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.