Cultivating the Heavenly Kingdom

Before beginning, I beg your forgiveness for the delay. I can make excuse after excuse, and the truth is that I have composed at least the beginning of many blogs in my head since early May. But pen was never put to paper (or fingers to keyboard), so here I am, the middle of July and less than one month to go, trying to write about what has happened these last few months.


Where should I even begin in order to cover the events that span May through now? I unfortunately will skip many significant and ordinary happenings (which the ordinary here are extraordinary), but hopefully you will get the heart of where I am now.


We'll start with my birthday, which is almost strange to think about now because it seems like so long ago, but I look back upon it smiling. It was a day--a week, really, because you all know my birthday can never just be one day--where I truly felt loved. I woke up to the surprises of breakfast from Julia and Liz and presents from my family. I spent time with neighbors, ate at my Ecua mom's house (Jesús), and was sung to at Nuevo Mundo. The surprises continued when the girls came to Nuevo Mundo that night, clothes and balloons in hand, to take me out to a nice sushi restaurant. This was strange because it was the first time we had been out to a nice restaurant together, but also a small taste of home. The love only continuted the next day when we had a 'surprise' celebration in the neighborhood with a funfetti cake (because what's my birthday without a funfetti cake?), pictures, hugs, and a strong feeling of love. The cards, messages, and hugs I received from home and here helped me remember the beauty of my own soul and the joy it is to remind others of their worth.

May was a blur of retreat groups, Nuevo Mundo, meals and conversations with neighbors, and settling into a good groove.  My classes have been much more enjoyable this semester, I am more confident visiting neighbors who I now call good friends or even extended family, and our AJS house continued to solidify.  Then came June, brought in with Julia's birthday. To celebrate, the three of us, Aide, and Ricardo (2 of our close Ecua friends) went to Montañita, a touristy beach party town.  What a different world. It was strange being in Ecuador but also somewhere so foreign. We quickly adjusted, however, and danced until 5:00 am and quickly fell in love (or perhaps lust) with the trendy yet chill atmosphere.


This Father's Day in Ecuador comes with a story that I should perhaps put on a resume. At this time, we had an all boys high school retreat group with us for the week. We went to mass at 28 de Agosto, an invasion community in Durán where Jules and Liz work and we often attend mass. Yet the American priest was back in his homeland for a few weeks, so a communion service was held and ran by some ladies from the parish community.  All was relatively normal with the songs and the readings, but when it came time for the homily, a woman looked in our direction (aka mass hoarde of gringos in a church with maybe only 25 other people in attendance) and asked if any of us would like to help out.  After some shuffling, I decided I would go up and read the reflection to the congregation. Only after I went to the front and asked the lady what I would be reading, she told me that I wasn't reading at all but in fact speaking from the heart. In Spanish. On the spot. To a (not so crowded) congregation. So, with help I can only accredit to the Holy Spirit, I gave an improptu sermon in Spanish which I then translated to English for the boys.


What did I talk about, you may ask? Well I began by talking about the role of God as father, and how even if people don't have a father or a good fatherly figure, we can trust in God as father and know that He will always love us unconditionally as any good father does, but in a perfect way that none of us can understand while here on this earth. We are a family of equals and God loves each one of his children, who we are to love as brothers and sisters.  I then transgressed into the parable of the mustard seed, which was the gospel reading of the day.  Thankfully, I reflected a little during the readings and thought about how each of us are mustard seeds and have the responsibility--as Christians and as humans--to sew seeds of love and hope.  These seeds can be small, done through our actions, our words, or our presence, but we need to sew the seeds even if we think they will not bloom and grow. We may never see the results of our farming, but with faith, they can be cultivated. Faith is what drives us to spread those seeds, in hope that one day that love, that grace will bloom in others.  That is something I want to always take with me--we may not know the results of our actions, good or bad.  But we are obligated to be and to sew God's love, even (or especially) in the most helpless places. Maybe some seeds won't bloom, but we must continue to plant in hope that one day it will cultivate, letting someone realize the worth of their own soul. Then, as it spreads to someone else, that person will bloom and consequently spread his or her own seeds of love.  Open your soul and give it away so that others may feel the worth of their own.


These last few weeks have been especially difficult. Every day, I dread the end date as it becomes closer and closer. It being the last year we have a house in our neighborhood--it is incredibly hard knowing that no one will come and love these kids, these people that need the love so badly. The other weekend, after my retreat group Seattle University left (which in itself was a solidifying experience in the relationships I have made and the joy that I find here), we had our fiesta de agradacimiento, aka a huge thank you party to the whole AJS community for welcoming us for the past 18 years. The big party we have been planning for months is now actually done, and while it did not look as expected, it was a beautiful time. We ate, danced, played, conversed, and while it was supposed to be a big thank you to everyone else, I came away feeling so loved and blessed. The turnout was incredible, and more amazing were the families who came just to see me. Old and new Rostro families were there, and I felt grateful beyond words for the love I have received unabashedly from this community.


Although leaving here will be one of the hardest things I will have ever done, I would not trade this year for anything. I feel blessed to have this opportunity. This is much more than just a year out of my life--it is an experience I will hold dear in my heart for the rest of my life. It is real life. It is discovering myself in the people here, discovering God's greatness in each soul, the beginning of a lifetime of trying to live as Jesus wants--living in the heart of justice and love. I know that while I may physically leave Ecuador in a few weeks, it will never leave me. The spirit of hospitality, generosity, simplicity, and justice will always be a part of me. I know it will not be easy, but I am determined to not turn back, to continue to grow, to never stop moving forward in my desire to make the kingdom of God here in the midst of all of us.

I Will Shine the Light

Hello again, world!


I know I missed my last deadline, March 31st...please forgive me. I had every intention of writing a blog, but time flies by here. Faster than you could even imagine. But here I am, April 30th, writing this at the last moment as always. I will try to share some highlights from these past two months, but I cannot even begin to include it all. So much has happened since March, mostly beautiful moments, so I will guide you along a brief walk of my life.


While this already seems like years ago, one of the first things of note that happened in early March is the one year anniversary of the corner family's mom/aunt/sister/daughter passing away (she is one of those for everyone living there).  This may be the family I am closest with, as I have the pleasure of seeing them every day.  They break my heart day in and day out because of their struggles, such as the struggle of losing a mom, of not always having enough money for food that day, not being able to afford the bus or notebooks for school, not having a consistent job, no strong role models....the list goes on. However, this was one beautiful moment to share with them.  We went to mass in the morning with the family to remember them--and that was the first and only time I have seen them go to mass.  All was great until the sign of peace, when God and I had quite a moment.  I don't think I have ever wanted peace upon anyone so badly as I did at that time. Praying about this and truly desiring it more than anything sent me into hysterics for the first time in, well, a long time.  But the moment was so holy and full of grace.  Later, we went to the cementary to visit the grave.  I felt priviledged by being allowed to hold their hands, give hugs, and offer support.  Stefany, the 13 (now 14) year old especially got to me; I told her all about my mom, and while of course I wish my mom had never died, the fact that she did brought me even closer to her and the entire family.  I could relate with her on a level that no one else could offer.  And after 12 years, here I am, strong and being a good example for her to follow.  Hope that it someday will all be okay.  Just a few days later, we celebrated Stefany's birthday.  While bittersweet, we laughed more than imaginable and brought to life that there can be joy amidst the pain.


Later that month, I was lucky enough to lead Fordham University, a great group of college students.  I wrote about the joys of retreat groups in my last blog, and although this group was entirely different than my high school boys, it was equally amazing.  Their energy, insights, and vigor reenergized me and helped me to feel even more blessed for being here this year.


Of course, one thing I know you dear readers want to know about is my visit with Eric.  Eric came here the end of March, right after our four year anniversary.  This truly was one of my favorite times so far, even though it feels so apart from the rest of my year here.  I showed him my life here--introduced him to neighbors, took him to my worksites at Nuevo Mundo and Semillas de Mostaza, and relaxed with my community.  We also went to the beach for the weekend, which was beautiful and a lot of fun.  I think we had the perfect week, albeit too short.  I am happy that he knows my life here, can picture the faces of the people I talk about, and can visualize where  I am.  Yet I also know we needed the time with just the two of us in order to talk for hours without having to worry about bad connections and running out of minutes, walk on the beach, hold hands and just to be with each other.  I am grateful that he came and sad that I cannot visit him, but I know that someday I will know his life in Bolivia just as he got to know mine here.  I feel so blessed to have him in my life: someone who understands what I am doing here, listens to my problems, challenges me to be my best self, and loves me for who I am.  So all of you doubters, no, we did not break up (as a lot of Ecuadorians thought was going to happen), but even after 9 months in Ecuador we stronger than ever.


Another vignette I will share is that of Holy Week.  While my Lent was not too fruitful, Holy Week went above and beyond my expectations.  We began the week by watching the Passion of the Christ, reflected on the stations, and prayed a lot individually and in community.  On Thursday, Jules, Liz and I went to Mt. Sinai (another RdC house further away and with a thriving parish life) for Holy Thursday mass and stayed there for the procession of the stations on Friday Morning.  Wow, it was powerful.  To be amidst such poverty while people were so truly thankful...it was incredible.  Reflecting on Jesus' suffering, death, and resurrection while thinking about my friends here brought the Easter purpose to an entirely new level.  It is easy for people in Ecuador to become caught up in the suffering and death, which is understandable considering they live in that every day.  Yet I know we are not to lose sight of the hope of the resurrection, of the new life that is coming and the grace that Jesus has bestowed upon every one of us.


The most noteworthy thing that has happened in April thus far is that classes at Nuevo Mundo have resumed.  This means that I am done working at Semillas de Mostaza (I already miss the kids so much!), but I think it was time for me to be back at Mundo.  At first, I did not want to come back because I know that teaching is not my passion.  However, I realized that I needed an attitude change if this semester is going to be good whatsoever.  So I made myself excited and here I am, in my third week and really enjoying myself.  This year, I have the decimos (who I had as novenos last year, except now I have the whole class instead of half) and two classes of cuartos (aka 8-9 year olds. So cute).  I am thus far liking my classes.  The little kids can be tough, mainly because I am not certified to teach at all, let alone know tricks for the lil' guys.  Yet they are also really cute and bring me a lot of joy (as well as about 30 stickers a day, a cool pen, and a stuffed bear).  I think if I only had them, I would go crazy and feel a need for older kids, but they bring a surprisingly happy variety to my life.  Yes, teaching is a lot of work and it is hard to get the willpower to plan, grade, etc when all I want to do when I'm not at school is be out in my neighborhood, talk to the girls, or sleep, but I am happy with the way this semester is going.


So, what is a theme I can sum up these past few months in and leave you with?  Lately, my prayer has been to be a humble servant of God, an agent of his love, hope, and grace.  Clearly, I falter all of the time.  But I think I am growing in this regard.  Whether at Mundo, in my neighborhood, or in my community, my desire is to be God's love.  There are times when this is especially challenging--with people that are harder to see Christ in, when I just want to be selfish, or when situations seem devoid of light.  But I want to try to find the light and shine it brightly.  This spans from the problems in the corner house, the abuse that still occurs to little Samuel, medical problems that seem hopeless, a lack of emphasis or care on education, and poverty cycles that don't seem breakable.  Yet then I turn my head and I see people who are breaking the cycle, have overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, and stand as beacons of hope for me and those around them.  I walk into Jesus and Walter's new house which is almost done and listen to them tell me how they never thought they would have their own house in their lifetimes.  I see beautiful families like Pastora's or Carlos's, both good friends, who push their children to study and not give up.  I listen to Silvia, a Mundo teacher and neighbor, share her story and hear how much she has worked for the betterment of her own community.  I dance, laugh, sing, eat, cry, hug, love with all of my heart.  I recede, forget, become selfish, but then my heart gets filled all over again when I find myself face to face with Christ.  And how can it not?  Right now, I am reading a book called Radical Compassion: Finding Christ in the Heart of the Poor by Gary Smith, S.J., and he talks about how it is with the poor that we discover who Christ is and who we are.  Unfortunately, I don't have my book with me at the moment to get the quote I want (I will find it soon!), but I will leave you with this excerpt instead:


"I realize that God brought me into this world, blessed with skills 
and talents. The only thing that makes sense to me is to use them in the service of the poor. It is at their feet that I find myself."


So this is my work.  To find Christ in others, find myself in Christ, and to leave them the hope and love that can only come from above.


Until next time,
Paz y amor

 Some members of the corner family (Stefany is not included)

 Fordham University

Eric, Liz, and Jules...always the goofers!

Surprised by Joy

Thank goodness it’s Leap Day—I wanted to get a blog out in February, so this is truly my last chance!

So I am about to start my seventh month here (ahh! It’s winding down!).  Looking back into February, a lot of great things have happened—exhausting, but wonderful.  When I step back and think about them, I find that I’ve been continuously surprised by joy.

Going into the month, I was at at eh place, meaning not terrible but also not too great either.  I felt frustrated by my faith life, not satisfied by the slowness of relationships here, confused with myself, and essentially feeling like I needed a change of pace.  And oh, how that happened.

Starting work at Semillas de Mostaza, the after school program in Arbolito (the neighborhood where the other Duran people live, pretty close to my neighborhood but still a bus ride away) was the first sign of God’s grace.  Immediately, I was constantly exhausted but also refreshed.  Being in the midst of 70 to 100 kids every day, helping lead an activity (or attempting to at least), and playing with those kiddos has brought a lot of joy into my life.  Yes, it can be a headache, and quite a lot of the kids can drive me crazy, but the energy and love fostered into this place inspires me.  Some of the kids break my heart with their cuteness and desire for love.  One of my favorite families, after a few short weeks, actually moved.  It still brings my pain that they are not there and I hope they’re in a good situation, but I loved showering love on them.  Even though I am here for such a short time, I am still trying to pour my heart out and be there for the kids.  For some, it may be the only, or best, attention they get all day.  My patience has been stretched many times, but I find myself learning and growing from these kids and I only hope I am returning the favor.

Working with the scholarship kids at Nuevo Mundo (the five brightest that finished the foundation school, up to ninth grade, and received scholarships to study in the morning) has fostered the building of more personal relationships with students that I was hoping for.  Although none were my kids from last year, I am having fun teaching them English and history in a less structured setting.  I am still pretty sure teaching is not for me, but at least I’m learning that now!

Probably the biggest blessing I received this week was our half way there retreat for the volunteers.  This was in Ayangue, a beautiful beach a few hours away, and was led by Colie, an old Rostro volunteer.  At a time of self-doubt, I went there in the unknowing midst of an identity crisis—one that I could name once there.  I found myself suffering from an ugly mix of pride and self-consciousness, which I had no idea where it came from.  Yet on only the first day there, I realized it stemmed from not being sure of who I am here.  No wonder I often didn’t feel like my full self or was full of doubt—I didn’t even know who I was!  Which is something I thought I figured out last year and didn’t realize that would be called into question or changed here.  But it makes perfect sense.  Of course in Ecuador away from everyone and everything I know, my identity and sense of self would change.  This retreat helped me to name this.  Now I won’t lie and say that I’ve since figured out who I am, but I will say that the ‘ugly mix’ has essentially disappeared.  Instead, I am daily trying to put my identity into the hands of God.  It’s not so much who am I, but who am I infused with Christ?  What does it mean for Christ to be at the center of my being?  So I am trying to let go of who I was last year—what I thought I was good at and all of that—and instead open myself up to the me God is making me right now.  I may be just as confused, but it’s liberating to not have it rest in my hands anymore.

So retreat was basically perfect for me.  Colie inspired my faith life a lot and reawakened it, which I am very grateful for.  I also had some great inter-community time, and I truly enjoyed spending time with other volunteers.  It helped me to see people in a new light and recognize God at work.

Another aspect of the month that surprised me into joy was the retreat group I led—an all boys group from St. John’s High School in Massachusetts.  I was quite nervous at first, not so much about leading, but about the fact that they’re all boys and in high school.  What would their maturity be?  And would they ‘get it’?  Needless to say, I was blown away.  I instantly fell in love with this group of crazy, energetic, and yet deep and thoughtful boys.  We had an epic time playing Carnaval with neighbors and all sorts of kids (Carnaval is essentially a three day Mardis Gras, in which everyone throws water, paint, mud, etc at each other).  Part of me was bummed that I couldn’t just play with the neighbors whenever and however I wanted, but in the end I’m glad it happened this way.  To share in their energy and joy was incredible.

Yet the group wasn’t here to only play, but also, and more so, to learn.  And that they did.  We met with a lot of neighbors who shared their stories with the boys, which broke down both cultural barriers and hearts.  We played with kids in after school programs and met patients with Hansen’s Disease at Damien House.  We talked with the scholarship students about Nuevo Mundo and were overall educated about aspects of life in Duran.  Because of their new eyes, their questions, and their reflections, my own heart was opened again by the poverty and injustice around me.  Something I sadly got used to became new again.  Thanks to their energy and love, they helped me to go deeper in my relationships and presence here.

Of course, the month hasn’t all been filled with joy.  Ecuador is always a rollercoaster.  But enough happened where I can say I was often surprised by joy.  I think the Lenten season will be a good time to reign in some areas in which I have gone astray, to bring the AJS community even closer together, and to help me better realize and share the light of God that already is within me.  Isn’t that cool?  We all have God’s light within us, but it’s our job to break open ourselves in order to let it shine.  Thankfully, despite all the challenges, God is good and I am relishing in His love.   Until next time, paz y amor.

Ohhh, we're half way there. Oh, we're living on a prayer!

I am currently sitting here, dreading to write this blog. Not because there's anything exceptionally hard to tell, but it has been so long since I've written so there's a lot I could say.  How do I even choose what to tell you about the past 6 weeks?

Even though it seems like forever ago, I guess I should start with Christmas.  While it was weird to not be home for a Kennedy Christmas, it was beautiful to spend it in a different culture.  Especially one that reminds me so much about the birth place of Jesus.  Ok, there are no stables and it is not nearly as rural or small as Bethlahem, but the population is slightly similar.  Think about it--Jesus was born in a freaking stable, among animals, to a petrified 14 year old mom.  They were turned away from the inn because there was no space for the son of God, so the next best thing was for Jesus to be born in a feeding trough.  You can't get much lower than this, and this is the son of God!  He could have been born anywhere, but that is where God chose.  God really knew what he was doing.  Just because of Jesus' birth, the poor around the world can stand in solidarity with Jesus and not feel so marginalized.  Not like I really saw that amidst my neighbors, but the idea and possibility truly is empowering.

It was humbling to spend Chritsmas here, not worrying about gifts but instead fiving and receivign love to/from some amazing people.  It was a celebration of life, of family, of the gifts God has given us.  Even without my biological family, I was able to spend it with my house family, our neighbor families, and the entire Rostro family.  We ate together, sang together, danced together, and just were together.  I think it will be impossible for me to come back and celebrate Christmas as before.  The value will forever be on the importance of love, hope, light, and the celebration of people, all of which Jesus offers through his birth.

Another exciting thing that happened is Dad and Julie visited!  It was strange to me for the two worlds to combine, but beautiful to be able to share my life here with them and comforting to have my actual family here.  You'll have to ask them what they thought, but I think they were shocked by the vast poverty, drastically different lifestyle, and particularly by the fact that you can't flush toilet paper (and that there's no running water in all of Duran).  I loved being able to introduce them to neighbors, take them to my classes at Nuevo Mundo, go to an after school program in one of Ecuador's poorest neighborhoods and play with some of the worst behaved yet cutest kids ever, and just to spend time with them!  We did indulge a little on our trip to Cuenca, a colonial Ecuadorian city, which was a treat to me.  Snuggled amongst mountains (which I have been missing), it was good for me to get away for a bit and, even though in a city, to be a teeeny bit more in nature.

Something their visit made me realize, though, is just how hard it will be to go home back to my 'normal' life and leave my life here behind.  Right now, I see Ecuador and the life I live as my actual life, and the fact that I am halfway done with this experience (the six month point is February 1st) is really sad to me.  Not like I could live here forever--I know I will need to live back in the US eventually--but I just haven't been able to picture life elsewehre.  I realize that I still have another six months, which is a long time, but their presence brought me the reality check that this is not my only life and the world is much bigger than here.  And, although our lifestyles are so different, each lifestyle has its own good and bad.  Neither is right or wrong, but it is all shades of gray.

Those lines only become grayer as I live here.  There are so many things I love about living here, and I think there is a lot people stateside could learn from this lifestyle.  The simplicity, generosity, hospitality, family orientation, and importance of people are just a few examples.  Then again, there are so many huge problems that cannot be romantacized.  It is easy to come here and see the joy and happiness that so many people do genuinely possess, but living here, it is easier to see the suffering.  The lack of education, teen pregnancies, not being able to receive medical care for potentially curable illnesses and diseases which leads to discomfort and early death, abuse, alcoholism, not knowing how to budget or spend monty which has its own consequences, and a lack of resources to improve the living situation are only some of the problems we see and hear about in ourr neighbors.  Yet them again, I am constantly humbled by huge hearts and generaous souls, as well as the way that life seems so much more real here.  No hiding, no pretending, just living.  Basically, we all have a lot to learn.  I feel incredibly privileged that I can experience two different ways of life so wholly.

There's much more going on here as well, including a job transition due to 'summer break,' meaning I do not have classes at Mundo until April.  In the meanwhile, I will be tutoring Mundo kids in the morning and working at an after school program in the afternoon, but I will tell you more about that once I get settled in.  Life is crazy and busy, and there really has not been a sense of normalcy lately,  but I suppose I have to search for a new normal.  I am constantly learning, being challenged, and hopefully growing--but also truly enjoying being here.  It is tough, and some days are especially trying, but overall I have many more moments of joy than sadness.  Now I am about half way done which is hard to believe.  I have no idea what to expect out of the last six months, but I hope my relationships will only grow and my love increase.

Until next time,

Paz y amor