Monsignor Antonio Soto, Vicar of Religious Life for the Dioceses, called and set up an appointment with me for the day before Thanksgiving Day. I had been waiting for this opportunity for two months.
Mons. Soto listened to me attentively as I explained to him the purpose of my visit and our Community Project. To show me that he had "done his homework" he shared with me all the papers printed out that I had emailed him earlier. I went ready with a second copy of everything...including a copy of our Constitutions. He said that the priests of the Presbyteral Council would be meeting with the bishop the next day and that he would bring our SSMO Project up for discussion and opinions.
He was pleased with our efforts so far. His idea, once the bishop gives his consent, would be to have two of us Sisters come...and bring three or four Associates...to live and work together in the area of addressing the spiritual needs of women and children who have been left behind by the husbands and fathers who have immigrated to the USA. He felt that our Charism would be wonderful and bring new life to the small "colonias" (neighborhoods) where there are great numbers of abandoned families.
I shared with him a little bit of our community history and he told me that he had visited our web site and read our Constitutions. He said, "I see that you are willing to depend totally on God and that no work is too difficult for your community."
He realized that thus far in Mexico I had had experience in a private school. Next I would to be with the Sisters of Mary Immaculate in Irapuato, Guanajuato whose ministry is mainly in the field of geriatrics. He asked where I would be for the third ministry. I told him that I was not sure. He suggested I return to the south of Zacatecas where I might help with pastoral work in the "colonias" so that I would have a better or more complete picture to share with our Sisters in Oregon. He would try to find "hospedaje" (hospitality) for me with other religious.
Mons. Soto suggested he and I visit the priest in charge of the Diocesan Immigration Office and talk to him about our Project. He would like for us, Sisters, to write the purpose, the objective, the method and the evaluation tools for this Project in a very clear manner. He said he would like to see our Sisters work not in any particular parish but in a larger diocesan-wide area. He sounded very positive and said that he would be in communication with me. His office is within walking distance from our house, but I have only one month left in this dioceses.
We have only just begun. Everything moves so very slowly!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Convent Life
I’ve settled into a routine of rising at 5:00 a.m. Monday through Friday. On Saturdays we all rise for Lauds at 8:00 a.m. and on Sundays it is “free”. During the week, in the convent chapel, we celebrate a combination of Lauds and Mass together. On weekends we attend Mass at our local parish. Our Cathedral of the Assumption and our parish church, Santo Domingo, are both within walking distance. Because Mass is offered on Sundays—some churches offer Mass every hour on the hour—we often hear bells ringing from 6:30 a.m. until 6:30 p.m. I like the bells.
Our convent kitchen is the heart of the house. Sisters Lupita and Conchita are two of our cooks. They have 3 lay people who help with the washing of pots and pans, etc. These ladies sometimes call me “Sister Juanie”. I think they think they are calling me an English name. Our meals are good but I have not adjusted to eating meat, vegetables and beans in the morning at 6:45 a.m. The noon meal is served from 2:45 to 3:45 as the Sisters arrive at different times from their different work sites. It is a nice meal: rice, beans, meat, salad and always fresh squeezed juice to drink. They don’t always serve desserts. Fruit is always available. The last meal is after Vespers around 7:45 p.m. That meal is not a meal really. We have a piece of Mexican bread, a piece of fruit and a cup of tea made from lemon grass or cinnamon or pieces of fruits.
Sometimes many Sisters come from some of the 40-plus mission houses where the Sisters work and they stay at the Casa Central or Motherhouse. There are enough bedrooms—some have 5 or 6 beds in them. Each bedroom has a shower and bathroom. I sleep in a private room with a bathroom and sitting area. There are NO heaters in the entire house! I think I can see my breath when I get up. It makes me think of my Dad when we were young and lived in Texas. The winters were bad. Dad would get up around 4 or 5 to light the butane gas heaters so that the un-insulated house would warm up before we would get up. I now get up and start the shower so that the steam from the warm water will heat up my room. I say to myself, “I’ll do this for you, Jesus, and only for You.”
The house is full of winding staircases—like the inside of a spiral sea shell. I don’t run down the stairs. I walk gingerly because the tile is slick and dangerous. The reception room is opened very early in the morning by a ninety some year old Sister Teresa. She and Sister Mayra, a young junior Sister, take care of the door and phones all day long. The house is wired for answering the door. They view the person outside the door via a small camera and they push a button to open the door. They have phones on every wing of the house but sometimes no one answers to go summon a Sister. It can be very frustrating.
We walk everywhere—to church, to the store, to go get a haircut—everywhere! Every day seven of us ride in a white van to get to school, however. The Sisters own about 4 cars for different purposes. We were just told not to use the private cars if possible. There is great danger of drug lords stopping big vans, trucks, etc. and asking the people to vacate the vehicle and they steal it and everything in it. They sell it or use it for the drug trade. Many times bad things can happen to people who might be involved or at the wrong time of the night or driving alone, etc. I don’t go anywhere by myself or at night. I feel very safe.
I ended up teaching English to two Sisters only. I started with about 6 Sisters but they get very discouraged and frustrated. They want to learn English in a few days. Sister Teresita needs to learn as she will be assigned to work in Fresno, CA. The other, Sister Mayra, is young and she was told she had to learn English for later use.
Our convent kitchen is the heart of the house. Sisters Lupita and Conchita are two of our cooks. They have 3 lay people who help with the washing of pots and pans, etc. These ladies sometimes call me “Sister Juanie”. I think they think they are calling me an English name. Our meals are good but I have not adjusted to eating meat, vegetables and beans in the morning at 6:45 a.m. The noon meal is served from 2:45 to 3:45 as the Sisters arrive at different times from their different work sites. It is a nice meal: rice, beans, meat, salad and always fresh squeezed juice to drink. They don’t always serve desserts. Fruit is always available. The last meal is after Vespers around 7:45 p.m. That meal is not a meal really. We have a piece of Mexican bread, a piece of fruit and a cup of tea made from lemon grass or cinnamon or pieces of fruits.
Sometimes many Sisters come from some of the 40-plus mission houses where the Sisters work and they stay at the Casa Central or Motherhouse. There are enough bedrooms—some have 5 or 6 beds in them. Each bedroom has a shower and bathroom. I sleep in a private room with a bathroom and sitting area. There are NO heaters in the entire house! I think I can see my breath when I get up. It makes me think of my Dad when we were young and lived in Texas. The winters were bad. Dad would get up around 4 or 5 to light the butane gas heaters so that the un-insulated house would warm up before we would get up. I now get up and start the shower so that the steam from the warm water will heat up my room. I say to myself, “I’ll do this for you, Jesus, and only for You.”
The house is full of winding staircases—like the inside of a spiral sea shell. I don’t run down the stairs. I walk gingerly because the tile is slick and dangerous. The reception room is opened very early in the morning by a ninety some year old Sister Teresa. She and Sister Mayra, a young junior Sister, take care of the door and phones all day long. The house is wired for answering the door. They view the person outside the door via a small camera and they push a button to open the door. They have phones on every wing of the house but sometimes no one answers to go summon a Sister. It can be very frustrating.
We walk everywhere—to church, to the store, to go get a haircut—everywhere! Every day seven of us ride in a white van to get to school, however. The Sisters own about 4 cars for different purposes. We were just told not to use the private cars if possible. There is great danger of drug lords stopping big vans, trucks, etc. and asking the people to vacate the vehicle and they steal it and everything in it. They sell it or use it for the drug trade. Many times bad things can happen to people who might be involved or at the wrong time of the night or driving alone, etc. I don’t go anywhere by myself or at night. I feel very safe.
I ended up teaching English to two Sisters only. I started with about 6 Sisters but they get very discouraged and frustrated. They want to learn English in a few days. Sister Teresita needs to learn as she will be assigned to work in Fresno, CA. The other, Sister Mayra, is young and she was told she had to learn English for later use.
The School Children of Zacatecas
The children who arrive early at school have discovered the games on my ipod and gather around me to ask me if they can play the games. I’ve noticed that they praise each other readily and are willing to take turns. I think our U.S. children sometimes have and want more. These students do not come from poor families. Their parents are mostly professionals.
Sister Karla, a young religious, works as Campus Minister and arranges one-day retreats twice a year for each class of both primary and secondary schools. The primary students, in 6-A, 6-B and 6-C each have their own day. She offers a full-day retreat for secondary students. Theirs is on a Saturday.
I mention this because the students seem very capable of integrating their faith, morals and values into their daily life. During the retreat the students open a letter from their parents. Each couple is required to send a letter on their child’s retreat day. Some parents relate their story from the time of their engagement, to their marriage, to the conception of the child. The one letter I heard was very beautiful. It had to have impressed their own child. Love poured out from every line. Each student reads his or her letter in private. Then they read it in their small group and then the students choose the letter that says what each feels their parents would have said to them, too.
There are always the “poor”, undisciplined and not-so-well behaved students, and they seem to have been placed in the same classroom, but mostly the students are very courteous and nice. They would never pass by an adult without the proper greeting…morning, noon or after school. I love that!
The school sure celebrates each patriotic feast. Presently the students are preparing a huge “desfile”…marches, songs, speeches, etc. for the anniversary of the Revolution in Mexico. (I am hoping to attach photos here) They are very--extremely—patriotic, even as the country suffers the dangers of terrorism and terror from the drug lords taking over their cities. The rituals of the colors of the flag are carried out every Monday morning and these rituals are very dramatic and solemn.
The students who carry the flag wear white gloves and march like soldiers—goose step and all. They gather in a huge (it can take 300-400 students) court yard and stand in silent attention with each teacher at the head of their class. The students sing their national anthem and salute the flag with their hand placed on their chest – their hand is palm down parallel to the ground, with elbow lifted in a perfect line. They also recite a promise to be faithful to their country and to the Church under the patronage of Our Lady of Guadalupe. The principal greets them saying, “Praised be Jesus Christ” and the students respond in unison, “Now and forever. Amen.”
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Different but beautiful
Sunday, November 07, 2010
It is 4:45 am and I am awake. Today I could sleep in until 8:00 but my body is so accustomed to getting up at 5:00 that I am wide awake. Oh, well. I am listening to the radio and it is featuring music that my Dad would listen to: marches and patriotic songs. He would keep rhythm with his fingers on the arm of the couch. I miss my Dad! Glad many of my nephews and nieces tend to be musicians.
Yesterday I accompanied Sister Patty to a nearby town to get her haircut. We walked a long distance to get to bus #14 that took us to Guadalupe—the Sisters did their novitiate there and they tend to go back to the familiar. As I walked I realized how very different Mexico is from the USA. The sidewalks are mostly broken, the fumes of the hundreds of buses and taxis is tremendous. The noise level is deafening. The women are carrying wrapped babies and packages and poor people are sitting by the entrances of stores staring into space just waiting. And, everyone else is walking—walking fast to get somewhere! There are many people selling whatever they can sell: plastic flowers, fruit juices, balloons, cotton candy in plastic bags all stuck on a tall stick, ice cream on a cart where a container sits wrapped in a gunny sack with dry ice or something. And, I walk fast and I belong to this menagerie of human beings.
I commented to Sister Patty that I didn’t know if I would be ready to live here permanently and she laughed. She said that she had lived in Denver and in Phoenix and she would not be happy there either. She said that to her it felt cold, uncaring and very isolated. She took me by the arm and led me into the beauty shop…a tiny space cramped full of dusty bottles, old chairs, a worn out sink and cut hair scattered on the floor from former clients probably from the day before. But the way the lady greeted and welcomed us, the room filled with laughter and joy. She did an excellent job of cutting her hair and did it in a few minutes. I quickly forgot the poverty and unclean area. The charge: 20 pesos = $2 USD.
Today is “Recollection Sunday”—a day of retreat. Once a month the Sisters have the opportunity for the Sacrament of Reconciliation and recollection to reflect on the month’s work and growth in spirituality. They do it at the beginning of the month, we, at St. Mary’s, do it at the end of the month. There will be a speaker to deliver a talk on the theme of the day. We can go to Mass in the nearby parishes and our meals will be in silence.
The weather has been rather chilly. During the night it gets down into the 20’s but during the day it goes up into the 60’s. I hung my laundry on lines located on the roof top—they have washers but no dryers. It is rare that anyone has a dryer. They also turn their water heaters off during the day and only turn them on at night for our morning showers. That seems to be a common practice. The fuel is gas so gas would be wasted if the water heater was on all day. Therefore, dishes are washed by hand in cold water, using laundry soap. Each Sister washes, dries and returns her own dishes to her place at table ready for the next meal. There is no hot water for laundering clothes either. When we wash a small amount of clothes we use the “wash boards”—slabs of concrete which have playing marbles imbedded into the cement which helps scrub the clothes. Pretty nice actually!
The town’s plaza has music and fireworks almost nightly and even during the day sometimes. Music is in the air they breathe. There is no city ordinance for noise level. The church bells toll starting at 6:00 am and they toll it this way: first bell is to let you know there is Mass, second bell is to let you know that you need to get going…walking, of course, since there is a church at every corner; the third bell is to let you know that Mass is starting. You can tell which bell it is as they ring a single chime, a double or a triple after each long tolling. Ah, then there is the public announcer who just has to get a message out to the public but didn’t get it in the newspaper. A person in a car with a huge bull horn delivers his message over and over as he or she drives through town.
Restaurants dot the streets. They are mostly the size of the beauty shop I just mentioned. They are very small and sometimes have no way of getting water into the business so they use disposable wear. How they wash their pots and pans is another mystery. I often realize that Zacatecas is saturated with businesses and people and that there could not possibly be enough room to build another building. The residents claim that that is true. The stone streets are narrow and cramped full of parked cars, and yet buses and people must get through. There are police personnel on the streets but often they can do nothing but wave their arms trying to move traffic, to no avail. Everyone starts to use their horns but again, to no avail. Zacatecas is mostly rock—mountains of rock! The buildings are made of masonry, bricks or stones covered with stucco sitting on top of rock ground on a steep hill. This town remains me of Astoria. One is either climbing up the hill or going down the hill.
I love Zacatecas. I really could live here—for a year easily!
It is 4:45 am and I am awake. Today I could sleep in until 8:00 but my body is so accustomed to getting up at 5:00 that I am wide awake. Oh, well. I am listening to the radio and it is featuring music that my Dad would listen to: marches and patriotic songs. He would keep rhythm with his fingers on the arm of the couch. I miss my Dad! Glad many of my nephews and nieces tend to be musicians.
Yesterday I accompanied Sister Patty to a nearby town to get her haircut. We walked a long distance to get to bus #14 that took us to Guadalupe—the Sisters did their novitiate there and they tend to go back to the familiar. As I walked I realized how very different Mexico is from the USA. The sidewalks are mostly broken, the fumes of the hundreds of buses and taxis is tremendous. The noise level is deafening. The women are carrying wrapped babies and packages and poor people are sitting by the entrances of stores staring into space just waiting. And, everyone else is walking—walking fast to get somewhere! There are many people selling whatever they can sell: plastic flowers, fruit juices, balloons, cotton candy in plastic bags all stuck on a tall stick, ice cream on a cart where a container sits wrapped in a gunny sack with dry ice or something. And, I walk fast and I belong to this menagerie of human beings.
I commented to Sister Patty that I didn’t know if I would be ready to live here permanently and she laughed. She said that she had lived in Denver and in Phoenix and she would not be happy there either. She said that to her it felt cold, uncaring and very isolated. She took me by the arm and led me into the beauty shop…a tiny space cramped full of dusty bottles, old chairs, a worn out sink and cut hair scattered on the floor from former clients probably from the day before. But the way the lady greeted and welcomed us, the room filled with laughter and joy. She did an excellent job of cutting her hair and did it in a few minutes. I quickly forgot the poverty and unclean area. The charge: 20 pesos = $2 USD.
Today is “Recollection Sunday”—a day of retreat. Once a month the Sisters have the opportunity for the Sacrament of Reconciliation and recollection to reflect on the month’s work and growth in spirituality. They do it at the beginning of the month, we, at St. Mary’s, do it at the end of the month. There will be a speaker to deliver a talk on the theme of the day. We can go to Mass in the nearby parishes and our meals will be in silence.
The weather has been rather chilly. During the night it gets down into the 20’s but during the day it goes up into the 60’s. I hung my laundry on lines located on the roof top—they have washers but no dryers. It is rare that anyone has a dryer. They also turn their water heaters off during the day and only turn them on at night for our morning showers. That seems to be a common practice. The fuel is gas so gas would be wasted if the water heater was on all day. Therefore, dishes are washed by hand in cold water, using laundry soap. Each Sister washes, dries and returns her own dishes to her place at table ready for the next meal. There is no hot water for laundering clothes either. When we wash a small amount of clothes we use the “wash boards”—slabs of concrete which have playing marbles imbedded into the cement which helps scrub the clothes. Pretty nice actually!
The town’s plaza has music and fireworks almost nightly and even during the day sometimes. Music is in the air they breathe. There is no city ordinance for noise level. The church bells toll starting at 6:00 am and they toll it this way: first bell is to let you know there is Mass, second bell is to let you know that you need to get going…walking, of course, since there is a church at every corner; the third bell is to let you know that Mass is starting. You can tell which bell it is as they ring a single chime, a double or a triple after each long tolling. Ah, then there is the public announcer who just has to get a message out to the public but didn’t get it in the newspaper. A person in a car with a huge bull horn delivers his message over and over as he or she drives through town.
Restaurants dot the streets. They are mostly the size of the beauty shop I just mentioned. They are very small and sometimes have no way of getting water into the business so they use disposable wear. How they wash their pots and pans is another mystery. I often realize that Zacatecas is saturated with businesses and people and that there could not possibly be enough room to build another building. The residents claim that that is true. The stone streets are narrow and cramped full of parked cars, and yet buses and people must get through. There are police personnel on the streets but often they can do nothing but wave their arms trying to move traffic, to no avail. Everyone starts to use their horns but again, to no avail. Zacatecas is mostly rock—mountains of rock! The buildings are made of masonry, bricks or stones covered with stucco sitting on top of rock ground on a steep hill. This town remains me of Astoria. One is either climbing up the hill or going down the hill.
I love Zacatecas. I really could live here—for a year easily!
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