Sad day

Well, I'm not well. 

Day 9 of this infirmity is upon us...my parents sent me a box with some stuff that might help, so hopefully that will be here by Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, I'm just praying and sleeping and spending time here in the blogosphere.

Something sad has happened today. My friend Gilma (pronounced Hilma) is leaving. She is one of the girls who lives up here in the "tower" (the rooms above the chapel) with me. She is such a sweet girl, she was the first one to reach out to me when I got here, and she was always so patient with my Spanish, teaching me new words and explaining tenses. I ran into her this morning and she had tears down her face. Last weekend she and Violetta, the girl who more or less runs the bakery, went out for the day. Gilma got her tongue pierced, as well as her upper ear. Violetta got her nose pierced. The sisters just figured it out today and told Gilma she has to leave. There is no other reason, just the piercings. I think Violetta will stay because they can't replace her as easily...she is getting married in the chapel here in December...I hope they'll still let her.

I was so shocked at first. I couldn't believe it. In one fell swoop she lost her work and the place that has been her home for the last 6 or 7 months. Over a tongue piercing. I get the sense there is some greater cultural significance to these piercings than in the states...but then, maybe not. A girl got her title revoked as one of the "princesses" of my hometown because she "wore too many earrings." I just don't get it. I think about my own upper-ear piercing with its bright orange stone. All of the girls here noticed it immediately, though it took my college roommates a whole year to see. I wonder why the sisters didn't say anything to me about it? Does it bother them? Why?

I definitely don't agree with this decision, and I can think of quite a few scripture passages to back me up, but I'm not going to say anything to the sisters about it. Both because my attitude from the beginning has been to respect the sisters and just do as they ask, and because I don't fully understand the culture or their reasons for what they do. One day a couple of weeks ago the little girls were putting beads in their hair, and my hair, and bracelets on our ankles, pretending to be Shakira from Waka Waka. Another girl walked by and made a comment about how we shouldn't put the bracelets on our ankles because it meant ______ (something that I didn't understand). The girls kind of shrugged it off saying it was just for the game, and dear sister Rosita was there observing the whole thing and didn't say anything.  

I don't know what kind of ideas or cultural signals they have for "wild" women, which is why I'm not going to get in an argument about it. I do know that they take sin Very seriously here. Only about a third (a very generous estimate) of the congregation receives communion on a given Sunday because they are "sinners" as the girls explained to me. After the bad word incident that I mentioned earlier, one of the girls asked me why I received communion, and told me I shouldn't have and I needed to go to confession. [Gah! Which to explain first? That it wasn't a sin because I had no idea what I was saying? That all our venial sins (not-serious sins or grave ones committed without knowledge of its evil or without full consciousness) are forgiven us a the moment we consume the host (as well as at the beginning of the mass)? Or that we are all in fact sinners, always, and need the grace and mercy of the Eucharist in our battle against our little/venial sins, as so many saints have attested, advocating for frequent communion?] Sinfulness is definitely really big in this culture. 

Another thing I know is Gilma. And I know she is not just a great person, but a mature one, not promiscuous or a partier (she couldn't be anyway, living here), just a bit silly sometimes. And I know she just thought it was cool and cute to have a charm in her tongue. Whatever they think it represents, I know she didn't have that intention. 

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you." -Luke 6:37-8

Lord, may I remember these words and not judge any of the people in this situation, not knowing their hearts or motives fully!

I gave Gilma my rosary. I know God will be with her, wherever she goes. 

Blessed be God forever! In that which is good and that which is difficult! Praise be His holy name and may all people find rest and consolation in His Sacred Heart. Amen.

Guess how I feel today?!

So since I'm lying in bed with a computer in front of me I thought I might as well update all of you on my very-exciting medical drama. I feel a little bit better today. So much so that on the way back to my room after breakfast I did a little dance in front of the Jesus picture in the foyer. Okay so it wasn't much of a dance, I just sort of moved my mid-section from side to side a bit, but it was sort of a happy little "hey, look, I'm moving" moment. All of that jubilation made me pretty tired so I went back to bed :P

Also, I would like to take this moment to thank Jesus for being so awesome. He is really ridiculously good to me. This morning at breakfast I was like "Lord, I would really like to talk to my mom today. I know you're all powerful and stuff so you can totally make it happen if you want, just sayin'. If it's for your greater glory, I'd really love to hear from her. Seriously. Okay, I'm done being needy now. Just kidding, I'm never done being needy. But you're so awesome, it's okay."  And when I got to my computer this morning, guess who I had an email from? Catholic.org informing me that the saint of the day is St. Bartholomew, AND my Mom. :) Seriously, so good. I way do not deserve as much attention as He gives me. Especially since I've been sick and I pretty much talk to Him all day. I'm amazed that He doesn't get tired of my conversation; He always answers me.

I super duper love Jesus. He's just That good All the time.

Which brings me to a rather deep and important subject that I have been meaning to address but that possibly I should not tackle in my current state. Should I? I will. My dear Jesus please aid me to speak this well.

God is so good. When I press into Him, I always feel His presence and His Sacred Heart warms my fears and melts away all of my little anxieties. His care for my life is so great, so detailed and so large, I need fear nothing. I am doing service work here in El Salvador, encountering a different standard of living (which is still nothing like what Monica's dealing with in Haiti http://allfortheimmaculata.wordpress.com/) and I have to reconcile daily His great love with the the life stories of people I encounter.

People say, if there is an all-powerful God, and He is so good, then why do so many people suffer? This is a three part question: Is there a God? Is he good? Why do people suffer? The third part being contingent on one of  the other parts being false if we accept the traditional premise that suffering is inherently bad and to be avoided at all costs. Essentially it tries to set up the following: either God is not good, or He is not all-powerful, or there is no God, because we must reject the whole notion of God "as presented" due to the reality of suffering.

Why do people suffer? Is this question really asking why suffering exists, or why it seem so much worse for some people and not others? Mainly, those emaciated children we see on tv...

We all suffer. Let's face it. The suffering of some is more public than that of others, but none escape it. And the friends I have who have lost their fathers or their husbands, can I compare their suffering with people who are homeless? Of course not. And what of my mother's battle with cancer several years ago? Or my own constant battle with depression? Is there some kind of suffering scale that says: "Okay, you're life is bad, but yours, yeah, yours really sucks. That's just too horrible. No person should have to go through that." But they do. And it does suck.

I don't know about some kind of scale for suffering, but I do know that when your in it, it just hurts. It doesn't really matter how public or private it is, it's just painful. But here is the good news: nothing we have experienced in our lives can compare to the suffering and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. He took on our humanity, not just in the general sense, but in a very specific sense. He took on your humanity, He took on mine. Every suffering and trial that I have ever experienced in my life, he too has experienced, by virtue of my  humanity which He took on long ago. And He took all of those struggles and he crucified them with himself on the cross. And then He rose again. Amen.

The cross isn't the end. It never is. God is good. When we see somebody suffering, does it mean that somehow God doesn't have a plan for that person's life? That He is not so great and all-powerful that He cannot see them through that to a greater and brighter future, strengthened perhaps but the suffering they have endured? The problem with the question, "if God is all-powerful, and good, then why does suffering exist?" is two-fold: it doubts from the outset the very premise it sets by failing to recognize that God, in his all-powerful nature, is perfectly capable of resurrecting the suffering in every person's life and transforming it into something beautiful and holy, and that secondly, it claims to know how life "should be" (aka devoid of suffering). It sees no value in suffering, which I will talk about in a moment. God IS all-powerful, He is there in other people's suffering and He can transform it into beauty, strength, virtue and holiness if we allow Him to. He does have a plan for every person we see in despair, not just for those in our church groups and personal friends. He is present in the suffering and in the walk of all. Even those who we see on the street, feeling that we could never handle suffering that great (on this imaginary pain scale that we have created) and whose total separation from our experience, in other words, our self-perpetuated ignorance of their situation by our failure to get involved in it, creates that deep sense of guilt and sorrow that someone should have to deal with "that," mostly because we don't want to know it.

If God did not see value in suffering, then why would he allow His own son, His only beloved son, to be born into such poverty? Why would he choose an unwed tween to be His mother? Why would he allow Him to suffer the death of a parent in young life and wander homeless for three years? Why would he allow His friends to stab Him in the back and deny Him? Why would He allow Him to be brutally tortured, mocked and crucified?

Perhaps, you say, there is value in Christ suffering, but now that He has, what is the point in all the rest of us suffering? If you have children, have you ever spanked them? Have you ever given them a time out? Have you ever seen a child you wish someone would discipline? Have you ever seen an adult you wish someone would discipline? It is clear that a little suffering is necessary for all of us to become the best versions of ourselves.

This is not to say that suffering is a punishment, but rather a process necessary for our growth in selflessness. Did Christ not say "take up your cross and follow me?" Rather than "I already carried the cross, just hang onto the back of my robe and we're gonna all be peachy?"  We still have original sin to contend with folks: that innate inherited tendency to turn away from God's providence. To not trust Him. To look out for ourselves. To be selfish. We ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and now, we know evil. Through suffering, if used well, we gain the strength of character to master ourselves, and be a source of less suffering and more grace to others.

This is the point. Being a source of more grace, of more Godliness in the world. It is vital that we reach out to those who are suffering and show them the love and mercy of selfless giving. Christ is very clear about this. We are not to use the benefits of suffering as an excuse to not help others. But we are also not to despair that the mercy of God is not real because suffering exists.

I have much more to learn in the school of suffering, but I think the following sums up my feelings about suffering with regards to social justice fairly well:

If you see someone who is hungry, don't feel sorry for them and don't feel guilty that you have food. Just give them your food. 

In this way, you solve the problem of your guilt and their hunger and provide an opportunity for you to grow through the fruits of sacrifice. For all you Catholics: this is what we have lent for.

Do not curse God for the blessings you have in your life just because someone else does not have them. You do not know what blessings they have in their life. Do not curse God for the sufferings you have in your life because someone else does not have them. You do not know what sufferings they have. Let all be blessings.

Here's my favorite rapper on the subject (a franciscan priest who lives and works in the bronx) check it out, you won't be sorry:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jgozHjvjGY

And here's some words from the book of Malachi to finish things off: this was what I read in my bible last night: "You have wearied the Lord with your words. Yet you say, 'How have we wearied him?' By saying, 'All who do evil are good in the sight of the Lord, and he delights in them.' Or by asking, 'Where is the God of Justice?'" (Mal 2:17)

Moral relativism is not the answer to the guilt. Neither is chasing a bottom-up (from us to God) notion of what's "fair." May it all be for God and through God according to His good pleasure. Amen.

Okay, one final final thought: Christ lived this human life to die, so that we could die this human life to live. He lived into death, we die into life. What dies is our "flesh," our humanity, our tendency towards sin. What lives is God, the Holy Spirit he has sent to be with each of us, that we received at our baptism (our new birth), and that we must always live more into.

Live in the Spirit friends, and you will always be in love.

Mr. yuck-face

I finally started taking my medicine today, as it was locked in my room all weekend, which I was locked out of. The door here is a bit picky at times and my key only works when the lock is facing a certain direction, which is not usually a problem because my key won't even exit the lock unless it is that direction. But there are two other girls who live up here and the other girl's key is a bit more functional. When she left this weekend she shut the door all the way and guess what, the lock was facing the wrong way.  It's okay folks, there was another bed in the infirmary, which is really a little room inside of the library. So I got to browse different books which was nice. It also shared a wall with the outside, right next to the "highway" down which cars drive with constant pressure on the horn at around 4 in the morning: not so nice. 

Every morning Sor. Pati asks me how I feel. "Better?" she says with such hope in her voice. "No" I always answer with this sort of half smile that (hopefully) says "I'm sorry, I wish it weren't true." Hopefully now that I'm taking the medicine things will start to improve.  I think the sisters are getting a little tired of my being sick, but who can blame them, all I do is eat their food and sleep all day. Getting up and walking down to the kitchen to get something to eat pretty much wipes me out. After a couple more hours of sleep I might have enough energy to sit up and read a book or something really strenuous like that. I've never had mono, but I imagine it would feel sort of like this.

Sor. told me that they're gonna take me to the doctor again this afternoon...not really sure why, the medicine won't have had any time to do anything, but we'll see I guess. 

Warning: at this point I am going to describe my symptoms and I will be using the word "diarrhea." If that disturbs you, read no further. If on the other hand you are a medical type person (aunt cathy, mom, uncle mark?), I would love to hear your thoughts on all of this so that I have some idea what kind of recovery time I'm looking at and why exactly I don't have any energy. 

I think the general idea is that I am dehydrated because of the diarrhea, but to be honest I only have that about twice a day and I'm drinking about a liter and a half to two liters a day of water and eating normal meals. Yesterday for lunch I had two bowls of chicken soup (with a lot of vegetables), two rolls with fake maple syrup, and two tostadas with peanut butter and more fms. Nothing to sneeze at right? I also drink a glass of Ensure and this re-hydration stuff made for people who get diarrhea in the tropics every day. I can see dehydration being related to the dizziness when I walk, but the complete lack of energy? Is that the bacteria doing some kind of gut voodoo? I've had the anemia since college so I am disinclined to give it too much credit for any of this. I don't know what kind of bacteria I have or what kind of amoebas, but, like I said before (I think) it's not really a problem as long as I'm laying down. I just sleep. A lot.

Being sick does seem to have helped my image with the girls, there are only a couple of hold-outs who are still very much forcing their smiles. One of the girls has been telling me I'm a sinner because of some gossip she heard that I said a bad word. It might be true as I don't know what words are bad in Spanish.  [In fact, if someone would like to send me a list of bad words in Spanish and their meanings, I would be much obliged.] If you know me, you know I'm not much of a swearer, so the whole thing is a little comical to me. I wonder if she thinks I'm being punished by God right now. : p  

Okay, that's enough for now. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the energy crisis. Don't fret, God is totally taking care of me right now! I love you all heaps and oodles and you are in my thoughts and prayers!

Love,

Mary

the verdict is in:

I've got amoebas and bacteria! Yes! And I'm anemic. Which I knew before from trying to give blood and being tuned away so many times. I was trying to explain to this to Sor. Krim on the way down to the doctor's this morning and she told me that Jesus doesn't want me to give blood, because it's bad for my health. I hung my head in shame.

I am thinking I will still give blood in the future (shhh! don't tell), they send me emails all the time saying they need my blood type (type O+ which is the universal donor), I just have to eat a lot of iron rich foods beforehand. If you don't give blood regularly, I highly encourage you to: it's relatively painless (after the initial prick you just sit there for half an hour reading your favorite book) and you get cookies afterward :) Life saved. Done. What a great way to spend an hour!

So at any rate, I have about two weeks of medication to look forward to: first ten days of these florescent yellow pills for the bacteria, then two days of pills for the amoebas and then two days of vitamins. The doctor also told me I need to eat more sugar because it's cheap carbs and I have lost weight since being sick.

There is this perception here that I don't like sugar. Possibly because I told them something like that at one point, but that's not the point. I do like sugar, just not in the quantity which it is consumed here. There is this pink milk the girls were drinking for awhile in the mornings that literally made me gag. It's supposedly a "health drink" because it's soy milk and they add vitamins and stuff to it, but a quick survey of the nutritional information revealed that it is also 2/3rds sugar. And 'cause that's just not sweet enough, the girl who helps in the kitchen adds about another half a bagful of sugar into the pot.

Shortly after I got here sister asked me to start helping in the kitchen to help them choose to use less oil, sugar and salt and use more leftovers. I think that's when I started making a lot of enemies. Maybe that's why they hate me? Could all of this go back to "less sugar in the milk please and let's not salt our eggs so much that they taste like the ocean (not even an exaggeration-seriously)?" Oh well, at least the little kids like me. With time, Love conquers all.

I never did mention that it was at Sister's request I was saying those things...they probably think I'm some spoiled rich kid from "El Norte" who things I can boss them around and tell them how to do things. Except that supervising their chores is pretty much my job here. And food suggestions I make are certainly not because that's how we do it in America, but because it's healthy and the food is going to waste...sigh.

If you know of any good books online or youtube flics I'd love to hear your suggestions! I think I am going to start reading through the ten commandments in the catechism and hopefully I will emerge from this a better person :)

with Love,
Mary

still sick today...

I'm still sick today, spending a lot of time sleeping, which is good because it's exactly what my body wants. I've got a fever and am dizzy but mostly I just feel like my body went on vacation and forgot me. I am soooo tired and pretty weak.

Sor. Krim (she's just as sweet as her name sounds) was going to take me to the doctor today. When she was explaining how far we had to walk I was thinking there was no way I was gonna make it, but hey, let's give it a shot. We set out and ran into the doctor we were going to see before reaching the front door! She was here to pick up her son from the preschool and gave me an examination right there in the school office and wrote me a prescription for blood and stool examinations.  Fortunately the clinic was a lot closer so we walked down there and I did my business and then something wonderful happened: I got to eat corn flakes. I love cereal, it's true. Especially honey nut cheerios. I once skipped class for honey nut cheerios...but most of you already knew that because I bring it up pretty much every time I talk about cereal. And in a spirit of full disclosure, the class I skipped was irrigation, in which the professor's math was oft corrected by the students and we were told exactly what questions were going to be on the test, and their answers, beforehand.  So it wasn't actually that hardcore...but still. Okay, where was this going? Oh yeah, cornflakes. I had been longing for cornflakes ever since I saw sister buy them at the store, but I could never find the box, or we were out of milk or I didn't have time or some such thing. But today I saw them. They were sitting there on the counter when I came back from the clinic. And we even had milk in the fridge. Oh yes.

Funny story for the day: I was taking care of business in the sister's restroom when Father walked in on me. Okay, so I forgot to lock the door. I always do, it's a horrible habit that comes from having a lot of girls in your house growing up. So at any rate, I'm sick, sitting there just taking care of things, and all I could think to say was "hola." He yelped, slammed the door and literally ran away. I was not too upset about it, the door was only open for like a millisecond so he couldn't have seen anything, but I felt pretty bad for the guy. That must be pretty embarrassing. So after I got out I went back to the kitchen to finish my food and one of the sisters came in like "where's Father? Have you seen Father." And the other sister was like "No, I don't know where he is." And I just sat there like "Don't mind me, I'm just sittin' here eating fruit."

sorry it's been awhile...

So, I know it's been awhile since I've written, sorry about that. I've got a bit of a fever today so I have some time to catch you up...

Life is good. It's been a bit crazy around here lately with the festivals for the town's other patron saint, San Rocca (sp?). Every day for the last week there was a mini-parade consisting of a band and one float with the queen of something or other on it. The floats are always taller than the power lines so they have people go in front with tall sticks to lift them up. One of the first days they had all the "queens" on floats pulled by some of the most beautiful cows I have ever seen :) The ladies themselves were dressed up as the goddess of coffee, goddess of agriculture, goddess of fire, etc. My first thought was "how pagan." hehe.  The girls love these little parades and we all rush to the door to watch and they ooh and ahh...by Sunday some of them were getting tired of it but for the most part it stayed exciting for them. Monday was the actual feast day so we had a big mass in the morning and there was another procession at night, this time it was MUCH bigger though. All the queens (like 15 or so) were there and they had a sound system in a truck and we prayed the rosary as we went. Of course they didn't formally close any of the streets so at one point we had to wait for a semi to back down the hill, in the dark, while the band kept playing in front of them. Classic.

Unfortunately I didn't make it to the Sounders game :( I really wanted to but I asked one of the girls how far Metapan was and she told me 4 hours. I knew there was no way I was ever going to get permission, especially with the animator gone, and by myself. Probably good I didn't go to Metapan because the game was in San Salvador.

I did however get to visit a couple of the houses of the girls who work in the bakery. The first was up by El Chingo, the volcano, near the border of Guatemala, and her family (13 people) had a couple of cows, coffee, corn, and various other tropical fruits growing right next to their house. While we were there we helped shuck corn and then we cut the skins for tamales and took the corn off the cob. We walked the corn down to a neighbors who had a mill and they ground it for us right there. I think they charged a dollar for the whole basin. We made tortillas (which we had for lunch) and tamales (which we had for dinner).  Yum! The tamales here are way better than anything I've had in the states. Not sure why but I think it might be the corn. They have a starchier white corn here that they use for everything...one of my favorite foods is atol which I guess is kind of like grits but made with this corn and usually with cinnamon and sugar.

The other house I visited last weekend and got to spend the night. The most exciting part was probably that we went dancing at the local club. Keep in mind this was a very small town; we almost got run over by a horse on the way in. The club was a cmu (concrete block) shed with a sound system, fog machine and colored lights. All the music was good, and it felt so good to dance!! Unfortunately there were about twice as many guys as there were girls, and they were pretty into grinding. If there wasn't a girl to dance with, they would grind with another guy, or many others in a pseudo-mosh situation. gross. I made sure there was always enough room for a really really big bible between me and the people I was dancing with. Also, Violetta, the girl I went with, would not let me dance with certain people she deemed "rats" and would periodically come rescue me from creepy old dudes. It was actually pretty funny because if they got too close I would dance farther away from them so they sort of ended up chasing me all over the dance floor. At one point I counted and I was dancing with seven guys at the same time...I think they knew their chances of getting to dance with me were better in a group. If they repeatedly got to close I would cross my arms and go sit down, so after awhile they started trying to hold each other back to give me space which was nice. When that didn't work I pulled out the old kick the person in front, kick the person in back dance move :) I excluded this bit from my recounting of the weekend to the sisters...

Another highlight was getting into a deep theological discussion with her evangelical grandfather in Spanish over coca-cola and pan dulce...

It was really cool to see the real living situations of people here outside of the city. Most of the houses are a sort of concrete/mud combo and have a separate little building for cooking (over a fire). Violetta's house had three rooms, two with beds and a central room with tv, stereo, gas stove and wardrobe. I guess it was sort of their living room.  The bathrooms are outhouses and the sinks are the same as the concrete wash basins we have here. It was beautiful, but it sort of felt like camping. I wondered what it would be like every day...they don't have to worry about winter weather so there is a lot of stuff we have that would be totally superfluous to them, but they still watch tv and envy what we have. It doesn't help that everyone in Disney movies is about 5 times richer than most folks I know, but the truth is we do have more stuff.

To what end and purpose to we have all this stuff? Would their lives be better if they had more stuff? Would our lives be better if we had less stuff? Where does it stop being good and holy comfort and start being a distraction from what is good and holy? And furthermore, what good does it serve to have so many people leaving their own countries in pursuit of this stuff? They say in pursuit of work, but I do wonder if there are unspoken stipulations on that work. For example, many of my friends and I have had a hard time finding jobs post-college, but the jack-in-the-box by my parents' was always hiring.

A few things I know:
   Work is important. More than for the money it provides, for the sense of dignity and productivity it imparts and for the ways it keeps us from boredom and idle habits that lead to choices that hurt ourselves, others and our relationship with God. Boredom is the enemy of holiness. Time to yourself is just dandy as long as you already possess the self-discipline to use it well, otherwise it can be a problem. Having said that, I think a self-disciplined person can keep themselves from being bored no matter what: there are always things to think about, prayers to pray, and patience always needs more practicing.
   Good food is important. Food that nourishes your body and keeps you in health.
   People who care about you are important.  Without people to share this journey with, the very daily little adventures, none of it means much.
   A place to sleep and sit that protects you from the elements and hopefully is a bit soft.
   Intellectual stimulation, from the people, the work, or from books or other sources is important.

If you've got all of these things in your life, give thanks. If you know someone who doesn't, be the person who cares.

Donde esta Don Bosco? Aqui, Aqui, Oompa!

Oh dear friends,
What a week it has been! Leading up to last weekend I started to feel a bit under the weather again, and ended up in bed for most of Sunday. Saturday we took the girls to Don Bosco the Musical in Santa Anna which was quite the experience. Probably the hottest night of my life. In the sense that the theater was from the late 1800's (guessing) and had no air conditioning. And was packed. And we were on the top floor. And there was acrobatic dancing every 5-8 minutes. The storyline was basically the ministry of Saint Don Bosco (in case you haven't picked up on it yet, he is the founder of the Salesian order and therefore our patron). His work began in Turin, Italy with street youth who were getting into all sorts of mischief as they left their rural families in search of work in the industrializing city. Like many places during the industrial revolution, the working conditions were quite bad, exploitation was high, and crime quickly became a fashionable way to get food and pass the time. The kids caught in that life, separated from the structure and love of their families, easily became entangled in nefarious activities. Don Bosco, a young priest, wanted to keep them out of trouble by occupying their time with games, proper work and prayer, and started an oratory (home/place of gathering for boys) to that effect. His method was reason, religion and loving kindness, and his motto was "Take away everything else, but give me souls." The musical covered his struggles to reach the youth, difficulties getting the oratory recognized/legitimized and his missionary work in, you guessed it, Central America. The costumes included clowns with large smiles stretching across their torsos, scarf-acrobats, demons and people dressed as roses dancing around Mary (among many other things). It was on the whole a really cool play, even though we lost power for about 10 minutes in the middle of it (which oddly elicited more applause than any of the dance numbers)...and they had fireworks shoot off the stage at the end (!). We belted out Don Bosco songs all the way home in the bus ;)

Sunday was the feast of Saint James, one of the patrons of Chalchuapa, so they had fireworks going off as early as 5:20 in the morning...and the celebrations continued. Around 5 o'clock (pm) I got out of bed and Sydney and I went out with the few girls who wanted to brave the sudden rainstorm to see the procession of Santiago. We brought 2 umbrellas for 6 people. It was not enough. We all got completely drenched, but it was so fun! There were about 20 men carrying a large platform with 2 statues of Saint James, one being the "apostle" style and the other seated on a horse in a white suit, Saint James the "Moor-killer" apparently (oh dear). There was a little kid standing on the float holding an umbrella over one of the statues: it was very cute. I decided I completely love processions; what a beautiful way to witness the faith in public! It looked so difficult to carry that heavy platform (you should have seen them try to turn!) but they carried it all over town, and there were about thirty other men ready to take their place when they got tired. The priest and altar boys led the procession with the crucifix in front and the townspeople followed. How beautiful to express our devotion to God by traipsing about in public in the pouring rain celebrating the people who made our faith possible by their evangelization (stories of  Moor-killing aside) and holy lives!

A few days later Sydney had to return to San Salvador but the girls put on a "good-bye" dance for her that turned into three or four dances (they really like to dance here, I think they actually won a couple of competitions...). It was very sweet.

The next day was the day of Don Bosco!!! We dressed up in our fancy El Salvador/Don Bosco/Nos Visita t-shirts and headed out in a microbus for Santa Anna. I got smart this time and packed my own toilet paper and soap in my bag and of course ended up not needing them. We lined up on the side of the highway with other Salesian school groups and hundreds of youth in (adorable) uniforms, all waving flags for Don Bosco! They didn't actually close the highway mind you until much later.  We watched the truck with his remains drive by and they unloaded it right in front of us. Parts of Don Bosco's body are incorruptible, which means they have not decomposed in the hundred+ years since his death.  These parts are contained in a box inside the statue of his body that is conveyed in the glass case. You can watch a youtube video of them taking out his heart on another occasion here.

One of the local VIDES volunteers was driving the music van and held the mic out the window for our girls to sing the official El Salvador Don Bosco visit 2010 song which you can watch a music video of here. After the remains of Don Bosco were unloaded from the truck, everybody crowded around to process through the city to a Salesian school where we would have mass. We quickly slipped past the Don Bosco and (as far as I know, unintentionally) became part of the parade. The girls waved their flags and alternated the Don Bosco song with Don Bosco cheers all the way to the school. The energy level was so high, there were so many people!  Why don't we do this kind of stuff in the states? Mass was a bit warm but it was awesome to see so many people, just in one part of this little country, whose lives had been changed by Don Bosco. I thought of all the struggles he faced with each child, trying to help them make the right decisions for themselves with little character foundation to build on, and how it must have been so hard every night to know that not all of them could be reached. Some would choose violence, desperation and damage to their souls over the love and trust in God that he tried to show them. And I thought of our girls here, and every teenager I have ever worked with, and how very hard it is! They experience so much pain in their hearts and they don't understand why or have hope that it will end just by their getting older.  Seeing so many people, and so many youth together to celebrate his life was so moving, God did give him souls after all. Many, many souls.

There are really too many pictures to post so I am going to start a facebook album, but here's a parting shot of Don Bosco's statue for you:

Aside from all that, I am doing quite well here. I love the girls, though they are challenging at times, and I never know what's going to happen next since the sisters don't tell me anything until right before it happens, but it feels right. I know this is where God wants me to be now. So here I am.