Some Final Thoughts

I apologize that it has taken me a couple of days to get these final thoughts recorded on the blog, and I hope any of you following this have a chance to see these last postings. We all got home, safe and sound, a little tired and still congested from the bad air of Quito but glad we had the opportunity to be present with the people we are serving in this part of the world. Too, we were proud to be St. Mark's representatives in this mission. We get to see the smiles, hear the stories, get the thanks for all of the work all of you make possible. Without all of you, very little of this ministry would be possible. The priest on Saturday was right, it is the people of "San Marco," by the grace of God, who make a lot of things possible. In the cab on the way to the airport, our friend Washington made a point to tell us how much he respects the people of St. Mark. We care, we give hope to people that no one else, not even their own government, care about.

We got back to St. Mark from Reagan Airport around 12:45 Sunday afternoon, soon enough to see the last people leaving from the last liturgy of the day, and soon enough for me to catch up with my friend, Pastor Gary Sandberg, who had been the preacher in my stead for the morning. In many ways, our conversation summed up the experience of the week. Pastor Sandberg told me of a statistic he had recently come across that said Christian communities in the United States had contributed nearly $3 billion (yes, billion) to Haiti over the past 20 years, and Haiti is still a pit. I said, very quickly, that I think that I understand why. Everyone sends some money, a box of medicine, a few kids to work on a house or two, some coloring books for the little kids to Haiti. It makes us feel good. It makes us feel like we're doing something, but really we aren't doing anything but dumping resources down a hole. Change only happens when you stick with a place over the long haul. All of the people sending money and goods to Haiti want to do good things, but we do something and we're done with that. We move on to something else. Nothing permanent sticks.

We have been in Quito, Ecuador for a number of years (about 6) now. The Goffs have been there nearly 10 years now. It has taken us this long to see the things we are starting to see now. It is a long, long road to which we still can't see the end, probably because there is no end. As Washington and the parish priest said, no one cares except for us. If we stepped away now, all of the work we have invested would probably fizzle away within 18 months. This isn't to say that we are indispensable, only that there is no one to take our place if we pull out. It takes years to build the relationships necessary for the ministry we see now to begin to take hold. You all are to be commended for your willingness to "hang in" with these families, these kids in a place we hardly knew of before this all started. The difference between Haiti and the kids and families at the Refugio isn't money, it's your willingness to support and pray for these kids month after month, year after year.

Peace to you from the St. Mark Pilgrims

Confirmations and Celebrations

Saturday, October 30 brought us to one of the principal reasons we came to Ecuador at this time. At the noonday liturgy, two young people from the Refugio would be confirmed, seven would be baptized and seven would receive their first communion.

Earlier in the morning we had a chance to meet the local parish priest. This was a new priest from the one we had spent time with last year. To say that the change was dramatic would be an extreme understatement. The good padre's passion for the people of his community was palpable from the moment we began to speak with him. He was so excited to meet with us, but especially to let us know how important our involvement with the kids of the Refugio was to both them and to him personally. Our involvement helped him get the materials for his classes, something he couldn't provide with the small offerings of his parishoners. He was thrilled to meet the vicar, to meet a young man preparing for ministry. I was able to bring him the gift of one of my stoles (what he really wanted was my clerical shirt!), which he promised to wear at the day's liturgy. After this, he took us down a few blocks to see a building he is trying to refurbish for the community's worship. Maybe three times the size of the other church, he was excited that when the project was completed there would be room for far more people to worship together.

As the families gathered for worship, clearly everyone was excited. The girls looked like prom queens, the boys like little James Bonds ready for a party, and the little boys who were to be baptized were dressed in sailor suits, complete with hats. The liturgy included a sermon that was notable for two reasons. First, the priest reminded the parents of the tremendous gifts they had in their children, and their need to treasure them. And, he reminded them of the tremendous gift of the people of "San Marco" who stood with them, even when no one else would. As the young people who were baptized came forward, he placed the end of the stole we had brought him on their heads as he prayed the prayer of blessing for them.

What is interesting is how certain customs seem to cut across cultural lines. Afterward, families were anxious to take pictures, to have families in their pictures and to have us in the pictures with them. Afterward, we were invited to two parties. What was even more interesting is the strong feeling of de ja vu at these events. I've been to dozens of parties just like these. Families gather together, favorite foods are cooked, as much as a kitchen can contain, and there is cake. The family sits around and eats food and the little kids run around and play. Sound familiar? The most touching, though, was Monica. If you look down into last year's blog, you can see a picture of Monica's old home, a couple of rooms full of trash. Now, her mother has kicked the abusive man in their lives out of the house and was now trying as hard as she could to provide a better life for her children. None of us would want to live where they are now, but it is a million miles from where they were a year ago. There was a pile of food, something that couldn't have come easily for this lady, a cake, a decoration on the front door proclaiming that a baptism had happened and Monica, smiling in her white princess dress. If even just for a day, the people of St. Mark had dramatically changed the life of one family.