind to struggle with realities most of us North Americans can never imagine, trying to carry on the ministry with the children and youth from the surrounding barrio without a pastor or support (thankfully they now have a pastor!). For several months, I felt as if I had abandoned those I served, wanting to hop a plane at a moment's notice to go back.

Prior to church one Sunday, the girls play a game (I never could quite figure out the rules!),
in the little yard of the church compound....

At the outset, each place I returned to in Canada had its share of four years' worth of changes to adjust to, each area, each place I visited was different in some way and subconsciously, the brain makes the comparison. It was exhausting. There are other shocks or surprises along the way, too; not everyone is really interested in what happened to me in my experiences in Peru; priorities are different now; friendships have changed; we return from this time and are not the same. This is a good thing, by the way. But it means that we have stories to tell, experiences, challenges, and much to share. We have witnessed extremes of poverty, hunger, injustices, corruption, crime, pollution, overpopulation, to name a few. And so, we are not who we were and it takes time to figure out who one is now, in the re-entry, in this new reality.

All of this has left me feeling, at times, as though I had been on another planet or least in outer space, maybe on the International Space Station even. Maybe I should just be grateful to have made it safely back to Canada? No. It is so much more than that, it HAS to be about more than just feeling grateful for the opportunities and wealth, the health-care, clean water, education, etc, that we enjoy. No. This experience is much more. It changed me in every way a person can change.

But, this all leaves one feeling off-balance at times and looking like Mr. Hadfield walking on land for the first time in several months. One might feel as though one does not fit in anymore. Societal values and certainly many previously held cultural values are put into question. All things are new. The frame of reference is from a time in the past. Those of us who have lived in a developing country may have adapted more than we knew to our temporary home. We somehow accepted new cultural norms and ways of being in the world. And now, we return, to question our own cultural norms and values. Re-entry. It means so much, it challenges so much of who we are, of who we were and we continue to rediscover the depth of growth and change that has happened. What we can note is how our priorities have changed, our values, thoughts, opinions and perspectives are more clearly defined.

With our youth group of San Juan on our visit to the Museo de la Nación (National Museum),
a first elevator ride for many...a first look at the colonial history of their country...yes Machu Picchu is
not just a tourist destination, it is of historical and cultural significance to all Peruvians.

As a result of the sorrow, change, and challenge, among many other issues, it seems that I have spent time with those who understand the process of re-entry: international students; immigrants; refugees; returned missionaries; expats; those with a strong sense of global awareness; those who have experienced crises of their own, the types of challenge that these last four years brought into my life. I have spent more time with those whose cultural and societal values are in line with mine, who know that ones' value does not come from a new car or a new pair of shoes, but which rather comes from the love, grace, and acceptance of our gracious God. I have surrounded myself with those who have experienced or who are currently living cross-cultural, hybrid lives of their own, because they are immigrants, because they work in culturally diverse settings, because they work on the "other" side of the river, or have chosen to live sustainable lives.

There are still many challenges, more growth opportunities as I discover who I am now and who it is that God is calling me to be with all of those experiences of cross-cultural living. And on this new journey, one discovers the depth and wealth of God's grace and richness, and new life springs forth out of gratitude for what has been and then is able to accept and embrace those years so that they are incorporated into one's identity. Gravity, the reality, takes hold once again and it is with gratitude one continues.

Final worship service with Emaus congregation in Lima, Peru

It is with gratitude for all that has been that one can carry on. Thanks be to God for the hard, challenging years, the joyful, celebratory moments, and the many blessings that this now hybrid Canadian has experienced. May God continue to use, guide, inspire and enrich us all so that we may be faithful to God's calling in this Advent season, that our waiting may be active, and our listening, attentive to God's voice so that we may be strengthened to follow where God leads...Amen.

With hope, peace and joy...con mucha esperanza, paz y alegría continuamos en este camino de la fe!

Pastora Fran