We Pray for Children

We pray for children who sneak popsicles before supper,who erase holes in math workbooks,who can never find their shoes.

And we pray, for those who stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,who can’t bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers,who never “counted potatoes,”who are born in places where we wouldn’t be caught dead,who never go to the circus,who live in an X-rated world.

We pray for children who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,Who sleep with the cat and bury goldfish,Who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money,Who squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,Who slurp their soup.

And we pray for those who never get dessert,who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,who watch their parents watch them die,who can’t find any bread to steal,who don’t have any rooms to clean up,whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,whose monsters are real.

We pray for children who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,who like ghost stories,who shove dirty clothes under the bed,and never rinse out the tub,who get visits from the tooth fairy,who don’t like to be kissed in front of the carpool,who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,whose tears we sometimes laugh atand whose smiles can make us cry.

And we pray for those whose nightmares come in the daytime,who will eat anything,who have never seen a dentist,who aren’t spoiled by anybody,who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,who live and move, but have no being.

We pray for children who want to be carriedand for those who must,for those we never give up onand for those who don’t get a second chance.For those we smother…and for those who will grab the hand of anybodykind enough to offer it.

We pray for children. Amen

Ina Hughs

I want a life that sizzles and pops…

“I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines and sing out loud in the car with the windows open and wear pink shoes and stay up all night laughing and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets and throw parties and eat ripe tomatoes and read books so good they make me jump up and down, and I want my everyday to make God belly laugh, glad that he gave life to someone who loves the gift,¨ (Shauna Niequist).

So it has been a while since my last post. In fact, just about 2 months since today marks my 8 month anniversary here in Ecuador, with four months still to go.  In my mind, 8 months marks the beginning of the third chapter in my year here. Beginning, middle, and end, right? I thought that this realization would make me sad and stressed out, but instead it has motivated me to aprovechar, to make the most of the time I still do have here.  

I have been putting off a blog post for a while now, as the more incredible and challenging things that happen, the more difficult it seems to be to buckle down and put them all into words.  I hope you all will forgive me if I cut out most of what has happened and just focus on a moment.

Today also marks the birthday of a dear friend and neighbor here in Monte Sinai.  This strong and awe-inspiring woman has been one of the more life-giving presences here during my year, and she has taught me what it really means to acompany someone, not just in celebrations but also in struggles and hardships–to sit with someone knowing that it is not going to be easy, that I am going to hear things that tear me apart, that I am going to feel a frustration and helplessness that may have no outlet, that I will watch as my vision clouds with my own tears to match hers.

 But also, that there will come a time when we share in celebrations as well, when I am blessed with the opportunity to help her celebrate her birthday with her very first birthday party of her life, that I can dance with her for hours on end, lovingly smash her face into a cake, and see a smile on her face filled with tears that shine with a life of their own. 

Life was sizzling and popping, and we felt alive.

Just Love

“Today I do not want to step so quickly over a beautiful line on God’s palm as I move through the earth’s marketplace today. I do not want to touch any object in this world without my eyes testifying to the truth that everything is my Beloved. Something has happened to my understanding of existence that now makes my heart always full of wonder and kindness. I do not want to step so quickly over this sacred place on God’s body that is right beneath your own foot, as I dance with precious Life today,¨ (Hafiz).

So we have reached and passed the six month point of this experience in the community of Monte Sinai, Ecuador; this also means that we have passed the halfway point of my experience and that I will never have as many days left as I have already lived here.  I think that this undeniable truth has adapted how I have been thinking about home and about my time here, with thoughts surrounding life after this year never far from my mind.

Every moment has begun to take on a greater sense of importance, and in response I have tried to infuse each moment with a greater intentionality and purpose.  I had found myself going through the motions more frequently before the retreat, and so like always our retreat came at the perfect time.  Most of my reflection during the retreat surrounded taking advantage of what time we do have left here, and looking into how I can continue to go deeper and to both see and be the Rostro de Cristo in and to our neighbors.

Unsurprisingly, our retreat focused around our relationships with our neighbors and the realities in which they live. For one especially moving prayer service, we wrote down the names of many of our neighbors as well as a specific prayer we had for each one of them. After each name was read we sang “Presente,” a statement of accompaniment and solidarity that signifies that they are not alone in their struggle, and even when we can do nothing, we can be with them, and that is something.  It was really painful hearing all of the unimaginable struggles that my loved ones here are living—struggles like hunger, curable sickness, sexual assault, domestic violence, abuse, neglect—struggles that ought have no place in this world. At times all I want to do is curl up into a ball and shut out everything; at times I feel such a fiery passion inside of me that wants to fight for them, to scream and scream and scream until people have no choice but to join together and do something about it, even just to shut me up so they can go back to their peace and quiet. But sometimes, all I can do is sit in a circle with 13 amazing volunteers on a retreat in Manta—13 people with the same commitment to this community and this family—to sit with them and sing the prayer of our spirit: Presente! We are present, you are not alone. This prayer and proclamation seems like nothing, but it something. Solidarity. Accompaniment. Over these last 6 months, I have come to believe in the power of these words—their ability to inspire hope, to mitigate suffering, to radiate light, and to move mountains. It may not seem like much, but it is what I have.

“I was sad one day and I went for a walk. I sat in a field. A rabbit noticed my condition and came near. it often does not take more than that to help at times—to just be close to creatures who are so full of knowing, so full of love that they don’t . . . chat, they just gaze with their marvelous understanding,” (St. John of the Cross).

We were asked to come up with a mission statement for the next six months. I struggled greatly with this task; how can I sum up the myriad hopes and desires I have for the rest of my time here in one simple statement? Throughout the retreat I had been reading a book called Love Poems for God as well as The Gift by Hafiz; poetry had been very much on my mind.  I think that these books and this way of living greatly influenced my own mission statement—which really turned into more of a life statement or a tuning fork off of which I can re-orient my days and my life:

“To carry joy and love in my soul’s arms and, with that gift, to embrace everyone around me.”

I think that this statement resonated greatly with me for a few reasons.  I like the image of joy and love as gifts inherently meant to be shared, not as accomplishments meant to be paraded and flaunted around.  Holding and carrying love in my arms is an image that reminds me that love should always be with me in words, deeds, thoughts, and presence.  The “soul’s arms” imagery speaks to me because of the importance of physical touch and affection in my life, the ability of arms and hands to comfort, to share, to support, to lift up. To embrace.  Hugs are one way I show love for others, and I love the thought that through an embrace the love I carry is gifted to others. With the rule of transitive properties—or maybe not, I am not really a science guy—when two things touch, something of each is left on the other. In an embrace, self-gifting love—and thus, God—Is.

I have been looking back recently on conversations I have had with those back home about this experience, as well as on the indescribable time that I have had here during the last half year.  One common theme—or rather, disconnect—that has come up between expectations from others and my lived experience connects to the concept of accompaniment.  “So, what exactly do you do?”  How I have struggled to adequately answer that question.  What do I do? I teach neighbors how to make really cool 3D paper snowflakes. I get my nails painted by young girls who dream of castles and huge pink dresses. I get playfully lectured about how boys should not really wear nail polish.  I get cut by rocks playing soccer in the would-never-be-approved-in-the-US cancha, but the kids are by my side playing too so I play on. I sing Justin Bieber songs and that Titanic theme over and over and over and over and over ad nauseum, and I’ll keep on singing those songs because I do it for them.  I eat plate after plate of food offered freely, even if it means they may eat less, because they leave me no choice and how is that for love.  I spin kids round in circles till I can’t see straight, and I get bruised as I catch child after child as they literally throw themselves off a ledge into my arms, and how is that for trust.  I lay in a hammock staring at a forlorn face as she tells me of the Abuse and my eyes sweat compassion.  I wipe the tears from a young girl’s face when picked last for a game, and I feel tears myself when she squeals DAVIIIIIIIID as I stride up our hill to work.  I watch my godson score goal after goal and then pat a younger kid on his back who was being bullied for his mistake, and I feel nothing but pride in all that he is. And in every moment, I strive to love.

Just love.

I do not know what I am doing, but I do know that, at this moment in my life, I cannot see myself doing anything else. Happy Día de San Valentín.

¨God came to my house and asked for charity.

And I fell on my knees and

Cried, ´Beloved,

What may I

Give?´

´Just love,´ He said.

´Just love.´¨

-St. Francis Assisi

The Gate of Heaven is Everywhere

Año Nuevo con Ariana

“At the center of our being is… a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God,…which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us… It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely…I have no program for this seeing.  It is only given.  But the gate of heaven is everywhere,¨(Thomas Merton).

So it is with shame that I type the reality that is has been over two months since my last blog post.  I know those reading these are few, but from the many of you who have asked me about it, it has become clear that in some small way this does extend outside of myself.  It seems that the more meaningful and moving memories I gain, the harder it becomes to pen them.  Since I last wrote, Thanksgiving has happened, Christmas came and went, as did New Year´s, and today we just said goodbye to our second retreat group we led.

Recently I re-stumbled upon this prayer by Thomas Merton and it really resonated with me for reasons that are still unfolding.  These few months have been filled with a fair share of luchas and struggles, but through it all I have become acutely aware of this spark in every interaction and every individual, including myself.  Not exactly revelatory per se, but for me this has been a refreshing jolt out of my normal funk and a fasttrack to coming to appreciate the true blessing that this year has been and continues to be for me.

Of course, having retreat groups helps this significantly.  They provide us with fresh and eager eyes with which we can see our lives and our community.  As we accompany the groups of visits to our neighbors, we are able to hear their stories again with a new attentiveness, having to translate what we are hearing into English.  Things we may have forgotten, grown accustomed to, or even not known, can come out in unexpected ways during these visits which have been surprising blessings.

It has been strange being away from family during especially Thanksgiving and Christmas season, two times that I have always spent with family before this year.  Our first retreat came the week before Christmas, so I was right in the midst of my homesickness while going through Advent and eager preparation for Christmas with our neighbors while a group of visitors were present.  This dynamic took getting used to, but it also allowed us to get to the heart of the Christmas season especially by asking meaningful questions and seeing the answers through the eyes of the visitors.  One of the visits in particular stood out to me as a vecina was asked what she would be doing to celebrate Christmas. She said (translated) ¨nothing special, the money really isn´t there for a big celebration. But then, how better to celebrate the birth of Christ and His active and daily presence in my life than to have a normal meal with family that I love. Every day I am blessed, and every day I give thanks for Christ in my life and in the lives of my family. They are everything to me, and that is celebration enough. We don´t have much, but we have enough. And that is something for which I can give thanks.¨ That pretty much sums up my experience celebrating Christmas here. The celebrations were simple, gifts not always expected, but each celebration was filled with life, and with an intentional focus on family and on being grateful–.something I often have forgotten in my own anticipation of Christmas morning.  The evening of Nochebuena, Christmas Eve, I stopped by the houses of a few of our vecinos to share in a simple Christmas meal.  Each time, I was greeted with a chorus of ¨David!¨, open arms, a large plate of food, and a warm cup of chocolate.  We all went around at the dinner table before eating and said something for which we were grateful.  Even my two year old neighbor said she was grateful I was there, grateful for her mom, and grateful for her hot chocolate! I later celebrated through dance with another neighbor and their two joyfilled daughters.  I have found myself again and again thrown out of my comfort zone and made to be open and vulnerable before my neighbors, and through that experience I become closer to them and more easily in touch with the presence, the spark, of the divine all around me.

A New Year´s tradition here in Ecuador I have entirely gotten behind is the burning of ¨viejos.¨ Viejos are basically large dolls made of paper maché or old clothes.  At the turn of the new year, vecinos will take the viejo filled with fireworks, douse it in gasoline, and light it on fire–the symbolism being that their old struggles, hardships, suffering burns away and our neighbors watch them be carried away with the smoke as they start anew with the turn of the year.  I was blessed to share this moment with the grandkids of one of our neighbors. With a small six year old in my arms, we slowly turned in circles watching the fireworks, looking at the burning viejos, hearing the shouting of Feliz Año, seeing other hopefilled neighbors and community members dancing and looking skyward.  I am so unbelievably blessed here in Monte Sinaí, Ecuador.  And just when I start to forget it, that reality bursts forth and iluminates my every interaction here.  Truly the gate of Heaven is everywhere, and that especially rings true for me here in Monte Sinaí.

The Ebb and Flow

“It is true there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea” (Vincent van Gogh).

Firstly, I would like to apologize for how long it has been since my last blog post. Life has been a bit more in the “ebb” of late.  I don’t fool myself into thinking people depend on these in any way, but I feel at least to those who ask about how my experience is going, that I have a commitment to share this experience with others.  Anyway, I am hoping to rectify that here.

What a whirlwind these last few weeks have been! Both good and bad, life-giving and challenging.  When I re-read this quote by van Gogh, it perfectly reminded me of various experiences in the last 3 weeks and it helped me to resign myself to the inevitability of these struggles and celebrations.  My dad would say that this “ebb and flow” is simply a daily living out of the Paschal Mystery, of suffering, death, and new life. I like that.

Right around the same time, I discovered two things: one life-giving, and one immensely challenging.  Firstly, I discovered that the Boston Red Sox were going to the World Series, and secondly, that my grandmother Memere had a major stroke while leading a pilgrimage through Italy.  The thing about news down here in Ecuador is that all of it, good and bad, seems faintly distant—a bit surreal.  The elation I normally would feel about knowing that the Red Sox were in the World Series was a bit muted by a distant removal to the current reality in which I am living.  Conversely, the despair, fear, and desperation I felt upon hearing the news of my grandmother would quickly fade into numbness as I was forced to deal with the many harsh realities that exist here in Monte Sinai.  I would then re-remember what had happened, and I would be harsh with myself for having momentarily pushed the memory aside.  I have felt no greater hopelessness here than when I felt unable to help my Memere and unable to deal with the devastating realities of the families where I live.  I couldn’t deal with the reality my family was facing back home nor the reality in my new home of Monte Sinaí.  I needed a whole-hearted acceptance and understanding of the ebb and flow, the Paschal Mystery of life.

My growing relationships with two families in particular seem to underline the Paschal Mystery of my life here.   Firstly, two new kids have started coming to the Centro de Referencia del Proyecto Salesiano Chicos de la Calle (Refuerzo) where I work.  They are truly wonderful kids and each day since they started coming they have blessed me with their joy and their love—and yes, their appreciation of me and my presence as well.  I have had many days where I wondered what I was doing there, if anyone cared whether or not I was there, etc. The girl asked me if I wanted to visit their home after Refuerzo one day, and I immediately said yes.  I walked home with the two of them, holding hands, a witness to the excitement they felt.  As we approached the house, I noticed that the girl was becoming a bit hesitant. She pointed to the house and said “here we are; I will see you tomorrow then” (in Spanish).  It became clear that she was nervous, even a bit shameful, about the home life in which she lived.  I asked her if she had “verguenza,” and she nodded to me timidly.  I told her that I live in an area very similar to hers, that I wasn’t here to judge but simply to allow her to share her life and her family with me, and that I was excited to be a part of that. She brightened a bit, and called to her mom who let me in.  This entire visit, and the many to follow, have oscillated between the death and new life of the Mystery.  I discovered that their sister of fifteen or so has a three year old child with one man and is pregnant with a child from another.  The kids were worried that I would judge this reality, when instead all I felt was an overwhelming sense of sadness.  She must have been around eleven when she became pregnant, changing her life forever. At eleven, I don’t want to even imagine the circumstances that led to her pregnancy.  I felt frustration at the over-sexualization of women here in Ecuador, of the gender roles that oppress women and lift up men, that tell a woman that her greatest aspiration is to find a man who will give her children and to raise those children while a man is told to strive for a family and a career and whatever else he wants, and I was enraged at the lack of protection and support for young women who continue to be taken advantage of daily by men too blinded by the oppression and inequality of this reality to know how devastating it truly is.  All of these thoughts rushed through my head, but never a thought of judgment on the kiddos or on this family.  As I pushed past these thoughts, I was able to enjoy the company of their family, and the light they still possess in their lives.  I was invited to come over and watch a horror movie (I said yes, so those who know me must realize how much these kids must mean to me).  Throughout this week, I have been blessed by an even greater excitement and joy they share with me, and an endless sharing of affection that never ceases to give me life and a glimpse into the Love that God has for me and for them.  Though struggles and sufferings are inevitable, these chances at new life and of life-giving encounters give me the strength to push through and hope for a better day.

In a similar light, near where I live there is a family with two kids—and these kids may just be the cutest in the history of kids, just so we are clear.  Whenever they see me, I get a scream of “DAVID” and a dramatic sprint to me where I get two jumping-and-spinning-around-in-the-air hugs.  What more can you want out of life? After walking the kids to school one day, I came back to their house and sat down to talk with their mother.  I talked about her kids for a short while and how much they meant to me, and she commented that although she is married the kids are from another man in a previous marriage. Throughout the next few hours, I discovered that when the kids were very young, this woman was beaten often by her ex-husband, and eventually she decided to leave him—a decision that presents a whole new set of challenges in a society when women are pressured to be financially dependent on their husbands.  In spite of this, she raised her kids alone for five years before getting married again.  Once again, her current husband goes off to drink the money he makes and then beats her when she complains about it. He often leaves for days to spend time with his mistress who also lives in Guayaquil.  She confronted him about this as well, and again she was beaten.  I felt the same numbness as a precursor to the rage that was certain to come at these harsh realities and at the men who lived them out.  However, before I could get to that point, she started talking about how proud she was of herself.  Through her talent with beautification, she made enough money to by the Hogar de Cristo house in which they live—it is in her name.  She solely paid for the large birthday party they just had for her son, and she pays for the clothes, books, and education of her children—with no help from her husband.  I could see her swell with pride, and I couldn’t help but do the same.  I hate the reality in which many of those with whom I am growing close live, but I am consistently in awe of those who live in it, and their willingness to share their struggles and their joys with me.

For as many life-giving moments that I have had, I could feel the struggles starting to overwhelm me.  I needed some time to clear my head, to process, and as if on cue my Rostro community of seven decided to vacation for the weekend to the beautiful colonial city of Cuenca.  In the mountainous Sierra, I was amazed by the natural beauty, the cobblestone roads, the beautiful indigenous crafts and culture.  It also reminded me of the blessing of support that each of my community-mates gives, and the life-giving strength that they provide to those who need it.

I came home after the weekend exhausted, but with a greater appreciation of my Rostro community and my community of Monte Sinaí.  I think I am always going to struggle with the ebbs in life, but that is why there is a flow as well.  The Red Sox have won the World Series, my grandmother is back home with loved ones and has just yesterday activated some of the muscles in her previously paralyzed left side, my relationships with the aforementioned families continue to grow stronger, and I feel more prepared to deal with future struggles possessing the hope of new life.  This cyclical nature allows us to struggle and to feel a need for something greater, something beyond ourselves, and it imbibes us with the willingness to accept it.

The Power of Presence

 

¨The love of our neighbor in its fullness means being able to say to him/her ´What are you going through?´It is a recognition that the sufferer exists, not only as a unit in a collection or a specimen from the social category labeled ´unfortunate´, but as a human, exactly like us, who was one day stamped by a special mark by affliction.  By being truly attentive, the soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being it is looking at, just as he/she is, in all his/her truth,¨(Simone Weil).

These last few weeks have been ¨vacation weeks¨ for me, meaning that I did not go to work today.  This also means that I have ended up having more than twice the time to go and accompany our many neighbors in Monte Sinaí.  What a blessing that has been! I made a commitment to intentionally focus on having longer and more purposeful visits where I can really say to the person with whom I am visiting that I am all theirs and let the visit go where it may.  The idea of stopping the clock-watching I am so prone to and giving up my desire to control a situation in the name of accompaniment is not only really counter-cultural, but also really counter to my own natural instincts; however, it has been remarkably life-giving.

During these weeks, I have been able to cook with many of my vecinos, something understated that has allowed me feel significantly more a part of this community and of these families.  Most of the children here in Monte Sinaí attend school in the mornings, meaning their afternoons are free. Normally I am working during this time, but due to vacations I have been able to find life in playing and interacting with them as well.  I have even taken a few naps in various hammocks and beds at vecinos´houses.  There is something really refreshing about knowing I have the confianza with these families where I can almost literally make their houses my own; allowing myself to be authentic and vulnerable in these moments have also helped me to shed myself of the need to fill the silence with awkward small talk and patiently allow the moments to fill themselves so that genuine relationship can come about.

A few moments in particular have reminded me of the importance of being authentically attentive, and the beauty that can come from accomplishing this.  I recently met and have grown close to a Mormon family who lives near our Rostro house. I have loved playing with her three kids, cooking together with the mother, and watching their favorite television programs.  However, until recently we have avoided topics surrounding faith.  Two Mormon missionaries happened to come by while I was visiting with this family, and that suddenly changed.  I found myself engaging in open dialogue about the importance of my faith, how I have seen it playing out here, why I am Catholic, where I find life in the Church etc.  In return, I was able to be open to their faith stories as well, and I found surprising beauty in them–and a surprising number of parallels as well to my own.  In the ¨Articles of Faith¨ in the Book of Mormon, I was shown a passage that says something to the extent of everyone has the right to practice whatever faith they hold in whatever way they find life as we all strive to live out Christ´s message of justice, hope, and love.  I was surprised to read it (in Spanish), but I found beauty in it and in their eloquent defenses of it. Discussions surrounding faith seem to take on a life of their own down here in Monte Sinaí, and I feel consistently carried along by the Spirit ever-present in all whom I meet and all that I see, in both the life-giving and the challenging.

For the first time since being here in Ecuador, I participated in Eucharistic Adoration.  One of my wonderful community-mates asked one of the Madres who are in charge of the local school/church that I attend every Sunday (San Felipe) if we could use the chapel for our spirituality night that week.  Therefore, the seven of us in my community had the adoration to ourselves, where we could individually share in an experience that was both deeply communal and deeply personal.  I took the time for many things, but one of them was reflecting on each person in my community and how I have seen Christ in them throughout my time here.  This opportunity allowed me to be truly present to the moment, to those around me, and to the Spirit moving within each of us.  I have participated in Adoration many times throughout my life, but never quite like this.  Lord, be my arrow guiding my camino, and I will follow.

On a humorous note, I recently participated in a few encounters during which a purposeful attentiveness contributed to the very reason the moments remain memorable to me.  A few days ago, I was babysitting two young children as the mother went off to the Centro and the father took a much-needed nap.  Neither of the two children are capable of comprehensible speaking, which always makes for interesting encounters.  We all went out to their porch outside their house and I lifted the two onto the railing, holding tightly onto both of them as we watched some men playing pelota with the setting sun as their backdrop.  The youngest girl starts making sounds andn excitedly pointing, to which I say something in Spanish. The older brother laughs and points to something else.  The girl again makes sounds and then frowns in contemplation; I try to imagine what should could have been trying to convey, and I again respond in Spanish. She nods fervently and hugs me. This goes on for over ten minutes.  I still don´t know if what I was saying had any connection to what she was trying to convey, nor if she even understood what I myself was trying to convey. All that I know is in that moment, it didn´t matter. What mattered was our being attentive and present to the moment, capable of experiencing the power of connection and the wordless communication that carries.

Gracias Dios por la fuerza a seguir adelante.

I´m a Little Piece of a Big Big Universe

¨When it all goes quiet behind my eyes/ I see everything that made me/ Flying around in invisible pieces/ When I look too hard/ It goes away/ But when it all goes quiet/ I see they´re right here/ I see that I´m a little piece/ Of a big big universe/ And that makes things right,¨ (Beasts of the Southern Wild).

A bit scratched up and bug-bitten, I return from a fantastic retreat to Santo Domingo just next door to the Sierra.  This retreat was for volunteers of the Proyecto Salesiano, an organization based on the charism of love and charity towards children that Saint Don Bosco showed throughout his life.  I work as a volunteer at the Centro de Referencia which is on the first line of defense in creating a preventative presence for young kids and on the streets in order to combat the growing problem of homelessness, abuse, and neglect in kids.  I often feel very distanced from the greater Proyecto Salesiano since a lot of what I do seems to simply be homework help and playing with kids, but this weekend retreat helped to provide insight to my role in the greater mission of what we do with the Proyecto Salesiano.

These past few weeks have provided me with more than enough moments of love for my job and absolute frustration with the kids at Refuerzo where I work.  The first few months I was working predominately with helping kids do their homework, but through house visits and spending time to see the situations from which these kids come, I have begun to view my work as much more than that.  It is hard to understand the extent to which the veil of poverty shrouds everything that we are experiencing here in Monte Sinaí, but it does.  Spending more and more time with those I have met here, this reality becomes all too clear.  Coming to this insight has been rewarding because it has motivated me to be slower to judge and quicker to put myself out there and really take the time to develop relationships.  

Last week I spent an entire day with one of my neighbors, from the morning until it was time to go home after dark for dinner.  It was such a blessing.  Rarely have I felt so heard, so present, and so willing to listen and accompany.  Talking about  everything under the sun, and then getting the chance to play and interact with her kids when they returned from school, I was better able to see how all of these pieces fit together to create the reality that exists here.  

After the wonderful retreat in Santo Domingo, I have felt even more blessed to be a part of the Fundación Rostro de Cristo.  The framework that it provides and the Rostro lens through which we see everything and everyone truly feels unique, and unfortunately is not something that all visiting volunteers share.  Allowing my faith to truly inspire me and to motivate my actions is something that I have often talked about but has scarcely been such a present truth than it has been for me here in Ecuador.  On a visit to the home of one of the niñas at my work and praying with her family in their only room which houses 8 people, hearing a woman who was just diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis talking about how blessed she is and how God is always with her, spending an entire day with a woman and her family as we push past the normal barriers that exist between us and allow ourselves to be fully present and aware of the invisible bond that connects us and draws us to each other and to all those around us, these experiences make me ever aware of the interconnectedness of all whom I encounter here.  And that makes things right.

Community Trip up the Mountain (Fotos Por Fin!)

Be Kind, Very Kind

¨None of us has the right to condemn anyone. Even though we see some people doing something bad, we don’t know why they are doing it. Jesus invites us to not pass judgement. Maybe we are the ones who have helped make them what they are. We need to realise that they are our brothers and sisters…This is something that we should never forget. Jesus Christ identified Himself with them and says, “Whatever you did to the least of My brethren, you did it to Me.” Perhaps it is because we haven’t given them our understanding and love that they find themselves on the streets without love and care.      I believe that we should realise that poverty doesn’t only consist in being hungry for bread, but rather it is a tremendous hunger for human dignity. We need to love and to be somebody for someone else. This is where we make our mistake and shove people aside. Not only have we denied the poor a piece of bread, but by thinking that they have no worth and leaving them abandoned in the streets, we have denied them the human dignity that is rightfully theirs as children of God. And why am I not in their place? This should be a very important question. We could have been in their place without having received the love and affection that has been given to us…Be kind, very kind, to the suffering poor. We little realize what they go through. The most difficult poverty is not being wanted,¨(Mother Teresa).

This reflection by Madre Teresa has really resonated with me recently, and I don´t think it is too difficult to realize why that may be.  As I have recovered my health these last few weeks, I have been more able to go back to spending my free time with vecinos and putting myself out there more into the community of Monte Sinaí. This has been a great blessing, but it also has been difficult as I have come to experience in a greater degree the reality in which our vecinos are living.  

I have been in situations where a parent has started physically disciplining her child right in front of me, something that I would not support myself, and I had to struggle with my natural instinct of placing judgment on this person whom I have grown to greatly care about.  Of course they are the same person I thought so highly of right before this moment, but they are in a very very different situation from which I have been raised and likely will return to.  This is something I will continue to struggle with throughout the year, but it is a very present reality for our vecinos here.

At times I have found myself being very short with my kiddos at Refuerzo Escolar where I work.  A fight that breaks out or a disrespectful comment can contribute to the chaotic environment in a way that makes me question at times what I am doing and why I am doing it.  In an effort to better understand what the greater Proyecto Salesiano Don Bosco does, I decided to accompany my jefe in the mornings.  During this time, I have gone on house visits to children that attend Refuerzo, as well as visits to children through the Chicos de la Calle program who come from severely abusive and neglecting families and have tried to work to remove them to a safe and supportive environment.  These visits have challenged me, but they have also opened my eyes to the greater mission towards which I am working at my job, not simply doing homework help but working to provide this environment for children in need.  On one of these visits, we met with a child who was expelled from his school the day before for frequently fighting with the other children there.  He had an attitude, was resistent to our help, but eventually agreed to go to Refuerzo and try to take advantage of the support we may be able to provide.  My first thought was ¨great, another disruptive and violent kid on the loose at my work.¨ However, Madre Teresa´s reflections helped shed greater insight on the situation.  As I took  myself back to that visit, I realized the drastically different situation from which he came. The scarcely present parental presence, the history of abuse in his family, the violence prevalent in his neighborhood.  I started to see this kid in a way that emphasized not his own history with violence but that emphasized the mission of my program and the ways in which our providing the opportunities we have could be the understanding and love he needs to realize a true change in his life.  Who knows if that will be the case, but this perspective has helped me find a patience I didn´t know I had for the children with whom I work, and it has helped me to share my own gifts with the kiddos, those who share love with me as well, and those whose love is a bit harder to see.

As I continued on this train of thought, I began to recognize the incredible commitment that our vecinos have to the community in which they live.  This is something that is often missing from communities in the States: a true desire to support others without a thought for the benefit to self.  We recently participated in a Bingo Bailable at one of the local parishes, Corpus Christi.  It was one of the hottest days we have experienced here in Ecuador, and it was brutal.  Dozens of people curled up uncomfortably under small tables to hide from the sun.  During one of my courageous excursions from under the shade across the lot, I noticed a man with a large cane bamboo-like shoot between his legs that he was holding on to. It was attached to a large sheet that was tied to the fence beneath him.  A few hours later, he was still there and was continuing to hold to this bamboo shoot.  It was providing shade to a few dozen people during the bingo. He was sacrificing his own freedom and likely his full enjoyment of the event so that others could experience a bit of reprieve from the sun´s stifling embrace.  In that moment, I was deeply moved and I believe that image will stick with me.  May I come to know this sense of community, and may I be called to support and share my own love with those whom I encounter in a similar way of service.  Amen.

I Asked God…

I asked God for strength,

that I might achieve,

I was made weak,

that I might learn humbly to obey…

I asked for health, that I might do greater things,

I was given infirmity,

that I might do better things…

I asked for riches,

that I might be happy,

I was given poverty, that I might be wise…

I asked for power,

that I might have the praise of all,

I was given weakness, 

that I might feel the need of God…

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life,

I was given life that I might enjoy all things…

I got nothing that I asked for–

but everything I had hoped for…

Almost despite myself,

my unspoken prayers were answered,

I am among all people

most richly blessed.

This has been a pretty rough week for a few reasons, most prominent of these being my health, or lack thereof.   Finally after a full week I know what I have: three different bacterial infections. Yikes!

I did test after test and have been taking a cocktail of medication, but I finally am starting to feel better. I was only able to go to work one day this week, and I was all but stranded at home where even the occasional movie and reading was getting frustrating.  When even your self-care practices stress you out, you know you are in a bad place.  I prayed for health that eventually came, but I became very aware of the privilege it truly was to be able to take off work without worrying about how you will support your family. Most of the people in my community here in Monte Sinaí do not have that luxury.  Throughout my struggling with weakness, fevers, stomach problems,  and head aches, my neighbors have shown me nothing but support, helping to take care of me and sharing love with me when I felt most isolated. In my moments of great vulnerability and weakness this week while I was sick, I found myself most able to connect with the few neighbors I saw.  I could meet them in a place of humility and openness that allowed me to better accompany a few of the families with whom I am continuing to grow close.  

¨I asked for health, that I might do greater things,

I was given infirmity,

that I might do better things…¨

As difficult as the week was, it allowed me the wisdom to trust that God has my back, that things happen for a reason, and that I am exactly where I am meant to be, throughout the ebb and flow of this whirlwind of an experience. 

As always, thanks for the love and support. I have really felt it throughout this week. Keeping all of you in my thoughts and prayers. Sigue adelante.