one day at a time.

saturday morning i found myself by the river once again. washing a few clothes. not plenty. just enough to get by. before the sun got too hot. enjoying the peace of the river. but my mind also wandering to things to come. considering my next placement. and the discernment process that's starting. reflecting on challenges. and passions. and calling. and such things.

then comes glenda. my neighbor who has moved to the next village. but still returns on occasion for things like washing. and church. and i have missed her being right across the street. so the moments to just rinse clothes alongside her were precious.

in harmony with the music of the river, glenda started singing an old hymn. that kind of sincere singing. coming from deep inside.

one day at a time.
sweet Jesus.
that's all i'm asking from you.
just give me the strength.
to do everyday. what i've got to do.
yesterday's gone.
sweet Jesus.
and tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord, help me each day.
show me the way.
one day at a time.

and although i didn't know the verses, i had heard this chours before. and i was able to sing with glenda. there in the river. and the words were a comfort. amidst this anticipation of future journeys. one day at a time. that's all we're given. that's how we're called to live. embracing the moments we have. for tomorrow has enough worries of its own. and glenda's wisdom amazed me. as she shared right what i needed to hear. without even realizing it.

the rest of the day was baking banana bread. and visiting glenda by her new home. and practicing steel pan. and i was thankful for that day.

the following morning was church. encouragement not to let our hearts be troubled. but to simply trust. and focus on the things that are eternal. spent the rest of the morning and afternoon at ednora's, with a few methodist women in their sixties and seventies, as we cooked a potluck sunday breakfast and lunch together. and chatted. and laughed. and looked at pictures. and rested. and fellowshiped. and i was thankful for this time. for women that love me. and take care of me. and give me glimpses into their lives. and i went home in time to take my laundry down from the clothes line. and dance and pray in the sea at sunset.

i'm realizing that i'm about halfway through my stay here. about eight months have passed. about eight more to go, praise God. and i don't know if i've embraced each moment as i should have. and i don't know if i've loved enough. contributed enough. been patient enough. but i pray that whatever time is remaining will be spent in ways that are good. that honor God. that honor people. that i can trust in where i am. in where i will be. and simply live. and live simply. one day at a time.

a shady spot by the river.

abby. you going by de sea?
oh. no. i'm going to go sit by the river. find a nice shady spot and read.
what? abby's a madwoman. likes to sit by the river. likes to watch the sunset.
yeah. i guess i am mad.
abby, go on. go sit by your river.

a quiet saturday afternoon inspired me to venture up the river a ways. to read. and journal. and reflect. despite the fact that my neighbors think i'm crazy. i mean, i guess i am. but that's another story.

and as usual by the river, there were moments of solitude. the harmonious music of the water and the birds the only sounds. and there were moments of community. folks coming by the river to wash. to bathe. visiting the river for practical reasons. unlike me.

the time was healing for me. able to get out words and thoughts about my own restlessness. my own wandering. my own wondering. on the next to last page of the leafy journal amanda gave me.

i was also able to take in words. to listen to words much more profound than mine. words of rachel corrie in her journal entries. and all of her writing is tragically beautiful. but my pen found itself making note of a couple of quotes:

"i've always crushed the flowers while staring at migratory birds. now i am learning to notice the smell of the trees." p. 69

"thinking it over, i realized that the most powerful actions i can take towards societal improvement will have to start very close to home, arising not from the need to leave a mark on history, but from empathy and sincere understanding of the places in my life where neglect exists." p. 78

one day i will migrate. one day i will fly away. and i wonder where the wind will blow me. but until then, i am planted here. until then, this is home. may i embrace the trees. the flowers. the things rooted here. instead of being so distracted by the birds. may i accept that i cannot solve everything. but may i find the inspiration. the gifts. the opportunities. to contribute however i can. to love. to give. to honor. open my eyes. my soul. to those places where neglect exists. right where i am. amidst the river. amidst the sunset. amidst the people.

beyond the easter bunny.

more than one person has said they hoped i would convey a bit about easter in grenada. so here's a bit about my recent experiences. from my "grenadian" perspective...

holy thursday. found a spot in the pew beside miss daphne. one of those sweet hat wearing church ladies who shares her prayer book with me. readings of passover. and footwashing. twelve men were invited to the front to have their feet washed by the priest. a reenactment of jesus profound example of servanthood at the passover meal with his disciples. and i've never connected maundy thursday service with footwashing before. only communion. so i appreciated the combination. i was wondering the whole time if the twelve were going to wash the congregation's feet. since jesus did command his disciples to continue to serve each other. but no one else's feet were washed. which is ok. maybe it would have taken too long. or made people uncomfortable. (church should never make people uncomfortable, should it?) the ceremony was nice. but i longed to participate too. same with communion. still not sure if i'm really allowed to receive the eucharist. since i'm not catholic. since i can't seem to grasp the literal transformation of the elements into jesus. so i didn't participate in communion either. and the service was nice. and i could join in the songs and the readings and the prayers. but somehow felt limited in full worship. and how often in life is our worship limited. through circumstances, distractions, reluctance.

good friday. an early service with the tiny methodist crowd. simple. didn't change my life. but a reminder of the cross. of the death that is necessary for resurrection to follow. literally hopped out of the car into the procession through the stations of the cross with the catholic church. walked and sang and prayed alongside of folks all the way from grand roy to concord. half the time i couldn't hear the readings. but i appreciated the songs. the time for reflection. the time to simply follow the way of the cross. alongside of jesus. alongside of people. it very much resembled a typical funeral procession in grenada. everyone in their black and white. mournful hymns sung. and it was my prayer that i might come to understand what it truly means to follow the way of the cross. to share in christ's life. suffering. death. but also in the hope of resurrection. that it isn't just a ceremony. but a way of life. once we got to concord, we took a water break. and then had good friday mass. there was a interesting crucifix painted at the front. another white jesus. and i wished he was painted black. or at least somewhere in between. scripture. and song. and sermon. and communion. there was also an additional ceremony. a wooden crucifix was held up by the acolytes. and the congregation was invited to come to the front, bow before the dying jesus. and even kiss it if so led. i didn't feel so led. so i watched. observed. participated through prayer.

back i grand roy, cooked what i had been told is the traditional grenadian good friday meal: salt mackeral and provision. my friend kimo came over to help. the meal would have turned out a lot more awkward had i attempted it myself. we boiled the salt mackeral, which had been soaking since the night before. tore it up, removed the bones as best we could, then cooked it with cabbage, carrots, peppers, onions, and oil. also boiled sweet potatoes. plantains. dasheen. and yam. for the side. actually turned out nice. and looked presentable enough for me to confidently share a sampling with the neighbors.

kids flying kites around the neighborhood. homemade kites from reeds and plastic and thread. trying their best to catch the easter breeze. reminding me of God's spirit. moving us. guiding us. giving us meaning. and direction. and purpose. without whom we are merely reeds and plastic and thread.

visted with chester up the street. chester amazes me. he has a recording business for local musicians. a profound understanding of technology and music. plays bob marley on an out of tune guitar. and quotes scripture like a biblical scholar. has been in a wheelchair since he was a teenager. but transcends the limits life has given him. somehow conversation with him always ends up being spiritual. always makes me think about God and scripture and things in a different way. and i cherish those visits. where words have depth. and meaning.

holy saturday. a typical long walk through the neighborhood. taking my time to visit folks along the way. washed and rinsed my clothes in the river. embracing moments of solitude. where the only sounds are the running of the river. and the old timey hymns that spill out of my mouth. enjoying the people that pass by. dwayne volunteering to help me wash my socks. glenda and kedra bathing as mother and daughter. olin washing xorian's ridiculously long hair. neighborhood boys playing and splashing when they're supposed to be bathing. a perfect people watching spot. and washing and rinsing takes me so long. that even with shade and sunscreen, i managed to get my back terribly sunburned. then had chances to read. and catch the sunset. and learn how to make sweet potato pudding with glenda.

easter sunday. gathered wildflowers on my morning walk to bring to church. thinking about sunrise services and church breakfasts and easter traditions back home. got ready and went down the street for mass. sat by stephon from my after school class. he shared some of his flowers with me when he saw how mine were slightly mashed and wilted. one of my favorite parts of the service was when everyone brought their flowers forward and placed them in five gallon buckets at the front of the church. a beautiful, colorful, diverse arrangement. and it didn't matter how simple or elaborate your flowers were. the point was the beauty they held when placed altogether. and father martin talked about the beauty that each person inherently holds. and the added beauty when we come together in community. and there were songs of praise. and resurrection. we even sang "up from the grave he arose" during the passing of the peace. complete with tambourine and bongos. and we sang "i am the resurrection and the life," a song that brings back memories of early church back home and how our minister sydnor could never get us to clap on beat... just at stephon shared his flowers, he shared his candle with me during the renewal of baptism. beyond that he shared his joy. and love. as he naturally does.

got to talk with the fam on the phone. and help glenda with the last preparations for easter lunch. she let me eat with them so i had a family to eat with on easter. they made numerous dishes. macaroni pie. potato salad. cabbage and carrot salad. baked chicken wings. stewed pumpkin. provision. it was different though. meals are shared. but not around a common table. people come and go. eat when they feel like it. so i was surrounded by people, but it was different than everyone eating together at once. i had just enough time to eat before i had to head up the hill to meet the pan truck. we got everything loaded up and headed to tanteen, past town, for an easter concert alongside other steel bands. it was fun to play again. a treat to listen to other groups. certainly a unique easter evening.

easter monday. another neighborhood walk. lots of folks around. kids out of school people out of work. a group cooking oil down in a huge pot up in mon plasir. love the idea of people coming together to cook as a community. the oil down was actually for harvest later. spent a little time with miss hilda. who seems quite neglected. even by family that lives next door.

got to have a nice easter chat with grandma and grandpa. who seem to be doing better and better, praise God. grandma talks about the spring flowers. and the beauty of rebirth that they remind her of.

back at home, decided some easter cleaning was in store. so i started sweeping and dusting and mopping and straightening as the neighbor's radio blared across the street. the cleaning process always seems to entail more than initially anticipated. one cleaning project leads to another. until i start cleaning, i don't realize how truly dirty the whole place is. and if i don't clean as i go, the cleaning duties build up. and i thought about our souls being cleansed. and how things can build up. and how when we start to look within ourselves, we come to realize there's more and more cleaning to be done. and it made me thankful for a God than does cleanse us thoroughly. cobwebs and dust and dirt and all.

eventually made it to harvest. a celebration the day after easter sponsored annually by the catholic church. lots of local food. and treats. games for the kids. music. fellowship. enjoyed the oil down i had observed being prepared up the road this morning. walked around. visited the haunted house. talked with folks. played pan. a joyful experience to play for people from my own community. and to see the people dancing and smiling and enjoying themselves. stuck around a little while. tried to be a part of things. even when the dj music and dancing later weren't exactly my style.

(oh, and one easter tradition that i didn't experience was time on the beach. this year the waves were strangely rough. so no one really spent time in the sea)

and i love the way my little book of common prayer, we've entered into the first of many weeks of easter. that it isn't just a day. but a season. to live in hope. in joy. as a resurrected people. serving a resurrected Lord. and i pray its more than a season. but a way of life. that yes we die with Christ. but more importantly, we live.

palms.

palm sunday brings about memories of children's choirs singing "hosanna, hosanna, hosanna to the king." palm branches waving. easter cantatas. afternoon easter egg hunts in the front yard of the parsonage. makes me think of last palm sunday. a simple worship service in alma matthews house in greenwich village. alongside some profound future mission interns during interview weekend. where we talked about jesus weeping amidst the praises. because people failed to recognize the things that make for peace. and i had no idea where in the world i would be the next palm sunday.

and all these recollections ran through my mind. as i experienced palm sunday grenada style.

went to the little methodist church in gouyave early. sister christopher brought three simple palms she had borrowed from the catholics in her neighborhood. and she laid them on the prayer altar. later on went to catholic mass back in grand roy. everyone had palm branches. which were blessed with holy water. before we processed around the church. inside, palm branches carpeted the floor. and decorated the pews. and hosannas were sung.

in both services it was palm sunday and passion sunday. so we recognized the triumphant entry of jesus on his humble borrowed donkey. as well as the arrest and trial and cruxifiction. and it was interesting to reflect on such contrasting events within the same worship service. praises and accusations. hosannas and condemnations. the beauty of worship. in juxtaposition with the reality of jesus' suffering. how its just as easy to offer praises as it is to deny jesus. alongside a crowd.

and i long to offer perpetual hosannas. not only with my lips but with my life. but i fail everyday at getting it right. and i'm thankful for the grace of each new day to try again.

and ever since those palm sunday services. i've noticed that there's an abundance of palms all over grenada. everywhere you look, you can't help but set your eyes upon a coconut tree. a fig (banana) tree. or another random plant with palm leaves. and as the trees blow in the easter breeze, they remind me of nature offering its own praises. waving its own palm branches. even if we are silent. even if we fail to honor the holiness around us. the trees are shouting out. and when we realize this, how beautiful it is to sing hosannas. in union with all of creation. in honor of our beautiful Creator.

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.