suerte del gato negro...

A cat fell through the roof of my room this morning.

I arrived here in Guatemala late last night after a sweet good-bye in Managua and a short plane ride into the capital. The hostel is empty; students don't arrive until tomorrow and my trusty companero Chepe won't be with me for parts of the semester, this being one of them.

So I got to bed kind of late and in the midst of strange dreams, around 5:45 am, I hear a loud crash and quick movement on the other side of the room. Entirely disoriented (not being able to remember exactly where I was) I tried to figure out what had happened and noticed a hole in the ceiling...right above my computer. I walked over to that side of the room, in the dark and reached across the bed to unplug my laptop when something hissed at me and I, naturally, screamed, waking up the house staff. It was a bit of an ordeal, street cats aren't friendly when they're scared and they certainly aren't something you want hanging out in your luggage. But we got it out, moved my luggage and I went back to sleep for another hour.

Some may consider a black cat falling from the sky, the morning before students' arrival to be a negative omen. However, a black cat in the audience the opening night in theater is also considered to foreshadow a successful play. Choosing to be optimistic, I'll opt for the latter and take it as a sign that the group on it's way here will be fabulous.

longing in the new year...

Well, it's a new year and a new semester, and with slight hesitation, I'd like to renew a commitment to write here more often. Being home for break was lovely and seeing people that I care about so deeply, that love me so well, is always life giving. It also reminds me of the stark differences between my world here and my world there, reminding me how important it is to write from time to time. To relay pieces of a different reality. If nothing else, to share a different perspective. To all who vocalized appreciation for these little musings I post, thank you; it's incredible encouragement.

Today was also a day of commitment for my brother and sister-in-law as they, with family present, participated in Noah's dedication at their home church. (Noah is 6 months old now and as adorable as ever - see 'proud-aunt-picture' to side.) I'm back in Nicaragua, so I obviously couldn't be there but I haven't stopped thinking about him, and his amazing parents, all day. I love my work and feel that this is where I should be; but I just hate being so far away on days like today.

I asked myself, in an email to my mom "How does one prioritize such important things like this? And will they still know how much I love them all...although I wasn't there for that specific moment?" She answered (in her never-ending wisdom and consistently speedy response time) with a blessing encouraging my longing. My longing to be in more than one place at once, my longing to help create spaces for change, my longing to belong to a circle of friends, a movement, to show family how crucial they are to who I am and how I move through this world.

So I thought I'd pass along her blessing, holding this sentiment for my little nephew as well as all of you reading this. Happy new year.


For Longing
by John O'Donohue

Blessed be the longing that brought you here
And quickens your soul with wonder.

May you have the courage to listen to the voice of desire
That disturbs you when you have settled for something safe.

May you have the wisdom to enter generously into your own unease
To discover the new direction your longing wants you to take.

May the forms of your belonging - in love, creativity, and friendship -
Be equal to the grandeur and the call of your soul.

May the one you long for long for you.

May your dreams gradually reveal the destination of your desire.

May a secret Providence guide your thought and nurture your feeling.

May your mind inhabit your life with the sureness with which your body inhabits the world.

May your heart never be haunted by ghost-structures of old damage.

May you come to accept your longing as divine urgency.

May you know the urgency with which God longs for you.

despidiendo de nuevo...

The office is quiet and I'm between wrapping up semester stuff and packing for my trip home. Last week was full of reflections and final projects goodbyes, and really moving realizations from the students.

I really dislike having to watch them all go every 6 months, but I love getting to hear about the changes that this program has caused in their perspectives, in their approach to the world and their future work. The last week is always that shot of adrenaline that reminds me why I love this job and believe so much in learning from the stories of the underdog, in the growth and change that comes from living and learning in community, in looking at your own country, own people from a new viewpoint.

The things we hear during the process of the semester can be at times horrifying and overwhelming, and yet, people continue on with their struggle. Personally, if I try to look at it all at once, I'm almost dizzy. However, last week as I sat and listened to the students, one by one, talk about transformation and awakening things felt slightly closer to 'changeable'. This work of changing the status quo is slow and frustrating and seemingly impossible at times but important and honestly, I hope that it's always what I'm dedicated to. Whatever form it takes.

For the students who just left, and those who left a year ago and 7 months ago, thank you for taking this journey and taking it all to heart.

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the righteousness, and the truth of the work itself. And there too a great deal has to be gone through, as gradually you struggle less and less for an idea and more and more for specific people. The range tends to narrow down, but it gets much more real. In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything.

- Thomas Merton

grateful...

It's 9 am Thanksgiving day and already 84 degrees and rising. I walked into the kitchen this morning and was greeted with a 'Como amaneciste?' as the cooks were already starting to prepare our traditional United States-ian feast. Certainly it's a strange thing to be in such a different place on these larger holidays. The table at my parents' house seems so far away, and yet it's all I can think about today.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that doesn't let you off easy. You just can't be grumpy on Thanksgiving - it's contrary to the whole essence of the holiday. This day demands gratitude; and that's a lovely thing, I think. My mother speaks often of gratitude and raised us in a house that demanded we be conscious of all of the ways that we were blessed. And, over the years, it's become clear to me how much happier I am when I'm grateful, how much more motivated and willing, believing and open I can be when I'm conscious of my great fortune.

I'm reading a book right now in which the main character talks about 'big bursts' and 'little bursts' as getting her through life. Big bursts like my stunning, new, little nephew, having a job that i adore, the engagement or marriage of a dear friend. And the more day-to-day things that keep us going - little bursts: a letter from home, dancing until I'm exhausted, opening a new jar of peanut butter, or my companero Chepe managing to crack me up every day.

And then there are the over-arching things that don't really burst at all, but gently exist as a glowing foundation below it all. I am grateful for the unconditional love of my family, the friendships that embrace me tenderly as I grow and transform continually, the tenacity I see in the people here and the idea - the stubborn hope - that progress and change, and justice are possible.

I am grateful today. Sweating, but grateful :) I miss you all.
Happy Thanksgiving.

20 years later...

Today is the 20 year anniversary of the assassination of six Jesuit priests, their housekeeper and her daughter. These priests, through their classes at a Salvadoran university, their writings, and their work with local communities openly struggled against the violence of the 12-year civil war and worked towards peaceful negotiations to end the conflict. Because of their work, they were brutally killed by the Salvadoran army, which was financially supported by the US.

We visit the place they were murdered with students and have the chance hear the history while being in that sacred space (to read old blog posts about our visits, see: 'six of many' or 'hidden in plain sight'). If you have a chance today (or this week) think of El Salvador and educate yourself on it and the United States role in its history.

If you're in Northfield: attend the commemorative events at St. Olaf!
Monday, Nov 16th at 7:00 pm - "El Salvador, What happened to Liberation Theology?" Father James Torrens, Viking Theatre
Wednesday, Nov 18th at 7:00 pm - Documentary "Enemies of War" followed by Q & A, Holland Hall 501

If you're not in Northfield check out a movie about El Salvador:
'Voces Inocentes' - a film made about the civil war in El Salvador
'La Vida Loca' - a recent documentary on gang life in El Salvador
'Hidden in Plain Sight' - a documentary on the School of the Americas

And if you're not a film person, just say a prayer for peace.

Thanks for checking in; I'm headed to the mountains for a few days. I'll be back in a week.

"All the blood of martyrs shed in El Salvador and in all of Latin America, far from plunging us into discouragement and dispair, instills a new spirit of struggle and new hope in our people. In this sense, even if we're not a 'new world' or a 'new continent' we are cleary and verifiably...a continent of hope."

-Jon Sobrino, Jesuit Theologian

what to do about water...

Water has been on my mind lately. And those of you who know me well know that I haven't always been great about actually drinking it. It's just not something I think about often. I haven't had to. And yet, whenever I've wanted water, it's been right there waiting for me. Easily accessible, without a thought nearly my entire life.

Life in Latin America has made me much more aware of water. The heat demands it, the faucet often unexpectedly fails to dispense it in the city, and the lacking resources in the country make it tough to find and too dirty to drink. 1 in 6 people globally do not have clean drinking water. Families that have taken me in and generously shared their homes with me, walk miles to get water and carry it home, use it scarcely and respectfully and still, tragically, in the last few years, they have watched their children die of diseases caused by dirty drinking water.


Earlier this year a friend recommended the documentary FLOW: For the Love of Water, to me and watching it changed the urgency with which I think about water. (http://www.flowthefilm.com/trailer) The scarcity is scary, absolutely. But what's more frightening to me, is the ease with which we're letting companies bottle and sell us something we can drink for next to nothing from our faucets. That's scary in a country with resources, and even more so in countries where expendable incomes are something known only among the elites.

As I was looking around for different facts about water today I went to google and was less than thrilled to be reminded about our little $79 million moon-bombing to look for water there. I just don't get. Not at all. Am I way out of line to feel that we should start taking care of water sources here on Earth first? That we should start claiming our Earthly water sources for people and nations and thirsty populations before large corporations buy, pollute and exploit them?

After a visit from my family here and their wonderfully relentless asking 'what can we do about it all?' I've been thinking about how to give more ideas for action and hope here in this little blog space I call my own. Of course these are always just suggestions, and I'll hope you'll keep reading even if not moved to action, but I know that being witness to life in a third world country is both a privilege and a responsibility. I personally need to remember that I am connected to people of other nations. That I can affect their lives positively. Probably not as much as I'd like to, but who doesn't need water? This is one sustainable, tangible, easy way we can improve people's quality of life.

A few ideas:

Those of us privileged enough to have regulated, drinkable tap water, should drink tap water, and encouraging our local and state governments to protect it and the water sources in our home states.

Educate yourself about water!
- Watch FLOW (Rent it or search for it online, many documentary sites provide free links)
- Read one of the many books out there bringing this issue to light: Blue Gold, Bottlemania, etc...

Donate to organizations helping abroad:

charity: water - building wells in Africa to bring clean water to entire communities

Potters for Peace - Helps potters around the world set up facilities to produce and sell water filters to families that don't have access to an uncontaminated well or other clean water source. The filters are low-tech, low-cost ($15-25), and effectively eliminates 99.88% of most water-born diseases.

"The banks of a river may belong to one man or one industry or one State, but the waters which flow between the banks should belong to all the people."

-LBJ, 1965 when singing the Clean Water Act

fascinated with family...

It's been nearly a week since my family headed out from their week long visit to Nicaragua. And still, at least one person a day asks me how the visit went - I guess I mentioned it to a few people! It's fabulous to be able to say that we had a wonderful week and that I'm continually reminded of how fortunate I am to have family like them.

It went ridiculously fast, as expected and after a day in colonial Nicaragua, a day at the lake, time in Managua, a visit to an ocean resort and an interesting (rainy) day on a nearby mountain with friends...they were hugging me goodbye. And suddenly I was no long surrounded by this group of people who somehow manage to make me feel more me than nearly anyone else can.

They left and I laid down and cried - sad to see them go of course, but also overwhelmingly grateful. To have a family that affirms the decisions I've made and the things I love by coming all the way here to see them, to laugh and love through it, and to remain so entirely open to the experience and whatever it might gift them...well, I think that's remarkable. I think I'm remarkably blessed.