The school year is over. I must, here, pay respect to everyone who works in education because you are sorely under appreciated. Today is the 12th of December and it is weird to think that Christmas is going to be upon us in less than two weeks. It is harder still, when i am currently putting sunscreen on so i don't burn when i go outside. Although the school year is over it does not mean that i am on vacation quite yet. We have meetings all of next week for the upcoming mission trip that will take place in the beginning of January.
Today we have graduation for the 8th graders at 8 pm. Brian is playing the flute in the ceremony, it should be a lovely experience. After the graduation, we are going to a despidida, or going away party, for the ChACErs at their house. It will be weird seeing them all leave. It is even more strange thinking that we will also be here to say goodbye to the new ChACErs as well. The event should be a lot of fun, but it is also mixed sadness, knowing that another page in your life has turned.
On the topic of people leaving, we will also be saying goodbye to Michelle for a spell. Michelle, our roommate for the last three months, is going to go home for the holiday season. She will eventually be back for a couple of days then she is off traveling for a while, but she will be back after about a month of travel. It will be interesting changing back to our original arrangement of just Brian and I in our house. She leaves Sunday, so we will have a little luncheon for Michelle before she leaves states side.
Today it was kind of sad. I went to drop off materials to one of the kids that i tutor and he wouldn't open the door. He lives a block away and seems to be under strict instructions not to open the door for anyone. This made me sad, that there are people afraid to open their door during broad daylight. I understand the caution, but it still pains me knowing that we live in a world that is that genuinely afraid of letting anyone in. It might be due to the prevalence of drugs and theft, but it still forces you to wish for a better life. A life in which there are no locks or barriers, but being a realist i understand that we are not quite there yet.
I finish this note with a request. My French grandmother, Ced's grandma, is very ill. I hope that you all will keep her in your prayers and hopefully that her last days here are not filled with pain and suffering, but with peace. I hope that all of you are in good spirits and that you will enjoy the upcoming holidays.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Eyes of sadness, eyes of hope.
I sit on my porch on this Wednesday afternoon watching the business of life as the sun starts to set on the day. The city is filled with the movement of people, most somehow energized, with the knowledge that today’s duties are over. Kids are playing in the street. The game they are playing is similar to tag, but it unlike the American version it involved bottles caps and base is the broken down car that hasn’t moved since my arrival over four months ago.
Through all of the life and living that is going on, my eyes are drawn across the street to my neighbor. A senorita of twenty years or so is rocking her baby carriage as she finish yet another cigarette. She seems tired. Not a tired of physical labor, but a mental tiredness that comes only from accepting the end of ones childhood dreams and hopes. She lives in the house with her mother, a poor example of one at that. It is hard to sit and speculate about her. She, herself is full of life, but the eyes, they cannot hide the truth and hardship of life that she has seen.
We sit her on General Armstrong street, probably a notable general that was know for his courage, but the eyes of this woman show battle scars that would make many a man shudder. The street is near Mapocho, considered on of the “rougher” or more “dangerous” streets here in Santiago. Yet, for the locals of this little street it is a safe haven. Walk to the end of the block and you will be confronted with kids on the corner haggling people passing by, or the simply the silent exchange of an all too familiar transfer of drugs.
It is hard sometimes to realize that I am truly living here. That, I, John Power, son of white middle class America is sitting juxtaposed against this scene of crime poverty and somehow through it all hope. The most amazing thing about moving to a foreign country is the absence of past norms and customs, which have been quickly demolished since you have lived here. The people here are overwhelmingly friendly. Maybe it is because we are missionaries, maybe because we speak English, maybe still that we are simply people.
As the sun moves a notch lower on it’s quest towards sleep. She raises her hand up to cover herself from the sun, but also to cover her sad and lonely eyes. The baby lies in it’s rocker sleeping giving the mother a much needed rest of the activities of the day. She does not carry the hope of a husband coming home, she carries only with her the love of her family and friends. Sometimes this is enough and she will be able to make a good life for her and her child. Yet, she looks up at me with those sad eyes and ashamedly stares at her feet. She speaks to herself in a hushed whisper as she looks at her child. I cannot help but think that it is a prayer. I imagine that she is praying for courage, for health (mostly for her child), but I think she is concentrating on praying for hope. Hope that one day, this will all be in the past. Hope that she will not live a predestined life of failure and obstacles that is all too familiar for many of today’s poor single women.
I try and pray with her, and I ask you to do the same. Whispering under my breath I ask God to intervene. Not in the foolish or self-centered way of a lottery ticket. Yet, that she will receive the hope she is asking for. That she will continue to raise the child and try to do the best with what she is given. That maybe she will comfort and a sense of peace with herself and her child.
I pass this on to you, I hope that you will find peace. I do not ask that all of your problems suddenly disappear, for I do not believe in a puppet God. I pray that you are given the hope and courage to continue. To survive and to help those that are not blessed with the gifts that you have been given. Remember that they are gifts and to horde them or take them for granted makes you a miser. Be grateful for what you have and try and making a positive impression on others. Make a powerful impression, like the one this girls eyes made on me.
Through all of the life and living that is going on, my eyes are drawn across the street to my neighbor. A senorita of twenty years or so is rocking her baby carriage as she finish yet another cigarette. She seems tired. Not a tired of physical labor, but a mental tiredness that comes only from accepting the end of ones childhood dreams and hopes. She lives in the house with her mother, a poor example of one at that. It is hard to sit and speculate about her. She, herself is full of life, but the eyes, they cannot hide the truth and hardship of life that she has seen.
We sit her on General Armstrong street, probably a notable general that was know for his courage, but the eyes of this woman show battle scars that would make many a man shudder. The street is near Mapocho, considered on of the “rougher” or more “dangerous” streets here in Santiago. Yet, for the locals of this little street it is a safe haven. Walk to the end of the block and you will be confronted with kids on the corner haggling people passing by, or the simply the silent exchange of an all too familiar transfer of drugs.
It is hard sometimes to realize that I am truly living here. That, I, John Power, son of white middle class America is sitting juxtaposed against this scene of crime poverty and somehow through it all hope. The most amazing thing about moving to a foreign country is the absence of past norms and customs, which have been quickly demolished since you have lived here. The people here are overwhelmingly friendly. Maybe it is because we are missionaries, maybe because we speak English, maybe still that we are simply people.
As the sun moves a notch lower on it’s quest towards sleep. She raises her hand up to cover herself from the sun, but also to cover her sad and lonely eyes. The baby lies in it’s rocker sleeping giving the mother a much needed rest of the activities of the day. She does not carry the hope of a husband coming home, she carries only with her the love of her family and friends. Sometimes this is enough and she will be able to make a good life for her and her child. Yet, she looks up at me with those sad eyes and ashamedly stares at her feet. She speaks to herself in a hushed whisper as she looks at her child. I cannot help but think that it is a prayer. I imagine that she is praying for courage, for health (mostly for her child), but I think she is concentrating on praying for hope. Hope that one day, this will all be in the past. Hope that she will not live a predestined life of failure and obstacles that is all too familiar for many of today’s poor single women.
I try and pray with her, and I ask you to do the same. Whispering under my breath I ask God to intervene. Not in the foolish or self-centered way of a lottery ticket. Yet, that she will receive the hope she is asking for. That she will continue to raise the child and try to do the best with what she is given. That maybe she will comfort and a sense of peace with herself and her child.
I pass this on to you, I hope that you will find peace. I do not ask that all of your problems suddenly disappear, for I do not believe in a puppet God. I pray that you are given the hope and courage to continue. To survive and to help those that are not blessed with the gifts that you have been given. Remember that they are gifts and to horde them or take them for granted makes you a miser. Be grateful for what you have and try and making a positive impression on others. Make a powerful impression, like the one this girls eyes made on me.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
December 7th
Hola,
This weekend was an eventful one with it being the birthday of one of my roommates, Michelle. Her birthday, which is also shared with my parents, is the 5th of December. We had a little getting on friday. We were able to use part of the church for the asado (BBQ). It was delicious and we had around 30-40 friends of Michelle come to the party. Then after the dinner, we moved out to the patio and did a bit of dancing. There was a limbo competition that was quite a hit, (my inflexible self got eliminated in the first pass). The next day we went off to the beach in Quisco for a little R & R. It was wonderful just to be able to relax and to read in the sun. The weather here currently in Chile is very nice. It is in the 80-90's and sunny. The one this that is different is that there seems to be less ozone so the sun burns you a lot quicker than one would expect. It is also very weird to be seeing all of the Christmas decoration and what not when it is hot and becoming summer. It is the typical winter decorations that we have in the US too. Santa is wearing his big coats and there are Christmas tress with fake snow on it. Tomorrow got a busy day with first communion and then the Immaculate Conception of Mary.
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