Una Soledad Acompañada

soledad: the act of being in solitude, or alone.
acompañada: being accompanied by someone else

 ¨Una Soledad Acompañada¨ This phrase was first introduced to me on our community's retreat at the end of March at Padre Fred's beach house during Padre Quique's homily.  It reminds me of many moments I have experienced these last few months with the start of the school year, work in full, and the beginning of the feelings of being at home here in this beautiful desert. It's the moments that bring me the raw beauty of God.

Reminding me I am alive.

And I am not alone.
In this. In anything. Ever.

“No escogimos con quien vivimos, nos encontramos en el camino”  -Padre Quique

“We didn't choose who we live with, we encountered each other on the journey”

     I like to think I encountered God on the journey this Lenten and Easter season and continue to do so every day.  Some days it’s hard to open my heart to the people who so generously open theirs to me. They know the reality of my stay but they don’t for a second hesitate to care for me, be my friend.. to love me. I see raw beauty in this forma de ser (way of being). I don't think I'll ever not be in awe over how much a heart lives and gives here.  I often find moments throughout my day where I am reminded of God's presence with little surprise blessings and catch myself smiling, call them God moments if you will.

 Whether its encountering one of my mes de mision kids on the side of the road getting ready to make his trek to school, yelling out the window of the bus after seeing one of my mes de mision kids slap the side of the bus and run after it trying to get on—only to finally get on after being stopped at a red light and then getting to catch up on life after mes de mision, or running into my host sister and host mom on their way to school the day I woke up a tad late and getting to walk in to school together, maybe even the time I was standing leaning against the door of the bus hoping the door didn´t fly open while in transit because the bus is literally bursting at the seams, or running into a third grader on the bus (who remembers me from when I taught the second grade ONE day in December with Kelly) and having him just give me a huge hug and keep his arm wrapped around me until we arrived at school, or the first day the kid at the center who tries to flip tables when he’s frustrated gives me a hug, its coming home from a silent retreat and having someone else there to listen after it all, it’s the time I happen upon a huge group of my Mes de Mision girls as I explore a new parish to buy things for the capilla in Habitat and instead of listening to their charla (a talk) they whisper “zumba miss?!” to me, its the moment I realize my little brother's words of advice “be strong” have a completely new sentido (feeling) now, it’s when my host sister Micaela sneaks chocolate toffees to me via my host aunt at the silent retreat, it’s the time I just laugh while my patience is completely shot as my kids run around like maniacs crawling under tables and on chairs during my taller de baile, it’s the moment a regular saturday turns into an arroz con leche cooking competition, or when I attempt to knock on a friend´s door and am chased down the street by angry dogs instead, or when I run into an injured Padre Francisco from Mes de Mision and share cultures and stories (a Mexican and a Cuban in Peru), it’s the time I ran to work with one of the boys at my after school job after lunch TOGETHER instead of taking the bus and it’s the moment a kid in my dance taller helps me lead the class as I totally make the moves up as we go and he belts out “Gozando en la Habana” with me, la cubana.

Familiar faces, they exist for me now.
They bring me comfort, they bring me peace, they remind me to open my heart, they remind me to let it be broken. And when we break, it reminds us that we´re ALIVE.

Alive, accompanied and not alone.