Now, She is Just My Friend
By Lucy B., missionary in Peru
My first encounter with Sra. Lili was impactful to say the least. Still adapting to life on mission, I entered her home with two of the other missionaries. The odor of putrid urine hit me like a wall; the darkness of the room alone was despairing. This was the first experience I remember having here in Peru that was so stark. Sra. Lili was sprawled out on two couches that had been pushed together to basically enclose her. There was hardly any way to understand this poor woman; her ability to communicate the multitude of thoughts she was having was completely inhibited by the consequences of a series of strokes that were the result of a car hitting her many years back.
Over the months, I visited Sra. Lili various times and grew to learn more about her story and that of her family. Sra. Lili was a rough woman. Like many mothers here, she worked day and night to scrape together enough means to support her family. Almost 20 years ago, while Lili was working with her children in the central market, a catastrophic building fire took the life of two of her young children and at least 9 other relatives. Battered and bruised by life’s ruthless circumstances, Lili also struggled with a rampant addiction to alcohol. The Lili I have had the honor of knowing is not the Lili who once was, but I can see the many traces of the difficult life she’s led.
It’s always a challenge to hold a conversation with Sra. Lili when her granddaughter Fani is not around. One day, I had the idea to take Sra. Lili out for a walk in her wheelchair. I was determined to help Sra. Lili get some fresh air and enjoy the sunshine, but leaving the perimeters of the house meant I was on my own to navigate understanding Sra. Lili. That day, I received something far greater than Sra. Lili did by taking a turn about her neighborhood. The day I took a walk in the sunshine with Sra. Lili was the first day I can distinctly remember understanding and having a true conversation with her on my own. And more than that, the true comfort I felt in her presence. Sitting in the park, sunshine on our faces, we chatted as friends, and sometimes just sat hand in hand enjoying each other’s presence.
Just a month ago, I had the great joy to go visit Sra. Lili for her 67th birthday with the other missionaries. Amongst many family members and neighbor girls and the other volunteers I live with, I plopped down next to my dear friend Sra. Lili. All I could think to myself was, “Wow, 67 years of life…of a life that’s been so hard, a life that is waning but hasn’t even reached 70 years in length.” And at that moment, I had a realization. The hesitancy I once felt to greet this woman with a kiss on her food splattered cheek didn’t exist anymore. The distaste I once felt for helping her eat as she spits and chokes the food back up didn’t exist anymore. The awkwardness I might have once felt about changing her diaper or dressing her didn’t exist anymore. Because the tenderness and love I feel toward this great friend of mine is more than any physical discomfort her situation includes. Because after time and time of confronting my own inability to wholeheartedly love Sra. Lili, I could truly say that she’s just my friend.