Week Three Redux

Two years ago, I posted briefly about Week 3. It remains one of those classic unrepeatable Trinita experiences, except not in a good way. So, it's only fair to post that we have been having a great week.

Most of the families this week are grandparents bringing their grandkids, infants included. I have been completely charmed by Ricky and his endless patience and nurturing of his baby granddaughter and toddler grandson, both in diapers. The adults are all very at home here and easy to hang with. The kids are "energetic" and we've had to confiscate a few bats, but it's nothing we haven't seen before. The air is not crackling with tension. It's just plain fun going on wherever I look.

Except maybe when I look at a few of our local teen volunteers this week. I give them credit for showing up promptly every day and doing whatever we ask them to do. But if ever I saw someone who did not want to be here (which does not happen often) it would be them. It is a bit jarring to realize not everyone gets the spirit of this place. It's not something we see very much here, because even when a teen is here to fulfill service hours for school, he or she has still chosen to serve at Trinita from a list of many options.

But once in awhile, we get obedient teens who have come for other reasons than the desire to serve. And they don't have fun. What a shame! But there is nothing I can do about it. I did try. But you can't make someone relax and enjoy the moment, I guess.

So, tomorrow our friends from Baltimore will board the bus and return home, and I am sure there will be tears shed at the big goodbye. Maybe even a few from me. This has been a fun week, and I have thoroughly enjoyed celebrating life with our Week Three families.

Babies

This is Week Two. We are doing a lot bilingually. We were finally able to open the pool on Wednesday. I was finally able to take a day off.

Peer group time, our first activity after breakfast, has required more of my attention than usual. We have only one baby for babysitting! But we have about 6 local teen volunteers. How to keep them engaged in the mission, that's been my challenge for that hour. We put four of them in the other peer groups as helpers, but I have had two very capable young volunteers each morning, asking how they can help. Yesterday, joking about it with a volunteer, I said, "They need to bring more babies next year!" Then we could just send all our teens to the lodge to help with babysitting, problem solved.

My day off was lovely, but I did keep noticing the time and wondering how things were going here. Once I got in the car for the two hour drive back to Trinita, my brain went full gear back into program mode. I realized that despite the fact that there are plenty of folks here who can handle whatever might come up, I still felt like... a mother who has left her child with a babysitter for the first time.

Really? Is this what that feels like? I think it is at least in that ballpark. I know Trinita is in good shape, in good health. I also know that the staff can carry on without me--they have before! Yet, I need to be there. I need to make sure all is well. Perhaps I am being overly-responsible. Or perhaps this is just the natural result of generativity. My very self is invested in this mission and especially in the summer program. It is my baby!

But like real babies, it takes more than one person to make one! We together are raising this child. A lot of people feel personally invested, or we wouldn't be able to pull this off. In 1984, as I scrubbed the men's showers in a spirit of utter contentment, I recognized this truth: you can't pay people to do what we are doing. If they were doing this for the money, it would change everything. You have to want to scrub the showers. You have to want to be a part of this mission and make it happen. Money can't buy a missionary spirit.

Like a mother raises her child for love and not because it pays well, we all need to find something that we feel that invested in, something we do out of love and not to pay bills. I know I am so very blessed to have that gift, the gift of generativity, as a Missionary Servant. And now, excuse me, peer group is over and I have to go scrub the showers. Or something.

White Christmas

Week One. We started the week with: No Pool. No Cook. A crew of novice volunteers. Happy New Year!

We've been doing fine, actually. But not without some regular doses of drama. We had a camera crew from the Archdiocese here all yesterday morning. As they were filming the final closing remarks, a huge verbal altercation complete with naughty words erupted from Cabin Two. Uh-oh. I spent the next two hours in negotiations and private chats with various individuals. We seem to have got at least a successful cease-fire agreement in place.

As soon as I had sealed the last peace treaty, it was time for pool. No, wait. The pool is out of order. The pool company has come several times and still can't fix it. So I went from intense negotiations to a showing of Shrek in the Meeting Room.

Unfortunately, we showed Aladdin yesterday for the same reason. They were not so interested this time. So after about a third of the kids wandered out, I left too, scrounged around in Arts and Crafts, and opened up a Face Painting business on the pavilion. Soon enough, I had a gang of kids and volunteers surrounding me so I turned it over to them. The day wore on. Every once in awhile I would try to remember what day of the week it was. Only Monday. If it's Thanksgiving, it must be Monday.

Tuesday. Today must be Christmas. We sang Joy to the World at Morning Circle. Siah has reverted to his old ways and would not go to peer group, so he chose to sit alone on the back porch instead. I directed some very helpful teen volunteers to do some mopping and weeding. Wow, they really did well, I must say! I ate part of my lunch. I made arrangements for the afternoon. The Big Plan: open the lodge for games, facepainting, and a showing of Peter Pan on a 9 inch TV.

But just as lunch clean-up ended, the heavens opened. Rain sluiced down. I took off my shoes and socks so I could escort folks to their cabins using a golf umbrella. I was therefore unprepared for the hail.

The hail! Just bits at first, then painful chunks, then a carpet of white stones in the grass. My feet went numb with cold! Just as well, since it hurt like walking on rocks.

I made it back to the front porch and we all stood in amazement, watching the rain and hail sheet down. Pat said, "It's a white Christmas!" And so, that is what we sang.

The Week Before

What has been going on here this past week as we have prepared for the beginning of Summer 2009?

Lisa came and painted Merry Christmas on our dining room windows. Debbie strung lights on the Snack Koop in the lodge. Michael had to do some service hours so he came and cleaned out our huge food service refrigerator. After weeding the flower bed and laying a coat of primer on a new door to the Menacle.

Speaking of the Menacle, Vinnie repaired the bathroom window. Then crawled under the lodge and fixed the floor boards at the front door. He also mowed. But he did not need to do any weed-whacking, because Lech stopped by on his way home from work this week and borrowed ours and took care of it for us.

Mary and Bernie came to punch holes in stacks of paper, then put together folders for all our volunteers. While they slogged through that tedious job, Annette came by with the New Year hats she made for us to wear when we greet the bus of families each Saturday. She threw in a bunch of funky sunglasses to complete the effect. When we weren't looking, Mary Kent dropped off a huge bag of toy cars for bingo prizes. Likewise, Beth left a stack of boxes of granola bars on the office desk. Robbin left some song sheets.

Speaking of music, our volunteer from Notre Dame has been here for this Week Before, and she's been learning how to play things like Clap De Hands and Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. She has rescued us from a guitar-less summer. She also made a bunch of song posters. And, proving she has truly captured the spirit of this place, she made me a Cornucopia hat, with bunches of grapes dangling over my ears like muffs.

You can't imagine what a day at Trinita looks like this time of year, unless you're here to see it. Folks just come from all directions, cleaning things and setting up things and decorating things and donating things.... Ellen and Pat have somehow orchestrated most of this-- they know who everyone is, and what they are going to do, and when they are going to do it. I spend long hours up here in my office planning prayers or family gatherings or whatever, and somehow, everything else... just gets done somehow.

I wish that the people who come here and admire the place and the program could really understand just how many hands have worked here, how many good souls have walked through our doors and done their own part to build what is here and now before us. There is no better time to experience that reality than The Week Before.

Margaret

In 1984, after a four-day road trip from Baton Rouge, I pulled into the parking lot of Trinita and sat in the car mustering up the courage to get out and begin my adventure. I was just a reclusive lab tech at LSU back then. Finally, I did get out, and went up the sidewalk into the dining room, where I met Sr. Margaret Fay, MSBT. She immediately felt like family to me, like one of my aunts. Not demonstrative, kind of tough-talking but really very maternal. That was 25 years ago this month. That means, it was her jubilee year when I met her.

We all had great fun tormenting her with the usual camp pranks. Well, probably more creative than the usual ones. She obliged by pretending to be annoyed by us, but in fact was unruffled by anything. I was older than most of the volunteers that summer, so she tended to assign me more of the off-beat jobs, like one-on-one adult peer group with an Iranian mom who spoke almost no English.

She called me the following spring and asked me to be the volunteer coordinator that summer. I was nervous about it but understood they were in a bit of a fix, so I agreed. So for the next two summers, I was mentored by her into the ministry. She was always calm, no matter what was going on, and the phrase I heard the most often from her was, "Don't worry about it, it'll get done!" It was she who first suggested religious life. In fact, she said I would make a good MSBT. I was not interested at the time, but profoundly honored. I do not feel she could have paid me a higher compliment.

She visited me during my year of discernment in Pensacola and told me she had lived and worked in the very cenacle I was in. Once I made it to Formation at the Motherhouse, I participated in a raid with my friends and we decorated her office with spiders and cobwebs for Halloween. She was on the Council at the time, and now I marvel at how bold we were. After I went to the missions, she went to Mexico. My first mission was her former mission, Catholic Charities in Lower East Side Manhattan. Once I was on the Formation Team myself, I enjoyed her hospitality many times over the years. Whenever I was in Buenavista, she would give up her office whenever I needed to interview women who were in discernment with us. Her office was very Trinita-like. Very different from everyone else's. As it was from the day I met her, I always felt so at home with her.

This is her fiftieth jubilee year. I was at the Motherhouse yesterday following a trip to Baltimore to give a Family Overnight at Br. Joe's mission. I went to the infirmary after lunch and sat for a long time with her in the community room there. She did not recognize me, but engaged in a protracted and incomprehensible coversation with me. It felt good just to interact with her, even though her dementia makes true conversation impossible.

Then I went for a walk. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. It was the first day off I've had recently, so I had much on my mind. When I got back, just as I was limping past the Infirmary door, it opened and a nurse's aide was pushing Margaret out in her chair to get some fresh air. Margaret was very agitated and the aide was trying to soothe her to no avail. This is apparently a regular occurence, and they may have brought her out just to give others a break. She feels she is being prevented from doing her work--she remains concerned about ministry even now. She went off in Spanish at one point.

I walked with them. There was nothing to do but agree with her. We got back to the door. I knelt down by the chair and took her hands. I don't know what it is I thought I was going to do. But when I looked into her face, so angry and frustrated, but still Margaret's face, I burst into tears. There, kneeling on the concrete driveway, in the presence of two aides, I said, "Margaret, I love you" and I just sobbed. She said, "Come here," and she pulled me to her, and I wept like a baby on her shoulder. She held me for a minute. When I pulled away and looked at her, there were tears in her eyes. She was calm, not angry any more. I looked at the aides, and they took her back inside.

I went back to Formation. I joined my friends for grilled hamburgers and hot dogs in the breezeway. I did not have much to say. But more than anything in the world, I am glad to be a Missionary Servant of the Most Blessed Trinity.

Chocolate Cake Pudding

It's pronounced "pudn." I always feel a little funny spelling out pudding because it sure is not how I pronounce it.

Mama's chocolate cake pudding is the answer to everything. She would whip it up without warning at any time. We never really knew when we were going to have a bowl of it, still warm, with evaporated milk poured over it. You can't imagine how good it is.

I used to cook a lot for fun in my young adult years, but somehow I got away from it once I became vocation director and had to travel so much. When I went off to school at University of Dayton, I got back into cooking as recreation. Once I made loaves of pumpkin bread for every one of my twenty or so classmates.

But what became my favorite was Mama's chocolate cake pudding. The ultimate Cottingham comfort food. Even more so than red beans and rice, which of course is very nourishing and comforting but... it's not chocolate. I made it alot while I was in grad school. Shared it with friends, especially with Mom's Ladies, a faith sharing group I belonged to. Iserved it as birthday cake once, still warm from the oven, and the birthday candles sort of melted into it. Live and learn.

I have made it a few times since I got here to Trinita. Because Olivia does not like coffee, I even made it once without coffee, but I will never do that again. Even though the coffee is not a major player, it really is not right without it. Like Tang compared to fresh orange juice.

Tonight, we had our third Mission Planning Council meeting, as we continue preparing a capital campaign for Trinita. I am very aware that our Council members all have jobs and families and they do not need to be hanging out at Trinita on a week night until all hours, so I keep a sharp eye on the clock to make sure we end by 9:00. But tonight, I kept looking at the clock and thinking... at 9:00, we can eat the cake pudding! That was my real motivation for keeping the meeting moving at a brisk pace.

It is all gone now. Dang. Next time, I'm making a double batch.

Peace in the Pine

Today was the annual work day. Only my second experience of it. We had many teens show up that we were not expecting, so we had to scramble a bit to find suitable work for them.

I quickly realized that a group of four 7th graders who must have shown up just to get in their service hours were going to require special attention. I assigned them to the Dandelion Death Squad, and handed out their implements of destruction-- level four iron spikes. I told them if they killed enough dandelions to level up, they would get steel Spikes of Doom. I have to admit, I found them very entertaining, and I think they forgot I am a middle-aged nun after an hour of banter about World of Warcraft. One of them invited me to join his guild!

Alas, I was faking. I have never played WarCraft online, only Legend of the Green Dragon, which is a text game. I was once Torres, head of a pie-throwing guild. But they did not catch on to me. Alas, also, they did not work very hard, so never leveled up. I really had to babysit them until lunch, after which I invited them to go home. But they were fun despite the 10-second attention spans. One of them kept saying as he swung his rake over his head, "I am at peace with the world!" Hmm... a line from a movie perhaps? Who knows. But it stuck in my head.

We have another retreat center, very different from Trinita in most ways, but similar in its effect on visitors. Blessed Trinity Shrine Retreat is in Holy Trinity Alabama. I lived there for three years and have been there countless times over the years. People talk about how peaceful it is there, how they feel it as soon as they arrive. In fact, they have made that their logo, on t-shirts and coffee mugs: "Peace in the Pines."

Two years ago, I came back from an assembly of our congregation at our Motherhouse in Philadelphia with a bucket full of pine saplings. They were from Holy Trinity. They stayed in the bucket until May, when I finally got around to planting them in back of the Stable Chapel. I will never forget it, because a few days later, after I went home for vacation, I developed my first-ever case of poison ivy. To add insult to injury, the following spring, I was unable to locate a single living pine sapling. Many dead ones though. There really is no justice.

But this afternoon, as I was coming up the hill from the pool, I peered into the brush and behold! A living pine sapling! Bright green fresh growth among the brown pine needles. Wow, is there a message there for me? Bambelela!

Tonight, we are having a slumber party with the Trinita Girls Cenacle. The two youngest are sixth graders, and this is their first real exposure to Trinita apart from attending a meeting recently. After an arts and crafts project, followed by s'mores in the Lodge fireplace, followed by spontaneous fun playing with our huge supply of costumes on the stage, followed by night prayer, followed by snacking and dancing up in the dorm, they came down to hang with Anita, Olivia and me for a bit. We started telling them stories of the old days, and they listened politely. But before they went back up to the dorm, Madison said, "It feels so peaceful here."

Monday, Monday

This weekend, life at Trinita was typically full. We had our first real spring weather... record breaking summer weather, to be more accurate. It's been in the low nineties here three days in a row now! I love it. In the midst of this lovely weather, we had Vinnie and a volunteer "summerizing" the property all day by putting away the buckets of ice melt and putting out the picnic tables and so on. Hallelujah, you can sit on the front porch again, the wicker chairs are back out.

While that was going on, we had another set of volunteers, Mike and Rita, crawling around in obscure corners of the property to run a new phone line and to extend our wireless internet access.

And while all that was going on, Siena, Marion and I had about 40 of our fellow parishioners here for a First Communion retreat. It was fun! It was so fun, we did it all over again on Sunday afternoon with another 40 folks. I really enjoy that particular program--I wish more parishes would ask us to give it.

But too much fun can wear a person out. It's been over a month since I had a real day off, due to preparing for the Centennial and other things I could barely keep up with. So all week, knowing the weather was going to be great, I've been looking forward to taking today off. Monday, my day off!

I slept late of course. Then I packed a lunch and got in the car and drove west on Route 4. I have never gone past Torrington on 4. Goshen, Cornwall, Kent-- just names on the map to me. I could see there were some state parks along the way, so with no plan at all, I drove off into the beautiful spring day. I listened to music cranked up loud, I sang at the top of my lungs, and I rubbernecked my way through the gorgeous New England countryside.

I drove over two covered bridges! Wow, that was very cool, I never saw one before. I ate my lunch at Mohawk State Park, which I never even knew existed. There was an old-fashioned hand pump there, and I used it to rinse my face before I got back on the road. The water tasted like water out of a garden hose, which has always appealed to me. I saw many things. Even a waterfall.

This day would have been great no matter what, but it was even better because at the end of my journey, I pulled into the parking lot of Trinita, which is as beautful as anything I saw today. The buds are just coming out on the trees. I think we'll have leaves by the end of the week. I sat at the fire pit awhile and wrote a letter to a friend. As I was finishing up the letter, I looked up and saw, high up in the tree by Cabin 1, a hula hoop. Now that is something you could drive all over Connecticut and never see, but we have a hula hoop 30 feet up a tree right here at Trinita.

Maybe I will take next Monday off, too.

Green Shoots

No leaves yet. Waiting is hard. But there are wonderful things pushing up out of the ground at long last here at Trinita.

This has been a long haul for me. A very long winter. I have served on the Core Committee for the Missionary Cenacle Family Centennial for over three year. Four, by the time we have our final meeting in September. Wow. I was still working on my thesis back at University of Dayton.

We have been working on "The Plan" all this time: devising it, revising it, explaining it, pushing it forward, explaining it..... explaining it. Sigh. I guess it is hard to grasp because we have never done anything like this before.

Our last assembly of the Missionary Cenacle Family was a 4 day conference in 2000. We called it the Jubilee Jubileo. (Going bilingual has made redundancy a way of life for us.) After taking counsel for some time, we finally arrived at a statement with some goals for the MCF Council to work on. They did. They created some committees who produced some materials for us to use. Most folks probably did not even know that stuff was the result of the Jubileo.

But this time, it's different. We arrived at some goals, but the work is not going to the MCF Council. It's going to Area Councils. Which don't hardly even exist right now except as a concept. The work is going right back to us. If we don't do it, it won't get done. This may not sound like a big deal, but it is.

I returned to Trinita this week with my head full of experiences. It's odd, how I feel. I feel like it's the New Year, and I have made resolutions I will really keep. I feel like it's Easter, and the Virtue of Hope has sprung up inside me like a new spring flower. Green shoots everywhere. I have a lot of work to do, but I am right where I should be. I am ready to do it.

One Hundred

April 1909.

One hundred years later, it is Holy Thursday. It is my feast day. (My religious name is Sister Deborah of the Eucharist.) We took a morning of prayer and reflection, and soon we'll enjoy a supper of lamb and a sort of Seder meal, thanks to Sr. Marion Agnes. Today is a beautiful day, a day of transition between winter and spring, transition in who lives and works here, transition in how we work with the lay missionaries here. A transition between the first hundred years and the next hundred years.

Father Judge said something right to those five women he called to St. John Perboyre Chapel one hundred years ago. Words were seeds that fell on fertile ground and were nourished. Today, we sit in our little chapel, still able to see across the land to the distant hills because the white birch in front of the window has not yet got its leaves. Today, we light a stub of an old altar candle given us by our dear parish church down at the bottom of Town Hill. This is the light we get from our parish, the light we get from our Church, and the light we fan into flame.

Next week, that stub flies to Holy Trinity Alabama in my suitcase. We will all toss our candles together, and the mingled light will melt them and reform them. Soon, in this little chapel, we will not be able to see beyond the beautiful spring leaves of the white birch outside the window. And burning here will be a new candle, for the next one hundred years, made up of all the wax of all the candles of all the missions.

What a wonderful thing to be a missionary.

Seekers

This weekend we had 23 teens from St. Francis of Assisi for a confirmation retreat. We have given a few confirmation retreats since I've been here, but never an overnight. I spent most of the week inventing a retreat. I did some cut-and-paste from other retreats we've done here, but large sections of it were new. I based it on the RCIA process.

Wow, I learned a lot from the experience. Some parts of the program went well, and some just seemed to fall flat. My number one problem is that I failed to include much time for them to process the experience with each other. They won't talk much when we're all together, but they will talk to each other quite a bit otherwise, and I should have capitalized on that by giving them small group activities. Oh well.

But one experience I hope stays with them is one I had many years ago, when I was still a recent convert to Catholicism. I was on a young adult retreat with the same concept: recreate RCIA. The first night, with very little preparation, they took half of us out into a pasture and left us there, alone in the dark. We were supposed to just wait, not talk or do anything. Time passed. We looked at the stars, we enjoyed the night breezes, we waited.

Then, we started to hear singing in the distance. It grew louder, and we saw a procession of candles approaching. Soon, we could make out our friends coming to get us. Each of them took one of us and guided us back to the church. But before we could enter, the priest stood at the door. Before we could come in, each of us had to come up with some reason why we wanted to join the church.

So, this Friday, I stood among this group of teens outside our Lodge door. Sr. Siena stood at the door, looking quite impressive in her white alb. We clutched our candles and shivered in the frigid breeze while she asked, "What do you seek?"

"Faith!" We had coached them in the proper response as we walked to the Lodge. Faith! We seek faith! That's all. That's what all this is about. Not even understanding or wisdom or strength---just faith. If we get nothing else, faith will still get us through.

What lies beneath?

Bear with me on this one, I'll get there.

At Christmastime, I dropped off a gift basket of baked goodies at the LeDuc residence in Canton. Terri was home and I visited a few minutes. She was preparing supper, and was searing meatballs in a cast iron skillet. The smell was heavenly and she offered me one. As I munched on a meatball stuck on a fork like a popsicle, she asked me, "Are you sisters sure you just want donations toward new carpeting for Christmas this year? I understand it's a need, but I want to do something more than that for you." I wanted to reply, "oh, don't worry, Terri, you will!" but instead I said, "Dang, this is great, why don't you just invite us over for meatballs one day!"

Yesterday and today, we had new carpeting installed, both in the meeting room and in the larger upstairs office. This morning I was in the empty office, old rug gone but the old padding had not yet been ripped out. I pulled up a corner to look at the floor. Linoleum!

But not just any linoleum. It was THE linoleum, forgotten until now, buried in my memory but now flooding back. I was 25 years younger. In 1984, this was how the floor looked in this very room. My bedroom for seven weeks. There were three sets of narrow metal bunkbeds and two dressers in here, barely room to move, and I shared the space with four other volunteers. I stood on this floor. I could see the marks from the bunkbed I slept in gouged into the linoleum.

Back then, we had not been discovered by the Fire Marshall or the Health Department. We crammed as many folks into these buildings as we could, and there was no such thing as nice new carpeting. Not even normal sized beds. It was all army bunks. I remember the carpeting in the meeting room back in 1984. It was wretched.

How can this place have changed so much, and still be the same? And yet, it is. Tonight, we had our first ever Mission Council Meeting. We've been working toward this for well over a year. This was a big event. Terri LeDuc was one of our five recruits. (She had no idea we were planning this the day she gave me a hot meatball.) One of our other recruits, Jim shared his impressions of Trinita and why he wants to be a part of our planning. "There is something about this place. I don't know what it is. It's like, you step onto the ground, and there is something underneath that reaches up into you..."

Yes, yes. Holy ground. I wanted to laugh. Everyone says that! So it must be true. But I think it is also holy linoleum. What lies beneath. I told you I'd get there.

Poverty

When I was a kid, I was dimly aware that we were pretty close to the edge financially. We always had enough of the basics, but looking back I can realize how very tightly my folks had to control things to make sure we had enough to eat, and clothes and shoes. Gardening, canning, sewing were not hobbies, they were how my parents kept the budget.

As a member of an apostolic religious community, I will always have plenty to eat, a place to live, and good health care. I even have a good education. I have the essential supplies I need to do my work. I get to make a week retreat every year. That makes me rich, not poor. So what does religious poverty mean?

There are reasons to reflect on poverty at this time. It's Lent, for one thing. The nation's economy is trashed. Also, tonight we're having a meeting to discuss possible improvements to the grounds and structures here at Trinita-our annual planning meeting to prepare the budget.

Now that gets me thinking. When I post here, since it's a public forum, I tend to emphasize the positive. and make the negatives sound like a grand adventure. This is totally sincere, lest I am accused of duplicity. It is a great adventure to live here, and this is a great mission. But to be honest, I do not feel that way like every minute of every day. In fact, there are some things I really whine about.

Claustrophobia probably heads the list. I have to duck to go up and down the stairs and to go in our front door--which was originally a window from what I can tell looking at old photos. (See "Early Trinita" to get a clue.) When I get out of bed every morning and stretch, my hands press against the ceiling.

Then there is mud, dirt, sand, salt, and snow. Inside the house, I mean. Our front parking lot isn't paved, it's dirt. You can never really clean it after a snow fall, so we have to keep it sanded and salted when ice is a danger. If you've been reading my posts you must know how much I love the snow, since I remark on it so frequently. But when the snow melts, as it is doing right now on this dreary rainy afternoon, you step out of our little front door into a mud pit. You step out of the car into it, as well. Then, you track it into the house. There is really no good solution to this problem.

I would like to have decent computer speakers so I could listen to good music while I work. I would like to have a digital projector so we could do powerpoints, slideshows, even movies in our meeting room or in the lodge. I would like to have a digital video camera to take mpeg4 movies of our work here to upload onto YouTube. I would like to have a good networkable color laser printer to replace the not very good one we have now. I would like to have one of them gadgets you can use to make your own spiral bound booklets with. Yeah. I'm on a roll now!

But whether I can have any or all of these things or not can't be what keeps me awake at night. Last week I gave a tour of the place to a youth minister planning to bring a new group here. We slogged through the mud to look at one of our quaint cabins (twelve beds, one toilet and shower!) and the lodge (no running water!) and our meeting room (broken-down mis-matched donated sofas) and he kept repeating over and over, "This is perfect!"

Yes, I can't always get what I want. But despite the poverty, we are wealthy. I was interupted in writing this by a phone call from an MCA member who was asking for prayer as she attempts to teach her youth ministry team the basics of taking counsel. And as I looked out the window and listened to her story, I saw a dozen turkeys milling around by Cabin Two. And the rain turned into snow. Yup. It is coming down really nice now. It's beautiful out there. This is perfect.

Buoyancy

It's Ash Wednesday. We took the afternoon off for prayerand reflection. I was amused by a reading from Father Judge we use for Ash Wednesday in which he reminds us that God desires to purify and cleanse us.

On the outside I am dripping with an especially generous smear of ashes on my forehead. But on the inside, I am really pretty thoroughly purified and cleansed. I am getting a colonoscopy tomorrow and have fasted all day and I consumed the nasty stuff they make you drink to clean you all out.

The other day, while the snow was drifting down in huge wet flakes, I went for a walk. First I tried making a snowman. Just on general principles. I got the three basic parts but lost interest and wandered off into the woods. The woods were lovely, dark, and deep. During the summer, I would never go off the trail like that because of getting lost or worse, getting poison ivy. But I just slogged on down past the pool and found remnants of the barbwire fence that was needed when Lydia the Pony of unhappy memory dwelt here long ago.

I also found something else quite remarkable. I found a beach ball. I am not sure I can convey what an odd sight it was, a brightly colored, fully inflated beach ball, nestled against a tree trunk, draped in snow. I picked it up and it was tight and light in my hands. I could almost smell the chlorine. I could feel the heat of the sun on my bare arms. I could imagine the kids playing water volleyball, watching in dismay as the ball sailed over the fence into the woods. Where it reposed, forgotten until now.

But still bright. Still light. Still ready for action. I eventually made my way back up the hill and gave the ball to the snowman.

It's a Wonderful Life

In the movie, things were pretty grim for Jimmy Stewart. An economic crisis. In fact, all kinds of terrible and stupid and tragic things happen every day. I have a tendency to thank God when things are going well, and yell at God when they aren't.

I have had some hard things on my mind lately. My young cousin died a few weeks ago. Also, I am trying to wrap my mind around the fact of the terminal illness of someone I have loved and admired for many years. Somehow, these things seem completely unfair to me. I am on speaking terms with God, but I am less than civil, I have to admit.

I have watched commentary on the nightly news about people's attitudes about mortgage help for those who do not deserve it. I am not sure if it's a cultural thing, or if humans are simply wired to think this way, but we seem convinced despite all evidence to the contrary, that life should be fair. Yes, inevitably, some folks who lived foolish and undeserving lives are going to get some bailout money. The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.

But having reflected on this often over the years, I am sure that I do not want justice. For one thing, let's start with the fact that justice is impossible. There is no justice in executing a murderer. Justice would be for the murderer to bring his victim back to life. We can never, ever get back what we are owed when we are sinned against. We have to settle for less. So let's take what we reasonably can, and move on.

I don't want justice. I want mercy. I want the rain to fall on all of us, the gentle rain of new life, of resurrection, of spring, of Easter.

There is no justice in Lisa's death. There is no justice in Annie's cancer. I have to take what lies before me and move on. Today's forecast was for rain. Outside my window I am gazing at the trees of Trinita, covered already in the thick, soft whiteness of falling snow. It is God's answer to me, I know. No words, no explanations or theological arguments. Just the snow, the beauty, the peace, the abundance of God's love and mercy, blanketing each and every one of us. No matter what.

Are YOU Trinita material?

Friday we got 8 inches of snow. Today we got another 5. Icicles over a foot long are hanging over our dining room windows. I can't see out of my bedroom because there is mound of snow blocking the view. Would you enjoy this?

OK, in fairness, the mound of snow is only a few feet high, but my bedroom window is ground level because our home is the basement. Would you like living in a mysterious underground basement?

This morning, Siena went to put on her boots. But her left boot would not go on. She discovered it was full of chex cereal. Fairly fresh, too. Hmm. I thought we got rid of all the mice. But a few linger.

OK, here is the test. If you think it is funny to find chex cereal in your boot then you are (drum roll)------Trinita material! Yes, we have a lot of fun here, but you have to have a certain sense of humor. So. Take the simple test above. Mouse = scream and run; or mouse = oh, how cute! Which is it?

Two Smiles

This past summer, I had a Sunday off during the program in which I drove to Princeton NJ to visit my friends from Dayton, Maria, Jeff and Maia. I met up with them at mass. In fact, I was a bit late, so after a 3 hour drive and a lengthy quest for parking, I stood in the back of the crowded church and scanned the pews in search of the Morrows. During the responsorial psalm, I spotted them and squeezed my way through in order to sit next to them. Maia of course did not recognize me and was not pleased. But Maria, without speaking, looked up into my face and smiled at me, and it was the most wonderful smile. That smile alone was worth the trip.

As I write this, it is winter once again at Trinita. We just had an ice storm and went without power and water for most of Friday. So it is with some nostalgia that I remember this summer day in July, strolling around campus with Maria and Maia. We went wading in a big fountain, read "Frog and Toad are Friends" and we even took a little nap. As the day drew to an end, we walked to an ice cream place, got huge servings, and sat on a bench outside to enjoy it. As I licked my ice cream, completely at peace with the world, I said, "This is a truly perfect day." And I looked at Maria, and she smiled that same smile at me, without any words. As I drove home I carefully took the two smiles and placed them on a special shelf in my memories.

Two days ago, Maria and Jeff welcomed their second daughter into the world. I am pretty sure that somehow, sooner or later, I will get to meet Eva. Eva and Maia. I hope they inherit their mother's smile.

Angela, Sophie, and Rob

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Angela, Sophie, and Rob

Week 5. Folks from Mercy Learning Center in Bridgeport, CT. You may well be asking, "Hey, wait a minute! What happened to Week 4? Week 3? Week 2 and 1? In fact, what happened to May and June?"

Let's see how many lame excuses I can fit into one paragraph. Well, on second thought, let's skip all that and dive right into Week 5 of the Trinita Family Life Development Program, 2009, "The Lord is Our Shepherd."

It is only now, a year later, that I realize how hard last summer was. For me, at least. Maybe because I am just a big whiny baby. But this summer has been amazingly --well, I can't say easy, but maybe I can say un-stressful. We have had the fewest number of Missionary Cenacle Volunteers this summer ever, starting the program with only six MCVs for Week 1, and 5 of them new. Of course it only takes one full week to create a veteran, so by Week 2 all our volunteers were seasoned hands.

So why is this summer easier than last summer? It shouldn't be. I have the job I dreaded ever having. Seriously. All these years, I would come here and do a week here or there for love of the program, and I would always look at Annie, or whoever happened to be the program coordinator, and think, "Man, I never want that job!" How can you keep everything straight? How can you consistently be nice to everyone no matter how tired or stressed or distracted you are, day after day, week after week?

Well, perhaps I have been less than gracious a few times, but I have to say, I am feeling actually pretty good. In fact, I am happy. Not stressed. Confused, tired, intimidated, and so on, yes I am from time to time. But really, I am happy. I am so happy to be here, and I am so happy everyone else is here, and I am so happy we have been given this mission to carry out, because it is a very good one.

Here is the gauge, here is the acid test, here is the ultimate proof that All is Well. I was in charge of Arts and Crafts today. And I enjoyed it. See, I really don't like Arts and Crafts. Back when I was an MCV myself, whenever I got assigned to work in Arts and Crafts, I would find whoever on the duty list had to clean the showers and I would swap with him or her. OK, I did not actually DO any arts and crafts, but I did go in there, set up, and hang around for a full hour. And, beyond all reason, I enjoyed it. In fact, I had one of those out-of-body experiences of feeling so grateful to God for my life and for my vocation and for the gift of this time here at this mission. Go figure.

Angela, Sophie, and Rob are the names the kids gave to the three sheep we had to pin on the right path tonight. Angela had it easy. She could see right where she needed to go, and she got pinned onto the right path without a hitch. Sophie took a little longer. She was blindfolded, and had to listen for a guiding voice. Rob, poor Rob, I thought he wasn't going to make it. Blindfolded, plus the voice of the Good Shepherd was almost totally drowned out by a roomful of people singing at the top of their lungs. And yet, somehow, despite the unknown, despite anxiety and distractions and fears and confusion, that voice got through. And when Facundo pulled off his blindfold, he smiled a beautiful smile, because he pinned Rob on the right path after all. Beyond all reason.

Bear Drool

Wow, they're here! Families from Hartford, Torrington, and Winsted. I miss my friends Ruth and Luisa from Bridgeport, but this is still a good group. We have a pretty good cultural diversity here once again, and the kids all know each other from previous Family Days, so they all plunge right in to the experience.

I guess I leave stuff out. Or I talk fast? Or don't sing as many songs? But I finished the family gathering too soon and they weren't ready to serve the ice cream yet. So I had to stall. Lucky for me, I had not yet done "I am a Pizza." I was saving it for tomorrow. But I saw that look in Siena'a eyes when she came from checking the dining room. Uh-oh. So I got out the pizza hat and launched into some totally off the wall introduction to the song, and then we sang it. I never wore the hat before. Olivia always wore it. But I guess I finally felt ready.

After ice cream, we invaded the Lodge. I was beat at Candyland by a four-year-old girl. But I drew Mr. Plum twice, so I really did not have a chance. Then little Suzie decided on Uno and beat us at that, too. At which point, her daddy decided it was bedtime and I had to find other entertainment. I watched Xtreme Ping Pong for awhile-- they really should have been wearing helmets for that one. I think the ping-pong ball exceeded mach 5 a few times. No one actually tried to make the ball bounce on the table.

The kids all went out and played in the dark with flashlights, so I went out to sit at a picnic table to watch. They put leaves on their heads and walked around like a group of zombies. I found this hysterically funny, but I am not sure the parents got it. I think they just thought they were walking around with leaves on their heads. Then they came and got me because they found some mysterious substance outside Arts and Crafts. It was excess insulation foam. Essentially solidified shaving cream. I told them it was harmless so they broke it into pieces and played with it.

Connor told me he had thought it was like when a beer drools down the side. I thought he said beer. So I said, Oh, yeah, beer foam, if you pour a beer too fast. Connor is I think age 7. He patiently explained. No, BEAR. Like when a Bear drools down the side of his mouth. Yes, of course. That in fact is a far likelier explanation here at Trinita, now that I think about it. This place is inhabited by all manner of creatures. Including bears. And if one drooled around here, I am sure it would look like just like that foamy stuff they are playing with tonight.

Spring

Tomorrow is our Family Overnight. We have about 10 families coming to spend some fun time here, so we're in the midst of getting everything ready. This is possibly my most favorite program, the Family Day program. It is so much work, but the work is fun.

For example, on Tuesday I sat in the dining room, which was flooded with the sunshine of a perfect spring morning, and used a gluestick to attach tissue-paper scales to a paper-plate fish. He has a huge smile and tissue streamers stapled to his little foam tail. This was to create the example craft for the Littles activity. I have also had to dream up some offbeat relay-race type games involving foam fish. Of course we also have to plan lessons and discussion questions and so on, but it's all pretty entertaining. We are a bit understaffed, which at this point is my only real concern. I am not sure I can maintain the necessary exuberance for the presentations if I also have to be the master of ceremonies for the outdoor games. Our usual gang of teen volunteers are not able to help out this time. On the other hand, Angel Garcia is coming in from New York to help out, and we could not ask for better. He is a regular summer volunteer as well as a member of the lay branch of our family.

In the midst of these preparations, I am once again convinced that Trinita is a great mission. People love to come here. We are free to invent and adapt programs as we are inspired to do so, because we work for ourselves. Whatever we do, it always boils down to strengthening faith and family life. We do that at other missions of course, but here, it's always at least a little fun. And sometimes, very very fun.

Add to that the fact that the sky is blue, the grass is green, the mayflowers and daffodils are coming out, and it is pleasant enough to sit on the porch at night in short sleeves--it's pretty much perfect here. Imagine what we could do with this place if we had two or three more sisters?