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
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