you say tomato. i say tomato.

"sister abby. we dere in the garden and two of us still in we church clothes."

sister christopher is one of my favorite parts of the little methodist church in gouyave. she knows the hynmal by heart. sings with abundant joy. even after the service has ended. prayers of thanks naturally flow out of her. and she always wears her best sunday hat.

she has a contagious joy. it warms my heart to be around her. so i told her one day i'd love to come visit her. to spend the day by her. and this past sunday, when the service was over, she said, "you coming by me today?"

so i journeyed with mrs. christopher up to her son albert's house where she spends many a sunday afternoon. and i was welcomed into their home, into their family, with genuine hospitality. they have a beautiful garden overlooking the sea. with more kinds of fruits and vegetables that i can name. callilou. pockchoy. peppers. sorell. coconut. yam. bluggoe. plantain. fig. peas. pumpkins. mangoes. cabbage. tomatoes. okra. cherries. and on. and on. they grow what they need. and share with their neighbors. and their neighbors do the same. mutually taking care of one another.

mrs. christopher takes some of her produce to the market to sell. to earn her dollar for the offering plate, she says.

and i watched mrs. christopher. and her son albert. and her grandson tyrell. work in the garden together. me and sister christopher still in our church clothes. and it was a beautiful image of family. three generations together. and of the abundance that the earth provides.

and it made me want to have a garden. and live off the land. and share with my family. share with my neighbors.

mickey (mrs. christopher's daughter in law, who she calls mrs. christopher too) created a delicious sunday lunch. and i thanked her for her generous hospitiality. and she simply replied, its who i am.

sister christopher, the elder, loaded up a bag of fresh vegetables for me to take home. i thanked her as well. she said not to thank her, but to thank God. she says she is given, therefore, she must also give.

she placed three green tomatoes in my bag. said to put them to ripen. wait until they turn a nice juicy red.

so i placed the three tomatoes in my window sill. and one is just about ready. and the other two need more time.

and i feel like those unriped tomatoes these days. desperately depending on a Light to transform me. into who i am created to be. not something i can do on my own. but i must wait. the process seems to be slow. and i get impatient. and restless. feeling limited in my own greenness. longing to be more. to contribute more. frustrated when my days seem fruitless. when i fail to give. to love. to serve. like i know i have potential to.

but that little red tomato in my window sill gives me hope. proof that things ripen in their own time. the challenge is trusting and waiting. with faith. with patience.

in an unrelated yet related experience, i've been making special efforts to watch the sunset over the sea these days. to take a few moments to reflect on the day. to offer thanks. so whenever i'm home around 6:15 and its not all rainy. i make a little stroll down to the bay. and last night as i arrived, the sunset was subtle. a lightly tinted pink sky. the sun hiding behind a blanket of distant clouds. and i wasn't disappointed. i appreciated the little bit of color. and the faithful rhythm of the sea. and i watched a mother play with her daughter. and i prayed.

and as i sat on a stone. and waited. the sunset grew more and more colorful. and i watched the sky transform into something beautifully vibrant. and i nearly cried. at this lesson in waiting. in the beauty that inevitably comes when we can simply be still. and hope.

Loving Creator. thank you for the lessons you teach us. through tomatoes. and sunsets. and the random parables of life. transform us in your good and perfect timing. into juicy reds. and vibrant pinks. into the beautiful Image you created us to be. still our hearts when we are restless. and may we simply trust in your spirit that surely dwells in and all around us.

for God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. psalm 62:5.

colorful.

arrived home tuesday evening to find the neighborhood looking a lot different. a lot brighter. a lot more red. green. and yellow. folks were out painting. sidewalks. and steps. and rocks. and walls. national colors everywhere. an annual tradition. in celebration of grenada's independence. which happened a mere thirty-four years ago. (just yesterday in the grand scheme of historical things. it continues to fascinate me how much middle aged grenadians have seen this nation change in their lifetime). and the tradition is probably an extravagant use of paint. but there is something neat about the community spirit that emerges from it.

so on the short walk from the bus stop to my house, i stopped to admire the new paint. and the painting that was still going on. change your clothes, abby. and you can come help us paint. who me? you mean i get to be a part of this? so i did. i changed. and headed back down the street. with glenda's comments guiding me. go on. abby. go paint with the boys on the block. abby has to experience everything.

i only painted a little bit of a wall and a step. before i handed my brush over to koby and tolo. who were also anxious to participate. but i was thankful. so thankful to be a part of things. to experience community people coming together.

the next day. independence eve. got to see a series of marches (parades) along the streets of gouyave. school children decked out in red. green. and yellow. grenada jerseys (t-shirts). fancy dresses. nutmeg hats. walking along to the grenada birthday song that you constantly hear on the radio these days. pretty adorable.

then thursday. the 7th. the actual independence day. threw together an outfit of the only red, green, and yellow i could find. put a grenada scarf on my head. looked slightly ridiculous. and hopped on a bus with a bunch of fellow grand royians down to the national stadium. joined a sea of national colors. to watch the ceremony. marches by police forces. military. school children. speeches by the prime minister and other "important people." cultural performances by local musicians. quite a show. it lasted quite a while. but i was thankful for the chance to experience it. to wave my grenada flag and be patriotic alongside grenadians.

back in grand roy. there was a small festivity up in the pasture at the school. a cricket match. oil down (the national dish). fellowship. so i spent the afternoon up there. mingling with folks. eating too much. playing barefoot in the field with a bunch of kids. a neat thing. the sort of thing the community should do more than just once a year.

nothing particularly insightful or profound to share further on the subject. just glad to be a part of things. glad to be a part of grenada. glad for grenada to be a part of me.

an abundance of mangoes.

i can't pray for just me. i must pray for us.

that's what miss hilda told me this morning. miss hilda who believes God is going to restore her sight and allow her to walk again. who says her faith has kept her alive. miss hilda who is somewhat taken care of by her daughter, a struggling single mom. but ignored by much of her family.

her bible was laying on the floor, open to psalms this morning when i stopped by. and i know she can't see well enough to read. she said she leaves it open sometimes. just in case someone comes by and wants to read to her. i asked her if she wanted me to read. yes, thanks. asked her what she wanted to hear. anything. its all God's word she said. and i didn't know what to choose. somehow, sticking with the psalms, i found my way to psalm 139. the one that grandpa loves. the one that i know songs from. the one that speaks of a God who knows us intimately. whose spirit we cannot flee from. who is too wonderful for us to consider. and me and miss hilda agreed that it was a good one. comforting. and true.

passed by miss hilda on my morning walk through the neighborhood. stayed a little longer than usual. rejected the temptation to be in a hurry. its better to soak in moments. to honor people. rather than rush off to something that may or not be as meaningful.

was nice to take my time going through grand roy today. i feel as though i've been pretty absent from the neighborhood this week. but that's because i've been spending my days walking through other communities.

as grencoda staff, we've been visiting each of the communities we work alongside. walking around. making observations. talking with folks. listening to folks. our intention is to get an idea of what people know of grencoda. of how grencoda is doing. how we could improve. and what people see as needs in their community. we're doing all of this before we sit down and plan for the year. striving to let the voices in the communities guide what we do. being intentional about working with rather than working for. sometimes we deviate from our purpose, though. to spend a few extra moments with an elderly couple whose children hardly visit. to offer encouragement to young kids in secondary school. to de-mace nutmeg. to shell peas. to sit with people. to be with people. and though we do have ground to cover (some of these villages are quite large). its nice to soak in moments. to honor people. to be present.

and people keep giving us mangoes. and cashews. and figs. and manderines. and i've eaten enough fruit to last me through easter.

beyond the walk-throughs, we've also met with community representatives in the evenings to at least begin to dialogue the issues we heard raised. "idle youth on the block." unemployment. skills training. mentoring programs. housing issues. agricultural support. community centers. roads. neglect from the government. lack of unity. partisan politics dividing the country. dividing the communities. and somehow i got recruited to take notes. so i had to play close attention. and though i still don't understand the background and context of everything, i feel as though i learned so much. about what is going on in these communities. about the need to rise above division and come together. about the need to work for justice. for sustainability. for dignity. and although i haven't really contributed all that much i've been taking in more than i realize. and i'm thankful that there is plenty to learn. and i'm thankful to be a part of this. and i'm thankful to work with people who deeply believe in empowerment. who sincerly try to listen. and its all overwhelming. all that needs to be done. compared with what realistically will get done. especially on grenada time. but i continue to pray for a unity with God's spirit. that He is guiding all of this. that He is guiding all of us. we're in this together. not me alone. not you alone. but us.

i can't pray for just me. i must pray for us.

family.

after last minute cleaning and baking and christmas preparation i hopped a bus to town to meet lester the taxi driver. we had plans to pick up some very special christmas guests at the airport. st. george's was the busiest i've ever seen. everyone out shopping. just like most places, commercialism has invaded christmas here in grenada too. we arrived at the airport early. with plenty of time to sit in anticipation. last time i was here was when i arrived four months ago. it was night then too. the difference now was the christmas lights strung all around. welcoming everyone to a grenadian christmas. shortly after eight o'clock, folks started emerging off the plane. eventually, three folks that look a lot like me came through the doors. mom. dad. and andrew. met them with hugs and kisses. hardly believing these two worlds were merging. so happy my family had finally arrived. the only thing missing was andrew's suitcase. circling around some conveyor belt in puerto rico. turns out that was maybe a good thing as lester's little trunk was overflowing from just mom and dad's stuff. we hopped in the taxi. dad in the front. mom, andrew, and i squeezed in the back. everyone wide eyed. taking in the christmas lights. the huggins business signs (yes there are other huggins in grenada. pretty crazy). admiring lester's grenadian accent as he pointed out places along the way. we arrived safely in grand roy. greeted by a few of the neighbors. settled in upstairs. ate peanut butter sandwiches with homemade guava jelly and drank the peppermint tea mom had sent in a care package weeks ago. as i laid down to sleep beside mom, i offered thanks for the chance to share this grenadian life with them. a prayer that became habitual during their stay here.

homemade bread, ham, and sorrel for breakfast. followed by christmas mass. beautiful, spirit filled music. people went out of their way to welcome my family. grenadian christmas lunch. baked fish. callilou. pumpkin. boiled corn. fruit cake. an afternoon of bathing in the sea. visiting with the neighbors. playing in the street with the kids. exchanging a few christmas gifts. andrew's suitcase came about ten o'clock at night. now he could finally change out of that key club t-shirt. a christmas day unlike any before. one that mom said we would always remember.

boxing day involved street cricket. and walks through the neighborhood. and a rough swim in the sea. another day to simply be a part of grand roy. other days we rode around the island with mary-theresa, took in the concord waterfalls with elisha, viewed the western coast from a motorboat with kimo and jacko, swam in the clear waters at grand anse beach, enjoyed fish kabobs and fishcakes at fish friday, walked around st. george's, heard steel pan music, ate grendian's national dish of oil down, realized a week isn't long enough to take in all of grenada.

some of my favorite moments were simple things. like chatting in the mornings with dad before mom and andrew were awake. seeing him give fatherly attention to the kids that would hang around. listening to the avett brothers and 90's rock cds with my brother. watching him naturally play football or cricket or with the neighborhood kids. teaching mom to make passion fruit juice and grenadian dishes. falling asleep talking to her, waking up beside her. sharing these moments, this place, this life, with all three of them.

the last day they were in grand roy, we went on a spontaneous hike through the bush, up to the top of a hill that overlooks grand roy. me and kimo and andrew and more kids than i can count. it was a wonderful last minute adventure. a change in perspective. to look down and see all that is grand roy. now when i talk of grand roy. of grenada. of the people here. my family will understand. their perspective has changed. they came to see. came to live as grenadians. at least for a week. and everyone here bets they'll be back again.

as for me, i'm striving to appreciate this place, these moments, this family here. wondering what this new year will hold. praying for openness. for guidance. for patience. for union with that divine spirit so mysteriously incarnate within us. and among us.

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.