Christmas Gifts

One of the spiritual gifts that Christmas brings to life, a gift that is important all year round is hope.  Despite temptations to get discouraged at times, we have many, many, many reasons to hope in our collective and more personal missions here in Santa Fe, Mexico City.  From the past month or so, these are just some of the few that have especially stood out to us!

·         Sharing the course in Urban Pastoral Work  led by the ¨Urban Pastoral Team¨ here in Mexico City at the Iberoamericana University with 10 other people from our parish and a few from different places in the country.  Within this group of ¨students,” lecturers, and team members there is such and a wealth of experience and diverse interests and gifts that are shared.  The course focuses on seeing the many faces of God and fostering the God’s Reign within the city, not only through traditional ¨church¨ activities but through service, peace and justice work, the building of networks and base Christian communities.

·         Nine people from the parish completed a Peace and Reconciliation workshop and are going to start a capacitation course right after Christmas.  This will enable them to impart the workshop to the pastoral team here at the parish with which Father Salvador and Miriam are working on a pastoral planning process for renewal both in parish and the community – as much in the social sense as the traditional religious sense.

·         A Thanksgiving meal attended by all of the daycare staff at our house –a time for missionaries and the daycare staff to get to know each other a little better outside of a work setting.  People seemed to enjoy themselves and it has helped the growth of working friendships.

·         Together with the several committed parish members Emma and I have been working with over the past year in personal and spiritual formation and community service, we hosted our first retreat at Parroquia de la Asunción.  The national Jesuit Youth Network (La Red Ignaciana) sent two volunteers to lead the camp called ¨Exist,¨ which through music, games and reflection through parts of the Ignation spiritual exercises helps youth to look in order to encounter the meaning of their lives in light of what we are called to as Christians.  Since the camp, one new member has commented to me on how a huge weight was lifted from her during a reconciliation ceremony we had.  Indeed, there seemed to be a lot of healing tears my many who attended during the celebration.  ¨Exist¨ is the first in a series of 4 retreats led by Jesuit volunteers that we hope to run at the parish: ¨Human Rights, ¨ ¨Emoción-Arte¨ and the ¨Freedom of Love.¨ It has been a struggle for our little nucleus of 7 people to gain interest of other youth in our weekly meetings which also utilize Jesuit material, but the retreat was attended by 17 youth - most of which have expressed great interest in joining our youth community, and even contacted us again to ask how to join formally.

·         The same weekend, Kirsten helped out at a fundraiser of games, activities and food at the daycare.  She and Emma are volunteering at the daycare and the event was attended by all the staff, the children and their parents.  Kirsten speaks fondly of what a joy it was to see the excitement of all the children and the interaction between parents, children and teachers in an atmosphere outside of the regular work day.

·         New expectant faces in the children´s choir.

·         Among the people that I work with and the parish community, there is a super-abundance of

gifts, talents, abilities, interests and dedication.  At a reception for a fundraiser hosted at our parish yesterday, I spoke with Gustavo, an acquaintance we met through the Urban Pastoral course.  He has founded 2 grassroots organizations in the community of Santa Fe that work a lot with youth in the area and have roof-top organic garden projects.  He told me that as a youth, he did a lot of street theatre, and one of his compañeras gives street theatre workshops based on the lived reality of members and the community.  This happens to be exactly the vision that Teatro de la Esperanza was founded on – to write and present scripts based on the realities both good and hard and open spaces for dialogue about the various issues that arise.  Gustavo, his compañera, some members from the group and I are meeting on Wednesday to discuss a plan of action for the New Year.   Since we started the group, we have been researching and networking with more experienced actors, theatre groups, and community centers in the city to aid in the sustainability of the theatre group.  This has been an answer to our prayers. 

·         Four presentations of Una Moderna Noche de Paz (A Modern Silent Night) in different places throughout the community by Teatro de la Esperanza, a social theatre group that several members and I have been starting over the past year.  The play was our third production and a compilation of the work of three of our members: Laura Falcón M., her sister Rocío, and Patricia Lopez, as well as excerpts from the work of Mexican priest and dramatist Sergio Guillermo Román del Real.  The whole team helped revise it and decide that we would make the pastorela (traditional Mexican Christmas play) based on present day Mexico City.  The presentations that included 14 actors and 2 or more crew members were each about 45 minutes long and the fruit of 2.5 months of work.  In total they were attended by between 5 and 600 people.  We also had a several more people sign up for the growing group.

On behalf of the Santa Fe Missionaries, we wish you a very blessed and Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year with all the Peace, Love, Joy and Hope that the Incarnation brings!

Tara Hurford, Emma Buckhout, and Kirsten Kyle, Incarnate Word Missionaries

The Stages of Life

Recently, Mary and her five month old son, Juan were accepted to Visitation House.  While a plan was getting setting up for Mary, I babysat Juan for a few days.  I love children, but I don't often interact with babies.  However, Juan, a pudgy and strong boy, is a delight to be around.  He is a happy baby who smiles frequently revealing his small dimples.  As I babysat Juan, I took notice of how dependent babies are on their caretakers to meet their needs. It was interesting to see Juan play on the floor.  His movements seem awkward as he tries to discover his own abilities.  In trying to grab a toy, he overstretches his arms as they squirm to grab things.  Likewise, he wants to crawl but has not managed to figure out how.  While lying on a mat, he can bring his knees to his chest and push but he can't hold himself up on all fours.  This reminds me, that hard as it may seem, I too was once a baby.  Looking at Juan, I realize how much I have grown and how much of that growth was because of people who cared for me.  It fills me with gratitude to think of the numerous people who have supported me.  It also challenges me to be a support for others. 

  

            Eli, a five-year-old girl, allows me to see another stage of life.  In kindergarten, Eli is just beginning to learn how to read.  Every day at seven o'clock this spirited, dramatic and Disney princess loving diva and I work on handwriting and reading.  She can correctly identify all the letters in the alphabet and almost all the sounds they make.  Listening to her read inevitably brings a smile to my face.  Her beginning reading books are about six pages and usually have no more than five words on each page.  However, she treats each book as if it is novel.  When she sits down to read, she releases a heavy sigh as she begins her momentous task.  Sounding out letters isn't a problem for her but combining all the sounds together is something she is working to improve.  She repeats the sounds over and over again.  duh-ah-duh. duh-ah-duh.  duh-ah-duh. duh-ah-duh. Finally, after about seven tries she guesses what the word is.  DAD!  Teaching Eli to read reminds me of the patient people who sat with me as I sounded out letters and tried to form words.  It made me aware of the challenges each stage of life brings.  As we get older, these challenges get harder, but our abilities to handle them are increased so we can aptly face life's obstacles. 

            Every day I am reminded of my teenage years though the life of Tina.  Tina is twelve and proudly calls herself a teenager.  In middle school, Tina is going through a tough stage of making friends, fitting in, and discovering herself.  While a smart and usually obedient girl, Tina is moody and sometimes irritable.  She is the oldest child in the tutoring program and thinks she is cooler than the others.  She commonly asks them, "Are you smart or dumb?" Once answered, she continues to ask them trick questions and gloats when they get them wrong.  Interacting with Tina makes me grateful for my parents and siblings who put up with my attitude and mood swings at this age.  It also lets me know that in every stage in life, there are lessons to be learned and even though life may be hard, the stage will eventually pass.

            When in the presence of Irene, I cannot help but feel that I have much to learn.  In her sixties, Irene is no stranger to struggle.  A San Antonio native, Irene is undoubtedly full of strength and sass.  About a year ago, Irene lost her only son.  Despite this loss, this pain, Irene is full of life.  Having a great outlook on life, when hardships come her way, she accepts them.  She doesn't complain or play the victim seeking sympathy from others.  Nor does she lash out and become bitter because she is hurting.  She acknowledges the situation for what it is, realizes what is within her control and then calmly pursues a logical course of action.  When things don't work out as she may have hoped, she does not despair.  Instead, she finds solace in knowing she tried her best and leaves the rest up to God. 

            These people exemplify only a few of the many stages of life.  As I look at them, I am able to see how far I have come and how far I still need to travel. 

           

Angelique "Jelly" Snyder, Incarnate Word Missionary

Essence of "Being" and being available

Some of the greatest times at the Guardaria are in the ¨being.¨ Jesus came down to earth, and entered into life to ¨be¨ with us.  God is continually telling us through scripture that, “I will be with you.”  What does that mean, and what does that look like in every day life?  One of my personal desires is to live that reality of “being with,” being available, accompanying, in daily life.  That is one of the things I strive for here, and I treasure the one on one time I get to spend one on one with others.      

             Last week, I noticed that one of our four year olds had been sleeping through music class. This had not been the first time, and he had been having a much harder time listening, staying in his seat, and seemed to be crying much more easily than normal.    So, after music, I pulled him in for a chat.  At first, he thought that he was in trouble and started crying, but I put him in my lap and we chatted for about ten minutes.  Why was he so tired?  Why was he having trouble “comporting bien” at school?  Was everyone okay at home?  No.  Was mom okay?  Yes.  Was dad okay?  Yes.  Hermanos?  Yes.  Friends?  No.  They were older and too big, and couldn't go to school with him.  As he talked, he stopped crying, and started rattling on about his friends.  We talked a little more about “comporting bien” and the fact that we missed his voice as we were learning our Christmas songs.   I gave him a hug and sent him off to play.  The next minute he was tearing around the playground with the others.  

The next day, I was standing outside of the classroom working on another project, and he yelled out to me, “Miss Kristi!”   I turned and looked.  He was the first person in line, and he looked proud.  He was actually just about quivering with proudness.   He yelled out, “Miss Kristi!  I’m comporting bien!”  His teacher had chosen him as the line leader (a great honor for a preschooler).  He wanted me to know.  It made my mouth smile and my heart laugh.

Part of me can get so task oriented at times, but I am so glad of the reminders.  The dignity and the wonder of a little man’s soul.  And the profound, beautiful gift of glimpsing that soul as one to which that soul takes into confidence.

Kirsten Kyle, Incarnate Word Missionary

Jelly's Random Thoughts

Forgive me but this week doesn't have a specific theme.  Nevertheless, these are some of my current thoughts...

This week has been quite eventful with Monday being Halloween, Tuesday, All Saints Day and Wednesday was Dia de los Muertos.   I wasn’t' expecting much on Halloween because when I asked the kids if they were going trick or treating they responded, "We don't do that.  We're Christian."  It was more of a rehearsed line because their mother is not a fan of All Hollow’s Eve.  However, when Halloween rolled around, they were begging to go out decked in costumes looking for candy.  So, I offered to take them and their mother obliged.  The kids were fully dressed in their costumes, hair done, make-up on and accessorized in less that 20 minutes.  An artist, Hannah Montana, a witch and I wondered the streets looking for the neighborhoods with the best candy.  When we started our adventure, there were only a few houses per block that were light up.  It seemed that the Halloween spirit I remembered as a child had faded.  However, as we trekked on, we came to a wealthy neighborhood that was hopping with people.  The kids were so excited through everything.  Even when we started out and things seemed rather glum, the children never lost hope that we would have a successful night.  They were so simple and easy to please and I enjoyed the lighthearted humor they brought.  Trick or treating with them made me feel like a kid again.  It made me lower my expectations and be happy with whatever I was given, good or bad.  Their attitudes are what made my night enjoyable.

 On Dia de los Muertos, two of the sisters I share community with and I were discussing the relationship we have with those who have died.  We talked about the Mexican culture and it's strong relationships with friends and family members despite death.  Something that struck me was that Sister Yolanda said, " When we die, we get sucked into God's love."  This gave me a great visual of the soul of a person leaving their mortal body to enter into God' ever loving presence. 

One day I only had John Paul (a 10 year old boy) in the car with me and I was driving him to be tutored in reading.  I looked in my rearview mirror and caught John Paul deep in thought. "What are you thinking about John Paul?" I asked. To which he responded, "a house".  I was left silent.  This boy desperately wants a home to call his own for himself and his family.  He has been in transitional housing for almost three years now.  I wondered what I thought about when I was a child his age.  Most likely it was what will my new Barbie be? I have never had to worry about one of my most basic needs being met, shelter.  What would it be like if I were in his shoes?

A house would mean a lot of things for John Paul.  To him, and to many of the families here, a home is more than a place for shelter.  It is a safe refuge, a place they share their love, their meals, and their family.  A home is something that belongs to only them, something no one can take away.  They have never felt that sense of security and long for it.  This made me acknowledge the abundance of opportunities I have been given, many of which I fail to realize.  I hope that one day, John Paul and his family can have the sense of security that a home would bring.  I also hope that their experience here at Visitation House is carefree and that he no longer worries about the uncertainties the future holds but instead enjoys the friends and wonderful times he has had thus far.

Angelique "Jelly" Snyder, Incarnate Word Missionary

Musical Moments

by Emma Buckhout, IWM serving in Mexico City

Just like a clear sunny day or seeing Orion from my roof, music has the ability to remind me of God's presence wherever I am. Music surrounds us anywhere we go, no matter the country. Yet recently I have been more in tune to how it weaves through each facet of my missionary experience here in Santa Fe, Mexico City. Whether music is on in the background, or I am listening to people singing or playing, watching a dance, or singing along myself, music is a powerful force pulling people together, expressing individual and communal creativity, relating history, praising God, and teaching me more about myself, my community, and my God.

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“Hola niños, hola niñas, hola todos, es tiempo de música.”

Since Kirsten arrived in our IWM community in Santa Fe with her music therapy background, my (volunteer missionary) preschool teacher job description now includes part-time music teacher. Three days a week Kirsten and I give four special music sessions to the classes of two, three, four, and five-year-old children at the guardería. The purpose of the class is to reinforce the established curriculum, promote following directions, and improve fine and gross motor skills, creativity and expression. So far some of the lessons have focused on numbers and counting—“Sally the Camel”, emotions—“If You´re Happy and You Know It”, colors, days of the week, creating and following rhythm or dance, and playing tambourines or maracas along with the music. Needless to say, I have learned a lot of children's songs in Spanish. The most rewarding part has been seeing a student who struggles to focus and is always in trouble, like three-year-old Brian, sitting rapt in his seat, grinning and singing along.

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“El Espíritu de Dios está en este lugar.”

The children's choir, averaging about eight kids ages five to sixteen, sings out from the choir loft at the 1pm mass on Sundays. They sing and play a rain stick, tambourine, and maracas as Jessi plays the organ and I sing along, help direct, and make sure no one leans too far over the railing. It was really hard to sing in mass when we first arrived because there are no hymnals or song books. People that have grown up in the church know the common songs by heart. Singing with the choir has been my way of catching up a bit. Jessi tries to choose songs that the youth enjoy and that the congregation can sing along with. It was really confusing at first, but there is a beauty of tradition and shared culture. And yet the children's choir, with all their energy and spunk that is sometimes easier to direct than others, adds their own life to the celebration of mass.

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“All of You is more than enough for all of me.”

We have set every Monday night is aside for community night with Tara, Kirsten and me. We prepare dinner, check-in on any community logistics, share how we are and for what we need support, and spend time in open prayer with and for one another. These nights have been a very intimate and special time of vulnerability, conflict-resolution, and sharing in God´s Spirit. A couple nights of prayer have even ended in singing praise songs, with and without Kirsten's guitar. After all, it was said, “He who sings prays twice.” Praise singing has brought me a very special awareness and communication with God, so it has been truly special to share that with my community members. It is a rare harmony of voice and prayer.

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“Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro?”

Sometimes music just comes as the release of pure joy, energy, and silliness. Tara and I simultaneously burst into a rendition of “Do Your Ears Hang Low” while shopping at the market one day. Kirsten was mildly surprised when we entered the house with a choreographed dance. And no, it had nothing to do with teaching preschool music. I don't even want to know what anyone who passed us on the street thought.

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“There goes the baker with his tray like always, the same old bread and rolls to sell….”

Kirsten and I also spontaneously sang most of the “Belle” song from Beauty and the Beast while preparing dinner one community night. I'm not sure how it started, but once started there was no stopping.

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“Guantanamera”

During the week of the Jornada Teológica del Norte, a conference to discuss liberation theology in Mexico, the United States and Canada, Miriam organized a “Noche Bohemia” at the parish for some friends that were participating. After a panel on human rights, we headed back to Santa Fe for dinner and music. The music “tocada” included three guitars, an accordion, the occasional water glass percussion and quite the collection of voices: Father Salvador, three priests, a jóven from one of their parishes, Miriam's Mexican friend who currently works with migrants in California, friends from the parish young and old, and us missionaries from the United States, Canada and Ireland. We sang mostly Mexican ranchera songs, but one priest performed a German yodeling song, and we all joined in a bilingual version of “El Rey”. The climax of the evening came with a drawn-out rendition of “Guantanamera” during which everyone around the table added their own verse, even those of us who speak Spanglish. It was a beautiful moment of open sharing of appreciation of music and one another's presence.

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“Tuyo Soy”

On Thursday afternoon it can be difficult to talk in our kitchen because song drifts in from the chapel in the front of our house. Each Thursday, two ministers from the church spend their day in our chapel for Adoration. People passing on the busy street can stop as they wish and join. And when I get home from work to have a snack, above the noise of the traffic outside, I am reminded of the holiness that is in our house but also in the whole of Santa Fe.

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“Bendice Señor nuestra mesa, y enséñanos a compartir nuestra alegría aleluya, y nuestro pan también.”

We sang to bless the meal with the Incarnate Word Sisters Martha, Guillerma and Fabiola of Santa Fe along with several gathered friends as we had lunch at the parish on Sunday in honor of Kathy's visit. Then we sang the next day before our meal on retreat in Cuernavaca. So many tables are shared with me here in Mexico. I hope that I will always be as generous and quick to share my table, happiness and bread as well.

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“Yo no sé mañana si estaremos juntos si acaba el mundo.”

I rock out to one of my favorite pop salsa songs as I walk down the sidewalk or it plays in zumba class or the bus driver turns it on. I get really excited when I can sing along with what I hear without stopping to think if it is in Spanish or English.

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Music is a universal language. I have always loved to sing, but here in Santa Fe I have a whole new repertoire of songs to learn. I have a lot of listening yet to do, but I am extremely blessed that so often I am invited to join in, whether or not I know the words yet, and whether they are in English or Spanish.



Two-year-old music class participants like what they hear



Children's choir prepares for rehearsal

Words

Emily Ruskamp:
“Evangelize,” says one bullet point on the Youth Minister’s “How we show our Christian commitment” presentation. “We need to spread the message of Jesus Christ.”
Later, I hear a knock on the door. “Do you read the word of God? Let me show you a few passages. You’re a missionary? But you don’t go door-to-door? Let me show you where the Bible says God wants us to go door-to-door…”
Later still, my theater group performs an interpretation of Saint Francis’s Canticle of Creation. I am fire. We spend two hours wrapping ourselves with colored cloths and painting each other’s faces, plus taking pictures, dancing around the dressing room, getting nervous, calming our nerves, enjoying the rare luxurious mirrors and lighting, laughing, yelling, panicking when something or someone is missing, and solving last-minute glitches. I am not nervous because my fire dance is well-practiced, but I worry a little that we won’t impress the one hundred youth who are gathering in Chimbote for a regional conference. All-in-all, it goes well, they applaud us, and we take an hour-and-a-half scrubbing our faces and singing children’s songs in the dressing room, then we meander back to the parish, conversing, laughing, and talking about our hunger. As we approach the parish, we slowly split up, each one to her or his own house.
Another day in youth ministry. Another day evangelizing. Another day not going-door-to-door, but doing my best to let God work with me nonetheless. Today it was a Franciscan fire dance, tomorrow who knows what it will be!


Kelli Nelson:
He walked toward me sharing the sidewalk in his dust washed jeans, simple brown jacket, worn sneakers, a grand toothless grin, his thin body carrying a head held high with what seemed a disposition of, “life is good.” I watched him, drawn by this composition, suddenly sucked into his world. It was as though he was moving to his own soundtrack making other creatures come to life with his nod, the point of his finger, or shine of his eyes. Stopping abruptly as if he had dropped something, he spun around, retraced a few steps and reached to greet a small butterfly who without hesitation claimed home on his hand. The man of about forty or so years stood, turned, and continued his walk in my direction glowing with a contentment that became my own. As we approached the point of meeting he invited the butterfly to his chest where it lingered. Our eyes met, the man’s and mine, and we shared a smile that filled me up and continues to do so this very moment. How I wish to speak of God’s love like him.



Katie Langley:
Miscommunications have become a daily part of my Peruvian life. Speaking in another language is hard, and it is even harder when your comments are constantly being misinterpreted into something else entirely. Here in Chimbote, for example, if you compliment someone’s garden, the reply will most likely be, “Ok, this Saturday at 4pm you come over and I will teach you how to garden.” All of a sudden your intended side-comment to start a conversation becomes an obligation.
Two weeks ago I was in a patient’s house and her daughter was crocheting a scarf. I was standing alone with her in the living room and decided to speak with my toddler-age Spanish after about 30 seconds of awkward smiling.
Me: Me gusta tu chalina. (I like your scarf)
Her: Gracias!! Sabes que como tejer?? (Thanks!! Do you know how to crochet??)
Me: No, no puedo. (No, No I can’t)
Her: Bueno, este Jueves a las 4 in la tarde puedes venir y te enseño. Puedes comprar linea in Al Centro hoy dia antes de 9. (Great, this Thursday at 4:00 in the afternoon you can come and I will teach you. You can buy yarn downtown today before 9pm.)

Needless to say, this situation escalated into a twice a week visit to this lady’s house to learn how to crochet my new red scarf. I have about 6 inches done so far, 3 more feet to go. Two days ago, I was talking about cooking lunch for my community every Monday with another nurse. It went a little something like this:

Me: Tengo que cocinar cada Lunes (I have to cook every Monday)
Her: Que te gusta cocinar?? (What do you like to cook??)
Me: No puedo cocinar muy bien. Puedo cocinar pasta y otros cosas muy facil. (I can’t cook very well. I can cook pasta and other easy things.)
Her: Pues, este noche tengo tiempo libre. Me llamas antes de 6:00 y puedo venir a tu casa enseñarte como cocinar Estofado de Pollo. Hasta luego!! (Well, tonight I have free time. Call me before 6:00pm and I can come to your house and teach you how to make Estofado de Pollo. See you later!!).

I was left standing there mid-sentence (“But I have English class tonight and can’t….), a vegetarian with a date to learn how to make a chicken and rice dish before 6pm.
At first this attitude seemed presumptuous and frustrated me, but I am starting to see the beauty in it all. The Peruvians attitude is to drop everything they are doing just to share their culture and lives with someone they barely know. In The United States, we are all so rushed and living inside of ourselves that it is a huge inconvenience to have to pause and share something with another person. Our usual way of communicating is to have an interaction to get our point across. Here in Chimbote, the interactions are so much more about sharing presence, life, stories, hobbies, language, and love. Their openness and willingness to bring you into their culture with open arms is so beautiful and genuine. While I might not be too excited about having 3 more feet of red scarf to crochet, I feel blessed to have this time to share with the Señora who is teaching me. It is about the conversation and the presence, not just the messy ball of red yarn sitting beside me.

Communication:

I whip out my cell phone and say “Uh-huh” under my breath as I check my email.

“Well, what do you think?” my friend asks.

“About what?” I answer while I text “Happy Birthday” to a co-worker after a Facebook reminder pops up on my cell’s screen.

“About what I should do?” they answer.

“…about what you should do…about what?” I respond, finally looking up.

My friend shrugs apathetically, “Never mind.”

“I’m Sorry. Okay, start from the beginning. I’ll listen this time, I promise.”

Just then my phone chirps and vibrates for attention from my lap. I wince when I realize it’s trying to remind me that my meeting starts in fifteen minutes. 

“Hey. I just remembered that I have a meeting right now. Do you mind if we talk about this later?”

“Uh-huh,” my friend responds with a blank stare now directed at the laptop on the table between us.

“Maybe we could get something to eat—” I remember I already made plans to meet the guys for dinner, “…or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” my friend says halfheartedly as the tapping noise of keyboard keys punctuates the silence.

“Alright, text me then. See you later.”

“Later. Have a good meeting.”

“Thanks, you too—I mean…you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get you. See ya.”

Let’s just say, things are a little different now.

           

            “Hey, Kyle!” comes a loud, gruff, yet feminine voice from a house on my way home.

            “Hola, Lucha.” I yell back through her open front door.

            “How are you? Where are you coming from?” says the little old Peruvian woman as she gets up from her dining room table and makes her way to the door.

            “I’m good. I’m cooking today!” I hold up a bag of groceries.

            She laughs.

            “I’m going to try to cook today.” I correct myself.

            She laughs again, “Come in, come in! Have a little something to eat first. I made some soup you should try.”

            “Aw, Lucha, I don’t have time.”

            “I don’t have time!” She mocks me before grabbing my grocery bag. She may be tiny, but she has a strong grip and before I know it I’m sitting at her table with a steaming bowl of…something, in front of me.

            “Eat, eat. So, tell me what you’re making.”

            “Well, I’m going to try to make yucca today.”

            “Mmm…yucca is delicious. How are you going to prepare it?”

            “—and that’s the problem.”

            “Well, you pretty much just cook it like potatoes.”

            “Easy.” I reply, but after a few spoonfuls of her soup I ask, “So, then, I cook it in water?”

            She sighs politely and shakes her head.

            Twenty minutes later I’m on my way home again, but with a bag of freshly peeled and cut yucca and a game-plan.

            “Bye Kyle, good luck! It’s going to be delicious.”

            “Thanks a lot Lucha.”

            “No problem!”

            “—and Kyle.”

            “Yeah?” I say as I stop and turn to hear what she’s going to say.

            “Take care of yourself.”

            “Thanks, Lucha. I will.”

            I didn’t know how warm and real communicating with other people could feel until I came here, even casual, everyday relationships. Now it seems like I have many more opportunities to really connect with people. Sometimes, even without words.

The other day as I was helping weigh children in Cambio Puente, a little boy became terrified of the scale for some reason. He kicked and struggled to avoid being put in the carrier that we hang from the balance. He cried out, and suddenly grabbed his mother tightly around her neck. She gently turned so that he could see me, and whispered something to him. I nodded my head in agreement with whatever she was saying. He slowly released his vice-grip and allowed me to put him in the carrier. I looked at his mom and smiled in thanks. She smiled back and smoothed her son’s ruffled hair.

Moments like these force me to see how important and rewarding interacting with the people around us can be. It makes me wish I’d always taken the extra time to look a person in the eyes and say, “Hey…you take care of yourself, alright?” and really mean it. 

Kyle Seymour, Incarnate Word Missionary

Everything is a Museum

Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of taking the kids from Visitation House to a local park.  While the kids (ages 7,8,10 and 12) have often been to this park, I thought it would be fun just to get out.  I had a 50% success rate.  The 12 year old was "too cool" for the park and sat on a bench by herself.  Teenagers.  The 10 year old and 8 year old, on the other hand, were thrilled.  They brought their favorite toys, stuffed animals, a football and even changed shoes.  While sitting outside by the pool (this park has an beautiful outdoor pool shaded by trees that arch over it), I overheard this conversation:

JP (picks up a twig): "Look at this!"

Mariela (less than impressed) "It's only a stick."

JP:  "It's not just a stick, it has a centipede on it.  It's a museum." 

Mariela: "It's not a museum!"

JP: "Yes it is.  Everything is a museum."

Upon hearing this, I tilted my head while a baffled look came cross my face.  It got me thinking about my mindset when I walk into museums.  For me, museums are like a playhouse.  They are filled with an immense amount of knowledge that is within my reach.  They are places that can leave me feeling impressed, awed or even shocked.  Museums invite me to step inside another world, even if only for a short time. I walk into museums excited about what I can learn.  What if I looked at the world with the same mindset?  Wouldn’t everything seem novel, more enjoyable and simply waiting for me to discover it all?

As I thought about what JP had said, I tried to look at my day-to-day occurrences with a new light.  I noticed myself paying attention more to the little things in life.  People, as odd as it sounds, were exhibits.  At dinner one night, Sister Lettie displayed the movements and sounds of screaming bats as she shared about her life in Zambia and the "bat party" in her attic.  I saw a special on intercultural dialogue as two of my co-workers, one Irish and the other Mexican American, discussed how the tortilla is equivalent to the potato; you can do just about anything with these staples.  Likewise, I was privileged to hear the first-hand account of one of the children here.  She told me she went to 6 different schools in one year and vividly described several different shelters she had been to.  I felt honored to have shared moments such as these with my community members who range greatly in age and in background.  As I listen to them, I am encouraged me to revisit the museums of their lives, allowing me to deepen my understanding of their worlds.  

Angelique Snyder, Incarnate Word Missionary

Learning Just To "Be" With People

When I was at a Catholic Bible School in rural Alberta, the local priest once preached from the altar that people with disabilities were created by God so that we would learn to love.  Having worked one day a week for almost a year with the Missionaries of Charity, I have learned that not only do they teach us to love, but that we are loved and indeed, loveable – just as we are, not for anything we do or say, but who we are in our very presence and essence.

Presence is one of the charisms and values of the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word and of the IWM missionaries.  I have to admit that this Christ Incarnate presence is something I have struggled with.  In our orientation it was stressed that it is not only the things we do, but actually our physical and spiritual presence to people that is important.  I am a doer and not a very good ‘be-er,’so whether it is hanging out in the kitchen at the parish, or staying for extended amounts of time after our youth group meetings, or sitting with God just trying to ‘listen’ for more than about 3 minutes, I struggle big time, because I feel like my time is being wasted.  I am not doing anything productive. 

Working with the Missionaries of Charity, has helped me with this a lot, and little by little I am learning just to ‘be’ with people.  The Missionaries have 3 sections at their location in Santa Fe, Mexico City.  Upstairs in one of their buildings they care for babies and young children.  Downstairs in the same building they have about 15 niñas (girls) which are young to middle aged women with varying degrees of mental and physical disabilities.  They also have a section for older women.  I have concentrated mostly downstairs with the niñas and abuelitas (older women) putting cream on their faces, cutting their nails and feeding them, but most recently have stuck with the niñas.

Their ward, as institutional and drab as it is, gives me peace.  Usually, I cut their finger and toenails, clean their ears and feed them . . . but sometimes, as awkward as it feels in moments, I just ´am´with them.  I communicate, but do not talk with them, or I dance with them. 

Let me describe to you some of the incredibly loveable people that I have met there – Lupita is a young woman whose legs and arms are so short that she moves around on a skateboard, but her mind is perfectly sound.  She can write with her toes, is an associate of the Missionaries of Charity and is now working on finishing her schooling.  Her best friend is Cande (pronounced Cand-eh), who is a middle aged woman with the spirit and face of a child -- kind but usually doesn’t talk much until she is in a really good mood and chatters away like Father Salvador’s pet birds and orders the other girls around in her soft tones.  Cande keeps a stash of collectible junk under her mattress, and when something goes missing she is the first that the Sisters and collaborators ask.  Linda is an obese egg shaped and mute girl with Downs who has this incredibly quirky sense of humour and a strong character that comes and goes in spurts. One day, Linda had been made up with a very cute – but very unwanted -- little red clip bow in her hair.  She took it out and wrapped it up first in the baggy for my left-hand silicone glove bag, and then in the one for the right one, and then put this perfectly neat package in the tin box that was holding the nail-clippers that I was using on the other girls.  I took it out and put it back in her hair and she repeated the exact same meticulous hiding process as the first time.  At that point I decided she should be able to exercise the right to veto the paraphernalia that goes in her hair each day.  Another day, I tried to steal some of her food for Ines, another girl with Downs, not knowing why they gave Linda so much to eat in the first place.  But, let me tell you, there was NO WAY I was taking any food away from her.  She threw my hand away each time I tried, continuing her fixation on her sub-divided plate.

Ines, is another girl with Downs who can walk, but is too weak to stand up straight and so requires that you attach her as a train car to your waist and walk with her.  But, Ines has the most innocent huge brown eyes that look at you so intently as if she is searching your soul, and when she feels loved she lays her head on your lap in the most gentle way.  Corazón (heart) is another girl with mental and physical disabilities, who also can walk but with stiff difficulty and as if she is a bit tipsy.  Her eyes just sparkle and she always wears these cute little red shoes, as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.  She always greets you with the hugest smile and her sweet guttural sigh.  She really likes to dance and can breathe her vowels in sequence if you prompt her.

There are several of the girls that are bed ridden at least to their reclined wheelchairs.  The emaciated limbs of these young girls are twisted in all sorts of strange positions, and they cannot speak – except with their eyes, their crying, sighs and moans.  One such girl, Edith Grande, spoke to me one day.  The girls used to pray the Rosary every day, and so I sat cross-legged on the floor in the back, having returned from putting something away in the bathing area.  One of the full-time workers said that Edith was saying that I shouldn’t be sitting on the floor – with her sparkling eyes, her facial expressions and her innocent smile.  She was saying that I should take the chair that her foot was on.  We settled on sharing the seat.  I was blessed by her generosity and pure love.

For almost twenty years, my mom has worked as the accountant at a complex of a workshop and housing units for the mentally and physically challenged.  I always felt I needed to work with this minority of people in some capacity, to prove to myself that I had that kind of love for the ‘other’, or to see if I did.  I found out that I do have this kind of love, even though sometimes, perhaps too often, I have to walk away and compose myself -- and my gag reflex.  But, I have learned something equally or more valuable -- that I am worthy of this kind of love in all of my brokenness, and in all of my selfishness; that my presence is enough regardless of what I say or do.  I have learned, as Henri Nouwen learned at the Daybreak community of L’Arche, that I too, am the “Beloved [daughter] on who the [Father’s] favour rests” (The Return of the Prodigal Son, 16).

Tara Hurford, Incarnate Word Missionary

New Perspectives and Emotions

Well the middle of September marks my one year spent here in Zambia.

In most ways I can’t believe it has already been a year. But in other ways I feel so at home and comfortable that it feels like a lot longer.

I am so very thankful for the experiences I have had so far and the people that I have met. At the same time I look forward to another year of growth, learning, and  the new and continued relationships with people that I am blessed with. I feel like I have learned so much and been able to make a positive change in myself. With that there are struggles and weaknesses I encounter each day as well. I thank God for those because in those moments I am humbled and open to change.

I thought I would give you an update on my life here and what has been happening. I recently went to Lusaka to receive my nurses’ license.

Yes, it has been a year since I arrived but it was a quite lengthy process to say the least. But none the less I am officially a licensed nurse here in Zambia now :). I continue working in the MIC (Mother and Infant Care) Program with Sr. Cristina and Sr. Rosemar. I am there when the moms and babies come on tuesdays and fridays to collect the milk and to get the babies weighed. Then on wednesdays a team of us go out to visit the ones who are sick in their homes. I enjoy the visits especially because we get to know the moms on a more personal level in their environments. On mondays and thursdays I can be found in the children’s ward at the hospital here in Mongu. I enjoy working with the other nurses there and the little patients steal my heart. Its never a boring day on the ward, definitely the work keeps me on my toes. Usually thursday afternoons I go to an orphanage close to my house to play with the kids and be a kid myself. They bring my heart so much joy with their laughter and stories. So those are just some of the things that keep me busy for now.

I continue to pray for patience and love. To be able to share these with others and accept them from those around me. So as I reflect on this time that is past and plan for the time in the future I am reminded I am called to live in the present and to just be.

Nicole Tardio, Incarnate Word Missionary

Una Communidad Nueva

Kelli and I stood on either side of Sister Rosaleen, who had one arm around each of us, as we watched Marcelle enter the “Passengers only” portion of the departures wing.  As I watched her walk away, tears welled up in my eyes, a salty symbol of the emotions swimming through my stomach, head, and heart—sadness in saying goodbye, excitement for the next step in Marcelle’s life, and nervousness and excitement to begin the community anew.  For me, that moment is very representative of what I’m feeling in the midst of founding a new community.  It is the challenge of letting go of old habits and seeing our house with fresh eyes while offering helpful advice and guidance to the two new missionaries.  It is holding on to the sacredness of my relationship with Kelli, the other returning missionary, while embracing the new dynamics and dimensions brought by Katie and Kyle.  It is continuing to enjoy and strengthen my relationships with the greater community while learning to open my heart to two new missionaries.  The transition has not been easy, but two role models have helped me to embrace the beauty of it:  first, the example left by Jesus’ 12 apostles, whose love for each other was enough to inspire others to follow Christ, and second, the community here in Chimbote, who continually reopen their lives to each of us who come to walk a sacred journey with them.  And in that, I ask for God to open my heart, as well, so that I may continually honor the sacredness of the path that is now being shared by Kelli, Katie, Kyle, and me.

-Emily Ruskamp, Incarnate Word Missionary

Give us this day our daily bread…

“Kel, can you pass the mantequilla?”  “Por supuesto!”

“Sorry I burned the rice today, guys.”

“Oh my gosh, this is so good!  How did you make it?”

“How was your morning?”

“I’m kind of worried about…”

“What do you think I should do?”

“What have you got planned for the afternoon?”

“I’ve got dishes today.”

Our community here in Chimbote has taken to the tradition of sharing lunch together each day, a ritual I have found  to be quite symbolic and foundational as it is perhaps one of the most beautiful expressions of our giving and receiving  of one another as we are in Christ Jesus.  We are still fresh faces and spirits to each other, but a great vulnerability bonds us in the intimacy of joining at the table.  Stories and silences shared, lingering thoughts, laughter and lightheartedness, inviting questions call us to union and remind us that we are indeed food for one another.  And, while I still find myself very much in the midst of a time of transition, holding on and letting go, this new community invites me each day again and again to a richly laden table with a portion that not only expands my waistline, but grows my heart with affirmation and renewal in our being called together.  I truly embrace and find meaning in our crossing of paths, the unique combination of Katie, Kyle, Emily, and Kelli where God’s love is already being made known in new ways. I very much look forward to our walking together and choose growth and love in the journey.

-Kelli Nelson, Incarnate Word Missionary

When I started trying to prepare myself to live in my Peruvian IWM community, I really didn’t know where to start. I have lived in community before and it is something that is really important to me. It is also something that I still struggle with being intentional about. I was stressing out about what theologians I should brush up on that discussed community life (Maybe I could read some Dorothy Day??), what Bible passages I should read (Maybe the Gospels would help??), and what I should start trying to look forward to (What kinds of things will we do together?? Or talk about??). 

            Once we arrived in Lima on August 15, Kelli and Emily greeted us with huge hugs (and homemade name cards) at the airport. Their excitement and immediate openness was a wonderful impression of what the next month would be like living in community with them. Our community so far has been very energetic, hopeful, optimistic, and accepting. Every day it feels like we are learning more about each other, keeping each other present to the moment, and getting closer as a missionary family.

            One project we decided to do together is to turn one of the bedrooms in our house into a chapel. We decided as a group that we all wanted a space in our house reserved specifically for prayer and meditation. We are all looking forward to intentionally spending time together to create such a spiritually intimate place that we can all share.

Whether we are laughing over lunch, dancing in the kitchen, praying in our chapel, telling stories before bed, kneeling next to each other during mass, sharing our joys, sharing our worries, or just reflecting upon our day, we know that the other three are there to listen. In just one short month we have really come together as four individuals from different walks of life and formed our own little Peruvian family. Not to say there will not be challenges within this family in the future, but for now I have faith that with the foundation we are continuing to build, those challenges will just help to make us stronger.

I have learned that there is no way to prepare for community life. There are no books you can read or imagined scenarios that can tell you how to act and what to do. Every community has a different dynamic, a special spirit and energy about it that can never be planned for ahead of time. The best way to prepare for community is to realize you really can’t prepare at all, just to walk in with an open mind, open arms, and an open heart. What happens next will be a beautiful adventure.

          -Katie Langley, Incarnate Word Missionary

We’ve only been living in Chimbote together for about two weeks, but our house already feels like a home. It would only take a quick walkthrough to see all the signs of our new and growing community. Past the busy looking dry erase board by the front door and into the living room, Kelli’s ukulele lays on the table after a spontaneous music session with some of our friends. A bowl of change is close at hand on the bookshelf—for when a game of UNO turns into something a little more high-stakes. In the kitchen, four empty coffee cups sit drying in the drainer after an evening conversation. Next to the stove is the beat-up, earmarked cookbook splattered with tomato sauce. In the dining room, half the dinner table is a collection of papers and books, including some for the English classes taught twice a week, while the other half is reserved for sharing food and time. Straight up the stairs at the end of the hall, in what used to be a bedroom, is the freshly painted Incarnate Word symbol on the wall of our newly converted chapel. A dusty trail of, our cat, Fidea’s paw prints lead out to the second floor balcony where somebody’s clothes hang on the line. It’s difficult to describe how a community grows and much easier to see it taking place. Sometimes things get a little messy. At the end of the day though, as I’m making my way to my room, tired and happy, I’m glad that I can look around and see how lucky I am to be a part of it all.

          -Kyle Seymour, Incarnate Word Missionary

Home Is Where the Heart Is

By Angelique “Jelly” Snyder, IWM serving in San Antonio, Texas

Maya Angelou writes, “I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.”  This quote currently resonates very strongly with me.  This past July I finished a year of service with FrancisCorps in Costa Rica.  Costa Rica was my home for a year and it was terribly hard to leave that home: to leave the amazing people with whom I formed meaningful friendships with, to leave the 35 kids I worked with daily, and to leave my four fellow volunteers with whom I shared every joy as well as every struggle.  Upon my arrival into the United States, I spent two weeks in Syracuse, NY, being “disoriented” followed by a few days at the house of one of my fellow volunteers.  Afterwards, I stayed in San Antonio for two days for a wedding and then began my three-week orientation for Incarnate Word Missionaries.  While my time spent in training was enjoyable, especially thanks to my fellow missionaries, I was nevertheless restless to start my job and move in to my apartment, a place I hoped to make home. 

Visitation House, my current site, is a transitional living program for homeless women with children seeking to better their lives.  While living here, women make a commitment to study or work full time. The women that I was to work with were homeless for years, living in and out of friends or families’ places as well as shelters, ever vigilant to be sure a place was safe for their children.  While feeling sorry for myself as I lived out of my suitcase and transitioned frequently, I began to think of these women.  How could I even begin to complain about the places I was staying when I was welcomed by people who genuinely and wholeheartedly cared for me and my every need? On the other hand, the Visitation House women, many of whom were victims of domestic abuse as well as unable to speak English, have undoubtedly gone through tough times; yet, they are resilient and have worked hard to improve their lives.  Feeling for an evanescent time what these women perhaps felt for years, I was overwhelmed with gratitude.  I am blessed to have a family with whom I always feel at home.  I am blessed to have made a home wherever I have lived due to hospitable people.  I am blessed that I have never been truly homeless.  I am blessed. 

I have learned that home is not simply a concrete place you go to lie your head down; rather, it is a place where one’s mind is at rest.  Home is not merely a place to eat, but where meals and conversations are shared.  Home is where you make it and with the help of my supportive community, I am making Visitation House my new home. 

New Beginnings

By Kirsten Kyle, IW Missionary serving in Santa Fe, Mexico City, Mexico

I have almost finished my second week in Santa Fe and, apart from a large lack of Spanish on my part, the place already feels like home. Everyone has been so much more than friendly. There is a singing-fest going on outside of the long-term missionary's door as I write this and we as missionaries have been welcomed into this rather boisterous, large family. Yesterday an eleven-piece mariachi band just "happened" to stop by and serenade us for about an hour during a baptism reception, another nine-piece one tonight, and any night of the week at least 8-10 people are gathered around the table talking and eating until ten or eleven at night.  

My first night here there were fireworks; literally, both inside and outside the church. We arrived on the Assumption of Mary, a huge day of fiesta in Mexico. The church was packed, and myself and the other two short-term missionaries were called upon to place the crown on Mary's head as fireworks went off over us inside the church.

Outside, after mass, was a concert and los toros locos, the crazy bulls. Los toros locos are bulls built into a two foot frame filled with fireworks. These fireworks are lit, and then someone places the entire frame, fireworks and all, on their head and runs through the crowd with fireworks shooting off their head into the crowd at entirely unexpected times. What an introduction!

The rest of my time here has been less flammable.

Last week, myself and the two second-year missionaries with whom I am living, trooped around Mexico City. We saw many of the sights; visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the government palace, the central Cathedral, and marketplaces. The plaza in Mexico City is one of the largest in the world, second only to Moscow's, and it faces the main government building.

It was very powerful to see that most of the square was full of tents/banners protesting government corruption, and foam tombstones representing the over 40,000 people who have been murdered in the last four years. The central part of the square is dedicated to concentric painted red squares with each tile containing a message of love for Mexico or a call to end the killings/corruption.

This second week began with the colors of a two-hour Aztec dance of thanksgiving for the harvest, held in our parish courtyard, and Emma and I started back at the Guardaria working with the 4-year-old preschool class. Our first day began by being placed in charge of the class when the teacher in charge quit rather unexpectedly. A couple of late nights ensued while we tried to come up with art projects, songs, and lesson plans to fill up the time before they find a replacement teacher. I ended the week by coming down with a 101 degree fever that took me out for Thursday and Friday, leaving Emma alone with the kiddies. Thankfully, Wednesday, we got some help and were able to finally set up the room, and that person was able to help Emma the last two days while I was out. We were all a little tired after our first week, and welcomed the last few days of festivities.

"Prayer for the Christian is always a response to the living Christ...anything less than that is inadequate." - Prayer is a Hunger, by Ed Farrell