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.
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