Poco a Poco

It's hard for me to admit that I've been back only 2 months, and it seems like eternity since I was in Ecuador.
It's hard for me to accept that I'm here now, and I'm not going back to Ecuador anytime soon.
It's hard for me to want to be here, when I want to be there.
It's hard for me to adjust to this culture, and to figure out what parts of this culture I don't want to adapt to.
It's hard to talk to friends in Ecuador, knowing they are happy for me to be back with family and friends, and all I want to do is tell them that I miss them with all of my heart and that I want to be with them, too, when I don't know if that would do more bad than good.
It's hard to be honest when people ask how transition is going, when the answer would be more negative than positive.
It's hard to be gentle with myself, when I feel like I'm constantly betraying my experience in one way or another.
It's hard not to look at people differently for their choices and decisions, even though I have no right to.
It's hard to struggle with my faith life here, when it came to me so easily in Monte Sinai.
It's hard to see that alumni years out are still struggling and miss Ecuador so much, when I can't wait for the day that my heart doesn't ache.
It's hard to read if people really care to hear about Ecuador when they ask, or if they are asking to be polite and want a quick and easy answer.
It's hard to do justice to my experience to those who really want to know what this year was like for me, when I can't even explain it to myself.
It's hard to know that the ones I love in Ecuador will never know how much they changed me, and how deeply they touched my heart.
It's hard to be back in the states, plain and simple.

I went to mass with a community mate, alli, tonight, and she ran into a friend from school. He asked how her transition was going, and she was honest and just said "It's really hard". And that about covers it. I've been back in the states for almost 2 months now, and yet it feels like my time in Ecuador is already so far away. It's just really hard, and I'm becoming more and more ok with saying that. I know it's important to be gentle with myself, but sometimes it seems more fair to beat myself up over it. Wouldn't that mean I love all those I left more if I was more upset? Wouldn't it do them more justice, than if I was ok with all this, than if I was accepting of it? A rational person would say no, it doesn't mean I love them more and it doesn't do them more justice. But I wouldn't say I'm rational right now, I'm lean more on the emotional side.

Poco a poco, or 'little by little', was a favorite phrase of mine in Ecuador, and has become even more important to me these days. Sometimes that's all I can tell myself, poco a poco, things will get better. There will be more time between the tears, the heartaches, and waves of sadness and less time between joy filled memories, phone calls, and love and appreciation for all the good that came from my year.

I wish that I could wrap up my year a little more neatly for you, and I am sorry that I can't. But I have to trust that all this mess that's inside me right now will only bring good things when it becomes a little more sorted out. Until then, poco a poco.

Thank you for accompanying me on my journey this past year, thank you for all of your support. 

and the goodbyes begin...

... or the year ends. If I'm being realistic, this is going to be my last blog post while I am here in Ecuador. There is about a month left, and I am going to be crazy busy, so I thought I would share a few thoughts before I leave.

A consistent theme this year has been falling in love (please see the poem to the left by Pedro Arrupe). With Ecuador, Mt. Sinai, neighbors, the parish, youth group... the list goes on and on. But as my time comes to a close here, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I have left or will leave here. Sure I grew more than I could have ever imagined, and often feel like I have taken more than I could ever give. But what did I do?? What good deeds did I leave Mt. Sinai with?? That question has creeped into my mind more than I would like to admit.

July is the month of goodbyes. It is a month of tears, of laughter, of fear, of nervousness, of joy, and of reflection. It is the month to soak it all in, and to say everything you want to say, because the time I spend in Ecuador from this point forward will never be the same. It sounds harsh, but it's reality.

But with goodbyes come heartfelt moments, where loved ones share everything that this year has meant to them, and I can share what this year has meant to me. They are moments that are filled with grace and love, that remind me why I came here in the first place. I didn't come to accomplish anything, to do, to save the world. I came here to enter into life with the people of Mt. Sinai, to share, to accompany, to live, and to experience what it means to see the Face of Christ. These goodbyes, they affirm me in a weird sort of way. The fact that they are so painful, that even the thought of them brings me to tears, lets me know that I came here and I fell in love. I have fallen in love with joy, with hope, with tears and with struggle, with grace, with the sunset, with a child's smile, with the poor and suffering, with Mt.Sinai, with God, and with humanity.

This year was never meant to be an accomplishment, it was meant to learn how to live, to fall in love and to stay in love. 

The real world

  A brief thought of mine recently...

As a college graduate taking on a year of being a volunteer, I was putting off ‘real life’: a career, paying rent, settling down, etc. I was choosing instead to participate in a one year volunteer program in South America. Then, I would come back to the states, have it all figured out, and get a job. I would begin in the ‘real world’, outside of the bubble of my volunteer year. But, the more I’ve thought about it, the more I think that I have it backwards. In the United States, we live a privileged life compared to the rest of the world. Our lifestyle is unique, not the norm. So instead, I would argue that the ‘real world’ may be the world that billions of people live in that is outside of the United States.To live that life, then, is to be a part of the world of poverty. It is to live in a constant battle against illness, corruption, death, and the vicious cycle of poverty.

And, living amongst the reality of poverty, I have felt more alive than ever before. What’s more real than sharing in brokenness and in joy? Than sitting with the struggles and suffering of loved ones? Than growing and sharing in faith together in community? Than loving with all your heart? Than bearing witness to the face of Christ?

Then I thought, maybe what I’m doing right now might be as ‘real life’ as it ever gets for me. I’m not saying that we can’t live a full and very ‘real’ life in the United States. It has just become very obvious to me that I have never felt so fully alive as I do here, ironically, bearing witness to poverty and suffering.

For me, it is not a question of beginning ‘real life’ when I go back home, it’s already here. It is a question of how to continue living a life that is fully alive, and fully aware of reality.

Cuaresma... aka Lent!

A while back, my community mate Belén made a comment to me on the bus on the way to work. She said, ‘I think it’s so amazing how everyone looks out for everyone else here’, and that’s had me thinking for quite a while. The small ways people help one another are everywhere you turn… the people who stand in the doors of packed buses grab little kids to help them down, giving up a seat for a pregnant woman or senior citizen, getting the bus driver’s attention when someone needs to get off, etc, etc. I’ve seen people go from house to house asking for contributions to help remove a family member’s body from the hospital, because they don’t have the means to bury them. And people give. I’ve participated in a couple ‘Solidarity Bingos’- buy a tablet for $1, and go play some bingo… people can sell 100 tablets easy! And for most, $1 isn’t just pocket change.

Recently, every morning I have been reflecting on one of the stations of the cross (since we are doing them ever Friday with youth group, I thought I would get more familiar with them!) The other day, I read about the 5th station, where Simon Peter carries the cross for Jesus. The reflection in the booklet talks about allowing others to help us carry our cross, to put aside our pride and allow others to help us in our own weaknesses. We must be vulnerable, so that we allow others to help us carry our burdens. We are all impoverished in one way or another, and trying to hide it leaves us isolated. 

I think that Belen’s comment, and taking on one another’s burden, go hand in hand. Material poverty is a mutual experience in Mount Sinai. Here, neighbors and friends can take up one another’s cross in a very unique way, because they understand and live the same reality and carry the same cross. For me, it’s a beautiful solidarity, to take up the cross of your neighbor who suffers from the same burden as you. A friend of mine, a mother of 5, is constantly fighting to put food on the table. It was at her house where I witnessed the family asking for money for a burial… this woman didn’t hesitate to give. She can barely feed her family, yet she understands the suffering of the other and gave from what little she has. It’s understood that every family struggles in one way or another, whether it’s to put food on the table, medical bills, schooling, unemployment, etc, etc. But sharing their own cross with others who are compassionate and understand the same cross, has allowed the Mount Sinai community to band together to ease their burdens together. Alone we are poor, but together we are rich, and in more ways than just monetarily.

I’m not trying to say that I fully understand this reality, because I don’t, and I never completely will. But from where I stand, I’m learning about being vulnerable enough to allow others to help me carry my own crosses. How often do you hear of someone holding a fundraiser in their own house to help pay for a need? When was the last time that someone came up to you and said, ‘I need help. Will you help me?’ I think that many times we’re too embarrassed to ask for help when we need it, we fear that we will be judged by our family or friends. These days, admitting that we have problems, burdens, or need help has become something to be ashamed of. 

So, for this Lenten season, I hope we can all think about how to let others into our lives by asking for help, and to enter into the lives of family, friends, and strangers by asking how we can help them. How can we let others take up our cross, and how can we take up the cross of the other?

Asi es la vida...

... which means 'so is life'... sorry it's taken me forever, but here are a couple updates on life here!

CHRISTMAS!!!!!

Ah doesn’t it seem forever ago?? Probably because it was… sorry for such a horrible delay! Well, to start off, Christmas was AWESOME. My favorite tradition here is Posadas. It is a version of a novena (a 9 day prayer before a feast or holiday), but with a twist. It is a simulation of what Mary and Joseph did before Jesus was born, walking for days, looking for shelter. We spent about half the posadas with the youth group posadas, and half with the Santa Teresa posadas, and both had their own variations, but the heart was still the same. Basically, a group of people walk to a home nearby, lead by a Mary and Joseph, and when they arrive at the home, the people inside and outside (Mary and Joseph specifically) converse in a song, asking for shelter. Then, after a few verses, the people on the inside welcome Mary and Joseph (and the rest of the group) into their home to share in a reading, reflection and prayer. There was usually a little snack and Christmas carols after! On the Friday before Christmas, I got to be Maria with my friend Gabriel (who was Jose)… it was a really great experience! Then Christmas Eve we went to three masses (at the three churches), and participated in Nativity plays at two of the three… it was a CRAZY busy night, but so much fun. Celebrating Christmas with the community was wonderful, and being able to spend such a huge amount of time with the youth group (Posadas and all of Christmas Eve) made me feel like I was finally one of them. My time with them since has been drastically different… I feel like one of the guys here, not the gringa outsider volunteer.

NEW YEARS!!!!

Also a crazy holiday… in a nutshell, you light a bunch of life size paper mache dolls on fire in the street, with firecrackers stuck inside. It was unlike anything I have ever seen! We went to our friend Luisana’s house first for dinner and dancing, and then to Monica’s house for the burning! The tradition here is to share a meal at midnight to welcome in the new year (since we burned the old year!), and so Monica served delicious rice, lentils and baked chicken (an Ecua-classic!)

BOSTON COLLEGE

At the beginning of January, BC came as a retreat group to Mount Sinai… shout out to Elizabeth, Sarah, Kevin and Marc! Lucky for me, I knew four people in the group pretty well, and so it was nice to have a little bit of home with me to bring in the new year. I was able to spend some awesome time catching up with them, and I got to accompany them as they learned a little bit about where I am spending my year. Sarah and Elizabeth were in Ecuador with me last January, and they were able to see Aide and Ricardo (two rostro employees about our age), who we had spent time with last year. When Sarah and Elizabeth saw Aide and Ricardo, it reminded me of the importance of friendship and of relationship… a YEAR after spending only a week with each other, it still brought tears to their eyes and mine as well. It was such a special week, and I was so sad to see them go, but I had an amazing time while they were here!

MY BIRTHDAY!!!

THE BEST DAY EVER. Well, it started out slow, then got bad, then shot up for the worst. Work was normal, then I got stuck somewhere for 4 hours, then I was late to teach English to some of the guys in youth group. But, after arriving at the church, a bunch of youth group kids arrived to throw a SURPRISE birthday party! They made this huge poster board, which I am looking at now, that says “Happy Birthday Katty Madson, we wish you a lot of love. Your friends from youth group wish you many more years and that God fills you with blessings. Thank you for being a wonderful friend. We love you.” It’s beautifully decorated with a border, photos from our time together, and each one of them signed it with a note. A few friends, Damian and Victor, shared beautiful toasts as well, that brought tears to my eyes. And as tradition calls for, my face was pushed into the cake… yum! Overall, a wonderful surprise J

Also, these are a couple excerpts from my journal over the past month…

Reflections on hospitality…

I think the vulnerability aspect of hospitality is also really important. As Rostro volunteers, we have an expiration date. Our neighbors know that, and yet they still open up their hearts and homes, putting themselves at risk. I’ve been reflecting on this for a while, but the reality is that we are investing our hearts in Monte Sinaí, just to have it broken at the end of the year. But we chose to do that when we signed up to come here. Our neighbors, by showing true hospitality (which I would argue is truly loving that person as a human being) are CHOOSING to do the same… to make themselves vulnerable to heart break… and although painful at the end, I think it results in beautiful, genuine, human relationship.

Reflection on community…

During our latest retreat, Belén and I got to talking with Colie (retreat leader) about disagreement and confrontation. To show love, and be loving, she said, there are two extremes… Truth and Grace. Both are necessary to love another, but the trick is to find the balance. You can be 100% truthful and be very confrontational to stand up for it, or 100% graceful and allow others to walk over you. What I found insightful is how she paralleled it to the life of Jesus, which is appropriate since our program is Rostro de Cristo “Face of Christ”. He followed the path of truth, but erred on the side of grace; the truth was never compromised. I think that is how we are called to love not only in community but in our daily lives. To be a loving to the other, whoever that may be, we are called to follow the path of truth, but always enveloped in grace.

That’s all I got for now… I’ll try to get some photos up ASAP!

Ministry of Presence

Some AWESOME wisdom from a man named Henri Nouwen about the Ministry of Presence - basically what I am here to do.

"More and more, the desire grows in me simply to walk around, greet people, enter their homes, sit on their doorsteps, play ball, throw water, and be known as someone who wants to live with them. It is a privilege to have the time to practice this simple ministry of presence. Still, it is not as simple as it seems. My own desire to be useful, to do something significant, or to be part of some impressive project is so strong that soon my time is taken up by meetings, conferences, study groups, and workshops that prevent me from walking the streets. It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn't be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them."

- Henri Nouwen
More to come this week about life here the past couple months...