Despedidas

It is strange to be in El Salvador long enough to see other people move on. "Wait! I'm the one who's supposed to be leaving," I think. But I am staying. And that's ok.

One of the wonderful, and most difficult, things about working at Centro Arte para la Paz is that we have volunteers come for shorter periods of time. When we arrived in August of last year, we met the incredibly talented artist Melina Alexa Ramirez. She stayed for a month giving art classes, and painting our walls in our house!

Then came Shannon, the dancer and crocheter extraordinaire. It was so fun to see El Salvadoran girls Irish dancing - what a cool experience for them. We had the opportunity to get to know Tyler as well, Shannon's partner in crime and a super fun guy. We even shared a Christmas together! She was here from October to February.

In January, Roger, a professor from Canissius College in Rochester, New York arrived to teach for a few months during his sabbatical. I really enjoyed our breakfasts with him, talking about the world from the point of view of an very sarcastic English professor.

In May, 3 volunteers arrived having just graduated from Augsburg College. Julia, the artist, taught photography, art class, and helped edit videos for Centro Arte. Adrienne, the Spanish teacher, taught English and art classes. Bear (Oso), the sociologist/dreamer, helped with skateboarding and taught computer classes. We enjoyed connecting with them. We went on adventures together and of course talked about Minneapolis. They left last week! The time went by so quickly!

And then there is our "community night" friend Emily from Washington state. She has been working at the women's center, helping with their programming and working on an anti-violence campaign. She is just fantastic, the kind of friend you hope to find. It was not easy when we first arrived here in Suchitoto, and she provided support and laughter.

It is hard to be in the present moment, isn't it? Always looking ahead to the next thing. I want to appreciate my time here, it is precious, holy time. My Spanish is getting better, I am finding new opportunities to use my skills at work, our relationships with others are growing deeper.

Our dear secretary Delmy is leaving Centro Arte. The director of El Grupo, one of the schools we teach at is leaving her job. Things are changing, all around us. 

Chris and I plan to be here until May of 2014. I have decided to get my master's in Social Work, and Chris will work towards his master's in Physician's Assistant Studies. We have so much to look forward to, and so much to be thankful for. 

If you are reading this, I am grateful. Thank you for following our story.

Here are just a few photos of recent adventures!

"It is when we are confronted with poignant reminders of mortality that we become most aware of the strangeness and wonder of our brief life on Earth."

-Kathleen Basford

Resucitaré

I walked up to him and something brought me to my knees. I'm not Catholic, I'm not a kneeler, but there I was kneeling and praying. The woman next to me had a towel to dry her tears. The man on my other side seemed so relieved to be there, it was as if you could feel the heaviness of his life melting away. There were children running around one of the columns in the crypt. There were tourists taking photos.

I was touching the wooden sculpture of Oscar Romero. The beautiful harmonies of the singers whirled around me. I closed my eyes and I felt Romero's presence - calling for peace and healing. I felt the suffering of this country and their longing to thrive. Tears welled up in my eyes.

We all need to be healed. And then healed again. Perhaps there is no true healing - only moving forward. With hope.

We first arrived at the huge mass in the beautiful cathedral. But we were in the wrong place. We headed downstairs, to the crypt where Romero was buried. A smaller group of 100 people were gathered. There were people in jeans, people in dresses. There was a quote on the pulpit from Monsenor Romero. "If I die, I will return in the spirit of my people".

Various women read from the bible, about loaves and fishes and how we must share with each other to survive. Songs were sung. A sermon was preached by a priest who has been moved twice to different churches because he was "too political". 

In the middle of the service I saw a simple elderly woman in a little white dress. She was moving slowly towards Romero's sculpture with a bouquet of flowers. She arrived at the place where he is buried and paused for a moment. A holy moment.

Being at that mass was one of the first times I have felt church community, and God's presence in a holy place. We are not evangelical, nor are we Catholic, so our church is the greenness of our backyard.

It made me miss having a church, a spiritual home. But for now I will find it in my hammock, in the sunrise, in the smiles of the children we serve.

"Let us not forgot; we are a pilgrim children, subject to misunderstanding, to persecution, but a church that walks serene, because it bears the force of love."

-Oscar Romero

Brindando

When it rains, people say "esta brindando", which means it is giving or providing. 

I wrote this song when we arrived, and wanted to share it with you all. The translation is below, along with some photos of the rain as it falls (and lots of toads).

Estaba caminando un dia,
Cuando un hombre de la tercera edad dijo "pare"
Y se ha mirado en mis ojos verdes,
Porque tienes prisa?
Corres tan rapido,
Y a donde vas,
A donde vas, a donde vas?

Oh, esperando por la lluvia,
Oh, esperando para que?
Oh, esperando por la lluvia,
Esperandote.

La cosa es que a la puesta del sol,
Creo creo creo, que somos lo mismo,
Somos ciegos, no vemos las conexciones.
Cada persona tiene un cuento,
Cada cuento debe compartir,
Solo despues, nos entenderemos.

La lluvia va a venir,
Estara suave en el principio,
Se hara mas duro,
Cambiara todo lo que pensaba conocer.

"I was walking one day, when an elderly man said "stop", and looked into my green eyes.
Why are you in such a hurry? You run so fast, and where are you going? Oh, waiting for the rain to come. Oh, waiting for what? Oh, waiting for the rain to come. Waiting for you.

The thing is as the sun sets, I believe, I believe, I believe that we are the same. We are blind - we don't see the connections. Every person has a story, every story should be shared. Only after that, will we understand each other. The rain will come, it will be slow at first, it will become harder. It will change everything you thought you knew."