Trip Reflections
Trip Reflections 2010
Reflection Becky Boyle
Loving people—especially those that initially appear to not have anything in common with you—can be a hard, messy business. However, it is not as hard or messy as attempting to communicate with a toothless, 80-year-old woman speaking to you in rapid Spanish while you are running on a few hours of sleep and have been standing and hiking for a few hours more. When I went to Honduras, I learned that both are possible, in spite of the messiness.
In the chapel of the seminary of Lepaterique, there was a little saying over the tabernacle that read, “The language of love breeds equality and similarity.” No matter what language we spoke when we visited the people of Santiago Apostol, we managed to come together in similarity, equality and love that could be found in the Eucharist—in the celebration of God’s love and the global community it creates. I really felt that through service to as well as the shared bond of Christ and His love for all people with the community, I was able to forge a new sort of family with the people of Lepaterique. For me, this was very lucky, because I left the states right as my own family faltered.
We were in the Houston airport. It was around 10:30, and our flight for Tegucigalpa was leaving in about a half hour, when all communication between home and Honduras would be severely limited. It was then that my mom called and told me that my uncle, who had been suffering from ALS for almost two years, had passed away. At that moment, I was torn between returning to my family and attending my uncle’s funeral or continuing on to Lepaterique. Ultimately, I came to understand that the pain my family and I were suffering at that moment should not be contained; rather, my uncle would have wanted me to carry my hurt out into the world, to do something as a way to alleviate the suffering I saw around me. So, that is what the medical mission to the various communities around Lepaterique came to mean for me as I helped the team and the people of Santiago Apostol organize makeshift clinics in Regadillos, Ovejo and Oropule. We treated over 1000 people in a week by delivering antibiotics, vitamins, painkillers, toothbrushes, and more packs of bracelets and sheets of stickers than I can count. Throughout my time of service, I felt guilty for my lack of contact with my family as they dealt with my uncle’s death, and then helpless when my guilt kept me from reaching out to the people of Lepaterique. But there were moments when I wasn’t being particularly serving—when I joked with Padre Miguel and the brothers of the seminary about the World Cup, when I taught silly English phrases to my buddy Mario, when I danced and played with the kids in the villages, when we celebrated mass with the various communities, and when I allowed others to comfort me when I was upset—that I felt truly at peace with my decision to be in Lepaterique. I had a whole crowd of cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents and parents around me. Even more astoundingly, I saw and felt the tender love and respect God has for all people when I engaged in those activities and looked upon the faces of the people. If not for our shared faith in God and his ability to heal, serve, and foster love and change, then none of us would be connected in such an intimate manner. None of us would even know each other.
On one of the final nights that we were in Lapaterique, I finally got to ride back to the seminary on the back of my friend Nepthali’s motorcycle, riding through the mountains that surrounded the villages. The sun cut through the mist that hung over the black-green slopes as it sank below the horizon, and the clouds loomed big and gray overhead. The dirt roads were bumpy and soft with rain, and lime trees and banana groves seemed to lean into our path as we rode. I looked around and recalled how in the beginning of the week, I was looking for a sign that everything would be OK with my family, with God, and with me. In that moment, when it seemed as though God was as close as the mist left behind by that afternoon’s drizzle and the last of the families who had attended our clinic waved and called to us as we passed, thanking us one last time for our work, I wondered why I ever needed a sign in the first place.
Nothing I try to write down will fully capture my experience in Honduras. I feel as though I have so many more stories to tell and am leaving so many things out: the way the camera felt in my hands as I snapped a million photos of people and scenery; how the hands of the little girls felt when they pulled needles out of mine after I grabbed a yucca plant in the wrong spot; how the music sounded as we danced on the top of mountain on our way into Oropule; what it meant to run up a mountain early in the morning; the way each mass we celebrated was different, except for the abounding enthusiasm people had when offering hugs and kisses for peace. I don’t think I can run out of stories that all speak the same thing: through the language of love comes similarity and respect.
Most importantly, I am forgetting to mention the faces of each person after they finished consulting with a doctor, or receiving some small token from the team members, or playing a game with us, or exchanging a greeting: grateful for our time and our service. It used to be hard to grasp what those faces looked like as I sent along my money and medicine and school supplies to the collection bins in the Narthex, but now, there are names. There are lives and memories and emotions attached to Santiago Apostol for me now. I would not trade that for the world.
Reflection Fr. Todd
On the Sunday I returned from our visit to the people of St. James, the Gospel was from Luke 9:23: “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me.” I always have found this to be a difficult passage. This is not what we typically turn to Jesus for; more sacrifice, crosses, and dependence. Many of us are turning to Jesus for just the opposite, for comfort in a troubled world, for blessings, for strength to stand on our own.
As I mentioned in the homily that Sunday, the medical clinics that we hosted seem like a good illustration of how this verse applies. Many of the people who came to our rural clinics had to make great sacrifices to come and receive just a small amount of medicine and also take a chance that they might arrive too late to receive any. They had small children and babies with them that also needed medicine. They were following the clinics to get needed medical supplies. We made smaller sacrifices but they were sacrifices nonetheless. We left our homes, families and comforts that we were accustomed to, to be with and offer medical care to a lot of people we had never met before. We were also following. We always went where we were asked to go.
Everybody in this situation was doing some denying, accepting of crosses and attempting to follow Jesus. As a result, in a small way, maybe… the Kingdom of God was experienced in some way in a couple of parishes coming together.
Reflection Amy Mischler
My trip to Lepaterique was not only a trip, it was an amazing journey. Each day since my return, I think back to what a difference that the people of Lepaterique have made in my life. They are a true affirmation that a simple life is a happy life. It truly surprised me at how happy these people are, whether it be in welcoming us, their interaction with one another, or simply during mass. There were people who walked over three hours in the pouring rain, without flashlights or street lights, to attend mass. I can personally see Americans walking three hours for a get together with friends, but unfortunately not to attend mass. Their faith is unbelievable! What broke my heart was to see the people with an illness or injury that would be easily fixed/cured here in the US. Because they do not have the most basic healthcare, their small problems end to be insurmountable ones. I pray that God will continue watching over our brothers and sisters in Lepaterique, and for the people of St. Monica to continue helping them, giving them hope. I thought I knew how blessed I was prior to this trip but really had no idea until I went to Lepaterique.
Reflection Kathleen Cohenour
“Do you see this woman?” the Gospel asks. The ancient, barefoot woman in indigenous dress sitting huddled next to me on the crowded church pew had seemed exotic, fascinating. I look again and see not some oddity but a sister, connected to me across our widely divergent lives by our mutual faith. We have both come a great distance to be here, sharing this Mass. “ Face time“, we had decided several years ago while forming our Sister Parish leadership team, is important. It’s how we can really connect. Each year that I’ve returned here to Lepaterique the connection has deepened. Now I look for familiar faces in a crowd, miss the ones who are absent, crave a hug from someone with whom I’ve shared long days trudging up mountains or working in dank makeshift clinics. I meet the new baby that Patricia told me she was expecting last year. I hear how Nepftali’s brother in America is doing. I congratulate Amada for finishing her education. We are friends, reconnecting and catching up on each other’s lives.
Children are invited to come forward and offer spontaneous prayer during the prayers of the faithful. I can’t believe how profoundly they express their faith. Each one prays for us, the people of St Monica. Padre Miguel tells us they do this every time they are together. Someone always brings us up and prays for our needs. I am struck by the contrast. We say the sister parish prayer and take up a free will offering monthly. Our Honduran brothers and sisters pray for us constantly. We are never far from their thoughts. How can we learn to keep them as close? How can we learn to see them?
When the unreliable electricity gives out halfway through the meeting of the leadership groups of Santiago Apostal and St Monica we are plunged into darkness. We continue talking, only dimly able to make out each other’s form across the room. We had been talking about how the relationship has grown and changed and how we have felt the walls that separate our cultures come down as we have spent more time together. I express that I feel like we are finally able to have honest dialogue instead of feeling that we are constantly being deferred to and overprotected. Sr Chillo jokes, “Well here in the dark, we really are equal.” Isn’t this how God sees us, I wonder?
Taking a break from the endless work of attending patients I share a sandwich with Nepftali and we reminisce about the visit from last year during which we had many opportunities to get to know each other. “ I was really looking forward to seeing all of you again. You feel like friends, and I’m not afraid to talk to you anymore.” This is exactly what I needed to refresh my sagging spirits. We listen to the shrieks of laughter from children playing “Red Rover” with members of our group and beam. Another generation is learning the joy of face time. Another barrier is falling.
Riding home from the last long day of work in the clinic Padre Miguel asks, “Estas contento, Kathy?” This could be translated, “Are you happy?” But the Spanish is closer to my emotion. I am content: used up, poured out, filled up again, renewed and reinvigorated. We have been working hard all day, but not just our visiting team. We worked side by side with our counterparts in Lepaterique. Only because of their help we didn’t have to turn anyone away. At the end of the day we all laugh and clap and celebrate. Every now and then in this life you get a glimpse of how God’s kingdom will be. For me, this visit is one such moment.
Reflection Kelly Jo Bean
This was my third trip down to our sister parish, St. James the Apostle in Lepaterique, Honduras. I thought this might be a great opportunity to thank all of St. Monica’s parishioners. I know some of you choose to give monetary donations throughout the year on the third weekend of every month, or during our collection of medications before the trip each year, some choose to donate medications or supplies; still others choose to give of themselves, in their time or prayers. I just wanted everyone to realize how much you are helping.
The first year that I joined the trip with St. Monica’s, in 2008, we worked many long days doing the medical piece. When I returned home, however, I couldn’t help but think back and ask myself, ‘did we really help?’ We saw patients and families one week out of the whole year, we were able to give vitamins enough for one month, Tylenol for aches and pains or fevers maybe enough for a month or two, and creams and antibiotics for current infections, as well as other medications for current problems. But what about those who get hurt or sick any other month? What about those kids with ear infections or wounds. What about the adults with high blood pressure or injuries? I had this nagging feeling we were just a band aid covering up the problem for just a short period and for just a small percentage of those in the communities.
Well, I got my answer that next year when we returned in 2009. The medical group was able to meet with the nurses and the doctor down in Lepaterique. Each year they work with us during our medical excursions, but we didn’t really get a chance to sit down and talk with them until that year. They had some ideas of what could change and of what really was helping the community. One of the things they mentioned stuck with me. The doctor mentioned that he was able to use a good percentage of the medications throughout the year that we left down there. The doctor would see patients in his clinic. He would prescribe the medication from our donations to those patients that could not afford medicines. That really left an impression on me, knowing that we can really make a difference for those in need year-round. I wanted everyone here at St. Monica’s to understand that too. Please realize that you really are making a difference for our brothers and sisters, whether in your prayers, your time, or in your donations.
Thank You!!
Reflection Liz McKinzie
I’ve always considered myself to be a frugal person. I’m the daughter of parents who grew up in the depression. Superfluous spending has always been discouraged. My mom had a war shelter worth of grocery store deals. In case we couldn’t afford to buy food at some point in the future, for example, if we were under military attack. I was taught to hopefully pick a profression that I enjoyed that would make me a decent living, too. I pinch pennies when I can. Had a good philosophy about spending and saving money. Well, then I go to Honduras.
I was able to get to know the beautiful people of LePaterique not only as a member of St. Monica’s, but also as a physical therapist. I listened to person after person tell me about their knee pain or back pain. I look down at the rubber flip-flops they are wearing. Something we could buy here for under $5, (a bargain hunter’s dream). A natural question was, “Do you have any other shoes?” Something perhaps that would help cushion the impact on their joints when they were walking the 15 minutes to 3 hours to get to us. The answer was always “No.”
These lovely people who when I ask if they lived near the medical clinic we had set up, many people would say “yes.” Then when I ask them, in my broken spanish, how long it took them to get here. They would tell me anywhere from 5 minutes to 2 hours. 2 hours! Walking! How is that close? Especially in your $2 flip-flops! If that’s close, imagine how much they must walk on a daily basis. My feet and knees and back hurt just thinking about it.
So, here I am. . .the frugal spender. Mind you, I had already taken out some clothes this year to donate to the Salvation Army. Now, thinking about the one shoe ordeal. . .I go through my closet again and see how much more frugal I can be. I pick out another 5 bags of clothes to donate. Realize the money I spend on these I could have donated to a charity, or some other important thing I believe in. Not in clothes and shoes that just collect dust in my closet. (Oh, Target is going to miss me.)
This was my third trip to our sister parish. Every year is a little different, each special in its own way. No matter your profession, spanish-speaking skills, or frugality :), I’d encourage you to take time for you and go on the trip next year!
Reflection Paula Koval
Awesome. Overused word that it is, awesome is the one word I would use to describe the trip to Honduras. But yet that word doesn’t seem to begin to come close to describing everything I experienced and felt. From the greeting on our arrival at the airport in Tegucigalpa, to the greeting at the Carmelite seminary, to the greeting at St. James the Apostle, to the greetings at each of the villages where we held the medical clinics, to the farewell celebration, I was overwhelmed with the heartfelt warmth, gratitude and love that were shown towards us. It didn’t matter that our skin was a different color. It didn’t matter if we couldn’t speak their language. It didn’t matter if we were sweaty, smelly, or dirty. It didn’t matter if they had to walk long distances with family members that included grandparents to infants. It didn’t matter if they had to wait several hours in the rain or the heat to be seen at the clinic—-hungry, tired and facing the long walk back to their homes in the dark. It didn’t matter. Through all of it, they saw as us their brothers and sisters in Christ. They opened my eyes to help me look at the world differently. They helped me to look at the world and see Christ in every one of us. The Honduran people gave so much more to me than I ever gave to them.
A simple, profound, and humbling experience. The definition of awe in Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary is a profound and humbly fearful reverence inspired by deity or by something sacred or mysterious.
Maybe awesome is just the right word.
Reflection Sarah Hein
Una Familia/One Family
Ever since getting back, I knew what I was going to write about–family.
Most that know me well, know that my family is the center of my world,
so this is an obvious topic for me to write about. Like my family here,
family in Lepaterique is important to me. Finding the right words and
thoughts to paint my picture did not come together for me, until I went
back through my journal. Hopefully that picture will become more
vibrant for you, as put my jumbled thoughts into words.
As I looked back through my journal, everything fell into place. Faith
and love are vital parts of being a family. There are many ways to say
“family.” Many of those were present each and every day of our stay in
Lepaterique. I am going to share some of my family memories with you.
Many are the simple joys of everyday life.
The biggest part of my Lepaterique family is my biological family, for
without their love, prayers, and support, I could never make this
journey. They molded me into the person that I continue to become.
Then, there is the St. Monica family who help to nourish my soul through
shared faith. These are the family members that I have chosen to grow
in faith with; these are the family members with whom I lived and
traveled, during our stay in Lepaterique. All of us telling our own
stories of family.
Growing up, mealtime was family time. In Regedillio, we shared several
meals with the people–meals to nourish the body and meals to nourish
the soul, through the blessed sacrament of Communion. All were family
time and time to share the everyday joys and sorrows together, as one.
Families continually grow and change. While in Lepaterique we had many
opportunities to meet the newest additions to the family. We met
Patricia’s infant son, who is already learning the joys of being part of
a family and the gift that he has been given. We also were able to meet
and share the joy of meeting and greeting the newest members of our
church family, as many little ones were baptized into their Catholic
faith. It was an amazing experience to be part of their faith journey
and to watch God bring His gentleness into their lives.
There are the family times of home, that one misses when one is
away–those special days, such as a beloved nephew’s birthday–where,
despite the distance you are still able to share the day and feel that
you are together, because of the deep bonds of faith and love.
A name is something that is unique to each person. There is a special
family bond, when a name is shared. On Sunday and Monday, St. Monica
went to visit, play, and help the people of Santa Monica sector. The
commonality of family, sharing the same name provides a special sense of
family love–a bond of love and shared experiences like no other.
Family and the importance of family were reinforced for us, as members
of our family had to remain at the monastery, because of illness. The
rest of us were atop the mountain in Oropule, with our brothers and
sisters there. As we celebrated Mass on the mountain top, with the
majestic mountains providing a breathtaking backdrop, Padre Miguel spoke
of family and the importance of allowing this relationship to thrive and
grow, wherever one may be.
Faith and the practice of that faith are vital parts of family life.
The sharing of that faith with the Carmelite brothers and fathers, in
the intimate setting of the mass was a beautiful and wonderful way to
strengthen the bonds of family. It is like a soft blanket that you wrap
around yourself. It is comforting to know that you can share with your
family without fear and know that all will love you till the end of
time.
Family loves you and greets you when you come to visit. They also hug
you and love you and send you on your way to grow in their love,
friendship, and faith.
Mi familia/my family is what keeps me going–here and in Lepaterique.
When you add it all together–faith love, and friendship, it can only be
one God-given thing, una familia/one family in God.
