A Jungle that's not a Jungle, a Soup that's not a Soup, and a Family that's not a Family

April 07, 2015

A week and a half ago, several of us visited a town called Mindo for the weekend. Mindo is a gorgeous town surrounded and infiltrated by a jungle that's not a jungle. Many of the trees have leaves spanning at least two feet across and flowers of various shades of yellow and red. Butterflies, hummingbirds, and lizards are everywhere. While we were there, it constantly rained this soft kind of rain that draws people to it rather than sending them indoors. It's the jungle. Unless you live there. Ecuadorians consider it a forest. Our best guess is they want to differentiate this section of the country (the sierra) from the jungle region. Two months ago, we actually went to the Ecuadorian "jungle." It did not look as jungly as Mindo. And yet, this jungle of Mindo is not a jungle. But it's definitely a jungle.

Kensley, Matias, me, Ashley, and Rachel (Aric took the picture)

When we arrived on Saturday, we were hoping the hotel would have an extra bed because we brought six people for only five reservations. They were booked solid, but they offered us a house a couple blocks away at a discounted price. The hotel manager was very apologetic because this meant we had to walk to the hotel for breakfast and activities. A perfect three bedroom house with balconies and big windows within walking distance of the hotel and downtown? We were heartbroken. We dropped our bags, grabbed a quick lunch, and went out to find some waterfalls. Our taxi was the back of a pick-up truck and a cable car above a deep canyon. We hiked up and down hills, over bridges, and through the rain to four different waterfalls. Everything was gorgeous. Later in the afternoon a couple of us toured a chocolate factory. We learned all about the 25 day process from tree to candy bar. The second best part was seeing that they use a giant marble slab to cool the chocolate, just like my brother, dad, and grandma. The best part was tasting the pure, bitter chocolate with different spices and syrups. Actually the best part was the brownies.

Sunday morning, the rest of our group went horseback riding through the mountains (and the rain). I volunteered to watch the house and listen to the rain instead. There's nothing quite as relaxing as reading in a wooden house when it's raining. Of course, reading on the ledge of a balcony in the jungle is pretty great too. When they returned, we grabbed another quick lunch, and Matias and I headed back into the jungle for some zip lining. After some brief safety instructions in Spanish, we flew above the trees into the jungle. Our group included tourists from Ecuador, Venezuela, Argentina, and Germany. We took about ten different lines of varying heights and lengths. On a couple, we were far enough from the trees to go with a guide who helped us ride upside down or on our stomachs. It was pretty hot, but I favored heat over bug bites. Even with bug spray, shoes with holes was a poor choice. The bites were well worth the experience. We got back to the house just in time to grab our bags and run to the bus.

On the morning of Good Friday, we canceled class but got up early anyway to make a soup that's not a soup. It's called fanesca. It's a traditional Good Friday dish made with 12 different types of beans (representing the twelve disciples) and fish (representing Jesus) and pumpkin, hard-boiled egg, fried dough, cheese, empanadas, and fried plantains (representing nothing). It ends up being a very thick chowder eaten from a bowl with a spoon. A soup. Unless you are Ecuadorian, in which case it is certainly not soup. Kind of like chili. Except not because chili obviously is not soup where fanesca obviously is.

So, there are two types of beans that need to be peeled before they go in the fanesca. Two out of twelve. Not too much. Unfortunately, we were making fanesca for the entire seminary. And the community church. Seven of us peeled beans for an hour and did not finish. At that point, we gave up, threw on some sunscreen (well, I put on sunscreen) and went to the parade. The parade of men walking barefoot carrying crosses (some large, some small, some of cactus, and some wrapped in barbed wire) up a hill to the church as penance for their sins. It was delightful. Afterward, we returned to the seminary for the finished fanesca. It was delicious. It was creamy and earthy and you could hardly taste the fish.

This third thing actually happened the weekend we were in Mindo, but I saved it for last for illustration's sake. Last week, we had to send a team member home. She was hurting the team and unwilling to change, so we had to send her home. During the past three months, our team has become a family. We know the sounds of each other's laughs, and, especially now, the sounds of each other's cries. We know how to make each other smile and how to drive each other crazy. We eat together, play together, learn together, and pray together. Sending someone away was extremely difficult because we are a family who will be starting a church, and families and churches should never send people away. However, we are a family that's not a family. We look like a family and feel like a family, but we are a team. A team with a purpose. Our purpose is to make disciples to the glory of God. We must be a unified force for our church and our disciples. This means we cannot be a family. As strange as it sounds, this has not stopped us from being a family. In fact, it has made us more humble, vulnerable, and compassionate with each other. Our purpose and desire has been clarified: we are here together to serve God's will for the people of Cordoba, Argentina. We can laugh and tease, but we cannot tear down. We can work hard, but we cannot stand alone. I am incredibly privileged to lean on, lift up, and learn from this wonderful family that God has given me.