Yo No Sé Mañana

"We can live any way we want...The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting…to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp where it takes you; seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop."

- Annie Dillard, Teaching A Stone to Talk -

Just a few days the new volunteers arrived in Ecuador. Incredible group of individuals. It’s absolutely unbelievable how quickly a year can go by; it still seems so surreal that after 12 months we are in a couple weeks of orientation with the incoming group. As I share in this time of teaching and transitioning I realize that due to the craziness of going home in May, I have yet to share my experience of retreat groups: a major portion of the Rostro de Cristo year of service and perhaps one of the largest blessings I’ve had in my on-going discernment process for my future.

For the majority of my life I have followed a path of pursuing a medical career and I entered freshman year of college as a biology major. Year after year, through being a Campus Ministry intern, working at the Center for Service and Justice, and talking to wonderful mentors, I questioned my motivation to go to medical school and slowly began to realize my love for social ministry. I decided then to switch to a Physician’s Assistant path as I was told there is more of a chance to really be with patients. I can recognize now that that, along with changing my major to Theology my sophomore year, was a step I took towards a vocational redirection, but my fear and a lack of self-awareness prevented me from letting go of that part of my identity.

Then came my time for a year with Rostro de Cristo in Ecuador. I would say I came in with hopes to apply to Physician’s Assistant school afterwards, but never felt to overly-excited about it. All those years I told myself that the excitement would come…and that with enough exposure I’d get over my distaste for blood and cotton balls (could the signs have been any more blatant?). And yet I let another slip by when I didn’t take the job at the health office at Hogar de Cristo. It involved giving HIV tests, visiting clinics in the sectors, helping children receive the proper nutrients, and yet I felt so much more of a pull towards community organizing. Well, it took this year as a whole with the help of an amazing group of guys from Fairfield Prep to wake up, smell the café con leche and pay attention to what has given me the most life over the last few years.

Fairfield and the Youth Group
after Tuesday Rosary

In April I led my first and only retreat group from Fairfield Preparatory high school in Connecticut. It is the leader’s responsibility to be with the group the whole week, introduce them to the neighborhood, work sites, and participate in daily reflection. That week was a highlight to my year. I was blessed to be able to work with 3 inspirational adult leaders from the school—Corey, Anthony, and Steve—and would not have had such a smooth week without them. In short, I lucked out. During that week I found myself with a renewed energy as I got to know the students and leaders, answered and asked questions, laughed, and journeyed with them as they reflected on their week. Sharing with them my experience, embracing hospitality, introducing them to a community I’ve grown to love: I found consolation in that kind of ministry and they affirmed for me a joy that shouldn’t be ignored.

The half that played extremely
intense soccer at Casa Don Bosco

Meeting Padre John at the church,
Corpus Cristi

I learned a lot from that group, including my own passion for social and student ministry. I remember being in high school and being in awe of Mr. Johnson (our campus minister) and his way of interacting with the students, even imagining myself in his position. I relived those feelings watching the Fairfield leaders interact with the students. I used to always push those thoughts to the back of my mind because I was “supposed to be a doctor.” You only have to tell yourself something so many times before you believe it to be true. I had attached that career so tightly to my identity that giving it up meant giving up a part of who I was. Yet I got to a point where I had to ask myself why I was still pursuing medicine. I invented this external pressure that was never there because it was easier to feel motivated if people were counting on me. It turns out, of course, that it was just me and that my parents, family, and friends are an incredibly supportive group of people who would love for me to find and hold onto that thing “that energizes me, enthuses me, and enables me to keep moving ahead.”

Luis swears he studies better with
my glasses on

I know I could do medical school, and I know it would challenge me in a good way. But this year taught me something else, and that is that vocational discernment is a privilege. We, the college-educated percentage of the world, have the opportunity to choose a career and pursue it. It can be easy to kid yourself, to say “yeah, I like this” and pursue a life because it is successful, stable, and productive. Fr. Dean Brackley says that stories shape us when we recognize part of our own story in them. This year I’ve met countless numbers of children and youth alike with dreams to become a professional, with dreams to at least graduate from high school. Parents who sacrifice everything to help their children get there. Kids who tell me they want to be a doctor with the same enthusiasm I had in kindergarten. The reality is, they are going to have to fight far harder and jump through far more hoops to make that dream a reality. Randy Pausch, author of The Last Lecture, talks about showing gratitude to those who have influenced his life is by paying it forward day after day. I think my paying it forward--with respect for those I love here who don’t have that opportunity to discern their vocation and pursue it—starts with recognizing where I find life, how I can pour my heart into my work, and where I can best use the talents I’ve been blessed with.

“We discover our callings in response to the world…Our surroundings shake us, sift us, and draw our vocation from us.” I’ve never found Brackley’s quote to be so true. In April I accepted a job for when I return at the Creighton Center for Service and Justice in Omaha as their Graduate Fellow and will be simultaneously pursuing a Masters in Ministry. I am extremely blessed to have this opportunity as soon as I get back from Ecuador. This year, with exponential gratitude to my retreat group, helped me find the confidence to apply for this job and continue my vocational journey in the realm of social and student ministry pursuing a degree I can find joy in.

Y yo no sé mañana. I remind myself that I do not know the whole journey, that where I’m headed now may not be where I end up. Medicine may be a part of my future, but I believe this is at least the next right thing. And I thank my friends - neighbors, the Fairfield group, my community, the children here - for helping me understand the importance of taking risks, expanding my heart, the value of unending hospitality, and finding purpose so that love can glow in what you do.

This week will be busy with orientation, but I hope to find time for a final reflection as I continue my goodbyes and prepare to leave Ecuador. Until then,

Miguelito

Los Años!

“Los Años!” It’s the phrase that was exchanged every few hours last week. It literally means “years,” but expresses how long it felt since last seeing my friends, my neighbors, this place.

I’ve been back in Ecuador for a little over a week now. Last Wednesday I returned to Mount Sinai after being sent home for health reasons. The foundation requested I go home after 5 months of off-and-on infections and high fevers. They told me I would return after getting better—once I had the clear from a doctor—but no one knew how long that would be. After 5 weeks at home I was ready to come back and finish my volunteer year. Gracias a Dios, all tests came back normal. I turned out not to have kidney stones, all levels were healthy, and it turned out my immune system got taken down in December and I just wasn’t in an environment to ever get it back up.

When I was first told I was going home there was a mix of emotions. Like I mentioned in my last blog, I was lucky to have a volunteer retreat that weekend but not much time to say goodbye to my neighbors. I was sad, frustrated at myself for letting my sickness get the best of me, worried I wouldn’t be back for a long time, and anxious about returning to the U.S. And yet, as hard as it was to be away for those 5 weeks, I realize now that it was a necessary thing, a blessing in many ways, and a time filled with silver linings.

The majority of my time in Aurora was split between resting, time with my family, and doctor’s appointments. First and foremost, it didn’t take long for me to realize that my body needed this time to heal. I look back to my months here from December to April and I think I can safely say I was “medio-voluntario” (half of a volunteer). So much time was spent in the house, on the couch, in my bed, and I missed so much in my community, work, etc. It didn’t help that I refused to admit that being extremely sick so often was exhausting and took everything out of me even when I was physically okay. Although I couldn’t see it or admit it when I was leaving Ecuador, it’s clear to me that being home with my family gave me a clean, nurturing environment to recuperate, get back on my feet—physically and emotionally—and finish these last 2 months of my volunteer year with energy and strength.

However, luck has it that I was home for a lot of moments I would have otherwise missed. I came home just in time for Mother’s Day and the whole family got to celebrate it. Both my mom and girlfriend Emily had a birthday, my high school 5 year reunion happened, our family participated in and got 1^st PLACE at a Memorial Day Rib Competition, and (most excitingly) my older sister Katie got engaged!

I also felt very bad about leaving Hogar de Cristo (my work) while I was still in the middle of my map project, as it was 5 months in the making. After a couple weeks home I realized I could take advantage of my mom’s design programs and better computers to finish and print my map of Mount Sinai. So—thanks to family friends Joe and Frank who work at a printing company—I was able to return to Sinai with a two laminated, blown-up maps: one for Hogar and one for our volunteer house.

The months leading up to leaving Ecuador I found myself struggling with being present here. My mind wandered homesickness and worrying about my communication with friends and family. While I was home, Emily was able to come visit twice, I caught up with friends I hadn’t talked to all year, and was able to see friends who were in the area. Being able to process the time with people was something I didn’t know I’d need, but really helped me in my time home. Perhaps one of the biggest silver linings of the unexpected gap in my volunteer year is coming back feeling secure in relationships with the hope that I can be far more present in the rest of my time here.

There is no doubt, however, that being away from Mount Sinai was hard; I thought about it every day. My volunteer community had to take on 3 retreat groups one-man-down, I missed a neighbor’s wedding, and couldn’t wish people who have cared for me this year a Happy Mother’s Day in person. However, more than anything, it was especially tough because of what has been happening in Mount Sinai since April. I mentioned in a previous blog how the recently re-elected president has been cracking down on invasion communities and took away some electricity and closed hardware stores. But what the people here have feared is finally happening as the government has begun to desolojar (evict/displace) families in certain sectors. The police come in, hand out notices that say they have a week to be out of the house before they come with armed forces and bulldozers to destroy the house, no questions asked. The biggest and most violent desolojo happened while I was gone. In a sector about 5 minutes away more than 400 families were evicted, some being families of children from the afterschool program where we work. These particular evictions do not give the families an alternative, no city housing or compensation; it is more of a “I don’t care where you go you just can’t stay here.” The most recent one happened this past Tuesday and about 100 families’ homes were destroyed.

View from our afterschool program BEFORE the evictions.

AFTER. The day of the evictions.

This major change happening in Mount Sinai was one reason it was difficult to leave back in May, and it was definitely hard being 3,000 miles away when something so traumatic happened in the neighborhood. But when I returned I was filled in on what had happened and all I can do is be there for our neighbors as the fear and uncertainty continues to affect so many of our friends here.

I got to have one of the first dances
with the birthday girl !

But despite the hard times here, my time back has been busy and our neighbors continue to bring life into our day to day. I’ve had a full first week back including Scarlet’s Quinceañera, celebrating Father’s Day with some amazing dads (including Bolivar, below, with cake on his face), making waffles with Omar and Eli, having another retreat group, manning the grill as we made carne asada tacos for our neighbors Bolivar and Susana, and making it back just in time to say goodbye to a youth group friend who is joining an order to become a nun. It was healthy for me to be home for awhile, and although I am still getting back into the swing of things, I have missed the joy and life this place throws at me every day. It’s a reality I’m blessed to be a part of and I’m happy to be back with friends and Ecua-family here. Despite everything that has happened in the last 2 months—as unplanned as it was—I am thankful.

“Gusto a verte, Ecuador.”

Miguelito

Chao, Not Adios

“We never know what is going to happen, do we? Life is always throwing us this way and that. That’s where the adventure is. Not knowing where you’ll end up or how you’ll fare. It’s all a mystery, and when we say any different, we’re just lying to ourselves. Tell me, when have you felt most alive?”  

~ from The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey ~ 

Considering the majority of my readers is family, friends, and without whom I would not be here, I decided I owe it to you to explain what has been leading up to the news I received last week…

Tonight I will be returning home for an indefinite amount of time.

The first four months of my Ecuador year went very smoothly health-wise. I was adapting to a new kind of diet but overall I felt strong, had energy, and only occasionally dealt with the volunteer-staple of stomach bugs. The reality is, since Christmas my health has been, for lack of a better term, “on the rocks.” Every month there’s been something different, viruses and infections alike. Thursday morning, during my most recent cold, I got a phone call from our boss. She told me that, after much discussion, the foundation thought it would be the best decision to have me return home to get checked out, get my defenses back up, and ship me back here when I’m healthy. That time period, as of now, is indefinite.

So I leave tonight, and it has been an extremely difficult last few days. The news, knowing it would be within the week, brought on a slew of emotions, but mostly sadness and disappointment. Telling neighbors today has been emotionally draining. The year is not meant to be split up like this, and with only 3 months left it is the last thing I want to do. The community of Mount Sinai is going through a very hard time right now as the government is in the process of kicking people out of certain sectors, taking away electricity and houses, and many families are left with nowhere to go or nowhere to send their kids to school. To not be able to be with my neighbors through that, to leave my community in the heat of retreat group season, to lose a part of this last quarter of the year—is painful. At the same time I feel caught in a strange world of thanksgiving to see my family in this time, yet overwhelmingly not feeling emotionally ready to leave or make that kind of transition.

But I was lucky. After Thursday, I was met with the 3^rd Quarter All-RdC Weekend Retreat in Manta. I was blessed to have been able to relax, laugh, reflect, and process this next step with the other volunteers, our boss, and the retreat leader. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted this upcoming time to be for me and where I wanted my emotions to be. First and foremost, I am being sent home for the right reason. I’ve found myself a part of a foundation that cares so much for their volunteers and their experience that they take a measure like this for my safety. The truth is, if I do indeed want to finish this year strong I need something to change. It has effected my ability to be in the neighborhood, the amount of work I´ve been able to do, and (as you all can attest) how often I can blog or am in touch with friends and family back home. I think about if these last 3 months continued going like they’ve been going…I don’t think I’d look back and say I finished strong.

I have a lot of goals for the end of my year but am most of all hoping I can intentionally spread my energy with neighborhood time, working hard at my job, and our house community. It would be unfair to those here to not do what I can to be able to put all of my energy into that goal. This can be a time to rest and recuperate not only physically but emotionally and spiritually—having time in silence, time to read, helping my sister with high school finals, maybe even finishing up my map of Mount Sinai with my mom. And maybe above all, the time on retreat and this time in general has truly reminded me how blessed I am with support and love. I couldn’t do this without it, and Rostro, my volunteer community, family, and friends are who I have to thank wholeheartedly.

All in all, there are silver linings. Rainer Maria Rilke says to “have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.” I have a lot of questions about this upcoming time and what it will be, how I will feel. But it’s a part of my specific journey this year and I am slowly starting to see those linings. I will miss them—my neighbors, my community, the other volunteers—while I’m gone, but I hope to be back as soon as possible and this time with strength and energy to “finish well.”

Thank you all so much for your support, your words of encouragement, your care. Any prayers and thoughts would mean the world.

With Hope,

Miguel

El Invierno y Inseguridad

"Can we remain indifferent before the problems associated with such realities as climate change..? Can we disregard the growing phenomenon of "environmental refugees," people who are forced by degradation of their natural habitat to forsake it - and often their possessions as well - in order to face dangers and uncertainties of forced displacement?...All these are issues with a profound impact on the exercise of human rights, such as the right to life, food, health and development."

- Pope Benedict XVI -

All around the world changes in weather are occurring. The number of hurricanes, droughts, and tsunamis increases every year. It is no doubt that these are intense natural travesties in the world, but what we have seen in the rainy season of Mount Sinai is not something that makes international news, yet it shows so clearly how environmental changes hit the impoverished, vulnerable people of the world the hardest.

The month of March held a lot of things as we, como siempre, kept busy as a house. Our office at Hogar de Cristo took women to an International Women´s Day celebration on the malecón (boardwalk) downtown. Women spoke, an Hogar volunteer´s photography was on display, and tents of women´s and human rights organizations lined the plaza. I played the mandolin in the back of a pickup truck for a Palm Sunday procession that was being led by an actual burro. I turned 23. The Youth Group did a Live Stations of the Cross procession for Good Friday (which unfortunately I was too sick to go to). And I even decorated and hid Easter eggs for the University of Detroit High school boys who are currently here. They had to find their lunch.

 

 

But, even with all of that, the most prominent occurrence is the rain here in Mount Sinai. We were told from last year´s volunteers that during the winter, it rains quite a bit. I guess I underestimated just how much. On March 2^nd we got more rain than I ever could have imagined, and every street filled up at least to one’s shin. In our sector, there is only one cement street and the rest are uneven dirt roads. It makes for almost no drainage and the water that builds up is a combination of water, dirt, garbage, snakes, fish, and human waste.

That night, the rain began at 5PM at by 9PM it began to fill inside the foundation´s walls, was to our knees outside the gate, up to the waist at the corner of our block, and chest-deep behind our house. We were surrounded by true rivers as we watched neighbors link arms, walking against the current to find higher shelter. Pieces of cane housing floated in front of our gate and our neighbors scurried to try to prevent or slow the flooding into their houses. Behind our house is a canal/trench that floods worse than any part of Mount Sinai, making it impossible for those living on the canal to stay put through the night.

The rain didn’t stop until the next morning, when people began to deal with the aftermath. Mattresses were ruined, washers and refrigerators broken, cane house walls destroyed. With the dirt roads, mud becomes an intense issue even after the water drains. After the storm many tanqueros (water trucks) wouldn’t even go down certain streets due to their conditions so families can go days without access to water.

But the aftermath isn’t just a couple-day-thing. Mount Sinai’s land is extremely flat, which leads to a lack of run-off. Knee deep water can remain in some streets for more than a week, depending on the heat and whether it continues to rain. Some families live with water inside their houses until it evaporates. With so much still water and humid air, viruses and sickness are transmitted far more easily and the bugs (especially mosquitoes carrying dengue) are far more common. What’s more, working on your house can be an extremely dangerous task, and electrocutions are sadly common. Unfortunately, the son of a parish member was electrocuted and passed away the week of the storm. All of this because of a few hours of rain that Saturday night.

And then it happened again a week later.

This is the reality of the people in this sector. Sometimes there is warning, perhaps a prediction on the news, but more often than not the rain simply comes. When it begins, you never know if it will continue all night or stop after a few minutes. From January to April the people live in insecurity and apprehension, never knowing if their reinforcements or pile of dirt outside their house will be sufficient. Insecurity: it’s what comes with living in Mount Sinai.

Our neighbors, because of the hand they’ve been dealt and where they live on this earth, are discriminated against every day. Whether it is from the banks or government programming, the people are categorized as “Has no legal address” and living with few basic services leads to, in many ways, a denial of human rights. But weather also discriminates. It is not those in cement houses downtown that feel the hit of a three-hour storm. The intense heat does not hurt the families who can retreat to air conditioning and filtered water. Weather does not calm down based on who is ready or not. I for one have never been truly affected by weather, and I’m not sure I ever will be. The families who cannot afford to raise their cane houses or replace their dirt floor or afford extra water on the hot days—they are the ones who feel the impact of a change in climate and it is all because of where and how they live.

Yet I have seen what it means to get back on your feet because life goes on. A family lost most of their mattresses and half of their wardrobe, so they cleaned the house the next day and started salvaging what they could. A pharmacy was filled with water so she broke into her savings and raised the floor knowing she would have to work even harder the following months. Some visit a place like this and are amazed by the “constant happiness of the people.” Yes, you can see those smiles; I have laughed every day since arriving. But I know that the happiness is not 24/7, and I know that they hurt. I’ve seen them cry and I’ve seen distress. What is truly inspiring is a kind of strength and determination, something I know I do not have. A certain motivation that is learned: motivation that allows one to come back to their house and work on it after swimming away the night before. The strength of mothers who work to protect their children and the determination of families to make it to the end of the winter season. 

The two big floods were hard knowing not only we were completely safe but that we couldn’t do anything at the time. Being a part of a foundation based in a ministry of presence is, at times, so difficult when all you want is to do. To see material need and not be able to give takes patience and, in my opinion, trust. Trust that words can move and that listening can heal. In my time here I’ve visited, sat, laughed, sang, sometimes talked but mostly listened, and I’ve learned far more than anything I’ve given. Lately I’ve been taking a class on strength and it’s an amazing thing to sit through.

Please keep the neighbors of Mount Sinai in your thoughts and prayers this winter season.

The 3 Day War & Mama Rios

In my last blog I left off with holiday fun, a loved one visiting (not much has changed for this time around!) and a broken toe. I used those Winter Crutches for a few weeks, boots and all, and after some arm-chafing and uneven foot sunburn, I threw them to the curb the day before the most ruthless holiday in Ecuador: Carnaval. It´s harder to run for your life with crutches.

All around the world the entrance into the Lenten Season is celebrated differently: elegant masks at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, district-assigned costumes at Fasching in Germany, and even seven hours away from here you celebrate La  Fiesta de las Flores y las Frutas with peach-flavored wine in Ambato, Ecuador. Here in Guayaquil, Carnaval starts the Sunday before Ash Wednesday and is a 3-day holiday involving paint, a LOT of water, eggs, flour, other throwable ingredients, and crossing lines of personal space, boundaries, and friendship.

We had heard from neighbors, “Oh, it´s a great time of playing with friends, eating, dancing, and getting wet!” and we all knew we wanted to take advantage of such a fun-sounding holiday. So we attempted to prepare, arming ourselves with tiny water-guns and a couple bags of colored dust that turns into paint with water. We thought we were ready. Needless to say, we were not. We got rocked those 3 days, each day getting progressively more intense, more draining, and far dirtier. I hadn´t realized how truly out of shape I am until the night of the first day.

Lucky for us, I purchased a water-proof (now called Carnaval-proof) case for my camera before coming to Ecuador so we were able to capture some of the moments: some happy, some sad, some hysterical, and some that will just down right make you feel bad for Greg. I believe pictures are the best way to tell the tale.

Day 1

We set out to get our guard,

 Welly, and Greg still got it

Community.

Went to get 3 eggs at the store, 

that´s all. I got 3 eggs, they just 

weren´t in a bag.

A baby blue chick!

That night, all clean, we 

celebrated Monica´s birthday.

Day 2

The day started similarly to Day 1.

Our afterschool program kids!

“My name´s Eli and I don´t play 

Carnaval…” *bananas to the face*

My hijado (godson), Denys

End Day 2

At Christina´s house we crashed 

her pool party. Literally.

Day 3

Rosa, 91, thought I got paint 

on her face. I did no such thing.

Day 3 and Coli still 

had the best reactions

I´d have felt bad for the guy if he didn´t 

foam everybody in the face for 48 hours straight.

Even Suleika played!

Jessica´s fam. At this point the sun was 

going down and teeth were chattering.

We ended the holiday with

a pretty spectacular sunset.

That week was a wonderful one. No work, just play, and the only thing that brought it down was the fact that my mom came 3 days too late; I wasn´t able to smash eggs on her head or give her a well-deserved make over.

  

Mama Rios came to visit last Friday for 5 days. We weren´t sure, much like with Emily, whether or not she´d make it down, and I was ecstatic when she told me she found a ticket. It was great to see her, and I think I forget too often that my mom´s a pretty awesome person. We spent 3 days in Mount Sinai where I was able to introduce her to neighbors (neighbors who, every time, thought she was my sister and could not get over her youth) my volunteer community, Ecuadorian food, and she even worked WITH me at Hogar, helping me out with the design of my map. 

(Some pictures have a hamster in them. His name´s Humphrey. My goddaughter has a project, like Flat Stanley, where they send their paper friend to a friend or family, and my job was to have him experience Ecuador. Mission accomplished.)

The family, minus the father, Marino

We played the longest game
of UNO with Belgica´s kids.

Although my mom brought nothing but sunshine 

(0 for 5 on rainy days) she still had to learn how to 

maneuver through Winter-Time Monte Sinai

Bolivar was helping Josias, his son, 

practice walking on the roof when 

we visited so we got to join in

Susana, Josias, Terri, Bolivar, Me, and Leyla below

The other days we were able to take a “quick” trip to Puerto Lopez, a town about 4 hours up the coast. I put “quick” in quotation marks because my mom visited the weekend of Election Day. Sunday being the day to vote meant everyone in Mount Sinai had to travel to the place they last had a registered address or to where their family lives, and for some that meant 6 or 8 our trips. Our sector was going to be empty for most of the day. It also meant that all buses all weekend were full, but after much effort and a lot of help from our guard we got there safely, elections happened, and Rafael Correa was re-elected.

Saw ancient ruins at Agua Blanca, a nationally-protected indigenous community

Those, ladies and gentlemen, are grasshoppers…the size of my feet.

The circus was in town! So we went. It was terrible.

We visited Isla de la Plata,, an island nicknamed “The Poor Man`s Galapagos.” It is not the season to see many animals, but despite the odds not being in our favor, we lucked out and returned from the tour with blue-footed boobies, sharks, turtles, and dolphins checked off our list.

A baby booby!

It wouldn´t have been a trip in Ecuador
without something happening. Our bus
broke down on the way back to
Mount Sinai

I mentioned earlier that my mom´s a pretty awesome person. She often outdoes herself when it comes to surprises and projects. Well, while she was here she surprised me by celebrating my birthday the whole week. My birthday´s not until March 13. We got to celebrate with tuna empanadas (my mom´s idea...Delicious!), cake, and Greg´s family the last night she was here.

Props to the woman…she perfectly executed
 an Ecua “Que lo muerda” face smash.

Greg´s fam. Thanks for the cake and empanada hints!

And lastly, my mom—along with bringing awesome things like Flaming Hot Cheetos—helped us to finally complete a dream we´ve had for months. I mentioned a long time ago that Jaime (a volunteer from the other house) got The Settlers of Catan, a board game I fell in love with in college. Well, after much discussion, our community embarked on a project and again requested the help of my mother. First the Multi-Sweater Christmas Card and now…The Settlers of Sinai. You really blew us away, Mama Rios.

Completely in Spanish, this version comes equipped with cane houses that can be upgraded to cement houses, new resources (cane, cement blocks, chicken, water jugs, and rice), Mount Sinai businesses for victory points, and borders corresponding to the main roads outside of Sinai. And if you look closely, my mom decided to Photoshop my face on a peasant.

A practice round without borders. With the help of Wilson, an artist

 and Hansen´s disease patient from Damien House in Duran, we were

 able to buy tiny Hogar houses

After her seemingly-too-short trip, my mom left and I went back to work. My time is mostly spent on the map project while continuing to attend meetings and events in our office. Friday we had a celebration in honor of the rights and value of women in Mount Sinai. Somehow, I got signed up to pass out fake roses and perform at the event. They wanted me to sing in English (thank goodness) so I just explained the lyrics of John Mayer´s Daughters to them beforehand.

Also, the same day my mom left, Ana´s family came. They have been extremely kind and over the past few days I have had my fill of some amazing Mexican dinners. Between the posole (ya, Aunt Josie, I had posole too!) and the carne asada tacos, there has been a mix of homesickness and thanksgiving for Ana´s family´s hospitality, as it`s reminded me of just how much I appreciate my family and my family`s culture.

It was a busy February and with half of our families coming within a 2 week period (Heidi´s family got in Monday!) I think we are all trying to enjoy our last taste of freedom before “Retreat Group Season” starts. “Freedom” may be a bit of an exaggeration, but March begins a long string of back-to-backs and packed months of university and high school students and I imagine once it hits we will be busier than ever. Until then I will be soaking up neighborhood time, flinching at the site of a bucket of water, and walking my map´s route with umbrella or sunscreen in hand.

Realizing I could have saved a bag of paint for my mom! Ugh.

Miguel