an adventure in the clouds

Yesterday was its own little adventure as we headed off to visit two more praxis sites where some of our students will be spending their time. For our group this was really the beginning of witnessing “la realidad” that is lived here every day. We spoke with some women who had formed their own Christian community in the town of San Ramon, and although they had very little, they talked about how the gospels called them to serve their wider community with whatever they had. So we followed an older man named Gustavo, who treks up to the community of Las Nubes (the clouds) on a nearby mountain to visit those in need who live rather isolated from assistance. It was incredible to hear the way he spoke about this mission, and how Jesus was a great philosopher because of what he took the time to see, and whom he chose to walk with.
One of the women who we stopped to visit was a tiny, beautiful, toothless 81 year old woman named Mercedes. She was a mother of eleven; when we asked her who else lived there she said “it is just me and God here now.” I walked on thinking about what that meant for her. It meant that when it gets dark (not long after dinner) she was in that tiny home by herself (with no electricity or running water of course), that her daily needs were her own struggle, and that (as it was abundantly clear) this random visit from a group of strangers was the highlight of her day. We laughed when she told us that the three students who will be coming back to visit her will have to repeat their names every time, because not only do they look like the last ones who came, but all 23 of us look the same.
We heard a lot of families share their struggles, and many times (not surprisingly to you all, I’m sure) I found myself holding back tears--not always out of sadness, but because the overwhelming faith they had. Making these visits as a group (which we’ll only do once) is still an odd feeling—but I am continually amazed at how open the people we have met are to us. We talked the other day about how it is hard to accept such wonderfully prepared meals from people who we can see live with so much less than us, but a friend of mine quoted her mentor who once said “to accept a gift is to honor the giver” and that is very true here. So I’ve come to accept those gifts that many might not associate with my daily choices in the states (black coffee? Sure! red meat? Why not!?), wishing that my never ending “gracias” could somehow get across how grateful I am-not just for what they are giving me, but what they are teaching me.
At times I wonder how many of these stories I will hear over the course of four months, and how hard it might get to continually keep my eyes open to what is here, as Gustavo challenged us to do. When talking about this at lunch another student quoted Mother Theresa when she said
“let your heart break so fully that the whole world falls in.” I liked that.

The trip down the mountain became its own adventure as it began to rain, and then pour. We huddled under families little roofed homes and talked, but finally had to cut our visits short. Getting onto our mini-bus (parked half way down the mountain) we had a comical encounter with fire ants that involved a little dancing, much flailing of shoes, and bare feet hanging out of windows while others poured bottles of water on them in an almost baptismal fashion.
We only got about a minute down the rocky road before we had to get out of the mini-bus because the roads were in no condition to be navigated with the weight of 25 people in one vehicle (especially as we saw other cars stuck on the sides of the road). So I left my fire-ant infested book bag and skipped down the road in my soaked skirt, loving every second of it.
Today we visited the site where Romero was killed, the Cathedral where he is buried, and a public hospital. This isn’t really something I think I could write about, but I am very eager to share in person when I’m back in the states.

Spanish word of the day: bicho/bicha—a friend or child, ie. “homeboy/girl” aka my new favorite word
Mystery of the day: the powdered milk in our house disappeared
Confession: I was relieved
Stay tuned…tomorrow we visit my praxis site! Also, my house is looking into both salsa and hip-hop lessons…I’m posting this so I don’t punk out.

Un abrazo a todos <3