bom gia!

Yesterday, I returned from Brazil. What better time to surprise the world with a blot post?

I'm still struggling with "re-entry" to normal, so my mind is fuzzy and I'm not sure yet of how to tell the story. I spent 12 days visiting the missions of Rio Preta da Eva and, after a 20 hour boat ride down the Amazon, Parintins. The PIME Missionary priests and brothers were our hosts. The lovely people of Brazil were our teachers.

It is a beautiful country. It is hot. And humid. Did I mention it is hot? Every day we realized that we couldn't talk about the weather as we did at home. There was no wondering, "What will it be like today?" We just knew it would be hot. And it was. There was no relief from the heat, and that made it profoundly different from the steamy days I might've experienced on an July day in Michigan. I couldn't step into the air conditioned comfort of my home, or a restaurant or mall. Every where it was like a moist oven, and we wondered how the people there seemed to tolerate it so well.

The children were breathtaking. Photographing them was one of the most joyful experiences of my life. On our first evening in Rio Preta, one of my traveling companions (Seth) and I walked down the street to a small "corner store" and stopped to photograph some neighborhood kids. Knowing no Portugese (except for "obrigada" - "thank you" - which had taken me two days to learn)I would hold up the camera and smile, sometimes saying "foto, por favor?" The children smiled, and looked at me with genuine warmth. I would sometimes show them the pictures I took of them, and their smiles would grow wider, or they would blush through their bronze skin and look away.

I will never forget the first little girl whose smile I caught. She spoke patiently to Seth, trying to understand his Portugese, speaking kindly to him. She was about five. As soon as I can, I'll share her photo. It's going in a frame on my desk to remind me of the beauty and simplicity of the Brazilian children.

Enough for now. Despite the fact that I was up for 34 hours with only a few cat naps on the plane, I did not sleep well last night. I developed the a side effect from traveling early Thursday morning, and I'm still recovering from it. My nurse daughter, in true American fashion, overreacted and wanted to take me to the hospital. I'm seriously fine! It made me think once again of how cautious and afraid we can be in this country. The trip made me much more fearless and intrepid! But that doesn't mean I still don't need prayers! Hopefully today will bring rest and recovery, so that tomorrow I can return to work, and begin telling the story.

I am so thankful for what I have experienced. Mostly I was reminded of this: leave everything to God. Trust Him for your every need, and abandon all your plans to Him. He is all you need.

cuttings

I remember the days when the field was fresh. On those days I could run here and bury my face in the blossoms, like Myra, angsty and tortured and passionate and alive.

Now I find I avoid the solace that brings. When I write, really write the way I'd like, I regress to a state of in which I am perpetually seventeen. Sometimes, that's charming. But usually it's draining or even cloying, and if I don't leave the field in tears, I'm sure my readers do. And they're not tears brought on by deep emotion, unless you consider annoyance deep.

Today I'm feeling seventeen and forty-something, which means I'm hormonal and weepy and passionate, but not quite sure about what. I'm also angry, but I'm not sure about why, either. I'm somewhat concerned that I might actually click the orange box and publish this post when I'm finished throwing words up here. And then all this nonsense will be cast out into the world where others can scoff at it and discover what I already know - it's really all vanity, and nothing more than that.

I'd like to start blogging here again, but I'm not sure there's a place for this. Now that I'm a Professional Communicator, with a Title and an Office and a paycheck that comes every other Thursday, I spend my days doing Real Work and writing about Important Topics. I think I'm pretty good at that, and I have a very sweet thing going. But there's a part of me that misses this...this flowery heart-revealing stuff that would make Certain Persons in my life (and probably most who happen upon this post)gag.

Enough. Until I can purchase one of those little diaries with a key, I have this place and no other. It's still my field, and if I want to throw daisies and write about rainbows and butterflies, that's my choice. If I want to be a pretend poet, or obsess about death, or marvel at God's grace, or just complain about my lot in life, or my husband, or my dog, this is the place I intend to do it.

I'm not going to tiptoe through the tulips; that's just not my style. Sometimes the pretty flowers are going to get all smashed up and messy. Sometimes I'm going to fashion odd bouquets, like the kind little boys bring to their overwhelmed mothers. Sometimes I'm just going to shove a bunch of dandelions in your face. I might weed the plot occasionally, but mostly I'm just going to hang out and see if I can still catch the fragrance wafting through the air.

And if you can bear it, you're welcome to join me.

good morning!

It's been a long dark night here in the field, but I'm coming back.

If I try to write something clever and smart, something that will remind the both of us why I started this blog, I'll hesitate too much and won't write a word.

So, inspired by the CNMC I just attended, I'll just write something, anything, to get the ball rolling.

There. I did it. :)

I'll be back soon to write something real. The sun's coming up. It always does, come to think of it.

visit me at work!

I'm doing most of my writing for the PIME Missionaries these days. Today I share about a recent incident with my pup Sophie. (Click here to visit me at the office!)

In His Shadow

A repost of a poem I wrote on Easter morning, 2008

I had walked within your shadow
On the road in Galilee
I watched in awe your hands work miracles
Lame men walk now; blind men see.

I felt your shadow fall upon me
When the widow touched the hem
Of your cloak as you passed by her
With your crowd of holy men.

I was jealous of her boldness
As she put out an eager hand
Afraid to walk too near you
I just followed in the sand.

I was in the crowd that greeted you
As you entered like a King
Your shadow cast a regal sphere
As our bold hosannas rang.

You walked that path again so soon
Your blood fell upon the stone
I hid in a darkened doorway.
I let you walk alone.

Was there a shadow cast on Calvary?
Or was the darkness vast and deep?
I do not know.
I did not go.
Alone, I cried myself to sleep.

Yesterday there was no shadow
No place left for me to hide
No one there to heal this cripple
Maimed by selfishness and pride.

This morning Mary ran to greet me
Though I can scarcely take it in
She says the tomb is empty
She says you live again.

Is it true? Am I still dreaming?
Have I been given one more chance?
Might I be able to follow you again?
In your shadow, now to dance?

Mary smiles and says, "Just trust Him.
'Do not be afraid,' He said."
I go with her to see the shadow
Of the stone that guards no dead.

You are alive and I am weeping
Standing in a bold new place
Soon I'll glory in the shadow
Of your brilliant, Holy Face.

I used to fear the darkness
Like a child in bed at night
But I no longer fear the shadow
For in it I am close to Light.

a beautiful ministry

The Apostolate of Hannah's Tears is a ministry of mercy to suffering families.

From their site:

We offer prayer support and comfort to the brokenhearted who suffer the pains of infertility at any stage of life, difficult pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth, the loss of a child and the adoption process. This apostolate intercedes for Catholic doctors, nurses, and their supportive personnel. We also serve as a vehicle of education in the proper channels of Catholic fertility practices as well as offering information resources to those seeking adoption and fertility care.

I am honored to have been invited to contribute to their blog. Please visit here to read my thoughts on Celeste's fifth birthday.

celebrating this weekend

...what would've been her fifth birthday.

nine months and ninety minutes

Every life matters.

Please read about Gianna here.

word search

Fortitude. Patience. Belief. Faith.

Grace. "Fiat." Wisdom.

It appears that choosing a "Word of the Year" is in vogue, and for a change, I'm wordless.

As I wrote here, I've been coming up blank these days. Regular readers of this blog (are there any left? I know I haven't given you much to read these days!!) know that I specialize in long-winded posts. Wordiness is my thing. I love words. I'm all about words.

But a word of the YEAR seems like an awfully big commitment, one I'm not sure I'm ready to make.

One of my favorite bloggers wrote about it recently, revealing that her WOTY is "fortitude," which happens to be one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Other bloggers shared their selections, including some of the ones mentioned above.

Are you noticing a theme? These words are all fabulous, and worthy, and, well, pious. I don't think any of them quite capture how I'm feeling these days.

Where are exhaustion, boredom, and irritation? How 'bout frustration, annoyance and impatience? Oh wait, the word is supposed to be positive, I forgot! It's supposed to be a reminder of what we're seeking - where we're going, not where are now.

OK, so how about chocolate? Or diamonds. Maybe vacation, or even weekend. Remodeled bathroom is two words, but that'd be cool too.

I suppose it's supposed to be something a bit more simple and precious. I could go with sunshine. Or maybe rain. Or leaves. Or rainbows. Unicorns? Care Bears? (Drats, two words again.)

I know I'm poking fun at the idea, and I don't mean to mock anyone who's chosen a Term for '10. I suppose I'm just annoyed at how boggled I am by this.

I love words, but the angst I feel at choosing just one reveals a certain aspect of my personality. I stink at making choices. I always feel like this is the last handbag/couch/dessert/WOTY I will ever get to choose, and I'm afraid, that like that guy in Indiana Jones, I won't choose wisely.

Soooo, I'll take a deep breath and pick one.

Erudite? Crudite? Carnivore?

Carnival? Validate? Liquidate?

Quiver? Sluice? Spore? Orifice?

Now I'm out of control.

Any suggestions? What's YOUR word of the year?

words, words, words!

I created this "word cloud" at wordle.net based on the content of my website. Fun!

wordless wednesday

all my world's a stage

The show opened Friday, and it went amazingly well! Our audiences were wonderful (a packed house on Saturday!) and our performance finally came together.

I thought I knew this story inside and out, but performing the role of Mary has given me a new perspective. I wrote about it today here.

I can't believe it, but I'm actually looking forward to performing again next weekend! (It was such a grueling tech week it's hard to believe I feel that way.)

But sometimes theater is magic, and when it is, it's irresistible.