It has only been five days since I left. I knew this first week might be the hardest. Mostly I miss my mom's hugs-- I never realized how much my body could ache for an embrace. I chug along because I am sure that next week will be much easier. The life here is so much different than at home. I had become used to sleeping in late and doing whatever I wanted.
Here we awake at 6:30, have morning prayer, and eat breakfast all together. Then, I spend the morning studying portuguese. Oh my--how I love studying. I dreaded it for so long and now I am loving it. Then we walk to mass (in the SNOW) in downtown Brooklyn. We come back to the house, pray our rosary, and then have lunch. After lunch, I go with Terese to do our visits in the neighborhood. Two days a week we go to the nearby nursing home and visit the people who are so so lonely. Angel is one of my favorites so far. He is from Puerto Rico, but speaks English pretty well. He likes when I read his newspaper and always wants me to take it home. I also love a woman named Ollie. She is vibrant and has these eyes that sparkle more than I've ever seen before. I can tell she once was full of life. They all tell us how lonely it is there. Not many people visiting and of course no one really likes each other.
Yesterday, we went to CROCHET class. There is a community center that many of the elderly women and mothers gather once a week for class. I had not crocheted since I was a little girl so they all enjoyed teaching me. The teacher often yelled at me for my terrible technique. I probably enjoyed their company more than they enjoyed mine. We laughed together and I loved to observe their bickerings towards each other. In the middle of class they put down their little sticks (oh how Victoria would yell at me if she knew I didn't remember the stick's name), and they had ESL class.
After class we traveled to visit a priest in Manhatton. He fell and hurt his leg and cannot go out for a few months. We talked with him for over two hours. He told us all about life in our neighborhood when he became a priest 51 years ago. He had little fruit plates prepared for us in his fridge and also gave us orange juice. It was so cute as he had probably planned it early that morning.
I musn't forget to share about Tuesday night. So we live in the projects in Brooklyn. We spend our days visiting poor, lonely people. And then Tuesday night we took the train into the city and visited a beautiful home for a jazz concert. We took the elevator up to their loft, which belongs to two French artists. In the living room, the band was set up. They had a spread of beautiful appetizers and lots and lots of wine. We helped greet all of the guests, drank some wine, and then got to watch the show. It was INCREDIBLE. I was filled with joy. They put on shows once a month to promote art. People from all over--missionaries and famous people alike--came to watch. The band is touring in Europe starting next week. The house was filled with sculptures and the band used it as inspiration. It was truly remarkable to watch them play.
I too must be like the musicians. They put their entire self into the playing of that instrument and in those moments they completely forgot about their own being. They became selfless and the result was such beauty. In my mission I must put my entire self into loving the people. I must forget about my own being and in that instant, the result will be beautiful.
When we left their apartment that night, snow was falling from the sky. There was so much peace in my heart because I knew that I was right where God wanted me to be.
(sorry for any misspellings. I don't have spell check because this is a french computer and it is telling me that every word is wrong...)
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