Merry Christmas! Feliz Navidad!

Greetings from IWM!

We would like to take a moment to express our gratitude for your support of the Incarnate Word Missionaries program. Thank you for being such wonderful examples of the Christmas spirit, and joining us in our mission to live the beauty of the incarnation.

Here we offer you a brief reflection from Henri Nouwen, as we continue to grow together in our shared incarnational spirituality.

“I think that we have hardly thought through the immense implications of the mystery of the incarnation. Where is God? God is where we are weak, vulnerable, small and dependent. God is where the poor are, the hungry, the handicapped, the mentally ill, the elderly, the powerless. How can we come to know God when our focus is elsewhere, on success, influence, and power? I increasingly believe that our faithfulness will depend on our willingness to go where there is brokenness, loneliness, and human need.

If the church has a future it is a future with the poor in whatever form. Each one of us is seriously searching to live and grow in this belief, and by friendship we can support each other. I realize that the only way for us to stay well in the midst of the many "worlds" is to stay close to the small, vulnerable child that lives in our hearts and in every other human being. Often we do not know that the Christ child is within us. When we discover him we can truly rejoice.”

An excerpt from Sabbatical Journey, Henri J.M. Nouwen

Sabbatical Journey: The Diary of His Final Year (Sunday December 24, 1995, Freiburg, Germany). © Henri J.M. Nouwen.

***

Saludos de MVE!

Quisieramos tomar esta oportunidad para expresar nuestra gratitud por todo el apoyo que ustedes brindan al programa MVE. Les agradecemos por ser los lindos ejemplos del espiritu navideño, y de juntarse con nosotros en nuestra misión de vivir la belleza de la encarnación.

Les ofrecemos una breve reflexión de Henri Nouwen, para que seguimos creciendo juntos en nuestra espiritualidad de la encarnación que compartimos.  

“Yo creo que ni siquiera hemos pensado bien en las inmensas implicaciones del misterio de la encarnación. ¿Dónde está Dios? Encontramos a Dios cuando nos sentimos débiles, vulnerables, pequeños y dependientes de otros.  Dios está en donde se encuentran la pobreza, el hambriento, los enfermos, los ancianos, los impotentes. ¿Cómo podemos conocer a Dios cuando nos enfocamos en el éxito, la influencia, el poder y otras cosas? Cada vez creo más que nuestro compromiso con la fe dependerá de nuestra voluntad de ir donde hay desigualdad, soledad y donde el ser humano nos necesita.

Si la iglesia tiene un futuro, este será un futuro con la pobreza, en cualquier de sus formas. Cada uno de nosotros está buscando vivir y crecer con esta creencia, y nuestra amistad nos servirá para apoyarnos unos a otros. Entiendo que la única forma de estar conformes viviendo en varios “mundos”, es manteniéndonos cerca al niño vulnerable que vive en nuestros corazones y en los corazones de cada ser humano. Muchas veces no sabemos que el divino niño está dentro de nosotros, pero cuando lo descubrimos, es cuando podemos regocijarnos.”

De: Sabbatical Journey, Henri J.M. Nouwen

Sabbatical Journey: The Diary of His Final Year (Sunday December 24, 1995, Freiburg, Germany). © Henri J.M. Nouwen.

"God bless us, everyone."

by Emily, Ruskamp, Kelli Nelson, and Marcelle Keating, IWM community serving in Chimbote, Peru

The chocolotadas, panetones, and hot sun that surround us this Christmas season are a bit different from the Christmas goodies and cold weather that we are used to.  Our celebration has resulted in a rich combination of our own traditions and Peruvian customs. We’d like to explore this a bit further by sharing a few of our recent experiences through the lens of the classic story, A Christmas Carol, and the three spirits that teach Mr. Scrooge so much about life, love, and the giving spirit of Christmas.

The First of the Three Spirits

As I read the account of Scrooge’s visits to past Christmases, I think about the Peruvian culture of fiestas, with Christmas being the ultimate cause for celebration.  The tradition is to have chocolatadas, which consist of hot chocolate and panetón, a fruit-cake type bread.  Like many parishes here, the youth movement in our parish hosted a chocolatada for children in our parish.  We bought some very simple toys to distribute (less than fifty cents each), gathered all the supplies, and handed out fifty tickets the morning of the event, anticipating that twice as many children would flood the doors when word spread around.  In the end only about 40 children came, probably because of the very short notice, so a group of us went downtown afterward to hand out the leftover panetón and toys to children working on the streets. 

As the Ghost of Christmas Past shows Scrooge a Christmas party thrown by his former boss, the Ghost comments, “A small matter … to make these silly folks so full of gratitude.”  These words resonate eerily with me after having that experience.  It would be dishonest to say that I did not get some satisfaction from seeing each child’s eyes light up with surprise and delight when she or he accepted the toy and bread.  That satisfaction, though, was tainted by an extreme discomfort that reached its epitome when my friend with the bag of toys was surrounded by a group of about ten children and adults, each pushing and pleading to receive a toy.  The image is somewhat haunting, but it forces me to continually reflect on the reality – why is it that a grown woman selling her little candies would follow us for blocks, pushing nameless children out of the way so that her own child could receive a fifty-cent doll for Christmas?  What cultural and economic factors make it so? 

Scrooge says after witnessing the party, “‘The happiness he gives, is quite as great as if it cost a fortune.’” In that moment he realizes the minimal role that money and gifts play in creating true happiness.  This Christmas season, I invite you to reflect with me on our reality and pray that we may transform our world – in which some have too much while most have not enough – into a world where all may joyfully celebrate in community with our neighbors.

-Emily Ruskamp

The Second of the Three Spirits

“Come in!” exclaimed the Ghost.  “Come in! and know me better, man!”   Scrooge’s encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Present is a series of invitations into the lives and homes of others, in which his timid and bitter heart is further opened to the reality he once ignored.  Yes, Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus, the child of hope, born in poverty, savior of the world, and it is also a celebration of the family, the Holy and human family, home, and all that entails.  It’s a home that is not necessarily of structure, but of the heart, something we all have, the heart that feels, engages with other hearts, and is shaped when we “come in” to “know” and journey together.

I am learning more and more here that anytime we engage in the lives of others we are entering into the heart of Christ whose birth we celebrate this time of year.  We open ourselves to reaffirming the truth in our lives, as well as redefining what home is to us, that sacred space inside of us that gives us a beautiful and gentle confidence to move about as a constant, every day invitation for others to share in Christ’s love, and the joy of his birth and being. 

Sarah, a friend of ours here in Chimbote, invited us for lunch in her humble home a few days ago.  While eating platefuls of delicious trigo, papas, and cuy (guinea pig), she explained to us that this had been her first attempt at making the dish, that she rarely cooks, and that we were enjoying two of her four cuyes (an amount that could feed her family of four for two meals).  She sells sweets every day at the little park across from her home along the main route to the center of town where she has been stationed for the last fourteen years.  I visit often on my way to and from my site of service, and quite frequently see her saturated in smiles surrounded by local friends and neighbors who have stopped to visit.  To me, she emulates someone who has made her home in sharing in the hearts of others, as did Jesus, as is the way of love.  The ease at which she is, her simplicity, profound generosity with time, desire to learn, listen, bring others joy is something that makes Christmas very real to me this year, perhaps similar to those Scrooge encountered with the Spirit that sacred night.

“Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they visited, but always with a happy end.  The Spirit stood beside the sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they were close at home; by struggling men, and they were patient in their greater hope, by poverty, and it was rich.” 

-Kelli Nelson

The Third of the Three Spirits

We are frequently asked as missionaries why we have come to serve. Many locals are surprised when they find out we do not receive a salary for our work.  It is hard for me to explain that although I do not receive money for my efforts, I have been enriched in my life and it is a gift I could never put a dollar sign on.

The ghost of Christmas future is an ominous presence that accompanies Scrooge scene to scene in cold silence showing him the fruits of his life of inaction and apathy.  With each scene, Scrooge is increasingly horrified to see the news of his death treated in utter disregard within the community he labored. He pleads to the spirit saying “Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which if persevered in, they must lead, but if the courses be departed from the ends will change.”  Christmas is the spirit of giving: opening ones heart to the spirit of volunteerism, giving of oneself, helping to spread Christ’s love in the world.  Our time in service can make a difference for so many. I am happy to report that after a year and half of living in Chimbote, we are not the only volunteers to be found here. I am aware of many Peruvians helping Peruvians - being Christ to one another.  Whether it is in the parish working with the youth, a psychologist who volunteers his time with the street kids, hospice workers who go above and beyond their job, or music teachers who give of their time traveling from Trujillo twice a week to give the youth an opportunity to experience playing in an orchestra - these are all just a few beautiful examples of service happening right now within the city.

Taking time to volunteer has the funny reverse effect of enriching the life of the volunteer more so than those they serve.  I hope you can all find an opportunity to share Christ’s love in service to others and in turn receive Christ’s love back tenfold this Christmas season.  Like Scrooge, we can all promise “to honor Christmas in [our] heart and try to keep it all year.”

-Marcelle Keating

"There's no place like home." It's not quite like it sounds....

by Terri Horn, IWM returning from 21 months in Bukoba, Tanzania.

*This blog is written in two parts, the first part leaving Tanzania and the second upon being back in the USA.

Today is December 9^th, 2010. It is Republic Day of Tanzania and next year they will mark their 50 years of freedom from English colonization. For me, I am sitting in an internet café in Dar es Salaam, the business capital of Tanzania, writing my last in-country blog of my experiences here.

I will leave soon to begin a Master’s degree program in New Mexico, studying Sociology and Globalization. I hope to use this degree to further my work of human rights advocacy and non-profit sector work. I know that my time here has prepared me for school and it has given me a real chance to work for community development in a country that is so poor, but yet has so many resources.

So how do I feel about leaving? I am leaving 3 months earlier than expected. I was to stay until March, but ultimately I decided to begin studies in January. It is not that my placement has been a “failure” or even unfulfilling- I have been fighting an internal struggle of to stay or to leave. To stay longer means that I am denying myself an opportunity to make myself a stronger, better person, and the decision was not one of disaster or strife- it is that I truly believe that the Bukoba Women’s Empowerment Association has taken gigantic steps to improve their record keeping, monitoring and evaluation of programs, and expansion of their soy commercial farm has allowed them to invest in social projects that benefit the co-op members, such as educational seminars and a clean water project. Assisting them in this journey was my exact job description when I came here. I have been able to spend my last few months away from the office, conducting focus groups with Global Business Partners, visiting the site of the water project, and spending one last time in the villages with members. I am thinking more about the members that I have met. They have accepted me openly and whole-heartedly. They have not judged me at all and have been welcomed me into their homes. For the many challenges that they face, they are a true example to me of perseverance, wisdom, and grace, and I hope to one day be more like them. I will never forget them and I love them all very much. 

December 16, 2010

When I arrive on Saturday afternoon, I am greeted at the airport by my WGC boss, Tere Dresner, who welcomes me with affectionate greetings and roses. I am staying at her house for 1 week so that I can be at the WGC office, transferring files, having exit evaluations, tying up loose ends. It is a necessary investment- without this, WGC will have less of the documentation that I have worked so hard on. It is the past year and a half of my life- I won’t let it unravel.

As I arrive back into American Holiday culture, finding myself surrounded by Christmas music, stiffening cold weather, and mass advertising, I temporarily distract myself from my feelings by watching new movies and going shopping for accessories such as a computer and a much needed car. This lasts for approximately 3 days and then I am sick of it all again. Sick of shopping the aisles, waiting in lines, reading up on the newest notebooks when I have spent the past 2 years operating on a Windows 2003, stone-age, virus-filled desktop. It doesn’t even matter; and this scares me because it had been my most creative vice for escape. One of my down moments is when I try to go car-shopping at 7 p.m. at night and I find I don’t even have the strength to discuss the different cars with the representative leading me around the displays.

Tuesday is the day when I finally have my first downfall. I wake myself up from crying and 2 hours later, I am still touching up the makeup on my face. I try to perk myself up by finally purchasing a highly-discounted notebook (I bought the 2^nd to last one in the stock!) and my morning improves a bit. At noon, Simone Brown, an IWM associate and board member picks me up for lunch and she begins to discuss with me my experience, comparing it to her 2 years in Peru. Her open demeanor hits me and the tears are coming again so I tell her all of my excuses that I had so wholeheartedly believe in, “I’m getting older”, “I feel it is time for me to be back in school again”. She says how proud of me she is that I listened to myself in deciding whether to stay or go. After this, I have an appointment with Clare, the assistant director of IWM, and I literally walk into her office crying, saying, “It is so hard”. It is like I am compromising a part of myself. Reality is, I just don’t feel the “no place like home” high that comes after the once in a lifetime adventure. Even when I sleep well, I cry almost every morning. I have no appetite and when I do eat, the food doesn’t taste good. I have withdrawn- I am a sad, scared turtle. I don’t have the energy to talk to people and if I’m being completely truthful, I don’t really want to be around anyone, not even my family, as much as I love them, and I’m tired of hearing the question, “How is Africa?!” Not Tanzania. AFRICA. It isn’t the change of scenery or the fact that I left early or that I even felt Bukoba to be a ‘home’ for me; what tears through my chest and rips me up inside is when I get past the excuses to the part of telling people, “But I still love them”. Even though it sounds so self-centered, it is the hardest part that I cannot get past- that no one, not even my coworkers or family, can really understand how I feel.

I feel that I am on the outside looking in- that I am divorced from my own culture. Everyone is telling me this will pass and I know it will, in time. The most paradoxical part is that I cannot solve this for myself, even if I tried. There is no way to make it stop, it’s just a daily process. We will see. Time changes everything.

Baby steps are better than no steps.

by Elle Vatterott, IWM serving in San Antonio, Texas.

One of the children I tutor has dyslexia and dysgraphia.  PJ is naturally the sweetest little boy, always eager to do anything I ask him except open a book. He is in third grade, but reads at a kindergarten level. He was able to pass K-2 because of his special reading accommodations, in which all of his work and tests were read to him. Although Texas law requires every school must provide a dyslexia specialist or program, his school cannot afford this luxury. Despite PJ’s success in passing his classes thus far, this year will be a bit trickier.

At the end of the third grade school year students begin taking The Texas Education Agency Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills Test (TAKS). It is a series of standardized tests used in Texas primary and secondary school to assess students’ attainment of reading, writing, math, science and social studies skills required under Texas education standards.

Within my first week I quickly learned the magnitude of the role that the TAKS plays in the children’s lives. One little girl even described TAKS testing day as the “most important day in your life.” PJ will have all of the tests read to him except the reading section, which happens to be the only test that third grade students must pass to be promoted to fourth grade.

I knew this was going to be a major challenge and I was ready to beat it. I tried all sorts of different reading techniques with him, hoping that one would miraculously cure him. Not even fun games or cool Spiderman prizes could encourage PJ to pick up a book and find the joy of reading.

Growing frustrated with the lack of resources from his school as well as my own shortcomings, I began to feel like I was failing this little boy.  Every time PJ’s teacher assigned reading homework, he would cry and his head would immediately drop. It broke my heart to see him struggle, and his lack of self confidence.

Having Learning Disabilities myself, I remember how frustrating school can be.  Thanks to help with several reading specialists and learning consultants, I was able to develop useful strategies to deal with my shortcomings.  To this day I still rely on those little tricks.  I firmly believe that PJ desperately needs someone to help him with his specific needs.   Like they say, ‘a mind is a terrible thing to waste.’

After researching alternative programs outside the school district, with little success, I felt my energy was rapidly deteriorating. It’s important to hide my feelings of failure from the children, and not allow my frustration to impact their education...  ‘Easier said than done.’

The interesting thing about dyslexic people is that while they struggle to read, write and spell for their entire lives, most of them  excel exceptionally in another area. In fact, the same mental function that produces a genius can also produce problems of dyslexia.  Nearly every dyslexia professional that I have consulted has told me that the key to connecting and helping dyslexic child is to spend a significant amount of time eliciting the child’s particular talent or skill.

PJ wants to be a 'professional car drawer' when he gets older; consequently we draw a lot of cars and big Texan Trucks together. Surprisingly, he also enjoys math - so he was ecstatic when I gave him his own set of multiplication flash cards.

A few weeks ago PJ did something that he has never done before. By himself, he took his reading worksheet out of his backpack, put it on the table and began to sound out the first word.  The next day I rushed to his school to tell his teacher the good news. She told me that she also noticed an improvement in his work habits and reading participation.  A few days later, while we were preparing for his weekly spelling test, he told me that he secretly likes to spell. I was so overcome with emotion that it took me a minute to comprehend and respond what he had just admitted.

PJ is well aware of how his dyslexia disables his academic performance, but now it is time to give him the good news about all of the wonderful and unique gifts that come from his “disability.”

He is one of the most creative and excitable children that I know. He has an unceasing curiosity and an extraordinary vivid imagination.  He rarely asks for a separate piece of paper to do his math homework because he can visually work out the problems in his head. What he thinks and sees in his head is different than what comes out when he writes and reads. 

One simply cannot measure his intelligence level using the TAKS. To expect a child to read, fully digest and answer questions on multiple pages of third grade level material, without providing any prior dyslexia specific reading therapy is not only unrealistic, it is cruel.  His life has been a series of uphill battles, constantly being reminded of what he lacks and cannot do. The saddest part is that he did absolutely nothing wrong to deserve his hardships. 

Although my dislike for the TAKS has not waned, my plan of action to prepare him for the exam has changed. With unremitting encouragement to keep trying, he will learn and get better at learning.  Again, ‘easier said than done.’   

There is a door out there for PJ to enter, making his little academic life easier, and I am his master key for now. So at the end of each tutoring session, as we move closer to the TAKS test, his self confidence grows a little more.   Baby steps are better than no steps.

Not your typical Thanksgiving celebration...

by Emma Buckhout, IWM serving in Santa Fe (Mexico City), Mexico

Nicole already covered some of Thanksgiving from Zambia, but a week later I thought it would still be appropriate to share some of the events and thoughts from Thanksgiving in Mexico.

My Thanksgiving in Santa Fe took me by surprise. In a place where few people actually know what this day is, I found myself spending more hours and energy preparing for it than I ever have in the United States. Not only did I have the opportunity to remember the origins and meaning of Thanksgiving as I taught my class of five-year-olds about it at the guardería, but in the parish we helped to create a traditional Thanksgiving dinner (with a few Mexican twists!).

Thanksgiving plans actually started in August, believe it or not! Soon after Tara and I arrived, Father Salvador informed us that he had bought a turkey, which until recently lived in the corn garden behind the parish, to help us celebrate Thanksgiving in November. (Sidenote: Canadian Thanksgiving is at the end of October. Tara insists that it is infinitely superior timing because it spreads out the feast day from Christmas, but she obliged to go along with the November plans.)

So when the time finally came, we agreed to help cook the turkey and a few Thanksgiving staples, guided by Jessica (a former IW Missionary who lives in Santa Fe), and then planned a potluck dinner at the parish for friends from the church and neighborhood. On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Jessica and I went shopping for ingredients and chickens to supplement the turkey meat. On Wednesday evening after work at the guardería, a few friends at the parish, Tara, Jessica and I prepared the chickens and freshly killed turkey (Father completed the last rites and decapitation), and then made a pie from a pumpkin left from the Dia de los Muertos. I took Thursday off of work so that after finishing a couple batches of chocolate chip cookies for dessert, I  could put the turkey in the oven and baste it by the hour, until Tara and Jessica arrived to make the potatoes and stuffing. Finally Thursday was upon us - an assortment of friends gathered around the big table at the parish. People said we looked a little tired, but it was delicious. Definitely worth the effort!

After all that activity, I wanted to take a few moments to reflect once more on the meaning behind the celebration and delicious food, and share just a few of the things for which I am most thankful right now.

First, I am thankful just for the opportunity to be here in Santa Fe in Mexico City. Life as a missionary continues to be challenging, rewarding, humbling, surprising, tiring, lifegiving, always educational, and full of great little things. I am thankful for the kids I get to teach at the guardería, and their hugs and screams and bright futures. After I taught them about Thanksgiving they had a blast drawing pictures of what they were thankful for and coloring turkeys. I am thankful that I can walk (and occasionally run) around this neighborhood with its landscape that never ceases to amaze me. The hills are insane! I am thankful for all the people that open their arms to me, and usually their food stocks as well. I will not get sick of tinga anytime soon, and we can buy avocados every week at the market! I am thankful for Santa Fe´s sunny and relatively warm, snowless weather as December starts. Even if it´s not always pleasant to breathe, the pollution and sunshine make beautiful sunsets. I am thankful that people put up with my Spanish and are always willing to teach me more.

Along with the opportunity to be here, more than anything, I am thankful for my community. I am thankful for my immediate community in Tara- her support, encouragement, love, friendship, talent for cooking, and good humor. My greater missionary community in Jessica, Miriam, the sisters, and the directors provides constant fellowship and support (as well as additional cooking talent as we saw last week!). I am extremetly grateful everyday for my local community and adopted “parish family.” The fact that they helped us to plan a Thanksgiving dinner when they knew we would be missing family and traditions from home is just one example of the loving welcome we receive everyday. And they didn't even complain when the turkey I was in charge of cooking did not finish in time! J Lastly, though they feel far away, my friends and family at home have been incredibly supportive as well. Their prayers and encouragement and willingness to talk to me over fuzzy skype connections and listen to all my stories and try to picture my verbal descriptions is a constant comfort.

Yes, it was different to be away for Thanksgiving, but there was great fellowship with new community, growth of experiences to share with those far away, and many reasons to thank God.

Giving Thanks

by Nicole Tardio, IWM serving in Mongu, Zambia

Thanksgiving will no doubt be different this year. There will be no turkey or stuffing or pumpkin pie, but the best thing about Thanksgiving is the spirit of the holiday and it can be celebrated anywhere you are. Sure the holiday is definitely about the food but more so it is about giving thanks for all that we are given. I have so many things to be thankful for; here are just a few:

The thing I will miss the most is being around my family especially at Thanksgiving time. At the same time I am most thankful for the support I have at home from my family, friends, and the Incarnate Word Community. The prayers, letters, e-mails, and skype chats mean so much to me and for this I give thanks.

I am thankful for this opportunity; to live among the people of Mongu, to learn something new each day, and to be on this journey discovering me :)

I am thankful for the start of mango season.

I am thankful for my health. Each day I care for people who are my age and younger who are terminally ill with HIV. They live gracefully with an illness that controls their daily lives. I am deeply saddened for all affected by this disease.

I am thankful for my community and all the Sisters here in Zambia because they are an awesome support system!

I am thankful for a cool breeze or a soaking rain on a hot day.

I am thankful for my faith.

I am thankful for the friends I have made here so far, and for each smiling face I see everyday.

I am thankful for the beautiful sunsets.

I thank God for each of these things and many many more. As I spend this Thursday here in Zambia, for most everyone else around me it will just be a normal Thursday. What is great about the people here is each day is about giving thanks. One of the most common phrases I hear throughout a day is “nii tu mezi” which means thank you in Lozi. As a whole the people are so thankful by nature and look at even the small things in life as gifts from God. I strive to embody this graciousness today and everyday!

En español

En un esfuerzo por comunicar las experiencias de nuestras misioneras con las Hermanas, colaboradores y amigos por todo el mundo, hemos traducido al español algunas de sus últimas reflexiones. Esperamos que así, las puedan compartir con más personas e invitarlos a caminar juntos con los Misioneros del Verbo Encarnado.

[In an effort to communicate our missionaries' experiences with Sisters, supporters and friends around the world, we have translated a few recent entries into Spanish. We hope this will serve to share with and invite more people to journey with our Incarnate Word Missionaries.]

8 octubre 2010

por Kelli Nelson, MVE en Chimbote, Perú

EMOCIONES DE UN CORAZON AGRADECIDO

El deseo profundo de mi corazón es ser como un girasol que con su “cara” y ser da testimonio de su fidelidad al sol viviendo una vida que expresa y invita al amor nacido de una profunda confianza en la Divinidad presente en toda la creación.

Rezo mientras voy por el camino a la espiritualidad de la absoluta libertad en comunidad con los que me rodean, para que podamos reescribir la narrativa maestra transparentando la realidad de toda la gente y con la gracia de Dios transformar las estructuras sociales opresivas. Sea cada acción y palabra una oración, un baile, una canción para continuar el trabajo más allá de un dulce sueño. En celebración y gratitud…

***

15 octubre 2010

por Nicole Tardio, MVE en Mongu, Zambia

ESTAR PRESENTE

Después de un mes aquí en Zambia encontré sentido a un tema que ha sido recurrente en muchos aspectos de mi vida. Incluso durante el tiempo de preparación antes de venir a Zambia, en la orientación en San Antonio, recibí diversos consejos muy valiosos de gente muy sabia.

Una y otra vez estas conversaciones se centraron en estar presentes con la gente – no estar muy ocupadas haciendo cosas que te hacen olvidar la verdadera razón por la que estas ahí: estar con la gente, aprender de ellos, y dar y recibir el amor de Dios. Me recordaron tomar m tiempo, ser paciente y disfrutar cada momento sin importar que tan simple este pueda ser. Celebrar cada día, cada nueva persona que conozco y cada nueva palabra que aprendo. Así que mientras hago la transición a la vida de Zambia, he recordado varias veces mi enfoque principal.

Una noche en la iglesia la lectura fue sobre la historia de la visita de Jesús a María y a Martha. La lectura tuvo un significado especial para mi porque pude identificarme tanto con María como con Martha. Poco a poco me voy adaptando aquí y me mantengo ocupada haciendo cosas: tengo listas de personas que debo contactar, con quienes debo tener una cita y lugares que visitar durante el día. Todas estas son tareas necesarias pero esta lectura me hace recordar y me inspira para que cada visita, cada llamada telefónica, sea un verdadero encuentro con la persona que estoy conociendo o con la que estoy hablando. Es difícil ir a lo largo del día sin ver o escuchar realmente a la gente con la que nos encontramos. Creo que estoy llamada a escuchar realmente, como María lo hizo, a hacer que cada persona se sienta especial porque Jesús está presente en cada persona que conozco.

Actualmente estoy leyendo un libro que habla de ver a Dios en todo, incluso en las situaciones más difíciles en las que nos encontremos. Un capítulo se enfoca en mirar las cosas desde la perspectiva de Dios y no enfocándonos en nuestra propia perspectiva. Que tan frecuente es que nuestra preocupación principal es “hacer cosas” por los demás y por Dios. Qué tan frecuentemente nos atrapamos en nuestro propio desempeño. Por el contrario, el deseo de Dios es enfocarnos simplemente en ser. El está más interesado en la persona que estamos siendo que en que en las cosas específicas que estamos haciendo. Esto es muy reconfortante para mi en este tiempo en que lucho por encontrar mi lugar aquí en Mongu en diferentes organizaciones y programas que ya están establecidos. Como sucede en cualquier lugar al que nos mudamos, es un reto integrarte en una comunidad. Lentamente voy integrándome y lo que me he dado cuenta hasta ahora es que la gente no está necesariamente interesada en que yo sea una enfermera o que yo haya venido a trabajar en varios sitios. Ellos están interesados en conocerme y cada día yo hago mayor contacto con la gente, simplemente estando aquí, Qué irónico!

Este es un reto diario – un reto muy bienvenido – estar presente en todos los lugares donde estoy trabajando, estar presente en casa, con mi comunidad, durante la oración y en misa. Un día, la semana pasada, al final del día me senté a cenar y a ver la TV por una hora antes de ir a la cama. Bueno, justo a la mitad del programa se fue la luz y al principio estaba un poco frustrada de estar ahí sentada en la oscuridad, pero Sor Cristi vino a rescatarme con una linterna. Así que Sor Clara, Sor Cristi (miembros de mi comunidad) y yo nos sentamos y al principio nos veíamos unas a otras. Después alguien tuvo la idea de armar el ventilador que habíamos comprado ese día. El armado empezó al principio un poco extraño, pero pronto estuvo listo. Con las tres trabajando en esto ahí estaba listo con la rejilla y las aspas intactas.

Sin electricidad para probarlo mientras las risas continuaban alrededor de la mesa con la vela de la cena.

Mi molestia por la situación del apagón desapareció rápidamente y repentinamente estaba agradecida por este tiempo en comunidad.

Me di cuenta que algunas veces estoy ante la presencia de gente sin estar presente para ellos. Fue necesaria una pequeña llamada de atención de Dios al eliminar las distracciones para apreciar a las personas de mi alrededor en ese momento y por esto estoy sumamente agradecida.

Así que estar presente para mi es “SER” activamente ser: cuerpo, mente y corazón todos involucrados.

Presencia es escuchar y participar con los demás. Es un llamado para conocer y reconfortar a otros. No es pasiva sino activa. Es una sonrisa, un cumplido, una palabra de aliento y siempre libre de cualquier juicio.

Creo que Jesús es nuestro mejor modelo para casi cualquier cosa, pero especialmente para estar presente!

***

15 noviembre 2010

por Marcelle Keating, MVE en Chimbote, Perú

MOMENTOS DE GRACIA

En mi tercer día de trabajo en el hospicio me pidieron que bañara a un paciente que acababa de morir esa mañana.

El había sido admitido tan solo el día anterior. Cuando lo conocí me pareció un zombie. Difícilmente podía reconocer a alguien, con la boca abierta y asombrado, mirando al techo.

La muerte vino como una bendición ese día, pero su familia estaba ahí, luchando. Es costumbre en Perú que la familia tome responsabilidad y proporcione lo necesario para preparar el cuerpo para el entierro, pero ellos naturalmente pidieron ayuda.

El personal me pidió que ayudara con el baño, cuando les pedí su toalla, buscaron entre las pertenencias del paciente y una de ellas me dio un par de prendas de ropa interior sin lavar. Siempre veo con humildad que la gente trabaja con lo que tiene disponible. Así que con mis manos con los guantes como esponja de baño y la ropa interior como toalla me las arreglé para bañar al paciente.

Uno de los familiares se quedó viéndome con ansiedad, para checar que todo estuviera bien hecho. No la sentí exigente. Ella era la más fuerte, tratando de mantener todo en orden para los demás. Los otros familiares entraban y salían de la habitación.

Las mujeres lloraban y algunos hombres estaban como ausentes. Ella me ayudó a vestirlo. Después de la muerte, los fluidos del cuerpo tienden a escurrir. Así que al final tuve que cambiar los algodones de la nariz y boca ya que estaban empapados en sangre.

Sentí que el trabajo fue muy tranquilizador. No había prisa. Dios nos da la gracia de perseverar y encontrar la fortaleza suficiente para cada día.

   

Beauty in unexpected places...

by Nicole McArdle, IWM serving in El Quiche, Guatemala

This year when the rains came there was a great deal of damage and destruction that was caused in the wake of the waters. However, God's help was very much evident in the way the Catholic schools and the Church came to the aid of the people. Giving time, money and resources to help those who were affected more severely was truly wonderful. The sense of community that emerged was a wonder to behold; thanks to the community efforts and people working to help one another, many have started to rebuild and life continues.

This year we had an assembly - a gathering - in which all of the families of our youth who are members of the Kano'j project came from far and wide. So many traveled great distances - in some cases six and eight hours to get here - to be with us for this important day. Many brought gifts of food which left me full of awe; they have very little but always bring gifts, with such great energy and enthusiasm (one would barely note what a sacrifice it is to bring food and gifts when they have so little). Being a witness to such beauty really makes me wonder if I am as generous...

Our families and youth come from very poor areas, but they collaborate as much as possible with the project, giving of themselves and what little they have. They truly are wonderful, very caring and kind people. One of the most amazing things is to see seven of our youth who recently graduated this year, and how their parents were so incredibly proud of them: pure beauty.

Moments of Grace

by Emily Ruskamp, IWM serving in Chimbote, Peru

I walked into the Confirmation class here less than three months before Confirmation day and introduced myself to a room of 20-some teenagers.  Some looked at me with curiosity, others with amusement, the rest with boredom.  All made me self-consciously stumble over my words as I spit out some attempt to explain why I was there.  A few were interested to know a little more about the U.S., but most paid me little attention.  After a few more classes of minimal involvement on my part, the bishop informed us that our Confirmation celebration was moved a month earlier, which meant we now had less than two weeks to complete just over a month of final preparations.  Perhaps their preparation could have been fuller with more time, but the urgency of the moment created a sense of camaraderie.   I began to see their personalities, learn their names, and have more conversations.  At the same time, the plans for developing a youth center were completely stagnant and I was very discouraged.  We seemed to lack interest, initiative, and organization, and at times I was questioning my involvement.  I had momentum with this small group of students, but Confirmation was soon approaching, and I feared it would all be lost once the class was done.  Still, by Confirmation day I was very excited for them and the celebration was successful.  Though I had done very little, I was proud that this group of 16-strong followed through on their commitment.  Camila, one of the students, came to hug me before she left, and asked if I was going to continue being involved in more activities.  I told her yes, we are hoping to plan many more things for the youth.  She told me she would be attending mass on Sundays, and asked that I keep her updated.  I told her I would, of course, and reminded her of the open invitation to visit my house at any time for whatever reason.  She received it very warmly, then she told me she would see me Thursday to plan the retreat that they didn’t get to have!  It was a simple exchange, lasting only a few seconds, but within it were the seeds of everything I hope to experiencewith the youth.  As she said, this week we will meet with those who still want to have a retreat.  I don’t know how many will show up or what the likelihood is that we will follow through with the idea, but this seedling was an affirming grace from God to press onward, even when it seems fruitless!

by Kelli Nelson, IWM serving in Chimbote, Peru 

It was a typical Monday in the barrio with my new companions in the women’s’ literacy group.  “Repite por favor: aaa…eee…iii…ooo…uuu…,” I said, hoping my sounds were accurate, as I continue to learn with my abuelita friends while I teach.  “Aaa…eee…iii…ooo…uuu…” they responded quite perfectly.  “Muy Bien,” I sang with a smile.  My supervisor gave us all a look of praise, as we continued, “la…le…li…lo…lu...sa…se…si…so…su…”  One of the women interrupted with something to share.  It was All Saint’s Day, and she thought it important that we take some time to share with one another our intentions, thus we ended our studies early and began the next thirty minutes that will remain with me forever.   She shared with us about the loss of her husband, the many struggles and celebrations it entailed; it had only been three weeks.  Others mentioned parents and friends, children still alive in spirit, yet physically put to rest.  My heart had been heavy that day remembering a dear friend on the anniversary of his death and I was unsure of whether to share or not with so few words and emotions on edge, but accepted the invitation upon the ease at which I feel with these women and their willingness to be broken with me.  There were already salty tears running from faces after hearing the other stories, and after mine, eyes were puffy as we passed around the roll of toilet paper.  We left the house that day, all five of us hand in hand, sensitive squinting eyes, graced by a sacred moment of solidarity, holding close that afternoon song, the dust swirling in response to our steps forward.

by Marcelle Keating, IWM serving in Chimbote, Peru

My third day into working inside the hospice facility, I was asked to bathe a patient who had died early that morning.  He had only been admitted the day before.  When I first met him,  I thought he resembled a zombie.   He was barely cognizant with a gaping mouth and a gaze that was fixed on the ceiling.  Death came as a blessing that day but his family was there struggling to cope.  It is custom in Peru for a family to take the responsibility to provide all supplies and prepare the body for burial, but they were understandably asking for help.  I was directed by the staff to go in and assist with the bath.  When I asked for their towel the family fished around the patients belongings and presented me with a pair of his underwear, no wash cloth.  It is forever humbling to see people work with what they have.  So with my gloved hands as a wash cloth and a pair of underwear as a towel, I set off to bathe the patient. 

 

One of the family members stood over me anxious to see everything was done right.  I did not find her demanding.  She was the strong one, keeping it together for everyone else.  The other family members were in and out of the room.  The women were crying and a few of the men had  blank stares.  She helped me dress him.   After death, the body fluids tend to ooze out.  I ended up having to strip the bed of the sheets and change the cotton stuffed in the nose and mouth after it became soaked in blood.  I found the work to be very peaceful.  There was no rush.  God gives us the grace to persevere and find strength sufficient for the day. 

Rainy seasons yield warm sunlight and beautiful days...

by Terri Horn, IWM serving in Bukoba, Tanzania

It is November. The weather is getting colder. I have approximately 6 weeks left here on-site and as time it gets closer for me to leave, every day feels more important to me than the last. I recently had an unique experience that I would like to tell you about. The rainy season has begun but this morning, after weeks of cloudy, grey weather, the sun reclaimed its literal spotlight by sending luminous rays into my bedroom morning at 7:30 a.m., to the point where the light itself was gently nudging me out of bed in the sweetest of ways: “I’m back! I’m here! Please pay attention to me!” So I got up out of bed, showered, and headed for the taxi stand. Today I needed to make a trip to the Hekima Girls’ Secondary School, where my food and rent money is kept- opening an international bank account here is both costly and unnecessary... oh, the cost of being a foreigner. I headed to the nearest taxi and hopped in, sitting in between 3 other adults squashed into the backseat, making a rough but not entirely offensive ride (as I’ve been in taxis even more over packed than that). On the ride up, I cannot help but notice a young mother with distinct scars on her arms in the front seat. She is holding a little boy in her lap who looks to be around 1.5 years old. He has the same eyes and lips as her, and he is gazing directly at me, undisturbed by the bumps and scattered dust the driver is battling so as to deliver us to our destination. The boy really is too young to have been taught the word “Zungu, zungu!!” (White person/foreigner) so I have to wonder if in his eyes I really am noticeably different from him, or does he only notice me because it is pointed out? In the naive, Americanized part of my brain that is so used to living in racial/cultural/religious heterogeneity, I still sometimes find it difficult to live in a place where the children are taught to recognize differences instead of similarities in those who are not African - i.e. my skin color, native language, and economic status. It took a long time to get used to this but even so, I know I am lucky. I am lucky enough to have a Board of staff, coworkers, friends, and house landlord who have learned to accept my behavior, my choices for ME. I have been able to form friendships and spend time with people who look at me as the “same” as them. It took me time and many interviews with BUWEA members to realize that they all have the same wants and needs- a healthy happy family, chances for continuing education, and the independence and self-sufficiency that comes with having an income generating business, and the value the women feel when they are able to contribute to that. It is so much less than what I have, what I want, yet it is everything to them.

I am met at the Hekima School by a young lady named Macrena- she helps me navigate my way through the office where my money is kept- and when we are finished, she offers to escort me back to the road to return to town. Macrena explains to me that she attended the Hekima School for 4 years and has finished Form 7, as high as you can go in secondary school, and is now waiting to begin university in September. She mentions that she wants to study Languages in college. She is working at the school as a librarian and living with other teachers. As we talk, I am trying to enunciate and “culturize” my English as best as I can- but I can see that Macrena comprehends me perfectly. On the dirt road, I am accompanied by 2 young boys who follow me from a distance, practicing their English with one another, “How are you? I am fine thank you”, “Where are you going?” and I’m entertained by the fact that their show is not even for me. The road links at a beautiful, large Catholic cathedral that is attended by the Sisters who live near the Hekima School. The boys cross the dirt road and stand on the other side, concurrently playing, and then turning around, wrapping their arms around each other, and I can still hear them murmuring in English. When I try to speak to them in Swahili, they become a little miffed and raise their voices to respond to me in a hyper-mature, over-developed man voice that is not in agreement with their young ages- I am sure they couldn’t be older than 7 years- and I am reminded again of just how quickly the children are expected to grow up here. While waiting for the taxi to pass, a small boy of around 2 years is sent to me by his mother who is also going to town. He approaches me with his head down, briefly glances at me with wide, wondering eyes, sticks out his hand and gives me a small orchid flower. The flower is silky soft with buttercup- yellow stripes inside and gives off a lovely sweet aroma. There is a swift cool breeze in the air that for some reason, reminds me of finality and longing of something special, like the melancholy feeling that accompanies the last day of a vacation. The warm sun on my shoulders makes everything beautiful and I feel like I’m being kissed all over by something wonderful and loving. I am suddenly and overwhelmingly aware of how much I will miss this place - despite myself, despite all the difficulties. I deeply care for the BUWEA members- their smiles appear in my dreams at night, fore-haunting me of what I will miss. Tanzania, somehow I do love you. I only wish I was conscious of these moments more often so that it doesn’t seem like time is flying by, so that later on, I won’t feel like it was taken from me. God, help me to see each day for what it is.

Foosball and Mission

by Elle Vatterott, IWM serving in San Antonio, Texas

Those who know me well, know of my passion for foosball, and those who have had the privilege of playing me, know that my skills for the game are quite laughable. Well my friends, I have a feeling that is all about to change now that I am (unofficially) a member of the San Antonio foosball circuit! 

Sorry to disappoint all of you, but don’t expect to see my name featured in the Tornado World Championship Series’ roster (unfortunately my missionary salary does not include tournament entry fees and travel expenditures). 

However on the drive home from my first FB tourney, as I attempted to wrap my head around my new endeavor, I began to notice some resemblances between foosball and life as a missionary. (Yes this idea is a bit “out there” but try to keep an open mind during the next few paragraphs).

1.                   Individual Style
Every FB player approaches the sport differently. Spending an ample amount of time getting to know which shot(s) fits best is the first step toward advancing beyond a beginner level.  When a player becomes aware of their natural abilities and reactions to the game, it is much easier to tweak a shot into a unique style of play.

            The same is true of this experience as a missionary. Before departing to our sites, the other missionaries and I spent several weeks reflecting upon our strengths, weaknesses and cultural backgrounds. As we began to share our stories with each other, it became obvious that we all were all were taking different paths toward the same mission.

2.                   Letting go

During a match, the best FB players know how to just “let go”.
Not to let go to the table rod handles of course, but to their own self awareness. FB is too fast a game to think - the ball can move up to 45 miles per hour, so spending one second deciding the best way to defend a shot is not only a second wasted but more importantly, a point for your competitor.
It is said that excellent FB players enter into a mental state of Zen. They have prepared and practiced enough that they can simply allow themselves to happen and in so doing, truly be in the moment.

As a missionary and a FB player, this is my biggest obstacle. I waste too much time and energy setting unrealistic goals for myself and trying to make things happen, which often results in more frustration. Thankfully, I am coming to realize that the more I practice my "drills" (daily prayer and quiet reflection), the better I am at allowing myself to more wholly be in this moment.      

3.                   Connecting

The FB player’s relationship with the table unquestionably affects the tone and outcome of the game.  Champions play as if the table rods are extensions of their arms, thus allowing a player to more fully connect to each one of the eleven foosmen.  

With this being said, there is an unspoken feeling of respect most players have for their tables, which is why you will never see a good FB player abuse the table by vigorously spin or pound their foosmen against the sidewalls.  

Just like a FB player could not exist without a FB table, a missionary could not exist without her community. Each person contributes to making this experience one of growth, understanding and love. Moreover, I am thankful for each of my relationships to the children, mothers, sisters, co-workers and foozers in broadening my understanding of God’s love in action.

So as I continue to work on perfecting my “pull shot” as well as challenge myself to Let Go to who I am and who God has created me to be, I must make time to reflect on what it is that I wish to accomplish. Whether my goal is to master the “Pull Kick Bank off the far wall” or to simply learn from others, be with others, help others, be Christ to others and see Christ in other,s I realize that both objectives require that I remain patient with myself, and passionately faithful to the mission at hand.

"God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called."

by Tara Hurford, current IWM serving in Mexico City, Mexico

This past Saturday, Emma and I reached the two month mark of our new lives here in Santa Fe, Mexico City.  As Emma mentioned in our last blog, the majority of our time is spent at a local Guardería, or daycare, which was opened for low-income families.  I have spent my time with the classes for two and three year olds.  If I received a peso for every time I heard, ¨Tengo mocos¨ (I have mucous), I would have no worries about being on a ´missionaries´ salary here for the next two years.  And if I received another peso every time my little darlings wanted to ´re-gift´ their kleenex to me, I´d be filthy (and) rich!  Very fortunately, I took a vow of poverty for the next two years!  But if handing out kleenex and wiping dirty noses is the worst part of my job, then I count myself very, very blessed, indeed.  The two classes of fifteen to twenty children that I help out with have brought me joy incalculable and their affection helps to cure any homesickness for the life I left behind in Nova Scotia -- in a heartbeat.  

If someone would have told me that I would be subbing for a class of two-year-olds three months ago, I would have looked at them like they had two heads.  But here I am, ready (or not so very much) every day to possibly be ¨maestra¨ for the little munchkins.  At first, I was totally overwhelmed by trying to balance tending to the unending bathroom parade and keeping the children from jumping off their chairs, screaming, crying and hitting each other.  I felt totally unprepared, and as a result of this and other things going on in my life a well-known feeling of insufficiency returned.  ¨My Spanish is not good enough;¨ ¨What good am I doing here?¨ ¨What difference am I making?¨ ¨I´m simply not enough . . .¨ These are the familiar tapes of negativity that often return to me when I´m having a rough time.  But the truth is, I will never be enough, save for the grace of God, if I allow Him to work through me.  As they say, ¨God doesn’t call the qualified; he qualifies the called."  This time forced me to re-evaluate what my goals were here both personally, spiritually, as well as practically and how I am spending my time. It also forced me to  re-commit to daily prayer.  It is so easy to get caught up in the busyness of daily life here and forget to ¨be present´ to the one who is forever present to me - to all of us. 

This too then helps me to be more present to the children and to my environment.  I soon discovered a box of giant legos that (thanks be to God) keeps them occupied for a good half hour, while I make sure no one pees their pants, take attendance, translate some kids action songs from English, and figure out what the heck I´m going to do for the rest of the day.  Personally, I discovered that I need to let go of the feeling of the need to accomplish and let things develop as God wants, not how I will them.  This brought some fresh new ideas to mind about other projects I would like to start here, ones that fit my skills and talents more.  God willing. 

Apart from our totally exhausting, yet fun and love-filled days at the Guarderia, Emma and I recently started ´work´ with the Jesuit youth here,  who do everything from weekend retreats to working with the indigenous and immigrants, to name only some activities.  We were able to attend an ¨Encuentro¨ two weekends ago of the Jesuit youth representatives from all over the country.  The enthusiasm and excitement was contagious, and we hope to bring some youth from Santa Fe to their next camp, near the ancient pyramids of Teotihuacan.  One thing that Father Salvador (the priest of our sponsoring parish) would really like us to kickstart is a youth group.  After our initial meeting with two Jesuits, neither of us could contain our excitement.  For me, the combination of spirituality, social analysis and action that the Jesuit Youth bring to the Church is inexpressibly exciting, and oh so needed.  We will see what the future brings!

Being Present

by Nicole Tardio, IWM serving in Mongu, Zambia

After a month into my time here in Zambia I have sensed a recurring theme that surfaces in multiple aspects of my life. Even going back to the time I was preparing to come to Zambia in orientation in San Antonio, I was given all sorts of valuable advice from some very wise people. All in all our conversations focused on being present to people - not getting too busy doing things that you forget the real reason for being where you are: to be with people, to learn from them, and to give and receive God’s love. I was reminded to take my time, be patient, and enjoy each moment no matter how simple it may be. Celebrate each day, each new person met, and each new word learned. So as I make the transition into Zambian life, I have been reminded several times about my main focus.

One evening in church the reading was the story of Mary and Martha and Jesus’ visit to them. This reading spoke to me in a special way because I can relate to both Mary and Martha. As I settle in here I am busy getting things accomplished: I have lists of who I need to contact, who I need to make an appointment with, and which sites are on the list of places to visit for the day. All these are very necessary tasks but I am reminded and inspired by Mary to make each visit, each phone call, and each encounter a true connection with the person I am meeting or talking with. It is easy to go through the day without truly seeing and hearing the people we encounter. I believe I am called to listen like Mary did, to make each person feel like they are special because Jesus is present in everyone I meet.

I am currently reading a book that talks about seeing God in all, even in the tough situations we encounter. One chapter focused on seeing things from God’s perspective and not focusing on our own perspective. How often our main concern is doing “stuff” for others and for God. How we often get caught up in our own performance. On the contrary, God’s will is for us to focus on just being; He is more interested in the person that we are becoming than the specific things we are doing. This is very comforting as I struggle to find my place here in Mongu in different organizations and programs that are already established. Like any new place we move to, it is a challenge to integrate into a community. I am slowly integrating myself, and what I have found so far is that people aren’t necessarily interested that I am nurse or that I came and that I will be working in various sites. They are more interested in meeting me and each day I make more connections with people by just being here. How ironic! :)

This is a daily challenge - a very welcome challenge - to be present in the places where I am working, to be present at home with my community, during prayer and at mass. One day last week at the end of the day I sat down to eat dinner and watch an hour of TV before bed. Well right in the middle of the show the power went out, and at first I was a little frustrated as I sat in the dark, but Sr. Cristi came to the rescue with a lantern. So Sr. Clara, Sr. Cristi, (my community

members) and I sat there staring at each other at first. Then someone had the idea to put a fan together that we had bought that day. The assembly began and though it started out a little rocky it started coming together quickly. With all three of us working at it in no time it was standing upright with the cage and blade intact. With no power to test it our laughs continued at the table with a candle-lit dinner. My annoyance with the situation of no power quickly dissipated and all of a sudden I was thankful for this community time.

I realized sometimes I am in the presence of people without being present to them. It took God’s little nudge of eliminating distractions to appreciate the people around me in that moment, and for that I was extremely thankful.

So presence to me is “being,” actively being: body, mind, and heart all involved. Presence is listening and participating with others. It is a call to know and comfort others. It is not passive but active. It is a smile, a compliment, encouragement, and free from all judgement.

I believe Jesus is our best role model for most everything but especially for being present! :)