Waking up in Suchitoto

I'm back home in Suchitoto - came back with the remnants of a cold still clinging to me and spent almost all day yesterday in bed. This morning, though, with plenty of errands and a trip to the capital city pending, I climbed out of bed, washed my clothes, said good morning to Margaret Jane and was getting ready for breakfast when I heard the unmistakable sound of drums coming up our street. Opened the door, and there was today's parade, the entire student body of the Centro Escolar Ana Dolores Arias - Suchitoto's public girls' school - with banners, drums, flowers, and a few little girls in fancy dresses (most were wearing their school uniforms). I have no idea what the purpose of the parade was, but what a delight to come back to a town where the morning's disruption is a parade. And while the appalling toll of human tragedies in El Salvador continues to mount - I learned today that the mother of a Salvadoran doctor who has worked with us was recently killed, another victim of the senseless violence that racks this country - the parades and fiestas, the evidence of the love of life and community that is so strong here, gives me hope.

Home again

Four good days of meetings concluded - we managed a strategic overview of communications for the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, and set out a plan for a new bi-annual journal that will begin this fall - it's time to get on the plane and head south. It feels, somehow, a bit stranger to be going home to Suchitoto from Englewood Cliffs than from my familiar room at St. Mary-on-the-Lake in Bellevue.

I've been sneezing, honking and dripping my way through a cold, probably caught on my way up, that I hope is past the transmissable stage. Sympathy to all those who will be sitting anywhere near me on the plane - though I'm going to take a strong antihistamine in hopes of reducing the drip.

I return with many envelopes for Margaret Jane, carrying the love of her sisters and a few donations to her teaching ministry. It's been great to see how valued our missions in El Salvador and Haiti are to our community here at home.

A day in the City

Yesterday Eleanor Gilmore and I took advantage being here before the meetings started to enjoy being tourist in New York in April sunshine. I'd never been to St. Patrick Cathedral, so we started there and had the bliss of wandering from altar to altar while a choir treated us to sacred music a capella - preceded and followed by the most glorious organ music from an organ big enough to fill and overflow that enormous space. We went on to ramble through Central Park and gawk at the Dakota, a grand apartment building that I've often read about - most notably in Jack Finney's wonderful Time and Again. We ate lunch in a Scottish pub and gelato in Central Park, and had a grand day. I'd love to spend years exploring New York City, but that time seems unlikely to come my way. Today, in breaks from our meeting, I contented myself with looking across the Hudson past the George Washington Bridge toward the towers of Manhattan, toward that great city that captures and humbles the imagination.

Earth Day at St. Michael's

Earth Day in St. Michael's, our convent overlooking the Hudson River in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. I'm here for meetings of a commun-ications group, but since these don't start until Saturday, I have a couple of days to enjoy the beauty of springtime - a season that doesn't happen in El Salvador - and to connect with the sisters here. That's the flag of earth, la tierra bendita, flying along with the U.S. flag, among the azaleas and lilacs and narcissus of this gentle season.

May the wholeness and holiness of our earth be blessed and protected this day and always.

A place overlooking the valley

I drove Leslie and Christy and Antonia from CIS up to Comasagua today so we could all be part of Mercedes' burial. We got to the town near the end of Mass, con cuerpo presente, with the body present and flowers upon flowers upon flowers. Then, in a group of about 300 people (I'm guessing) we walked slowly and a long way, perhaps a mile, to the community cemetery. There on the edge, in a beautiful spot overlooking the valley and the next ridge, the grave had been dug. No astroturf carpet here. People who loved Mercedes talked about the gift she had been to her family and friends and community, and people who loved her lowered her coffin into the ground, and people who loved her shoveled the dirt on top, and we all cried. Then women brought the flowers and stuck them into the earth on top of her grave, so many that they could hardly fit, but they did and made a glorious garden and the whole hillside was full of her friends, another kind of garden.

Mercedes and her husband Salvador have three children - Andrea, who looks just like her mother, and Ernesto, and the youngest, 10 years old, Ileana. I gave Salvador a copy of the photo of Mercedes from the Romero 30th anniversary celebration (it's in my last post) and he said - that's just what she's looking like in heaven.

It's impossible to escape the thought that in the United States Mercedes would probably not have died, would probably have gotten much quicker attention to her heart condition, would probably not have suffered a stroke. She tried to get seen in the local health clinic, but without success, and the hospital she went to, while the best in the country, doesn't have enough diagnostic equipment to test all patients quickly. She shouldn't have died at 46, but she did. People die every day here from ignored diseases or lack of medication or inadequate treatment. It's a justice issue Mercedes cared about.

I've gone in one short week from a baptism to a burial, from a joyful beginning to a sorrowful ending. But there is also joy, though it's harder to unwrap, in celebrating a life lived with courage, determination, joy and justice - the life and legacy of Mercedes Arias of Comasagua.

Adios, Mercedes

Mercedes Arias died today. I can't give you medical language on it, but apparently her heart attack led to a blood clot invading her brain, and then to bleeding into the brain. We will be saying a formal farewell tomorrow in Comasagua.

This is my favorite photo of Mercedes, taken at the 30th anniversary celebration of the death of Monseñor Romero, just a few weeks ago. Mercedes was only 15 when he died, but she has been one of the many Salvadorans who have lived his legacy. She was a quiet, determined and very effective woman, a great organizer, a strong voice for justice in her beloved community of Comasagua. She will be terribly missed by her husband, her children, her co-workers at the Centro de Intercambio y Solidaridad (CIS), her many friends, her town.

Go gently into God's hands, Mercedes. May your work of justice continue through all of us who loved you.

Mercedes

Please pray for Mercedes Arias, whose photo is here. Mercedes did a magnificent job of coordinating our clinics in her town of Comasagua in 2009 and has continued to be a good friend and great contact for me and for PazSalud. I learned today that she had a heart attack and tonight is in Hospital Rosales, the national hospital in the center of San Salvador. I'm told that she has begun to stabilize. I hope to visit her tomorrow and hope even more that soon I'll be able to visit her again in her beloved Comasagua.