Encounter With St. Ignatius

At the end of every month, we have what is called Convivencia (meaning "living together"), a mini-retreat where all of my co-workers gather to reflect on a specific theme of Faith/Religion/the Bible. It is usually not the most preferred Sunday 7am activity of my companions and I, but it is a spectacular opportunity to grow in union with our work community. For October Matt, Mary and I had the unique pleasure of planning the theme together, "An Encounter with St. Ignatius," an effort to share our Jesuit roots with our work community and to deepen our understanding of spirituality and service in light of San Ignacio. We called in the faith forces of our other community mates to delight in this experience with us (AKA, beg them to help us with a skit about the life of St. Ignatius!). Ignatian prayers, spirituality sessions, and an educational experience with the Examen united us as always "for the Greater Glory of God!" Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam! Below are some photos from our some academy-award winning performance...

The Skinny

I feel very tired these days. My health is fine but my stomach just never feels right. I can no longer count the zits on my face. And I am almost entirely sick of beans. Wanting to get out of the house, I can’t go very far solo as a woman. And after returning from community retreat on Sunday, where we reflected for 4 days by a rainy beach side, I received a blessed bulky load of news from home. I found myself writing back to everyone “I really wish I could be there with you for this!” And I think that of all the occasions on which I’ve written that in the past 11 mos, I now feel it more than ever. I do wish I could be there with you for this.

But I am here. Here with you through prayer. Here receiving ALL of your love and prayers, letters, care packages GALORE which never ceases to inspire me! Here in Nicaragua with God. And with my new favorite, saving-grace book, Daniel Berrigan´s, Uncommon Prayer. With my community that I know loves and supports me. With hilarious neighbors. (Walking with Doña Maxima in the morning, I can´t stop laughing inside. Friends comment to her on the street, “Hey Maxima! So great that you are walking!” and she responds straight face, no shame, “225lbs! Here we go!” I am re-laughing to myself just recalling that moment!) …And with a job placement that is so challenging sometimes, simply because of the effect that poverty has had on my co-workers. Unwarranted attitudes. Distrust. Harsh tones of voices. My two other team members aren’t speaking. Pointing fingers and chucking blame left and right. Really ugly sights, day after day.

And the ugliest sights I have recognized this week are the skinny.

Please, take a look at your legs. Yes right now, just look down. Check out those thighs. See how they expand outward as it moves upward? “Knocking me out with those American thighs!” See the knee? And the meat south of the knee? I observe almost daily how below my knee emerges an enormous calf, which must be so much grander than I can imagine; because no matter how I contort myself, I can never see around the whole thing! And just barely do my thumbs and index fingers meet when I circle them around the largest diameter. Great legs. Strong legs! Meaty legs. Lacking sufficient appreciation.

Lacking sufficient nutrition: hundreds of children in the neighborhood of El Recreo where I work everyday. And the many women in the banks that are not grossly overweight. They are so unbelievably skinny. The kids that play on the swings waiting for the Soup Kitchen to open: one can only recognize that they even have a knee when they pump their legs trying to swing higher. Otherwise, they sometimes appear as really well-drawn, stick figures from a distance. Skin and bones with a head plopped on. ANYone of them would turn heads in the U.S. and cause one to diagnose the eating disorder. “Did you see how skinny she is?”

The disorder here is that there is no order. They don’t eat three meals a day. Balanced diet means nothing. They simply do not have enough food to eat – enough money to buy food. Word on the street is that “things are so bad these days!” “because of the rain, the bean season failed and now the beans are too expense to buy!” “if things don’t change, we will not have anything to eat!” “the economists are crying because Christmas will be so bad this year!” And I’m crying because for whatever reason, these “have-nots” have gone hungry and malnourished for too long. My co-worker’s 3 ½ year-old granddaughter is sick in the hospital this week: a problem with her molars that pains her too much to eat, exacerbated by rain and poor living conditions, now sick, vomiting, diarrhea, parasites. The specialists have to fix the molars because she has to start to eat again. Who in El Recreo has money for specialists? And if they did have the money, they can’t put her under anesthesia because they are afraid for her small size— 3 ½ years old, she weighs 25lbs. Anemic. She’s not a rare case.

On our retreat we explored in depth Matthew 25: The Final Judgment. Feed the hungry, huh, Jesus?! It is so hard. What does that really even mean? That I should go out and buy cheeseburgers for each suffering kid I see? Donating to World Hunger Organization? Doing a fast to be “in solidarity” with the starving? I don’t know what hunger of body is. Hunger of soul, maybe? Is that what I am experiencing right now? Is it even comparable? Hungry, can I feed you through my prayers? Only if I act on my prayers. Lord may the prayers feed and nourish like food does. May those who starve have a meal. Have lots of meals. May those who have a meal, know the gift it is. And may we all act to make sure everyone has what is necessary to live, “this day our daily bread.”

Working Women

Gloria Maria Tellez. Late 20s. In our banks. Sitting outside her house as I pass her at a New York pace on my way to the Internet Café. “Adios Margarita!” “Adios Gloria!” I see that she is selling fried plantains in little baggies, with the bottle of vinegar on the side. Each baggie = 1 cord = 1/18 of the $. So I shout trying to be friendly, “Working?”… “Always!” She says with a big smile.

Maria Cleotilde. More like 60 years old. In our banks. We visited her recently because she has a niece who is behind in her payment. We find her with hands painted green and sticky glue all over. She’s working alright! She is making leaves out of manila file folders. Cuts them out, paints them green. With newspaper and homemade glue, she sticks a wire in them, so they will stand up in the cemetery. They are little memory cards that people write on and put next to a grave. So we are talking with her, with her crossed eyes and darling half-smile, she promised us that her niece would pay. As if I care if the niece is going to pay? She must have had about 200 leaves sitting there that she had done in that day. “How much do you sell them for Dona Cleotilde?” “45 cords, for 12 dozens.” WHAAT!!!?? That is $2.50 this women makes for 144 of these cut out leaves that she makes all day long with her bare, old, little frail fingers!!!! “And how long have you been doing this for?” “Ohh about 20 years,” she says. “No… more.”

Erika Flores. Mid 20s. Maybe younger. Also in our banks. She has 2 young daughters, and a 1.5 angel son. Single, working mother, she sells clothes. We also found her working in the house. Washing clothes, cleaning dishes, caring for the kids. She is caring for one more these days: Andrea, who is 8, is the severely handicapped daughter of Erika´s older sister, Terliz, who is also in the banks. We learned today that Terliz (the reason for our visit) left for Panama on Tuesday. She left her two daughters, the other with her mom, to go look for work. Working. Erika doesn’t know when she will return or if she will return. And that day Erika was working against the tears to tell us the events that have just unfolded in her life.

Ivonne Gebara. 60s maybe 70s. Feminist Theologian from Brazil. Just came through Managua and I had the chance to go hear her speak twice. A very impressionable woman. She stood there poised, proud, and profound, with a professionally grey skirt-suit, and a beaded necklace and earrings. Both nights the room was packed with about 70 people, majority women. She spoke on “The Nutrients of Spirituality” and “The Nutrients that the Roman Catholic Church gives us today in Latin America.”…(or doesn’t give)… She emphasized the importance of our spirituality coming from the present day, our sacred bodies as women, the heaven that exists here on Mother Earth, and the need of the poor (esp. women) for salvation and liberation and resurrection TODAY. I felt I had a strong understanding of her Spanish when I heard her say:

Shared bread (“give us this day our daily bread”) doesn’t come by petitions. But when we sit and say “how much bread is here?” and then we share what is.

Working to share her ideas on feminist theology with those who are interested, willing, and open to listening.

Yuvelka Calero. 22 yrs old… “My age!”…I thought while standing in her new house. A humble place on the edge of the city, quiet, tranquil, fertile ground – lemon trees, jocotes, pitayas, tamarindo (mmm blessed fruits of Nicaragua!). Her husband, a taxi driver, picked us up for the visit, and upon arrival, her daughter Marianna (4yrs) runs out to me with a hug, “friend!” ;) We meet her at the door, she´s soaked, clearly she´s been washing the clothes, “Here I am, working!” She exclaims happily to us. She whipped us up a fresco de naranja (freshly squeezed o.j.), and I was able to chat with her for about an hour outside. By “chat,” I mean “listen”… as she told me her life happenings from the last 8 years, when she met her husband. He was a bus driver and she a “cobrera” (the person that collects the bus money). “Really?” I asked. “I´ve never seen a woman collect the money before!”… “I used to dress up as a guy!!” She says, “I had my woman clothes underneath the whole time!” She noted that most of the guys knew she was a woman and mistreated her anyway. That was when she was 15 years old, after she had spent years working in a breakfast place, and selling various items in the street. The family of her husband has dropped them both off the radar; because they have always believed that her real work on the buses was prostitution. After assuring me that, of course, it was not, she told me how her spouse had already had 2 wives, a child with each of them, before they got married. He slept with them both and other multiple times while she was pregnant with Marianna. But “He has changed. He is almost a different man. He has apologized in the church and I know he loves me very much.” She isn’t able to work now, she told me, because he husband won´t let her. He doesn´t want her to face the same hardships as she did working on the buses. So instead, she says, “I do everything here! I cook, I clean, I do the laundry and iron, and I watch the girl. I like being with her. Who can care for her better than I? And who would care for her, when he (spouse) is working from 4am to 11pm?” …. He´s working all those hours right!? Even though his taxi shift is from 4am to 2pm?!? I didn´t say that to her. She believes in him. I just thought about how hard she has worked in this life. And how when she was 19, giving birth to Marianna, I was prancing around Boston College planning concerts.

I cherish these women.

Felix

Dear friends and family,

Thank you so much for your loving concern as Hurrican Felix has swept through Central America. My community in Managua received no more rain than normal, "estamos bien"... we are okay. However it is the people on the coast, who are already so poor, who have suffered severely. Please redirect your prayers and attention to them. If there are methods by which you might be able to donate to the relief efforts there, I encourage you to do so.

I thank you with love and prayers,
Margaret

Yet it was our infirmities He bore, our sufferings that He endured... He was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins. (Is 53: 4, 5)

an email home

loved ones,

gosh i miss you. it has been way too long since i´ve written. often i feel so overwhelmed by the amount i want to write and tell you, ask and hear from you, and THANK YOU! my goodness! for all of your letters, packages, emails, of prayers and love! communication has been a challenge for me as of late, though i know i owe you my best attempt. i can´t think of a theme for this email... everything is always very exciting around here. sometimes i think to myself, "8 mos huh? should be calming down aaany day now..."... I dont anticipate that, really ever in the remaining mos. entonces, le voy a contar... (so, i´m going to tell you..)

these have been some of biggest joys as of late...

- repeating the retreating! for our second retreat we ventured to northern nicaragua, where it is "so cold" (upper 60s) that most of us got sick! not real sick, just lil cough and cold... but to be where the temperature is cool was a treat! not only that, we had an incredible time reflecting and praying together along the theme of "when you pray, move your feet: a retreat on the interconnectedness between faith and action, oneself and one's community, and one's community and the world around us." we stayed in rustic cabins in the countrysde/farm type of nicaragua. Peaceful central! lots of hiking allowed for all kinds of adventure prayers. i got down with the cows for one photo! james almost got eaten by a snake which wanted to sleep with him. matt fell 10 feet off a mountain. Everyones doing fine now. Haha. Ultimately, the retreat helped me (and i believe the others too) that as we walk here in Nicaragua, we are walking on holy holy ground. not only do we walk amidst the sanctity of the poor, which opens us up to the reality of humanity, but to walk on the earth with the consciousness that it is God's grand earth... opening us up to the reality of the Divine! Colors of the Wind was a perfect theme song. listen to it if you can :)

- my work in the banks. finally, after 8 mos., i am starting to feel more comfortable with my work in the micro lending banks. first off, i learn so much, daily, from the wisdom of my two Nicaraguan co workers. it is just so enlightening for me to work along side of them for the same cause, knowing what different worlds we come from. in a heart-to-heart the other day with Silvio, he casually mentioned how hungry he was as a child. "we almost never ate. Almost never never. i was so hungry for so long." How do I respond to that? and here he is now, working alongside me, who has never known bodily hunger for a day, trying to serve the community of Nicaragua where he grew up. on the bank end... we have just opened a new little bank! super exciting! a new group of women to include, who have just receive their first loans for businesses. it was a blast for me being a part of the "orientation" process! the best part is seeing this one woman, Glenda, who is in her early 20s. her mom has been a part of the banks for years, but their conditions at home are still just atrocious. Glenda has barely left her house since she finished 2nd year of high school, has 3 kids, and now will have the chance to start a business. She is already selling ice and juice, bouuncing off the walls with motivation and energy! and excitement to be a part of this group. i love watching this unfold, wondering if our weekly visits to her house maybe have had something to do with this small progress. also fun, she told me she really wants to be my friend :) excellent!

- fun times on camera! this past week two guys visit from the states, carrying 7 pieces of camera luggage... their making a jvc documentary! well, a couple! recruiting films and things like that! the first time this has ever been done. they have already filmed some of the jvc domestic sites, and ours was chosen to show what jvi looks like! so david and thomas followed us around for 3 days straight, camera IN the face! again, i was in my glory with this one. their being here had me reflecting like crazy, on what things i am proud to show them, and what things i see myself still wanting to improve on. this list is long.... ultiamtely, i know that 16 mos will go by fast, to try to be and live and serve how i dream and i pray about.

these challenges I feel frequently...

- have i told you about the energy crisis in nicaragua? for months now nicaragua has been "short on energy," no one is really sure about who is to blame for this problem. the main concept i have gather so far is that the people do not pay their electric bills, so the power company cant afford to run the plants. so Union Fenosa cuts electricity from 2-10pm everyday. in el recreo, where i work, it is out from 2-7, and at barrio la luz, where i live, it is out from 5-10... so, yeah, 2-10 everyday. remember the blackout of new york city? remember how crazy it was and everyone was up in arms like the world was going to end? well, we are stocked up on candels, for every night we are in complete darkness. i feel horrible even saying this is a challenge. the poor women in the banks who sell ice and juice are suffering alot more than i am. so are the people waiting for surgery in the hospitals who are continually pushed back, because there is no electricity. but, i am so human, as i realize more everyday... and i am getting tired of this darkness... its hard to read, write, cook.... so we usually just end up sitting around talking or singing with the guitar. no electricity means no internet cafes open.... i feel so behind on life with all of you... i am really sorry for the lack of communication. patience, flexibility, releasing of myself and my own desires. we do get electricity on the weekends, usually with no interruptions... thus, here i am...

- we are faced everyday by people with such grave illnesses, who have no oportunities for health care or any sort of improvement. and it almost seems unfair that we have these opprtunities, are able to take advntage of them, and do. and then to wonder, how am i contributing to the injustice that kills these people? we are visiting one woman in the banks, Marieliz, who was diagnosed about a month ago with cervical cancer, uncurable. she is 30, has 3 kids, and is on her death bed. i feel like it is hard enough to watch one die in this way. amidst the conditions here, it rips my heart out. for all the sick in the world, may God gift them strength.

- this past weekend i escaped to the beach. so necessary, to justify my not being at the Hamptons with the Lynches! I just had to go to feel like I was there with them in a way. all morning, through all the packing up, buying food in the market, i was SO antsy. "just wanna get there!!!"... the guys took hours getting ready, the buses seemed to take forever, fireworks were exploding in the streets, we couldnt find the house we were going to stay at, etc, etc... finally, 3pm or so, we get to the beach. i lotion up, for mom and dad ;), and run down to the ocean. its too warm! i thought. there is an undertoe! ugh! i was in there by myself, not a person for miles... i tried to do all of our cousin tricks in the waves. over! under! tackle... oops, no one to tackle. sharky? nope. i got out of the water and literally tried building a sand castle with my hands... i gave up after the mote... and i sat there, almost hopeless, realizing that this is my real sacrifice. truly, nothing about this experience in Nicaragua is so challenging except that element of missing my family. not being with you all in the Hamptons. i thank God for the memories. the endless stories that i play back in my head. but even to play them back, reminds me of where I am not. it reminds me of the extraordinary gift of God that family with faith is. cousins spalshing in the water. us running around on the beach! aunts and uncles reading, exchanging stories, and playing cards! ham and cheese sandwiches on buns, goldfish, iced tea, etc! gosh we are so so lucky. and i miss you all tremendously. and i hope that hamptons was a blasst! and i can't wait to hear ALL you can tell me!

on that note, i am going to go on with saturday. drinking nicaraguan coffee, cleaning the bathroom, and maybe entertaining some of the chill'ens on our block. thank you for keeping up with me through this. i love every word and bit of life i receive from you, snail, email, packages of prayers. your love strengthens me and restores me to live these crazy two years like i believe i am called to. oh God is great! happy end of summer!!! i will think of you all with back to school shopping, college packing, fall-clothes shopping, things like that! may we always remember how blessed we are.

i love you!

margaret

Vacation

“Understanding makes love and compassion possible, and where love and compassion are present, understanding deepens.”

[Thich Naht Hahn, Living Buddha, Living Christ]

7 MOS and 7 days! Almost a third of the way. Still thirsting for The Way.
Wishing you sunny smiling, sweet savoring, and summer lovin’!

Just finished up a week of vacation. Vacation, all I ever wanted! Mid-year vacation for the Nicaraguan school system, which runs with the calendar year. I managed to fill it with all kinds of treats and retreats!

Started Monday visiting James at work. He is an English teacher at a Padre Fabretto school in a rural section a ways outside the city of Managua. A completely different working-environment than mine. A cooler temperature, for one. A less rough-and-tough neighborhood. Tranquil farm and country scene. But a heck of a storm inside the classroom! All day long he is the only non-Nica English teacher to students, ages 11-20, who respect him just enough to constantly shout “Mister Meinert” as they walk by while he tries to manage the classroom. He endures the challenges of teaching English at a second-chance school, for students from the rural area in order than they might “get out of” the land they were born in, and “get into” the city, where just maybe they’ll get a “good job.” A growing mission, lacking fullness, one might say. Despite the obstacles to his work-situation, I was proud to watch fulfill what he’s been more or less called here to do. Best thing ever> He has posted “Rules for Peace” Classroom rules. And has cited each rule with various Gospel quotations. To a Nica student, any rule from God will hold more weight than the same rule from Mister Meinert. Still, on a daily basis, he deals with, “Because he hit me first!” “Yes, but why did you hit him back?” “BECAUSE he hit me FIRST!!!”

Next stop: 3 day trip to the mountainous Mataglapa! A little city in the north of Nica, located in a valley of the coffee-central. Josh and I went traveling with the goal of “chilin” and we did. We stayed at the Casa Materna, which is a shelter for pregnant women from rural Matagalpa to stay and be treated WELL, well-deserved, before their delivery. A SUPER service to women which I delighted in witnessing. One day was spent in it’s entirety, NAPPING. While the other two consisted of exploring this cute, quaint little city. Stellar way to think and pray for COUSIN CEILA, who with Pete just welcomed baby NORA KATHLEEN into the world!!

Climbing a 854m. mountain, el cerro El Calvario! Mount Calvary. A cross and dedication to Mary at the top. A vacation in Nicaragua is never without the reality. As we ventured up the hardly beaten path to the top, we passed people’s homes situated on the edge of the mountain. Homes = garbage bags and clothes tied together with sticks for a structure. No exaggeration here. I passed one woman on the side and said, “Que bonita la vista!” What a beautiful view! And she responded, “Lo que sea ser pobre” That’s what it is to be this poor. At the top of the mount we met a woman, Carmen, who is the only woman of a group of 26 farmers who are cleaning the land around the mountain to make it more tourist friendly. She was SO proud to tell us about what work they were doing. And so welcoming to us, “Siempre estan bienvenidos aqui! Estan en su casa!” You are always welcomed here in Nicaragua. You are in your house. I wanted to stay longer on the house, on top of the mountain, with the gushing winds and gorgeous city view, but our delicate skin didn’t quite allow for that.

We enjoyed a BELLISIMA Italian dinner in the middle of Nicaragua! “La Vita e Bella!” The best penne and chicken marsala I’ve had since… well, the best penne and chicken marsala I’ve had. The dinner wasn’t without small children running in and out asking people for a bit of food. It seemed routine for them to be doing this. I’m ashamed to say that it took about 3 times of them coming in before I gave them my bread. They didn’t come back in after that.

A quick getaway allowed for quality time on the JVI home front. It’s such a safe haven to spend some days just sitting in the house, filling it with just living in it. Reading, writing, rambling. Saturday morning was notable. 7.7.7 The world celebrating Happy Birthday Gus Nuzz! “Muscular 49!” He proclaims. Woke up late (8.30a). James was already up and moving – that’s BIG, because it means COFFEE is already on! Even bigger, seeing stuff laid out for pancakes! DElish! Biggest: three different groups knocked on our door before 9am, begging different needs. Health Care. Money. Candy. While I didn’t finish reading the daily Gospel, or Thomas Merton, or the All Saints book that morning, I felt like I was somehow stuck in the middle of it.

Traveling home from Matagalpa, I admired the mountains, hills, farms, lovely Nica landscapes. And reflected yet again on how thankful I am to be living here right now. Thankful to be seeing and experience ALL of this, the beauty and the sheer ugliness. The GIFT it is to see the layers of my ignorance slowly peel off. Like an onion. And an Ogre. Ironically, I finished The Country Under My Skin, by Giocanda Belli – a famous Nica woman’s memoir of love and war, READ IT if you can! – finished just in time to celebrate living in Nicaragua on the 5^th of July. I struggled to embrace the Stars and Stripes this year, knowing just some of the atrocities that my country has contributed to. If ignorance is bliss, awareness is blessed. God, bring on the blessings!

Family and friends, for your thoughts and prayers and accompaniment as we seek only peaceful justice, loving community, and simple faith, THANK YOU so much.

With love, for love,

Margaret

HEARTlines.

It´s been over month since I´ve written and I have barely noticed! Please forgive me for the recent lack of communication. It has been a very exciting and yet trying series of weeks. I do wish I could recount it all, but as the time flies, I feel as though I will just have to save the other stories in some of the rest of my life. Also, I am anxious to hear how you all are. Love the update emails! In this entry, TOO long for one sitting, I´ll share the headlines, or, Heartlines. Maybe you can just read a little here and there when you have a moment. As always, I am grateful for your prescene acknowledging this page! God Bless!

* My 5 community members and I took at week Retreat to Honduras! A Jesuit beach house... two rooms, 4 bunk beds, and a sink/kitchen, the smallest Jesuit residence I´ve ever seen... but the most AWEsome. On the Northern Coast of Honduras, miles of untouched beach and clear ocean before our eyes. 4 hammocks up. No real running water. A plague of mosquitos. Setting the scorpians, the grill, and our stress AFLAME. Daily spirituality sessions and personal reflection talks. And an overnight trip to the National Park of Pico Bonito, magnificent mountain! My first leave-no-trace, camping experience! We pitched a tent on the edge of a heavenly river, with these huge boulders and pure blue water. Swimming in undies. Felt like Eve! Beans out of a can and smushed bananas. Fire and camp songs, like ¨Be Not Afraid¨ (when we noticed some unexcepted flashlights!). Magical.

* Feeling like I was on vacation in another world. Isn´t Honduras basically the same as Nicaragua? Definitely not. As a whole, it´s wealthier, which is probably why it appeared to be more pleasing to my eyes. The global influence in the main cities was obvious. Just passing Dunkin Donuts revived my day! Honduras did not suffer the earthquake, revolution, and war that Nicaragua is still struggling to recover from. And I´m sure she has her own struggles, but I had the rosy glasses on for sure. Staying on the Northern Coast, the Caribeean Coast, we were among a Garifuna community, Honduran people whose origins are from the continent of Africa. So they are Honduran, they speak Spanish, and they are black. We befriended the family of Doña Judith, a Honduran woman, GRAND (in size and soul), who cooked for us some nights. She made the best bread I´ve ever tasted. Pan de Coco. She bakes Pan de Coco 3 or 4 times a week, like 50 pieces of it. And sells each piece for like 5 cents. Her day revolves around her cooking, and taking care of her kids and grandkids in the house. She lives .1 mile from the Caribeean sea and barely goes. Just hangs out in that small tin house, baking her pan de coco. She loved saying ¨Margarita! Come look at how HOT the Pan de coco is!¨ And I´d say ¨I want to buy a hundred of them!¨ And James would say ¨No, we can only buy 12. Maybe 18.¨... And again,¨Margarita, come look!¨

* I received my cedulla, finally! My idenfication of residence! A very exciting moment. Which for some reason made my whole being here seem more real. I LIVE HERE! I live in Nicaragua, a country which has been SO internally affected by revolution and war, decades of opression by a brutal dictatorship, where literacity is a rarity among the women with whom I work, and where what we would consider dysfunctional is almost normal. I will probably live here for the next 18 months and attempt what I believe is nearly impossible, which is to understand this culture, their poverty, their myteries and miracles. Where the raffle at a fund-raiser is a pelibuey (tropical kind of lamb/goat). Where eating fried pig skin and yuca (type of veggie) on a Saturday is like eating a hot dog at a tailgate. Where there is a rainy season!! Sometimes it can rain for 48 hours straight. Pouring. I do love dancing in the rain. My co-workers, not so much. The people in the barrio have dirt floors and tin roofs, dirt streets, a sad combination when everything floods. The rainy season does bring down the temperature a bit, which is charming. Last night got ¨cool enough¨ so that I could wear a sweatshirt to sleep! Deligtful to feel comfy cozy. Tomfy tozy.

* Convivencia. Translates somewhat to “living-together-ness.” In the project we have a Convivencia on the last Sunday of every month. About 4 hours of reflection, prayer, Bible, share with our co-workers, each month a different theme and different coordinators. I helped plan this past one! AHH! Glad that´s over. In theory I love the concept. In practice, in Spanish, on a Sunday, at work, when I just want to sit in the rocking chair and read and drink coffee, it´s a bit trickier to rally. Though I do rally, and I appreciate it. And I appreciated planning this one, themed for Pentecost, “Holy Spirit, come come!” I appreciated the Holy Spirit coming to me in toungues of Spanish to faciliate the final activity of “Knowing each other better, Language of the heart.” Though at one point, one of my mates pointed out that I said, “We all come from different places, and some of us speak different Languages! For example, Spanish, English, French, Germany!” ...´Cause Germany is a language!? Oops. I appreciated feeling supported by my 3 community members present, while the other 2 who were buying us a new refridgerator. Adri who stepped in to cook for me that night. And I appreciated the color red which Mom always had us wear to Pentecost mass. Holy Spirit, come.

* We celebrated Día de las Madres, MOTHER´S DAY, a huge deal here. It feel on a Wedneday and most of the city had the day off. Decorations and promotions everywhere. It seems typical that many families have a big dinner that night to celebrate the mothers. I noticed many people on the buses and in the streets carrying decorative bags and presents, as if on their way to their mother´s houses. It did seem like a much bigger celebration here than in the states, maybe because the role of the mother here is so absolutely integral. Many live with their mothers and their grandmothers for their whole lives. It´s most likely for a mother to raise her children solo, with occasional (if any) visits from the fathers. With such a lacking presence of fatherhood in Managua, I am curious to see how Father´s Day is celebrated at the end of June.

* My sister Colleen has just graduate from high school! Sacred Heart Academy. And given the honor of the Class of 2007´s “Woman of Heart.” While I was unable to be physical present, I was most touched to hear the news. AND so proud to announce that she will be attending the institution I revere and love, BOSTON COLLEGE in the fall. Fired UP!
How blessed I feel, knowing the Catholic education she has had and will continue to receive. These days I realize the tremendous gift that education is, and how deeply it affects a person´s existence. The lack of good education here in Nicaragua expresses itself in INFINITE ways; a very generous contributor to the pervasive, abrasive poverty.

* FAQ: Why is there a Mother´s Day and a Father´s Day and not a Kid´s Day? Well, because everyday is kid´s day! Or because KIDS DAY is celebrated in Nicaragua! Día del Niño y la Niña was beautifully celebrated here in the project. A morning of games, dancing, cheering for about 250 children in the neighborhood. Children who come to the lunch-program, to the after-school program, and children of women in the banks. My heart danced watching the kids clap and cheer so gleefully. I remembered, THIS is why I am here. To be a part of a project that gives kids a reason to be happy and to rejoice. And that gives hungry bellies a meal! We fed them a bowl of rice/chicken/mush and a juice for lunch. And on their way out they all received 3 goody bags: one of little cookie sticks, a pack of Hershey´s cookies, and a little bag of assorted candies, including Tootsie rolls, foreign to them. The kids, so tiny, couldn´t even figure out how to hold them all! Loved seeing them trying to manage their treats. Still so striking to me is this one family who I met about a month ago; the kids are so starving that they barely know how to feed themselves when food is put in their little laps. Purely, surely, the faces of God. Sometimes it seems as though it´s not even enough to give the food. Love requires feeding it as well.

* Funny fun... Mary, Adriana and I went to see SEAN PAUL in concert in Managua. Ladies night! We each paid 200 cordobas, equal to about $11, for an outdoor, standing-room only, crazy show. The lot was divided into sections based on ticket price, so we were in the back until the crowd broke down the barriers and mobbed the front. Memories of UGBC Programming Department, as ticket-taking and security was a TOTAL disaster. I kept thinking, There ARE systems for these kinds of problems! Trying to enter the lot, we were smushed like bananas in a crowd of maybe 100 Nicas, all with legit tickets. Think Titanic, the movie, when the passengers in steerage are trying to escape and they are all shoved up against the gates not allowed in. Why I stayed? To commit to the ladies night out, to embracing something sorta “cultural,” and to feeling like I really am 22 ½ and single. Thank goodness for our Nica friend Jorge, whose Spanish was rather helpful in convincing the security guards to let us sneak through. Jorge made fun of me later in the night for even mentioning to a 250lbs+ man that he was crushing my foot. Interesting that the whole show was in english for a Spanish speaking crowd. I guess Sean Paul doesn´t need to speak Spanish for the people to attend and enjoy. I´m not sure why I wanted to go so badly, or why I did pay 200 Cords to attend (26% of my stipend). Sean Paul´s music connects me to memories and people that I love... Liz, Coll, and PAT NUZZ dancing to Temperture! Brian Dussel on stage at BC. All Lynch cousins trying to learn Brian´s dance. College in general. I yearn for those connections these days. And I guess was willing to pay 200 Cords to feel connected, despite the amount of vulgar dancing and lyrics and degradation of women that I indirectly promoted. If this was 11$ in the States, I totally would have gone, and taken the sibs. For that, I went and had some funny fun with the gaels. Also worth mentioning, we ate Subway for “late night” afterwards. Chicken Teryaki. Macadamia cookie! SPLURGE!!

*A friday night, after Kid´s Day at the project, after 2 unsuccessful hours of trying to go poop to get checked at the clinic, after attending Nica Cultural Night (a final project) at the university of one of our co-workers, and after going out to dinner with M, J, and J to celebrate our 6 mos, I found myself meditating on my bed, in my home in Managua, with James and Josh, reviewing our days. What did we bring to each situation? Person? And what did each situation and person bring to us? I totally failed to come up with any answers or ribbons to tie the present moment up with. But what I did realize is that I do not consider enough that which others bring. What loads, what notions, what thoughts, emotions they carry when I meet them face to face. I always think about what I can bring. It humbled me to think more along these lines, of what they bring. Though I may have 6 mos here, it is still not my homeland. My co-workers, this is their home, their backyard. Their struggles, hopes, dreams, families. On a Sunday when we have a Kermés (fund-raiser) for the project, I am at “work,” wondering how we can make more money, wondering how I can lighten their load. Feeling like “Gosh, I´m run-down. I live in a different country, in the 3rd world, and I have a bunch of laundry to wash. And my body hurts. And I miss fam and friends. And I yet I have lots of love I want to give. So I stir up my energy and give what I´ve got.” They are bringing the Nica food, that they cooked, in their little houses, which are right around the block, to their park, their project, to make money for their health fund. They serve all morning, then sit all afternoon, and I think they bring a desire to just spend time with each other. To be out of their houses. To relax. To dance. To be. To live. And they teach me how to sell soup. And tacos drenched in cream, ketchup, and cabbage. And to raffle a pelibuey. They bring me loads of joy. Smiles. Laughter. Being. And LIFE. They do always bring their lives.

Ahh the End.
Or the beginning. Or the middle. Or All three. Yep, all three.
Thanks for reading! Now you know. =)

With great love, many thoughts, and cherished memories,
Margaret