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.
