Week 7: La comunidad

About a week and a half ago, my mom and I were feeling tired and dejected because "our girls," the group of nurses from Marquette and their fabulous instructor/ our new BFF were returning to the states. Throughout the summer, the parish has been a rotating door of wonderful and interesting people. Mom and I, as well as our friends Katlyn and Brian (the other summer veterans), have often joked about not getting attached to any of the volunteers. Alas, the departure of the second nursing group after an adventuresome month found us blinking back tears and hugging out our goodbyes with promises to reconnect in either Door County or Machu Picchu.

Needless to say we were feeling fairly dejected at Mass that night. Or at least we were until the woman who reads the prayer intentions smiled and waved to us (a friend from our trip to Ecuador). And until our friend Marcos and his mother came by our pew to give us hugs (a friend we made at church). And until we saw Julia, Patsy, Karen, Francisco and Julianna walk in (some of our favorite teachers from Madre del Buen Consejo/ fellow Ecuador travel companions) with their fearless leader Fanny (a former parish social worker-turned- principal). Until the Padre Nuestro and Sign of Peace when our friend and Mass server Renzo flashed us the deuce, and until a little girl named Jocelyn in whose classroom we had previously taught English ran over to envelop us. And until after Mass when we awkwardly and Americanly waved our "thumbs-up" to our favorite musician Johnny, and until we quite literally ran into Heriberto, whose family we have grown to love after being introduced by an Oklahoma missionary.

It was with a jolt then that I realized we weren't alone. By the grace and hospitality of the Peruvian people, we had become a small part of this community. And then I started to cry again because that is apparently what I do now (that and write in incomplete sentences).

I have never wanted so badly to belong to someone or something as I have to "these people," this community that has so lovingly and unquestioningly embraced us. This community that dedicates their lives in service and celebration of one another's humanity. This community for whom I have the most profound affection and admiration, and this community about whom I still lay awake at night considering how to best hug all at once.

As we approach the end of our time in Piura, I have found myself repeating a line from Tennyson's "Ulysses": I am a part of all I have met.

I am part of all I have met, all I have seen, all I have smelled, all I have tasted, all I have hugged, all I have cried with, all I have danced with, all I have I have sat in awe with as we watched confetti cannons and fireworks shoot across with sky. I am part of all I have broken bread with, all I have walked with, all I have prayed with, all I have sang with- from church hymns to retro 80s, and all I have served and sweat with. I am part of all I have slept in a pile of dirt with while awaiting the arrival of Papa Francisco and all of those with whom I've stayed up playing cards. I am part of all I have loved, all I have fought, all I have felt suffer and despair and all those with and for whom I have hoped.

But perhaps, most importantly, they are a part of me and WE are part of a beautiful community.

Kathleen