Poco a Poco

"Little by little we human beings are confronted with situations that 
give us more and more clues that we are not perfect."

--Fred Rogers aka "Mr. Rogers"--

 

View of Monte Sinaí from the 

bell tower of Corpus Cristi

Today is a kind of strange day. Strange in the sense that I have officially been in Ecuador for a month. 2 weeks of orientation with the old vols, and 2 weeks on our own. Doesn´t feel like it one bit. But the 6 of us, we´re getting closer as a community, learning about each other´s live and realizing that we are each others support this year. We all come and go throughout the day, but at the end of it we´re together for community dinners and daily prayer, community night, or spirituality night. We talk about our days--the highlights, the struggles--the funny thing a kid said or did. It is in that sharing that we talked about our conversations with people; how it has been a time when we get one question more than anything.

¿Ustedes estan acostumbrado a algunos?
Are you accustomed to things?

And I ask myself if I know the answer to that question. Would I know what it feels like to be accustomed to something here? Maybe. People say there´s such thing as the honeymoon stage of culture shock. Maybe that feels something like "accustomization"? I don´t know.

So I think about what "things" they´re referring to. Perhaps the cold showers, the different food, the new faces? Or maybe the public transportation and rollercoaster dirt roads. Remembering to throw your toilet paper in the garbage and brush your teeth with water from your water bottle. Shaking out your shoes every morning knowing there´s a chance a scorpion or thumb-sized cricket could be snuggling comfortably inside. Making a meal for 6 for less than $3.00. Being part of a lively, youthful parish life; working my way into the music ministry, song by song. An Irish Spanish-speaking priest. Taking in a new job with energetic co-workers. Having time blocked off in my day to go visit and be with the people in my neighborhood. Remembering children´s names. Remembering children´s names I can´t yet pronounce. Driving stick shift. Having "personal health" in the back of my mind, all the while wanting to be grateful and accepting of food and drink from new friends. Pushing myself to become a vegetable lover. Pushing myself to become an onion lover. The amazingly fresh bread I get on the way to work every morning. Wearing pants on the ecuator. The cheese. Sleeping under a mosquito net. Letting guard whistles, roosters, and a blaring "Danza Kuduro" be my lullaby at night. Cooking one night a week, when I haven´t a clue what I´m doing in the states, let alone in Spanish. Jaw-dropping sunsets. Wearing a polo 7 days a week. Trying to get a hold on how to balance communication with friends and family while being present here. The cow heart I ate on Thursday. Having to plan out sentences before I say them. Thinking and paying attention at all times, with every word, in conversations. Being comfortable with saying "¿Mande?" more than once because I don´t understand. The fear that my personality can´t quite jump the language barrier. Being gentle with myself.

But in that moment, when they wait for a response, I answer in the shallow, minimal way I know how right now. "Mas o menos." More or less. I need to practice my spanish a lot. The food is much diffrent. But the people are very kind. Probably throwing an incorrect preterite verb in there somewhere with an attempt to use "have been." And more often than not, despite what I say, they see my struggle, my tenseness, my worry, and respond "Poco a poco."

Little by little. I wrote it on a paper and hung it on my wall. If only they knew how much I´ve reminded myself of that advice, how it has become my tagline, and how the more I think about it the more I realize the importance of doing just that.

During orientation in Boston we had a presentation on self-care: something I perfected in college (which of course, my friends, is a joke). One of the things she talked about--something I apprecited greatly--was the idea of a "Sustainable Pace." I had not heard it put in those words, but I found it to be beautiful. With new experiences like these, my pace is so important to how I´m going to feel 2, 5, 10 months down the road. She told us how easy it can be to hit the ground running, but you have to exert yourself in a way that is sustainable, a way that can healthily last the year.

For me, it is about not letting my feet get ahead of where my head and my heart are, while also respecting where my feet are at, not letting my heart drag them along. The former prevents me from running to a place I can´t keep up with. I am behind the language barrier right now, struggling with the lock and key, and it is an emotionally and physically exhausting thing. I may want to pack my days with these new things--things I should get "accustomed to"--but I also need time for myself. Time to breathe. And the latter helps with the restlessness of going slowly. My heart may connect with people, but somehow I have to respect the moment I am in--even if that moment I am having seemingly-shallow conversations, not being able to ask the things I really want to ask or enter into a deeper relationship. It is, again, about being gentle with myself and keeping that sustainable pace. If I had an ever-present to-do list, that would be on it. Always.

So I´m here, with more than enough new things. Some difficult, many amazing, and I´m counting my blessings as I go. I can´t change the moment, I can only affect what the next ones look like. So for now I´ll work hard, stay calm, and remind myself that things take time.

 

My community and Padre Jon--pastor of 3 parishes in 

Monte Sinaí--before he left to visit Ireland

Failing and Succeeding, Little by Little,
Miguel