The picture painted around me is bright, abstract, blurry. Soundwaves of a foreign music echo through my ears, make their way through my body and even manage to touch my heart. A smile is permanently glued to my face. The expression, “There’s no place I’d rather be,” came from times like these.

I skip around a dusty floor. I don’t mind that the floor is dusty. I join hands with small girls with little black braids and bald men from my church congregation back at home. I don’t mind that their hands are sweaty. I am where I want to be. The roof I’m under is located in a small town outside of Lima, Peru called Huaycan. In this moment I know that there’s something greater than us, blending our two completely different cultures into a new color, more beautiful than any two shades alone. The overwhelming warmth of joy blankets  and suffocates me in the most blissful way imaginable.

As I continue to watch the little black braids swing in a dance to the native peruvian music, I have trouble understanding the words even though I know our hearts are singing the exact same song. A new warm hand that is half the size of my own becomes intertwined with my fingers and before long, I too am swept into the celebration. My eyes notice the bracelet, colorful and loved dearly; it is wrapped around the tiny wrist. This creation made out of two-dollar string and cheap beads that read, “GOD LOVES YOU,” makes Esperanza’s week. I’m unsure if her delicate mind will remember this moment, but it will be ingrained in mine for the rest of my days. We sing, we dance, we skip, we laugh. There’s a string that is bonding us and tying us all together. It is what’s intertwining our hands with one another. You can’t physically see it. You can’t physically touch it, but everyone in the room can feel its presence. The whole week long while you’ve hiked up mountains or made styrofoam hats with the kids, you have felt the string pulling you even more tightly together. I look around and see that while others may have just thin, frayed threads, others have luscious woolen yarn; I realize that all play apart in the beautiful quilt that is being created.

I start to dance and twirl again to the song of unknown words, but I know that this is my song of worship. This is my song of praise.