Monday, January 30, 2012

Simple, but not easy.

It's easy to get caught up in problems.

I know, firsthand, from nearly twenty-three years on this earth, and especially having spent the last five months in Camden, New Jersey, that it's easy to see what went wrong, or what one does not have, or every problem as a bad problem.

All problems are not bad.

Two Sundays ago, we were blessed with some extra musicians: Kevin, a guitarist, and Janet, a violinist.  They are the son and daughter-in-law of the third grade teacher, who helps out at the 12:10 mass on Sunday.  Kevin and Janet are also fabulous musicians, each in their own right.  However, rehearsal time was minimal, by which I mean that all four of our musicians were together to practice for about 15 minutes.  We didn't have time to practice all of the songs.

But we had four fabulous musicians (counting Betsy and Isidro), and I couldn't see past all of the chaos to be grateful for it in the moment.

It's all about perspective.

This year, for me, has been an entire shift in perspective that is still in process, without an end in sight.  The idea is simple: I must change what I focus on so that I can be positive in the moment and toward the future.  In practice, this is not easy.  It completely goes against my fruitless attempts at perfection, or even the adjusted levels of "acceptable" that I continue to revise.

It's about finding joy in the little moments, like tonight at rehearsal.  Betsy had accidentally hit Isidro in the face on Sunday with the head of her guitar, and remarking on that, Isidro said that if it had been any worse, "it would have been a gory scene."  I laughed, because I was so taken aback by such a funny and wonderfully made sentence.

I am reminded of Thomas Merton, who got me this far: "In the end, it is the reality of personal relationships that saves everything."

I have also been recently reflecting on the parable of the widow with the two coins.  She gives much less than other givers, but she gives all that she has, and that means so much more.

Today, Estela Reyes gave us a bag with several books either in Spanish or both English and Spanish.  She is the single mother of four beautiful children, and the Reyes family was one of the first that I was able to meet here in Camden.  I teach her son, Jose, piano (insofar as one can do that sort of thing with only minimal piano ability), and Jose, Maria and Jesus are all in the school choir.  Estela is one of the people who motivates me most to learn Spanish, because I would love to be able to carry on conversations with her in full sentences.  Right now, I speak in broken Spanish, and in her broken English she replies.  And so, she gave us these books, knowing my, and my communities, efforts toward learning the language.  She was so proud to show them to me, and I was so humbled to be able to accept them from her.

It doesn't seem like much, but it's HUGE.

Last night, I had dinner with Vinny, a man who lives down the street from us.  About four or five years ago, he had a stroke that left the left side of his body paralyzed and has relegated him to a wheelchair.  He has gained some function back, but he can only use his one hand, and he can't bend his arm.  Because of the stroke, he cannot work, and he is as strapped as anyone in this city.  Money, for him, is tight.

Last night, Vinny had a friend of his bring him over Popeye's Chicken, and Vinny shared his fried chicken with me.  For someone who occasionally doesn't have enough money to eat anything at all, this is a huge deal for him to have Popeye's.  It was as though all he had was two coins, and he just gave me one of them.

I am guilty of falling into the trap of "I serve the poor" and "I  am such a good person for doing this or that."  It is moments like this that show me who really is poor: me.  I am so chained to all of my things, to my standard of life, and to what end?  Ita Ford, a Maryknoll sister who was martyred in El Salvador, captures what I hope to continue to reflect on far better than I ever could.

“Am I willing to suffer with the people here, the suffering of the powerless? Can I say to my neighbors, ‘I have no solutions to this situation; I don’t know the answers, but I will walk with you, search with you, be with you.’ Can I let myself be evangelized by this opportunity? Can I look at and accept my own poorness as I learn it from the poor ones?”

Can I look at and accept my own poorness as I learn it from the poor ones?

Simple, but not easy.

Peace and all good,
Rachel

No comments:

Post a Comment