in the hands of the other

We woke up a bit after 5 this morning and headed to the Las Vegas Catholic Worker. With 600 hot dogs boiling and buckets of buns to pair with each we sat for morning prayer. The book used was the same one Rose, Nazareth, and I used in Jean Rabel, (People's Companion to the Breviary with Seasonal Supplement ;) one of the ones I plan on using with my children. We loaded the trailer and head to the lot. The sun still laid lazily on the horizon, we set up different lines in the coolness of the morning. The people, mostly men, from all ethnicities and walks of life, stood in line ready to receive their daily bread. In the hands of each, and the eyes of all, we saw him again, Jesus. We heard his words through the mouth of the hungry mother, through the rashes, the infections, and the smiles we smelled him, felt him, ate with him, Jesus.

Following that communion, we cleaned our mess at the house and left to the Courthouse for a Peace Vigil for an hour. People joined as they passed by and honked when they read the signs, "Support Our Troops, End the War," "Hate only begets hate," "Honk for Peace," "I really only love God as much as I love the person I love least. - Dorothy Day." We shared with others and in the stories I heard mine and in their search I found mine.

We crossed the railroad tracks back to the side of Vegas where the forgotten are stragically shoved to on the other side of the highway, with a jail near by and government housing, back to the Worker's neighborhood. We picked up 50 bag lunches to distribute around the neighborhood, at the spots where most homeless try to stay cool and avoid harassment and cops. In the interaction between those who work at the Catholic Worker and those who recieve the meal we witnessed the beauty of real relationship. The day to day catching up, the companionship.

We broke bread together once again and went our seperate ways, the people at the Worker staying to continue the work, and us, back home, both to continue finding Jesus in the hands of the other. 

With you,
Luisely

Great Wonders!

Since last time we spoke, I have seen great wonders! I've baffled and stood speechless at the innumerable beauties of our Creator.

We left Vegas and made our way to Santa Barbara, California. The reception and the genuine sense of welcome we recieved gave our hearts a sense of freedom to retreat. Surrounded by the peace and perfection of nature we used our time there as retreat time, to look within and balance ourselves and recieve Love.

From there we marvelled at the sound of the cracking of oysters in otters mouths and their cuteness as they lay floating on the waves and their little hands agility to toss the empty shells from their bellies in Monterey, CA. The personality of the seals while they flirted with us in the sea and played michieviously with the seagulls seated at sea showed us yet another face of God's humor and creativity. The squirels were ginormous and the scallops exquisite.

We spent four days in Berkeley visiting my future university and the Holy of Holies made it perfectly clear that that is where I am being called in the fall. On Holy Thursday we went to the mass of the washing of the feet in a parish whose parishoners were half Central American and half African American. The gospel choir vibrated in my soul and moved my hips (which doesn't take much) and heart. The bilingual mass and homily (done by two students of my future school) stayed with me for the week to follow. I left the mass feeling blessed for my biculturalism and my faith.

From there I spent a little time in the Catholic Worker in Oakland, where yet again God showed me that where the Spirit guides me I will feel at home.

We spent Holy Saterday in Yosemite National Park, beholding the splendor of God! That night we went to Easter Vigil where I laughed, laughed, and laughed throughout the mass delighting in the obvious presence of New Life, of the risen savior, in the Chicano family seated in the pew in front of me composed of all women of different ages. The excitment I feel during Easter Vigil mass is that of a child's when she's listening to her favorite story and discovers that there is a happy ending. Each time it's as if I didn't know the ending (or better put, the beginning of Jesus' story... of all stories).

Easter Sunday we wandered around the ginormous trees and the majesty of the Great Artist in King's Canyon and Sequoia National Park. My breath was taken from me in soo many accounts. I honestly believe that I found heavenly resplendence there. We drove back to Vegas that night laughing, bealting out songs with the stirring wheel as our microphone, dancing and delighting as children do.

What freedom and peace, knowing that after death comes life! The cycle continues, it never ends in death, it continues.
  
Throughout our whole journey we have been centered in prayer focused on Lent, using books of reflections and meditaions, with one in particular by Richard Rohr. Part of the homily of Thursday's mass spoke about the decision to either continue working on cleaning out our souls after lent or of stuffing all the piles into the closet for postponment. (The homily sounded alot better than my summary.) I've chosen to continue working at the piles I've been sorting out throughout lent and continue throwing out what I need to detach myself from, what I need to embrace, and what needs more attention. So I've dedicated this whole week until next for a deep Spiritual retreat. It's hard work, but I'm grateful for it. It's all part of the baffling wonders of God.

With you,
Luisely

P.S.: Prayers are more than welcome.
P.P.S.: Nazareth and Rose wrote me saying the following:
            "...[we] visited Kay Pov, and it was a changed atmosphere, they were happy, clean clothes, food cooking, Alex brought us around to see the shower... Walter... gave us hugs! Tiffany did not run away, said hello, it was special...the good work continues." Amen! God is Good!

fertile ground for intimacy

In The Pilgrimage, the author, Paulo Coelho writes, "When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly..." creating fertile ground to confront oneself. Traveling with someone close to you magnifies that confrontation, in my opinion at least.

The decision to go cross-country from Florida to California had its practical reasons: visiting friends and Catholic Workers along the way, visiting my future school, finding housing, etc. Deeper than that though, I searched for revelation. The revelation of whatever God wanted me to know at the moment. Although it was not part of my plan, as a result of that search I've reached a deeper intimacy with God and myself. The revelations along the way allow me to further know God's face and my own. This allows me to trust God fully, aiding me to die to self more willingly, and therefore be redeemed, sanctified, inhabited by the Spirit, and grow more intimate with God.

The journey carries its challenges; I feel God's presence as a constant and growth follows. Accompanying an intimate other can be more testing than accompanying those whom you are less vulnerable to, but as a cause of that there seems to be an even greater opportunity of transformation.

The road trip continues providing fertile ground for the conversion of heart.

With you,
Luisely

a question from a friend

I leave tomorrow morning on a road trip to the West Coast. Along the way I will be visiting loved ones in different states, Catholic Worker houses and my future graduate school in California. I plan to be open during our pilgrimage, allowing God to cleanse my soul along the journey. I will write along the way.

In 2007 I wrote in my journal of aspirations, "find a graduate program perfect for me, with tuition paid." I received an email three days ago congratulating me for receiving an award that will pay for my three years of graduate school in California. I reread the email three times and sat in complete gratitude. 


A friend questioned me, "Don't you feel guilty for receiving so much?" 
"I feel humbled to have been chosen, blessed and honored, yes. Guilty? no. Why? If our Creator is a generous God, an abundant mother that never ceases to give. I feel a great sense of responsibility because I know that these gifts are to be shared and given to, for, and with others." 

His question reminded me of my uncle's comment which troubled me as a child, "I don't bother God with mundane requests, why waste God's time on that?" I remember hearing that and thinking, "Oh Tio, you don't get it."

As Mami prays:

                        Oh Jesus, who said, "Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened to you." Through the intercession of Mary, your most holy mother, I knock, I seek, I ask that my prayer be granted.

I know I've written about this before, but I am constantly reminded and grateful for the reminders.

As a response to receiving the scholarship I said, "God is good." My friend's response was, "God would still be good if you didn't receive the scholarship." 
"Yes," I said, "God is good either way."

With you,

Luisely   

like sea sponges

I sat on the boat allowing the wind to jostle my curls and the sun to warm my face. The splashes from the waves flickered on me as a twenty year old National Park volunteer approached me with two sea sponge fossils. She explained that animals are a colony that form one, so if two live sea sponges were to be diced together in a blender and then placed in sea water they would join again into the two original colonies.

Earth, in a way, is like those sea sponges. No matter how many blades cut through her and mangle her the Holy Spirit regenerates and the colony continues. The earthquakes in Haiti, Japan, and Burma, the fighting in Libya and Syria, and radioactive iodine contaminations all seem to disconnect and dismantle life. Yet unfailingly life continues and the same Creator, the same Spirit, regenerates.

With you,
Luisely

from a squirrel

A mother squirrel decided to move into my cousin's apartment about a month ago with her young ones. The matriarch of the new residents, seemingly unconcerned as to whether or not she was discovered, scratched away at the outside wall of the apartment. My cousin's wife, Ivelisse, peeked through the sliding glass door surprised to see the determined mother turn to her unstartled and continued to etch away at the barrier. Ivelisse went back in to her house, continued her conversation with her mother on the phone, in shock as to what she just witnessed.

Days later Ivelisse went to the patio with her basket full of laundry with the intention of placing a load in the washer when she noticed the new tenants moving into her ceiling. The gentle parent placed one new born squirrel in her mouth at a time climbed up a few boxes to the washer from there climbed onto the dryer where she squiggled into the hole which lead to their freshly made nest.

Ivelisse, not too pleased and yet again in disbelief, turned around with her basket still full until the bushy-tailed mover finished transporting her young. The following two weeks little noise was heard on the ceiling of my cousin and Ivelisse's bedroom. By the time the third week came along the rodents ran from one side of the ceiling to the other, sometimes seeming to follow the louder thumps... their food. They would occasionally scratch at the sliding glass door appearing to visit their flatmates, the whole family. By this point Ivelisse tried to assure herself she wasn't imaging this all.

The original tenants of the apartment began to loose sleep over the ruckus, deciding to call pest control to move the nest to another location and inclose the patio with screen in order to avoid more squatters. The team came in, removed the family placing metal sponges on the doorways, discovering more holes and blocking them with different barriers, plastic sheets, plastering up the wall, inclosing the patio and finishing it up by placing four electric irritants that let out an annoying sound inaudible to humans that the squirrels would want to avoid. They left pleased with their work.

Less than an hour after their departure Ivelisse heard faint whining coming from the above. As the hour passed the whining progressed. She called her husband, "They left one up there. She's going to come back for her, we can't let her die up there." By the time my cousin came home from work the resolved mother had broken the newly installed screen found her way to the once opening where she clawed desperately at the materials blocking her from her baby. My cousin set the irritants higher in order to scare her off. She left for a little bit and returned more driven. During the night, the humans heard the desperate whining and the determined mother. Finally the couple couldn't any longer. My cousin turned on the lights went to the patio and began to undo the handy work of the pest control team, assisting the headstrong mother.

He dug through the plaster, pulled out the plastic sheet and the metal sponge and gave way for the mother to find her young. Ivelisse disconnected the irritant and the pair went to sleep. By morning the whining ceased along with the sound of grating plaster.

The human family was left with a screened patio with a hole in it, two plastered areas of the wall, and a deeper hole in one, but with an incredible admiration for the bond between a mother and her offspring, no matter the species.
________________________________________

I went to the park today with a friend and her two daughters. I left with an incredible admiration for the bond between a mother and her offspring.


With you,
Luisely