can't seem to escape this theme of fish.

gouyave is known as the town that never sleeps. as well as the fishing capital of grenada. so a street festival centered around fish is perfect for this little sea town. grencoda, the organization i'm working with, helps coordinate the guoyave fish friday festival every week. people from all over come to check it out. its becoming a source of income and pride for local folks in gouyave. and recently i have had the joy of being involved with it in a couple of different ways.

one way is through music. i've managed to learn a little steel pan while i've been down here. joined the grand roy pan angels. during the christmas season - november and december - we've been playing at fish friday every other week. last week was one of my most favorite performances. despite the rain, crowds came out. joyful christmas songs. lots of dancing and energy. a delight to simply be a part of it all. danley, my co-worker at grencoda made sure to snap a few pictures of me playing...

as i typically do, during a break from playing pan, i walked around the small festival - i love this part too - greeting the different vendors selling fish. during the last couple months, i've gotten to know many of the fish vendors through a basic computer class i've been helping with. the computer class was just one component of a vendor training course that grencoda sponsored. for about eight weeks, i taught a small class and assisted with another one. i think i like teaching adults. especially adults that are interested. and motivated to learn. these vendors came a long way in their understanding of computers. and it was a joy to be a part of their learning.

as i was passing by miss eslyn's booth last friday, she beamed and motioned for me to wait on her. she came out of her booth and embraced me with the most sincere, beautiful hug. she had been sick. hadn't been to class in the last week. told her i had missed her. often times eslyn required much patience. needing words spelled. needing things pointed out. and i got to work with her one on one a lot during the course. and in that moment - that hug - i knew the course had meant something to her. she gave me a necklace made of local spices. she was selling them. but gave me one as a gift. i put it on and wore it the rest of the night. taking in the scent of grenada. thankful for the chance to know eslyn. i bought some fried fish and bakes from her and made my rounds visiting the other vendors.

our computer classes were officially over this past tuesday. the end of the training course was celebrated with a small graduation ceremony. the vendors got all dressed up. they were so proud. and i was so proud of them. the metaphor of teaching a person to fish, rather than giving a person a fish was emphasized throughout the program. always heard that as a chinese proverb. but it certainly has grenadian relevance. especially in gouyave. especially in fish friday. and although somedays i wonder how i am contributing to justice, i realized that grencoda is an organization that seeks to empower, that seeks to equip, that seeks to uphold dignity. and i was thankful to be a part of an organization with that vision. and we don't get it perfect. and progress is slow. but we keep trying. keep seeking justice. and i pray that we might be apart of the justice that God is doing. and i'm thankful that we don't have to do justice on our own.

after the ceremony, the vendors had eats and drinks and fellowship. it was a joyous celebration. i'll miss these folks. especially that faithful trio from my class - binta, anna, and mr. benjamin. but i know where to find them on friday nights. next week we're playing pan again. and then the next, my family will get to experience the magic of fish friday for themselves.

that's right. the huggins will be having a grenadian christmas.

the right place at the right time.

i keep seeing rainbows. as the sunshine and rain so often coexist these grenadian days. sunshine and rain in perfect harmony. creating this image of fleeting beauty. revealing the hidden colors that are always present, but not always visible. and my soul rejoices in the moment. in the light that illuminates. the rain that restores. and the beauty that immerges from their union.

i try to take pictures. yet they fail to fully capture the beauty. lessons that life must be embraced. experienced. firsthand. in the moments we are given. in the places where we are.

and i give thanks to be at the right place at the right time. to catch the rainbow. before it fades away. and i wonder if there is such a thing as the right place at the right time. why do moments in our lives fall into place as they do? do things just happen? or is there Something guiding all of this? why do our souls awake to particular moments of beauty? are there certain things we must inevitably experience on this journey?

a couple of times recently i found myself at the right place at the right time. after a day of learning to bake cake and bread from scratch with my dear neighbor glenda, i decided to venture down the road for a sea bath. i had barely reached the shore when excitement commenced. fish were obviously jumping around in an area not far from shore. those on the shore were shouting out to the fishermen in their boats. the fishermen quickly circled the area. dropping their nets. some from the shore swam out to help. others started pulling in the nets. i asked if i could help too. and they let me.

as always, word spread. more and more people gathered in hopes of acquiring fish. i pulled with all i could. in rhythm with the others. hands stinging from the rope and salt water. nearly a week later, the blisters on my hands are still healing.

it was quite a catch. much different from the last time i helped haul nets. an abundance of large fish. and apparently the rule is if you help haul, you get fish. which wasn't my intention. i was just thrilled to get to participate. but a lady named judy made sure i got my fish. she made sure i got two. and we're not talking one-serving-sized-fish. we're talking at least five or six pounds of fish. each.

so judy and i headed up the road. with my heavy fish in hand. she recruited some of my neighbors to help clean it. then she returned to the sea to claim her own. tolo and aj cleaned my giant fish. although i've adapted to many grenadian ways. my stomach hasn't quite adapted to the idea of cleaning out the yucky fish insides. my neighbors cut up the fish. helped me season some. freeze some. it was too late to start cooking. and they said i would have fish to feed my family at christmas now.

i felt as if i was the recipient of undeserved generosity. sure i pulled nets. but i was given abundantly more than i needed. i felt loved. and taken care of. the sea had provided for the people once again. and there was more than enough for everyone. and there was much celebration.

the next morning, i went to church. first sunday in advent. no advent wreath this year. a simple service. six of us. prayers. and hymns. and scripture. and the congregation reflecting together on the lectionary. discussions of peace. of being awake to what God is doing.

glenda and daisy had asked me to go with them to a special gathering of all the baptist congregations the same morning. i had made a commitment to help with the service at the methodist church. but they assured me that they would be passing through gouyave on the way to sauteurs and could pick me up after the seven o clock service was over. it sounded like fun. so i decided if i happened to be on the street when the bus passed by, i just might hop on and go.

sure enough, i was at the right place at the right time again. waiting for a bus to go back home, a large bus heading north, the opposite direction, came flying through. i saw familiar faces on the bus and someone called out, "abby!" i realized it was the bus full of baptists. they stopped for me. and i jumped on the bus. knowing more people on the bus than i realized i would. stephon. glenda. daisy. aj. tolo. kedra. oslyn. shakira. judy. and i went to sauteurs to a day of singing. and eating. and preaching. and it was a long day. but a joy to worship alongside people from my community. and though i'm not theoloically aligned with everything that was said, i appreciated the time to just worship. and the message centered around going beyond the walls of the church. an idea i think about a lot.

again, i felt loved. and included. and a part of things. and maybe my day spent back in grand roy would have also yielded moments of beauty. but the bus and i crossed paths at just the right time for me to hop on and go.

God of wisdom. guide our moments. guide our days. you know what our souls need. teach us what you are wanting us to learn. awake our spirits to your presence. to your beauty. and may we trust in you. trust in where we are. trust in who we are. trust that you are transforming us into who you have created us to be. through these moments. on this journey.

and thank you for the rainbows.

names.

there's something meaningful about knowing a person's name. it recognizes their identity. honors their exisitence. as much as i remember to, i try to ask people their names when i meet them. sometimes i immediately forget people's names. and have to ask again. but after a while i get it.

in grenada its common to yell out someone's name as you pass by their house. regardless if you're planning on visiting or not. and though i'm not much of a yeller, i love to be able to greet people as i walk through my community. love to be able to say good morning daisy as she sits on the veranda across the street. good morning sherman as he starts his welding project for the day. good morning veronica as she gently waves. good morning joey as he heads to the bay in hopes of jacks. good morning dodoo as she admires her flowers. good morning kenneth as he ventures up into the bush. good morning leila as she promises to walk with me next time. good morning lena as she washes her dishes by the pipe. good morning desalyn as she gets her kids ready for school and takes care of her mom. good morning hilda as she thanks God for another day....

and more people know my name than i know their's. i guess i kind of stand out. and might be easier to remember. but it means a lot to be greeted by name. to be recognized as a person. as a part of the community.

i've been going to a little methodist church outside my community. in guoyave, a town where i don't know everyone's name yet. and there have been moments of worship. there have been moments of questioning. i've taken some sundays off. yet something in me doesn't want to give up on the greater Church. so i found myself trying church again on sunday.

as we were waiting on folks to gather, a man showed up at the door. go on. get away from here. go home. we don't want you around. that's paraphrasing, but that's pretty much what one of what one of the church ladies told the man. i asked what was going on. she said don't study him. he's a vagrant. a troublemaker. he smells. and he would steel our purses if we let him in.

but wait, i thought that's who jesus told us to love.

the man showed up at the other door. and another church lady dealt with him similarly. the lay minister, an american who doesn't always strive to understand grenadian culture, intervened. he welcomed the man in. told him jesus loved him. or something like that. the church ladies grumbled. the man stayed outside a while. wandered off.

hemingway, the minister, said we should pray for the man. the man had obviously been around before. so hemingway asked if anybody knew his name. no one knew his name. no one had ever bothered to ask.

so the preacher man prayed a nameless prayer with faith that God knew who he was referring to.

amidst an offering that would probably go to a church building. amidst songs that seemed empty and hypocritical. amidst a sermon i knew i would disagree with. i became restless. i couldn't stay in church. not with the man right there at our doorstep.

so i left church. actually the second service i'd left in the past two weeks. but that's another story.

and i went and asked the man what his name was. mitchell. easy to remember. its the surname of my neighbors in grand roy. mitchell was soft spoken. with mismatched shoes. i could barely hear what he said. we established that he was hungry. so we decided to go to the shop down the street.

mitchell hesitated to express what he wanted to eat. a lady named ruby jean stepped in. ordered mitchell a coke, some crackers, and vienna sausages. then asked him to step on outside. but encouraged me to stay. she was medium intimidating. so i obeyed. talked a bit to the shop owner. floyd. a cousin of folks i know in grand roy. eventually left. saw mitchell who asked for a dollar to buy cigarettes. this time i said no. conversation was limited. we parted ways and i ended up talking to a few other people liming on the street.

back at the church communion was over. the table we methodists open to everyone had already fed those allowed inside.

everyone knew what i had done. hemmingway commended my compassion. on the way to catch a ride home, another man, clarence, asked for bread. i hopped in the supermarket and paid a dollar for bread. he said thank you. but i don't think the church ladies approved.

the thing is. clarence is always on the street begging. and most people don't give to him. there's another man, whose name i regretably don't know, who begs around the same area. and people run him out of their shops.

i don't think always giving handouts is the answer. i don't think it solves anything. i don't think it contributes to long term justice. but how can i deny people when i have plenty in my pocket?plenty in my fridge? i want to believe in a kingdom where there is enough room for all at the table. enough food for all at the table. but i don't see the Church striving towards that. at least not the church i went to sunday.

and i still don't know how to respond in a way that is truly just.

in a different context to be written about on a different day, ms. williams said we must pray for God's spirit to guide all that we do. we must seek to live out the gospel. and jesus said, when i was hungry, you gave me something do eat.

God of compassion and mercy. may you bring your justice. and may you guide us as to how we might be a part of it. as to how their might be enough for all.

a fishing sequel.

as a sequel to the previous fishing story: i actually got to go fishing in a little boat last weekend. caught, or "held," seven fish. between kimo and i, we held around twenty. snapper. mirian. butterfish. etc. some areas of the sea were flourshing with fish. some were vacant. very few people use fishing rods in grenada. we used iron weights with fishing line and hooks tied to them. jacks for bait. lessons in patience. in waiting. in timing. in letting go. in trusting. in abundance. in scarcity. in grace. managed to get my fishing line ridiculously tangled up on several occasions. and the fish flopping around in the boat with their big eyes looking at me medium freaked me out. got caught in the rain. chatted with other fisherpeople out on the water. overall a joyful adventure.

abby held seven fish. what? returned with congratulations from the neighbors for our catch. helped clean the fish in the river. but i didn't have to do the gross part of cleaning. of course kids wandered over at the prospect of cooking. we seasoned and fried much of the fish. served them alongside some fried bakes. a houseful of kids. but enough for everyone. afterwards the dishes were cleaned, the kids stayed a little while. telling their family stories as they often do. making fun of each other in love. sharing laughter. and joy.

glenda keeps asking me when my next fishing adventure will be. with a laugh she says i must experience everything grenadian while i'm here. i don't know when the next fishing adventure will be. but i trust that many more grenadian adventures are in store. and i greet each new day with a certain openness and wonder. as to how life will beautifully fall into place.

afternoon by the sea.

miss. miss. lets swim out to the boat one more time. kellon's gotten accustomed to calling me miss both in and out of after school class. ok. one more time.

one of the boats in the bay had drifted quite close to shore. close enough for kellon and kobi and i to swim to and climb up on. the boys assured me it was allowed. we wouldn't get in trouble. we floated on the vacant boat. amidst the nets and oars. decided we could float there forever. kellon said his back was burning from the afternoon sun. splashed sea water on his back to cool off. that's what you do, miss, when your back is burning. that's the grenadian way. so i too splashed water on my back.

miss. miss. they're coming to get jacks. we have to swim to shore. so we jumped off the little boat. headed back to the beach. trading places with the fishermen swimming out to the boats. trying our best to stay out of their way. i was medium confused about what was going on. but tried to follow the boys lead.

miss. miss. start pulling the rope in. who me? you mean i can help too? people on the beach started hauling in the nets. and i was allowed to join in. easy at first. then the nets got heavy. word spreading that jacks were coming. more people showing up to help out. tried my best to mimic the motion of the others in line. pull with right. lean back. pull with left. lean back. something you have to put your whole body into. something that takes everyone working together. in rhythm with each other. a community effort.

blisters forming on my hands. burning from the salt water. arms getting weak. back aching. but it didn't matter. i was a part of things. hauling in the nets like a regular grand roy person. not just observing life. but participating in it. allowed to be a member of the community. amidst everyday life. feeling overjoyed at the idea of it all.

we hauled and hauled. eventually realizing there were no fish in the nets. the sea had not provided this time. so we let go. let the nets return. with hopes of abundance in time.

show us where to cast our nets. help us to let go. to trust.

stayed around the bay a bit longer. eating sea grapes that kids picked and shared. watched the sun begin to set. then headed back home. incredibly thankful for the chance to be a part of the community. to be a part of the family that is grand roy.

communion of souls.

although the sunsets in grenada are beautiful. they are fleeting. and night comes quickly. so it was dark when i arrived home from visiting the after school classes with mr. langaigne (a twenty year staff member of grencoda that deeply cares for the people in the communties we work with). and when i arrived in grand roy, the stars were the brightest i've seen in quite a while. like millions of candles glowing in the sky.

neighborhood kids were gathered near my steps. hovering over the candles they were lighting. they had placed candles inside tin cans. the cans were punctured with holes to let the light shine out. aj showed me his glowing can. he had made a face on it. reminded me of a jack-o-lantern. but this wasn't halloween. it was the following day: all saints day. kids went up and down the street. carrying their candles. some people were placing candles on their steps. lighting them in memory of people who had passed away. traditionally, mischievous kids "thief" people's candles and run up the street with them. although i didn't witness this.

azaria remembered that i had a lone candle in my house. the housewarming candle that amanda gave me before i left. so we went to get it. and i too placed a candle on my steps. luckily no one thiefed it.

we went up the road in search of asham, the local treat for this time of year. basically corn ground up with sugar. but alas, the asham had sold out. tomorrow, praise God, we'll have some more, the young man by the shop told me. loud noises were coming from up the street. i was informed people were "busting bamboo." pretty much homemade firecrackers. using hollow bamboo pieces. kerosene. and a little fire. young people gathering to listen. hearts jumping at every boom.

back down the road, lisia was getting ready to visit her father's grave to place candles there. invited me to go along. so we went, a few kids tagging along, down across the bridge to a humble burial place. no head stone. but she knew where to go. she carefully placed a few candles in the ground. it was simple. and beautiful. that's my daddy, she said. the kids lit some candles that had extinguished on a grave nearby. lisia took a moment. then we were on our way back. from across the river, we could see the candles glowing.

lisia explained that this had been all saints day. tomorrow was all souls day. she said that all saints was to remember christians that had died. all souls was to remember everyone.

still trying to process the distinction. i'm thankful for the idea of communing with saints. of being a part of a greater body of the Church that goes beyond place and time. of learning from the traditions of those who have gone before us.

but recently, especially with amanda, the giver of the candle, questions have come up regarding the afterlife. and what that means. if anything. and i like the idea of a day to recognize all souls. to remember all people. regardless. because something in me wants to believe of an eternal union between the Creator and all the created. but i don't really understand how all of that works. and i don't really know if being a christian makes a difference. because the idea of afterlife isn't why i'm a christian.

i tend to believe in following jesus now. in the moments we're given. of studying the way he lived. of striving to be like him. following his compassion. his justice. his love. and ever thankful for grace. i tend to believe that God can restore this world as he originally created it to be. that glimpses of kingdom. of heaven. of whatever you call it. can be present on earth. when people live side by side in the spirit of christ. in the spirit of that same compassion and justice and love. when there is a place for everyone at the table. enough for everyone at the table. when there is communion with each other. communion with God.

but what happens to our souls in the mean time? i don't have answers. i don't know if we can. i think we can live the best we know how to in this moment. live as if this was it. and be overwhelmed with joy if there is more to it. and be satisfied with how we spent our days if there's not.

so tonight i'll light my candle again. and i'll hope for a display of candles in the sky. and i'll wonder about saints and souls. and i'll consider a God present from the beginning. now. and evermore. and i'll pray for restoration. for heaven come to earth. for communion of souls.

19 october.

things have gotten a bit busier. most weekdays i'm bouncing between adult computer classes and after school programs at grencoda. practicing steel pan and spending time with the neighbors at home. so last week, when our office was closed on friday, i was thankful for a day to be. a day to approach without agenda.

decided since i had the time, to combine my morning walk with a swim in the sea. ventured up to palmiste beach with a towel and a book to spend the morning. now i've been enjoying my sea baths thus far. but i think i fell in love with the sea that morning. it was my first solitary swim. and i floated. and twirled. and danced. and prayed. i was in wonder of this sea before me. stretching further than i could see. deeper than i could fathom. and yet somehow, i was allowed the joy of being a part of it. made me think of God. of this something beyond what i can understand. that surrounds me. that i can be part of. that i can be one with. i would lean back with my arms wide and let go and float and let the water simply move me. i haven't always been the best at floating. i'll start worrying about waves coming or think i'm sinking and put my feet down. but lately, the letting go has been easier. and i've discovered a certain freedom.

eventually wandered back home. picked up some reading books for after school on the way. journaled. visited my eighty-nine year old neighbor tiey. purchased some of glenda's homemade soursup snow ice. and then it was time to go meet my methodist-catholic-english-grenadian friend mary theresa. we were going to a prayer service in st. george's.

the prayer service was in memory of prime minister maurice bishop and the other grenadians killed on that day - october 19th - 24 years ago. the violent event in grenada's history is not recognized as a holiday. but members of our staff at grencoda, who were directly involved in the revolution, consider it a solemn day to be remembered. its why our office was closed.

now i don't understand everything about the events of october 1983. i've gathered bits and pieces from what i've read. from what people have told me. the prayer service provided more glimpses into the mystery of it.

the prayer service was at fort george - formerly fort rupert - where the killings happened. pictures were up of the people who died. pictures were up of grenada in the 80's. images of workers and farmers and women assembling. finding empowerment. making their voices heard. schools being built. communities active. people working alongside people. it looked like a fascinating time to live in grenada. a time where social justice was not just talked about. but lived out.

but somehow things went bad. talk of "communism." fear. political upheaval. a prime minister, members of his cabinet, and other grenadians sought out and killed. ms. williams, my supervisor at grencoda was imprisoned during all the excitement. had she not been, she could have been killed too. one day when she's in the right frame of mind, she says she'll sit down and tell me the whole story. one day.

and i thought it so interesting to be living in a place where people had experienced revolution firsthand. had seen social progression. had worked for change. and then had seen the people they worked alongside killed. had seen violence. and chaos. and everything turned upside down. it was only 24 years ago. and there are scars still healing.

but tomorrow's the public holiday observed. where every office is closed. october 25th. the day the american's invaded grenada. the day the american's saved the day. the calendar calls it thanksgiving.

at the prayer service, people said 19 comes before 25. people said the day we should remember is the 19th. not the 25th. but here we are. celebrating the day that people from my big country felt the need to invade this tiny island. and i although i believe every day is an occasion for thanks, i find it a strange day set aside to be thankful.

so i continue to ponder the story of all this. continue to seek out more glimpses into it. continue to pray that justice might be restored. to grenada. to this world. a justice that comes not from guns and bombs. but a justice that comes from something greater than ourselves. from a faithful God that is our Hope. a merciful God that does not abandon his children.