a note:
faithful readers -
I've decided to post the email updates I sent from summer 2007 on my new blog. they're all dated appropriately, so you'll need to go backwards in time (scroll down the page!) to find my first letters. what follows is my last update of the summer, sent on july 30th, 2007.
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July 30, 2007
Los mas queridos a mi corazón,
And so, two months later, it ends… or as I prefer to think, only begins anew.
Two months ago, I packed up malaria pills and my Spanish-English dictionary, jars of peanut butter and a heart full of hope yet uncertain of what was to come. As our feet left the ground of Latin America this past Friday morning, my luggage- and perhaps my heart- was lighter. I now carry a plastic bag filled with hand-made goodbye cards, the great possibility that I have the "masamora" and/or "piojos" (look it up if you really want to know), Spanish that (while far from perfect) actually managed to receive a few compliments from locals upon our departure, and a heart llena de amor and full of gracias to the God who blessed me with such an adventure.
And an adventure it has been… an adventure to live deeply, to be rooted and grounded in love. I walk across the campo and breathe deeply the mountain air, letting it settle into my lungs and my soul. I drink deeply from the Cup of Life, knowing that is it He who offers it to me, who offers it to us all. I celebrate joy in the journey, as we never truly arrive, not even in a lifetime. As little planes jolt through cloud-brushed mountains, I smile and am reminded both physically and metaphorically that God's call is not safe… it is radical, it is dangerous, it is exciting… yet it is life-giving, and I am convinced that it is the best possible way to live.
The life of a summer vol at the Farm is often likened to a sprinter amidst a marathon. For two months each summer, two Notre Dame students come and pour out energy, laughter, and tears. We give what we can… and then we leave. To truly lay roots is difficult when faced with the knowledge that they will be ripped from the ground. Yet our call is to go deep… and so we do, and so we go, hoping and trusting that we have entered into life with the kids the best we could, that we have loved them well.
Our last weeks have been full. In a daring display of vulnerability, Nelly from House 2 asks me to try my hand at giving my first haircut (she pleads with me to shave it all… I decline). 6-year-old Marita from House 1 falls asleep in my lap on the cold, hard floor of the chapel during Holy Hour, her little lice-infested head heavy on my arm, and I recognize that He is as present in the sleeping child curled up against my chest as in the Eucharist before us. I venture out solo for a morning swim, stopping to breathe in the sacredness of the moment, alone with the mountains and the sand and the vast expanse of calm, clear water, diving down to flirt with sand dollars and popping up to greet a fisherman gliding through the dawn. We are graced with the visit of Karla and Ryane, two ND summer vols at an orphanage in San Pedro Sula, and delight in the chance to share stories and adventure. I roll out of bed at 5:40 am and join the vol community for morning prayer in the courtyard consisting of various flailing dance moves to U2's "Beautiful Day" blaring from our iPod speakers. I am reminded that playing "fútbol", while fun, is not my calling as I am utterly dominated by a team of 8-year-olds. I encounter sacramental moments as sister Claire and I belt Folk Choir songs in the back of the Landcruiser, as we grab running sneakers and head to the mountains for adventure runs, as we play capture the flag across the campo and I jump off broad shoulders during a night swim under a sky filled with shooting stars. I am faced with challenge and somehow filled with patience as I tackle a week and a half of teaching Alex, Sigri and Erika, better known as Team ASE, the three loving and fun yet extremely willful students in our special ed program. Topics covered: the solar system, telling time, and how to properly wash our hands. The latter included an actual trip to the pila to practice the hand-washing activity, in which I learned that it is generally best to supervise orphans when you give them permission to cover their hands and face with dirt and markers. Oh, the grace of laughter…
And then, in the blink of an eye, we were finished… showered with piles of hand-made cards, hugs from children and songs of farewell to begin the journey of coming home. And what a journey it has been. Luckily, our final bus ride went much smoother than the previous one, with the only incident being the recitation of a love poem to Cassidy by a sketchy yet humorous man about *this* close to her face. Sadly, we didn't catch all of the words, but we do know it involved going away into the night and beautiful eyes :) We spent our final afternoon in La Ceiba, where our journey began, in the presence of some of the most amazing, holy people I have ever met. Celebrating Mass with Laura, Kevin, Beau, Michael, Mark… one of the most beautiful signs of peace I have ever experienced… then celebrating life through the dare of chewing vitamins, savoring the taste of pizza, chocolate chip cookies and a game of Cranium in Spanish (funniest card: "Wonder Bra". Try explaining thatin Spanish to a Franciscian nun!)
So much holiness. So much life.
As we prepared to leave, soul brother Michael Downs suggested that we were sent out properly- by being prayed over. And so we were, right there in the foyer of that beautiful house where our journey began. Cassidy and I, back to back, surrounded by warm, sticky bodies of people who absolutely radiate, placing strong hands on our shoulders and backs. Earlier that day, as we sat in Mass, Michael leaned over, smiled and whispered, "You forgot to wash your feet!" I looked down and laughed, for my feet were absolutely filthy. Smelly. Ant-bitten. Dark brown with dirt. Calloused. And as we stood in that circle of faith and big feet stood gently atop my little toes, he prayed in thanksgiving for dirty feet. Feet that have weathered ants and mosquitoes, that have run bare on the spiky grass of the campo, that have walked the streets with the poor. Our feet will leave scarred… as they should. They are signs of work, of toughness, of a life loudly lived. Now they must venture out to continue to walk by faith, to "compartir", to openly and lovingly be changed and go forth to love and serve.
The Finca has in many ways "ruined" me… as I hoped it would. I now sit upstairs in my air-conditioned house in a comfortable bed, full of thanks for the opportunity to grow in love this summer and a newfound appreciation for the truly rich lives we lead in the States (most humorous retuning-home anecdote: seeing a cockroach in the bathroom in my house and my initial gut reaction being a literal verbal "awww!" because it reminded me of Finca life)… yet also full of questions about the way of the world (realizing that the aula I taught in for a week and a half is no larger than my parents' walk-in closet) and truly missing the 48 kids who stole my heart this summer.
And so, I want to leave you with my most heart-felt thanks. Gracias… thank you… for reading, for encouraging, for praying, for walking with me on this crazy-beautiful adventure of faith and hope and love. Gracias to my family, both here in the States and my brothers and sisters at the Farm; gracias to all of you, my faithful readers; and most of all, muchimas gracias a Dios who keeps us all together in love.
With dirty feet and a full heart,
Erin
Monday, July 30, 2007
Saturday, July 7, 2007
broken and poured out
July 7, 2007
You fellow free spirits,
Paz y amor from the Finca! I hope and pray that you all are well in heart, mind and soul. Another week down… another week of crazy stories, struggles and joys, and so much laughter. We continue to be open to moments of grace and adventure… to empty and be filled by our Abba who molds us carefully with His very hands.
Last week our kids were on summer vacation, and Cassidy and I took advantage of the break from teaching to take an impromptu weekend trip to the Caribbean island of Utila. It was everything you'd expect… a quaint little island full of divers, cheap hotels and a beautiful, totally free spirits. While I very much enjoyed having a few days to relax, snorkel, kayak, and eat non-rationed food, I found myself really missing the mainland and especially the Finca kids. There is something so absolutely beautiful, so slow, so "carinoso" about the heart of Latin America. After a pretty intense journey back to Trujillo (including a bus crash and subsequent hitch-hiking to town with two Columbian men in the back of a Camery) I couldn't have been happier to hop in the back of the Finca truck with twenty kids and two chickens (seriously) and head home.
Earlier this week, I was also victim to the "gripe" (don't worry, Mom, just a cold) which is a lot more fun to say in Spanish but a lot less fun to have without the comforts of medicine, air conditioning and cold things to drink. Luckily, I was able to ease back into teaching with just a few classes on Monday and Tuesday, which gave me time to recuperate. On Wednesday, we celebrated July 4 th in style at the vol house with a feast of "hamburgers" grilled on the fagon, potato salad, watermelon and sugar cookies for dinner. The simple pleasures of life…
And while I am immensely grateful for my freedom as an American, I am learning more and more about a deeper freedom… one that comes from knowing who I am in God's eyes. This freedom allows me to laugh, to cry, to sing, to dance, to hug children, to be so very real. I live freedom as I am utterly dominated in a game of "futbol" with the House 5 boys, as I sit quietly in prayer, as I listen to the sounds of children laughing across the campo under a star-spilt sky.
And we continue to grow in faith, hope, and especially love. C.S. Lewis writes, "To love at all is to be vulnerable." Vulnerable, indeed. We learn to put our hearts on the line daily as we open ourselves completely to risk to love. And so we risk, and often experience, immense pain… through dealing with a tough 5 th grader for an hour, through facing the reality of life for our neighbors, through seeing the deep sadness in a child's past. But love is patient and kind, and endures all things… so we cling to the conviction that love wins, and so we experience something so deeply beautiful. Before this summer, we were told about a "Finca flavor of love". There is, indeed, something special about this place… it is a place of brokenness and healing, of light laughter and salty tears, of simplicity and community and living life the way it was meant to be lived. I, too, am being transformed to love in this way. I open and empty, and somehow continue to be filled… by little voices that sing, little hands to hold, and by the everlasting love of my Father.
Thank you so much for your life-giving, hope-bringing encouragement and prayer. I feel the grace- His grace- being poured out on me as I seek to open, empty, and be filled, over and over again. May His freedom give your soul the freedom to sing loudly and dance lightly this week and always.
Celebrate life.
Erin
You fellow free spirits,
Paz y amor from the Finca! I hope and pray that you all are well in heart, mind and soul. Another week down… another week of crazy stories, struggles and joys, and so much laughter. We continue to be open to moments of grace and adventure… to empty and be filled by our Abba who molds us carefully with His very hands.
Last week our kids were on summer vacation, and Cassidy and I took advantage of the break from teaching to take an impromptu weekend trip to the Caribbean island of Utila. It was everything you'd expect… a quaint little island full of divers, cheap hotels and a beautiful, totally free spirits. While I very much enjoyed having a few days to relax, snorkel, kayak, and eat non-rationed food, I found myself really missing the mainland and especially the Finca kids. There is something so absolutely beautiful, so slow, so "carinoso" about the heart of Latin America. After a pretty intense journey back to Trujillo (including a bus crash and subsequent hitch-hiking to town with two Columbian men in the back of a Camery) I couldn't have been happier to hop in the back of the Finca truck with twenty kids and two chickens (seriously) and head home.
Earlier this week, I was also victim to the "gripe" (don't worry, Mom, just a cold) which is a lot more fun to say in Spanish but a lot less fun to have without the comforts of medicine, air conditioning and cold things to drink. Luckily, I was able to ease back into teaching with just a few classes on Monday and Tuesday, which gave me time to recuperate. On Wednesday, we celebrated July 4 th in style at the vol house with a feast of "hamburgers" grilled on the fagon, potato salad, watermelon and sugar cookies for dinner. The simple pleasures of life…
And while I am immensely grateful for my freedom as an American, I am learning more and more about a deeper freedom… one that comes from knowing who I am in God's eyes. This freedom allows me to laugh, to cry, to sing, to dance, to hug children, to be so very real. I live freedom as I am utterly dominated in a game of "futbol" with the House 5 boys, as I sit quietly in prayer, as I listen to the sounds of children laughing across the campo under a star-spilt sky.
And we continue to grow in faith, hope, and especially love. C.S. Lewis writes, "To love at all is to be vulnerable." Vulnerable, indeed. We learn to put our hearts on the line daily as we open ourselves completely to risk to love. And so we risk, and often experience, immense pain… through dealing with a tough 5 th grader for an hour, through facing the reality of life for our neighbors, through seeing the deep sadness in a child's past. But love is patient and kind, and endures all things… so we cling to the conviction that love wins, and so we experience something so deeply beautiful. Before this summer, we were told about a "Finca flavor of love". There is, indeed, something special about this place… it is a place of brokenness and healing, of light laughter and salty tears, of simplicity and community and living life the way it was meant to be lived. I, too, am being transformed to love in this way. I open and empty, and somehow continue to be filled… by little voices that sing, little hands to hold, and by the everlasting love of my Father.
Thank you so much for your life-giving, hope-bringing encouragement and prayer. I feel the grace- His grace- being poured out on me as I seek to open, empty, and be filled, over and over again. May His freedom give your soul the freedom to sing loudly and dance lightly this week and always.
Celebrate life.
Erin
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
cuentos de aventura
June 27, 2007
My fellow lovers of laughter,
It is Tuesday night here at the Farm, and extremely difficult to believe that our time here is almost halfway over. I am quickly beginning to realize that two months is not nearly enough time to even scratch the surface of this labor of love which has already captured our hearts.
Atop a greenish chalkboard in our 4th grade aula is written, "A day lived for God is a rare adventure." So many adventures, both big and small. The adventure of this summer, the adventure to give love away, the adventure of true openness to walk with God. I am learning what it means to live God's adventure with a heart that is completely and beautifully free.
A few snapshots of my free-spirited adventure:
My running shoes and chaco sandals carefully dodge stones, splash through rivers and sink into sandy beaches as I run, hike, and carry 4-year-olds through the lush, cloud-topped mountains. My stomach has held up remarkably well as I indulge in baleadas, topagillos, and plenty of rice and beans. Despite plentiful bug bites and a few strange rashes, my body serves me well and even enjoyed its first bucket shower this past week :) My "mente" (mind), though often tired, is stretching and growing rapidly, and was put to good use on Friday as I served as a translator for an international medical brigade from Arkansas.
Last weekend, I had the joy of attending my very first Honduran wedding, as the entire Finca community was invited just a few minutes down the beach to celebrate the "boda" of an old vol and her new husband. Dogs and two-year-olds plopping down in the aisle, totally off-key singing and a gorgeous sunset made for an experience that was pretty "diferente" but totally beautiful. Afterwards, joined by the oldest Finca boys, my fellow vols and some only-moderately-sketchy local Honduran men, I shook my gringa hips under the bright starry sky until the wee hours of the morning. I dance with light feet and a light heart.
Last night I wrote by the light of a single candle and listened to the sounds of explosive laughter and harmonies of voices singing alleluia resonating through our house which is so filled with geckoes and love. I joined the oldest boys from House 5 as they taught me to fish and hunt "cangrejos" (crabs) by the light of the moon. I sat by a campfire on the beach, was dragged into the sparkling water (fully clothed) and floated on my back with my Honduran brothers, looking at the stars and the cloudy sky illuminating the tops of mountains in the distance. Yesterday my soul sister Cassidy and I ran on the beach during an afternoon "tormenta" (storm), letting the cold rain pelt our faces and soak our clothes, diving head-first into the warm, choppy waters, yelling out to the mountains until explosive thunder sent gringa free sprits running, shrieking, laughing inside for cover.
And although my Spanish is far from "completa", I am learning to speak a far more beautiful language… the language of love. What does it mean to love as God does? What does it mean to love a child? It means immense vulnerability… and relentless forgiveness. I speak the language of love as 2-year-old Rosita runs to me with open arms and points to the moon… as little boys plop down in my lap… as I have a spontaneous post-dinner bachata-style dance party with 6-year-olds. They are my greatest teachers and the best part of my adventure.
And so my prayer is to be open to the ultimate adventure of dancing with the King, to learn what it means to love with reckless abandon, to allow my soul the freedom to sing of His marvelous light. I pray to seek His fingerprints in all faces and moments, to let my heart beat with the quiet reminder that this life is not my own, to pour out day after day after day, again and again. I am a work in progress, broken and poured out, yearning to sing long and loud and beautifully the melody the great Composer has placed in my heart.
Sing well.
Erin
My fellow lovers of laughter,
It is Tuesday night here at the Farm, and extremely difficult to believe that our time here is almost halfway over. I am quickly beginning to realize that two months is not nearly enough time to even scratch the surface of this labor of love which has already captured our hearts.
Atop a greenish chalkboard in our 4th grade aula is written, "A day lived for God is a rare adventure." So many adventures, both big and small. The adventure of this summer, the adventure to give love away, the adventure of true openness to walk with God. I am learning what it means to live God's adventure with a heart that is completely and beautifully free.
A few snapshots of my free-spirited adventure:
My running shoes and chaco sandals carefully dodge stones, splash through rivers and sink into sandy beaches as I run, hike, and carry 4-year-olds through the lush, cloud-topped mountains. My stomach has held up remarkably well as I indulge in baleadas, topagillos, and plenty of rice and beans. Despite plentiful bug bites and a few strange rashes, my body serves me well and even enjoyed its first bucket shower this past week :) My "mente" (mind), though often tired, is stretching and growing rapidly, and was put to good use on Friday as I served as a translator for an international medical brigade from Arkansas.
Last weekend, I had the joy of attending my very first Honduran wedding, as the entire Finca community was invited just a few minutes down the beach to celebrate the "boda" of an old vol and her new husband. Dogs and two-year-olds plopping down in the aisle, totally off-key singing and a gorgeous sunset made for an experience that was pretty "diferente" but totally beautiful. Afterwards, joined by the oldest Finca boys, my fellow vols and some only-moderately-sketchy local Honduran men, I shook my gringa hips under the bright starry sky until the wee hours of the morning. I dance with light feet and a light heart.
Last night I wrote by the light of a single candle and listened to the sounds of explosive laughter and harmonies of voices singing alleluia resonating through our house which is so filled with geckoes and love. I joined the oldest boys from House 5 as they taught me to fish and hunt "cangrejos" (crabs) by the light of the moon. I sat by a campfire on the beach, was dragged into the sparkling water (fully clothed) and floated on my back with my Honduran brothers, looking at the stars and the cloudy sky illuminating the tops of mountains in the distance. Yesterday my soul sister Cassidy and I ran on the beach during an afternoon "tormenta" (storm), letting the cold rain pelt our faces and soak our clothes, diving head-first into the warm, choppy waters, yelling out to the mountains until explosive thunder sent gringa free sprits running, shrieking, laughing inside for cover.
And although my Spanish is far from "completa", I am learning to speak a far more beautiful language… the language of love. What does it mean to love as God does? What does it mean to love a child? It means immense vulnerability… and relentless forgiveness. I speak the language of love as 2-year-old Rosita runs to me with open arms and points to the moon… as little boys plop down in my lap… as I have a spontaneous post-dinner bachata-style dance party with 6-year-olds. They are my greatest teachers and the best part of my adventure.
And so my prayer is to be open to the ultimate adventure of dancing with the King, to learn what it means to love with reckless abandon, to allow my soul the freedom to sing of His marvelous light. I pray to seek His fingerprints in all faces and moments, to let my heart beat with the quiet reminder that this life is not my own, to pour out day after day after day, again and again. I am a work in progress, broken and poured out, yearning to sing long and loud and beautifully the melody the great Composer has placed in my heart.
Sing well.
Erin
Saturday, June 16, 2007
so much grace.
June 16, 2007
Hermanos y hermanas,
Peace and blessings from the Finca! Cassidy and I just returned from dipping our feet in the warm Caribbean, watching one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen … and then dodged a chicken to enter the Finca office to type our emails. Pretty surreal.
Today is Friday, June 15th, and it's hard to believe that our time here is already a fourth over. We've settled into the rhythm of Finca life here pretty quickly, and although this past week has been quite difficult at times, we are learning and growing in pretty amazing ways. I am learning to jump in head-first to this crazy-beautiful adventure, which is full of laughter and pain and hugs and tears and so, so much grace.
Teaching is a daily rollercoaster, and I really struggled with feelings of inadequacy this past week. Being here is immensely humbling, and I constantly question what I'm actually doing here. The language barrier continues to be difficult (pecadores = sinners, pescadores = fish… haha…) but is improving, and I feel myself getting more comfortable speaking and understanding both in and out of the classroom. The kids at the Escuela Catolica de San Pedro (where we teach on the Farm) can be wonderful, but can also be very, very challenging and really know how to give gringa newbie a hard time. I am learning the art of "tough love" in the classroom, but often come home feeling pretty defeated. My challenge is to love them intentionally in spite of and because of it all.
Yesterday morning, I taught a 5thand 6th grade science class on literally two minutes notice (we are learning to be quite flexible as well!). 5th and 6th grade has a reputation as the most difficult class in the school, and as I quickly and anxiously glanced over lesson plans, I prayed that God would be my words and actions for the hour to come. Sixty minutes later, I left the classroom with a smile on my face and only three words in my mind: so much grace. Ridiculous amounts of grace. Beautiful, soul-filling, life-giving grace pouring over me and through me.
I feel this grace tangibly in Holy Hour. Holy Hour is a sacred time on Thursday nights where the entire Finca community gathers for prayer and adoration, and is possibly what I love most about this place. Little voices sing loudly and off-key. Carlitos, one of the Casa 3 boys, falls asleep against the pew. Alex and Sigri clap off-beat. The Casa 5 boys, who think they are oh-so-"suave", genuflect before the Eucharist. And despite what may have happened in school or at dinner, how much Spanish I still can't understand or how empty I may feel… I love them for who they are and who God created them to be. So much grace.
This past week, I felt God's grace as I…
- learned "punta" (the traditional Honduran dance) at one of our boys' quincenaros
- indulged in mango and chocolate "liquados" (smoothies) and a game of MASH with my volunteer community by candlelight to celebrate the life of Claire, one of the most vibrant people I have ever met, during an intense Honduran rainstorm
- got into a bit of a fight with the pila (the system we use to hand-wash our clothes) involving some bleeding of colors… Pila 1, Erin 0.
- prayed the rosary with the boys in Casa 4… totally sacred.
- learned to make tortillas, Spanish rice, and tajadas from scratch
- spent the perfect rainy afternoon in bed with Nouwen's Compassion, a steaming cup of chocolate-hazelnut tea and my beloved journal
- taught kindergarten for a few hours, which included jumping rope, listening to 5-year-old Dajani singing "Danos la paz", and ending the day with "estrellas" (star stickers) and an "abrazo" (hug) from each smiling little ball of energy
- picked up a "perrito" on the way to morning prayer (pre-6 am!) and watched 2-year-old Rosita chase "pollito" (a baby chick) around the Casa 2 kitchen
So much grace.
Thank you all so, so, so much for your encouragement, your affirmation and your prayers… they flow in me and through me, and are passed on to the kids here who need them most, even when I feel empty. Life here challenges me daily, and I am comforted by knowing that I am being lifted up higher and higher to our wonderful God. May you all know His beautiful grace this week and always!
paz y alegria,
Erin
Hermanos y hermanas,
Peace and blessings from the Finca! Cassidy and I just returned from dipping our feet in the warm Caribbean, watching one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen … and then dodged a chicken to enter the Finca office to type our emails. Pretty surreal.
Today is Friday, June 15th, and it's hard to believe that our time here is already a fourth over. We've settled into the rhythm of Finca life here pretty quickly, and although this past week has been quite difficult at times, we are learning and growing in pretty amazing ways. I am learning to jump in head-first to this crazy-beautiful adventure, which is full of laughter and pain and hugs and tears and so, so much grace.
Teaching is a daily rollercoaster, and I really struggled with feelings of inadequacy this past week. Being here is immensely humbling, and I constantly question what I'm actually doing here. The language barrier continues to be difficult (pecadores = sinners, pescadores = fish… haha…) but is improving, and I feel myself getting more comfortable speaking and understanding both in and out of the classroom. The kids at the Escuela Catolica de San Pedro (where we teach on the Farm) can be wonderful, but can also be very, very challenging and really know how to give gringa newbie a hard time. I am learning the art of "tough love" in the classroom, but often come home feeling pretty defeated. My challenge is to love them intentionally in spite of and because of it all.
Yesterday morning, I taught a 5thand 6th grade science class on literally two minutes notice (we are learning to be quite flexible as well!). 5th and 6th grade has a reputation as the most difficult class in the school, and as I quickly and anxiously glanced over lesson plans, I prayed that God would be my words and actions for the hour to come. Sixty minutes later, I left the classroom with a smile on my face and only three words in my mind: so much grace. Ridiculous amounts of grace. Beautiful, soul-filling, life-giving grace pouring over me and through me.
I feel this grace tangibly in Holy Hour. Holy Hour is a sacred time on Thursday nights where the entire Finca community gathers for prayer and adoration, and is possibly what I love most about this place. Little voices sing loudly and off-key. Carlitos, one of the Casa 3 boys, falls asleep against the pew. Alex and Sigri clap off-beat. The Casa 5 boys, who think they are oh-so-"suave", genuflect before the Eucharist. And despite what may have happened in school or at dinner, how much Spanish I still can't understand or how empty I may feel… I love them for who they are and who God created them to be. So much grace.
This past week, I felt God's grace as I…
- learned "punta" (the traditional Honduran dance) at one of our boys' quincenaros
- indulged in mango and chocolate "liquados" (smoothies) and a game of MASH with my volunteer community by candlelight to celebrate the life of Claire, one of the most vibrant people I have ever met, during an intense Honduran rainstorm
- got into a bit of a fight with the pila (the system we use to hand-wash our clothes) involving some bleeding of colors… Pila 1, Erin 0.
- prayed the rosary with the boys in Casa 4… totally sacred.
- learned to make tortillas, Spanish rice, and tajadas from scratch
- spent the perfect rainy afternoon in bed with Nouwen's Compassion, a steaming cup of chocolate-hazelnut tea and my beloved journal
- taught kindergarten for a few hours, which included jumping rope, listening to 5-year-old Dajani singing "Danos la paz", and ending the day with "estrellas" (star stickers) and an "abrazo" (hug) from each smiling little ball of energy
- picked up a "perrito" on the way to morning prayer (pre-6 am!) and watched 2-year-old Rosita chase "pollito" (a baby chick) around the Casa 2 kitchen
So much grace.
Thank you all so, so, so much for your encouragement, your affirmation and your prayers… they flow in me and through me, and are passed on to the kids here who need them most, even when I feel empty. Life here challenges me daily, and I am comforted by knowing that I am being lifted up higher and higher to our wonderful God. May you all know His beautiful grace this week and always!
paz y alegria,
Erin
Sunday, June 10, 2007
no subject
June 10, 2007
Queridos amigos,
Wow… what a week. There is so much to say that I hardly know where to begin. It's truly incredible how quickly we have been immersed in life here at the Finca. This past week has presented immense challenges and incredible moments of grace. Life here is certainly not always easy, but it is quite blessed. I tangibly feel God breathing life and hope into this place and calling it all "good".
I know my last email was pretty rushed (email is quite sketchy here) and some of you may be wondering just exactly what's happened or what we're doing here. The run-down: Cassidy and I live in a house with about fifteen other volunteers, two bathrooms, cold mountain water(sometimes), plenty of geckoes and an abundance of love. To be honest, I've gotten used to the simplicity of life pretty quickly… hand-washing clothes, cooking all meals from complete scratch, thin mattresses on wooden slabs, roosters crowing at all hours of thenight. Our bodies are holding up quite well despite countless bugbites, lots of heat, our perpetual body odor, and a few strange rashes :) Neither Cassidy nor I have gotten too terribly sick yet, which is a huge blessing.
The volunteer community here is quite incredible… compassionate, faith-filled, idealistic young people with so much love to give our kids and each other. Living, eating, and praying with them has been one of my biggest blessings. From giving tips on washing our clothes in the pila to encouragement after an excruciating day at school, they have been a constant source of support for us, and I have been immensely blessed by their companionship through late-night talks on the beach under the bright stars of the Caribbean sky, lessons in tajada-making, and folk-choir jam sessions in the kitchen. Beautiful and bizarre and totally unique, all of them. How blessed I am to be their sister.
We're beginning to get a pretty good feel for the rhyme and rhythm of life here and jump into it quickly. I'm going to be teaching at the school most of the summer, filling in for random classes (mostly 3-4 Science, 5-6 English, and 6 Spanish) in the beginning of the summer and teaching the Special Education classes towards the end of July. Cassidy will be working mostly with the colegio (older kids). I have a newfound respect for teachers after my first day with the 5th grade this past Wednesday… I never thought a group of 12-year-olds could tear me down so much. The language barrier makes things difficult, as we teach entirely in Spanish, and the kids often are not as respectful of new "profas" as they should be. My class was given some pretty severe consequences, and I do have some pretty wonderful apology notes to show off to you all when I get home :) Amazingly, they were much more well-behaved the rest of the week. Teaching will be one of my biggest challenges, especially because my class schedule won't always be consistent. While it isn't exactly an excuse, I constantly have to remind myself that almost all of our kids come from broken, abusive backgrounds and often act out without reason. Each morning, I pray that I may be intentional about loving them in truth and action.
And I do love them… all of them, so much, in spite of everything. I frequently have moments here which are simply too much for words… moments filled with grace and love. I find God's alegria in the wide, smiling eyes of Honduran kids watching their four "profas" jump into the "posa" (fresh-water swimming hole) fully clothed after hiking an hour down the mountain back from mass, in the sign of peace, in knowing that we are all part of the Body of Christ. God speaks through beautiful Honduran sunsets, through the songs and games of the littlest girls in House 1, through my newfound family here at the Finca. I cling to these sacred moments. I am learning to love, to be small, to pour out to others.
For any of you who might be able to pray for me "por nombre" this coming week… prayers for continued health, quick learning of Spanish,and above all the grace to love would be so very appreciated. Know that I love you all so much... thank you for being part of my journey.
Open. Empty. Be filled.
Hug children.
Erin
Queridos amigos,
Wow… what a week. There is so much to say that I hardly know where to begin. It's truly incredible how quickly we have been immersed in life here at the Finca. This past week has presented immense challenges and incredible moments of grace. Life here is certainly not always easy, but it is quite blessed. I tangibly feel God breathing life and hope into this place and calling it all "good".
I know my last email was pretty rushed (email is quite sketchy here) and some of you may be wondering just exactly what's happened or what we're doing here. The run-down: Cassidy and I live in a house with about fifteen other volunteers, two bathrooms, cold mountain water(sometimes), plenty of geckoes and an abundance of love. To be honest, I've gotten used to the simplicity of life pretty quickly… hand-washing clothes, cooking all meals from complete scratch, thin mattresses on wooden slabs, roosters crowing at all hours of thenight. Our bodies are holding up quite well despite countless bugbites, lots of heat, our perpetual body odor, and a few strange rashes :) Neither Cassidy nor I have gotten too terribly sick yet, which is a huge blessing.
The volunteer community here is quite incredible… compassionate, faith-filled, idealistic young people with so much love to give our kids and each other. Living, eating, and praying with them has been one of my biggest blessings. From giving tips on washing our clothes in the pila to encouragement after an excruciating day at school, they have been a constant source of support for us, and I have been immensely blessed by their companionship through late-night talks on the beach under the bright stars of the Caribbean sky, lessons in tajada-making, and folk-choir jam sessions in the kitchen. Beautiful and bizarre and totally unique, all of them. How blessed I am to be their sister.
We're beginning to get a pretty good feel for the rhyme and rhythm of life here and jump into it quickly. I'm going to be teaching at the school most of the summer, filling in for random classes (mostly 3-4 Science, 5-6 English, and 6 Spanish) in the beginning of the summer and teaching the Special Education classes towards the end of July. Cassidy will be working mostly with the colegio (older kids). I have a newfound respect for teachers after my first day with the 5th grade this past Wednesday… I never thought a group of 12-year-olds could tear me down so much. The language barrier makes things difficult, as we teach entirely in Spanish, and the kids often are not as respectful of new "profas" as they should be. My class was given some pretty severe consequences, and I do have some pretty wonderful apology notes to show off to you all when I get home :) Amazingly, they were much more well-behaved the rest of the week. Teaching will be one of my biggest challenges, especially because my class schedule won't always be consistent. While it isn't exactly an excuse, I constantly have to remind myself that almost all of our kids come from broken, abusive backgrounds and often act out without reason. Each morning, I pray that I may be intentional about loving them in truth and action.
And I do love them… all of them, so much, in spite of everything. I frequently have moments here which are simply too much for words… moments filled with grace and love. I find God's alegria in the wide, smiling eyes of Honduran kids watching their four "profas" jump into the "posa" (fresh-water swimming hole) fully clothed after hiking an hour down the mountain back from mass, in the sign of peace, in knowing that we are all part of the Body of Christ. God speaks through beautiful Honduran sunsets, through the songs and games of the littlest girls in House 1, through my newfound family here at the Finca. I cling to these sacred moments. I am learning to love, to be small, to pour out to others.
For any of you who might be able to pray for me "por nombre" this coming week… prayers for continued health, quick learning of Spanish,and above all the grace to love would be so very appreciated. Know that I love you all so much... thank you for being part of my journey.
Open. Empty. Be filled.
Hug children.
Erin
Sunday, June 3, 2007
la aventura continua...
June 3, 2007
My dear friends and family,
Buenas noches! I hope and pray that you are all well. Cassidy and I have arrived safely in Honduras and have been living quite an adventure for the past four days. The Finca truly is a labor of love, and we have been immediately welcomed into the community by everyone here. I am in awe of the beauty of this place- the lush, green mountains, the Carribbean literally 20 yards from our front door, the posas and cascadas.
I cannot even begin to describe what life here has been like, and I don't think I should really try in such limited internet time... but I am in awe of the goodness of it all. My constant wrestling with the Spanish language... the beauty of the heights of the mountains... celebrating mass with the mountain community in Buena Vista... swimming in the posas... these moments of grace remind me of my smallness, that this existence is not my own. I have already been challenged in so many ways, and I know there is so much more yet to come... yet I also feel God's grace being poured out on me, and I know that it is only through Him- seriously- that I can do anything this summer.
Thank you for your emails, your prayers and your love. My email connection is sketchy and time is limited, but I will write more and with good stories when I can :) Until then, know that I carry you all in my prayers and my heart.
la esperanza y la alegria,
Erin
My dear friends and family,
Buenas noches! I hope and pray that you are all well. Cassidy and I have arrived safely in Honduras and have been living quite an adventure for the past four days. The Finca truly is a labor of love, and we have been immediately welcomed into the community by everyone here. I am in awe of the beauty of this place- the lush, green mountains, the Carribbean literally 20 yards from our front door, the posas and cascadas.
I cannot even begin to describe what life here has been like, and I don't think I should really try in such limited internet time... but I am in awe of the goodness of it all. My constant wrestling with the Spanish language... the beauty of the heights of the mountains... celebrating mass with the mountain community in Buena Vista... swimming in the posas... these moments of grace remind me of my smallness, that this existence is not my own. I have already been challenged in so many ways, and I know there is so much more yet to come... yet I also feel God's grace being poured out on me, and I know that it is only through Him- seriously- that I can do anything this summer.
Thank you for your emails, your prayers and your love. My email connection is sketchy and time is limited, but I will write more and with good stories when I can :) Until then, know that I carry you all in my prayers and my heart.
la esperanza y la alegria,
Erin
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
una aventura de la alma
May 29, 2007
Queridos amigos,
Happy summer! I hope and pray that this email finds you well. As many of you already know, this summer I'll be spending eight weeks in rural Honduras (check it out on google earth !) serving at an orphanage called the Farm of the Child (Finca del Niño, for those of you who speak Spanish!) My amazing site-partner-in-crime, Cassidy, and I will be filling in for long-term volunteers taking summer vacations by teaching at the school on site, hanging out with the Finca kids, and living in community with the other vols. The Finca, in addition to being literally right on the coast of the Caribbean :), is an amazing faith community, and I look forward to being immersed in the four pillars of life: community, service, simple living and spirituality. Although I'm sure I can't anticipate the adventures that await us, I expect that our summer will be both extremely challenging and immensely blessed.
Our journey begins this Thursday as we attempt to pack our lives into rolling duffel bags and head into the unknown. Somewhere sandwiched between long, flowing skirts and malaria pills, my Spanish-English dictionary and Chaco sandals… I carry with me a heart full of joy yet uncertain of what the days and weeks to come may hold. I hope to keep each of you up to date on our adventures through weekly(ish) emails… if you'd rather not hear from me, though, please don't hesitate to ask me to remove you from my list, delete my emails, or report me as spam. Whatever :)In all seriousness, though, I am grateful for each of you with whom I can share the journey. I would so very much appreciate your prayers… for the entire Finca community, health and safety, the grace to love and sing and dance and walk daily in the light of our wonderful God :)
Please keep me updated on your own adventures this summer… I would love to hear from you. Know that you each are on my heart and in my prayers as well. How blessed I am to have you in my life!
May your song be loud, may it be clear, may it be long and may God bless you.
Un abrazo fuertisimo,
Erin
"And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?" – Donald Miller in Through Painted Deserts
ps: Some of you had asked for my summer mailing address. Just in case you want to write a real letter, you can reach me at:
Erin Ramsey
c/o Finca del Niño
Apartado Postal 110
Trujillo, Colón
Honduras, Central America
Queridos amigos,
Happy summer! I hope and pray that this email finds you well. As many of you already know, this summer I'll be spending eight weeks in rural Honduras (check it out on google earth !) serving at an orphanage called the Farm of the Child (Finca del Niño, for those of you who speak Spanish!) My amazing site-partner-in-crime, Cassidy, and I will be filling in for long-term volunteers taking summer vacations by teaching at the school on site, hanging out with the Finca kids, and living in community with the other vols. The Finca, in addition to being literally right on the coast of the Caribbean :), is an amazing faith community, and I look forward to being immersed in the four pillars of life: community, service, simple living and spirituality. Although I'm sure I can't anticipate the adventures that await us, I expect that our summer will be both extremely challenging and immensely blessed.
Our journey begins this Thursday as we attempt to pack our lives into rolling duffel bags and head into the unknown. Somewhere sandwiched between long, flowing skirts and malaria pills, my Spanish-English dictionary and Chaco sandals… I carry with me a heart full of joy yet uncertain of what the days and weeks to come may hold. I hope to keep each of you up to date on our adventures through weekly(ish) emails… if you'd rather not hear from me, though, please don't hesitate to ask me to remove you from my list, delete my emails, or report me as spam. Whatever :)In all seriousness, though, I am grateful for each of you with whom I can share the journey. I would so very much appreciate your prayers… for the entire Finca community, health and safety, the grace to love and sing and dance and walk daily in the light of our wonderful God :)
Please keep me updated on your own adventures this summer… I would love to hear from you. Know that you each are on my heart and in my prayers as well. How blessed I am to have you in my life!
May your song be loud, may it be clear, may it be long and may God bless you.
Un abrazo fuertisimo,
Erin
"And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?" – Donald Miller in Through Painted Deserts
ps: Some of you had asked for my summer mailing address. Just in case you want to write a real letter, you can reach me at:
Erin Ramsey
c/o Finca del Niño
Apartado Postal 110
Trujillo, Colón
Honduras, Central America
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