8:15 a.m.

By this time tomorrow I will be on a bus on my way to San Salvador to the ‘Terminal Oriente’ (the Eastern Bus Terminal).   From there, my friend Alfredo will pick me up in the large microbus at about 10 so we can be at the airport by 11.

Our medical delegation arrives at noon.  But I need to get there earlier to ask for permission to enter the airport to talk with the customs people about the medicines they are bringing in.  I need to do this before they land.   I STILL don’t have the papers in my hands but Cecilia went to San Salvador this morning to get them. 

Once the medical brigade gets here, it will be basically non stop.  At least for them.  I try to stay out of their way or help when I can.  I try to determine first if I will actually be a help or a possible hindrance – they are such an organized group and have been working together (many of them) for years and have a great system of working together.

But it will be hectic.  Organized chaos.  All week.  We have four canton clinics and one clinic here in Berlin.  Last year they served over 1100 people.  They are absolutely incredible.

So today – I’ll try to get totally caught up with things.  Clear the desk of loose ends… maybe write a few generic blogs to post during the week in case I don’t have time to actually sit at the computer.  I’ve already done my laundry so I’m off to a good start.

Alisha left today.  The stinker had an outgoing flight at 9 a.m. which meant we had to leave the house at 5 this morning …

And of course I had a hard time falling asleep last night.  I think I’ve been just so wound up with a bunch of relatively stressful things: coffee contract negotiations, a two day delegation mid week, worrying about the medicines getting approved for our medical delegation, as well as the normal every day stuff … well.  It’s been a busy couple of weeks.  I think I’m just overly tired and my brain has a hard time shutting down sometimes.

And it was really hard to wake up this morning … I had my alarm set for 4:15.  Uck.  I was awake (sort of) even before the Patron Saint Festival noise makers!!!

It’s a little over two hours to get to the airport from here driving on decent, but windy mountain roads.  And it is DARK out at 5 in the morning!  Kind of cool though.  There were lots of stars out.  We picked up two walking women on their way home.  Not sure where they were coming from at that hour of the morning! 

Alisha was sort of quiet as well as talkative.  She had some last minute questions – I couldn’t tell you what they were though … the whole day is like a blur.  She got really quiet the closer we got to the airport.  Actually, she kept dozing off. 

It was VERY hard to see her go.  She was a bit weepy.  I certainly understand that feeling.  She was here for 5 weeks and learned a lot.  She really got a chance to get to know the Pastoral Team – especially the ladies.  The Pastoral Team, one and all, grew to love her.  Actually, it didn’t take very long for that to happen. 

Alisha has a quirky and fun sense of humor … she is a hard worker … she did her own laundry … picked up after herself … pitched in … wanted to experience things of importance to the Team (like walking to each of their cantons!)  She only missed one day of school and that was at their suggestion so she could attend the special mass in Alejandria.

She is already missed.  But I know she’ll be back someday. 

And sometimes I weep uncontrollably. 

Tonight was Alisha’s last night here.  She has been here for several weeks and has become a beloved member of our family.  The Pastoral Team has great affection for her.  She is a hard worker, has a great sense of humor, compassion …

So tonight the Team thought we should take her and our current delegation to town to enjoy the carnival atmosphere of our Patron Saint festivities.

It was fun to walk around at night.  I don’t get out much after dark, so it is a treat to be out and about.

We made the loop around the park: watched a bit of a ‘queen coronation’ event,  looked at all the vendors and ended up at the corner restaurant because some of the delegates were wanting a local beer that happens to be in a green bottle – it is St. Patrick’s Day after all.  (Side note: St. Patrick’s Day is not celebrated here).

So we sat down in a small corner restaurant and who joined us but my little friend Brian.  He is 7.  I met him when St. Boniface was here last January.  He had found us in the ice cream store and he so enchanted us that they ended up buying him an ice cream cone.  I asked him about where he lived… who he lived with etc.  He said his mom was in San Salvador working and he was living with his brothers (the oldest of which is maybe 16).   

After that delegation departed, and on a subsequent walk to town, Brian found me.  He immediately gave me a hug and asked for a pupusa for him and his brothers.  Softie that I am… I did.  He is perpetually filthy dirty and either barefooted or in very cheap and falling apart sandals and extremely tired clothing. 

And at this point, every time I see him, I find some food for them. 

Tonight, he found us.  He asked if he could sit with us.  And of course, he was welcomed.  I explained who he was and one of the delegates said she wanted to buy his pupusas.  He was a happy little boy.  She even bought him a balloon when a passing salesman came by.  I just shook my head at him.  He knows he is a “player.”  But I know he is a ‘player’ that really is in need so I give him some slack.  But did give him the mama look… like “Son… I know you are playing the gringos here… but I love you anyway.” 

He is such a sweet boy.  He is all of 7 years old and basically lives on the street.

And tonight – safe in my room and trying to go to sleep, I find myself weeping uncontrollable.  What is to become of this young boy?  I remember all the advantages MY sons had at that age: the privileges… food, clothing, school, security … the lack of worry. 

So what WILL become of this boy?  He does not go to school.  He basically has no adult taking care of him.  And I ache for him and all the children like him that have no future that we North Americans can imagine.  Will he become just one of the local drunks at the age of 15?  Will he find any kind of menial work?  Will he live to be 20?

How is it that such sweetness can be so tragic?

I was home alone for just about a half hour this afternoon.  This is a rare thing and I honestly don’t mind it and I really kind of enjoy it – (secretly hoping that no one calls or needs anything I can’t handle).

I was up in my office printing out the nurse’s and doctor’s licenses to bring to the Ministry of Health tomorrow and fielding questions and issues about the water filter project and the Don Justo project and trying to tidy up loose ends before tomorrow’s delegation from U of I arrives. 

The door bell rang.  It was almost 4 p.m. so I was hoping it was the pan dulce (sweet bread) lady.  She comes to the house nearly every day to sell us fresh goods. 

I ran downstairs and before I got to the door, I noticed an envelope on the floor of the garage.  It had been slipped under the door.  So I picked it up and was surprised to see it was for me! I opened the door to Blanca and Idalia who were just arriving for the night from Alejandria as well as Alisha who was just arriving from up town.

The ladies came in and sat down.  They were quite hot from their walk in the afternoon sun.  While we chit-chatted, I opened my letter.  It was from the Presbytery USA in Louisville, Kentucky.  Hm.  I couldn’t imagine what it could be.

So I snuck a peak while we talked.  It was a letter I had written to myself at Synod School last July.  It was a part of a worship activity - to write a letter to yourself with words of wisdom/encouragement.  I barely remember doing it. 

I tell you … this was kind of a God moment for me.  It has been SUCH a stressful month.  There have been so many big issues thrown into the everyday issues that I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed (if truth be told).  This is what my letter to myself said:

Dated: July 30, 2009

Hey you …

Don’t forget to look at EVERYONE as a beloved child of God.

Let go of old hurts – no matter how seemingly small.

Love unconditionally.

Take a few risks.

Listen

Try to be silent in your head.

God has a plan for you and it may not be what you expect.

Remember to love ME.

K 

That was it.

I think I needed that.

Thank you Synod School. 

Cecilia arrived this morning as normal.  I immediately went out to check out her thumb.  It only had a smallish gauze bandage over it.

Don’t read the next paragraph if you are squeamish!  Skip to the “uck” paragraph. 

She was quick to show me the damage though.  And it was UGLY.  Not as bad as I had feared, but bad enough.  With the machete, she had sliced off a small portion of “meat” (that is what they call it) on the top of the knuckle of her thumb and the blade then dug into her thumb nail at about mid point and looked like it came very close to severing that.

Uck.  It looked very painful.  She said it wasn’t too bad at that point but it hurt very badly last night.  And then later, after she had cleaned up from her walk to the Pastoral House from Alejandria, she was standing out in the back yard pouring hydrogen peroxide over it to really clean it.  That hurt she said.

My tummy cringes at the thought of that pain.  She had more gauze to put over it but nothing to secure it with.  I had Band-Aids, so we ended up using one instead of bandage tape which we don’t have.

She is pretty much going about her business today.  But tomorrow, when it comes time for doing her boy’s uniforms after school, I think I’ll push her away from the pila!