Celebrating Friendship-- Silver and Gold:

-------------------------- Make new friends and keep the old----------------

-------------------------- One is silver, the other is gold.---------------------

Celebrating my old (Gold) friend Mary---Photo taken at my Commissioning in December

AND

Celebrating my new(Silver) friend Bernie---Photo taken yesterday at Mgahinga National Park, Uganda

You do make a Difference

Dear Friends, April 21, 2007

I have many stories to share with you but instead have decided to share a comment my dear friend Mary Johns sent me .
Mary and I met some 25 years ago when she was the incoming nurse to Sunshine Acres Childrens Home in Mesa AZ. and I was the out going nurse. We met and became instant friends, though I moved away to Oregon, Calf, Pa and eventually to my little cabin in the Arkansas woods
Mary is a wonderful nurse, having served many years in home health and is now the school nurse for an intercity school in AZ , where she is doing a phenomenal job loving the children and teaching them, while bringing together the teachers and the parents. Mary is little in stature but big in heart. This is a true christen woman who gets things done.
I was honored that she attended my “Commissioning” in LA last Dec. and even more honored that she reads my blogs and comments weekly.
Following is last weeks comment :


...
Dear beloved friend, Marie,This little place in the world,where you peaceable tred is filled with it's own challenges, yes, but from all you witness to in word, deed and picture confirms the grace of a simpler and more authentic rhythm.
There are few innuendos. What is experienced and seen, cuts through to the heart and soul,no thick veneer or psycho babble. This must free up a tremendous amount of energy to focus on what is real and essential. These are simple souls, struggling, celebrating, grateful and able to share.
It is so evident you are adjusting to the rhythm and contributing your dance as well, even if it isn't on the Altar, like precious Miss Olivia. Thank you for bringing to the rest of us this incredible reality. What lessons for me and my family.

Here, in the US, we face so much ongoing trauma, and our attention spans are so short lived. It is shameful, but has become a means of surviving what seems out of control. We pray, we sacrifice, we examine and adjust our lives and we HOPE. But where you are, the need to be fully present to the immediate, seems to allow you to avoid so many distractions.

Marie, as my little life, among all my beloved K-6th graders and the school community, unfolds each day, it is as I am on a parallel track to yours. Only in the sense that so much love is required here, so much attentiveness, listening and wisdom, so much compassion. It is truly the simple things, the little words, gestures, homemade tokens of affection, unexpected joy and things to laugh about. It is the owies and booboos, the tragic home lives, the struggles so many immigrant families face that makes us kindred spirits. We make little 'Sunshine Acres" / Kisoro Mesa communities wherever we are, when we bring along the Love of Christ to infuse grace in every thought, word and deed....It makes a difference. Even if only in ones own home or workplace. We each simply must 'bloom where we are planted'...It is the common call we can each respond to. It can be as far away as you are, or right where we are.

So, as all of us who are blessed to know you, go about our moment to moments, we too, will try a little harder to: 'practice the presence of God' in the most ordinary tasks.
My mornings are your evenings and as I greet the day, with joy, you are tucking yours in, having spent yourself for others and ready for sleep to hopefully bring renewal. On my work days, just before our little school starts, from 7:00 am -7:30am, I walk twice (2 miles) around the park near here and sing praises with the morning birds. The mornings I can go to communion, my prayer is for a true sense of being a part of the Body of Christ, along with all others that day. And my prayers are especially united to yours at that time.....peace my friend, love ya and thinking of your little community there and all the people who will touch your life....Mary Johns.

The Dancing Nuns & AIDS Orphans Outreach

Dear Friends April 15, 2007

Greetings from Mutolere, Uganda: home of St. Francis Hospital , a bunch of people who work and live here ( something like Sunshine Acres in Mesa Arizona) and home of yours truly. It actually is beginning to feel more like home every day and the sense of community that was so much a part of (often too much so) of Sunshine Acres Children’s Home, is now finding it’s way back into my life. Examples would go something like this: being gifted with a pineapple by two visiting religious sisters and fresh garden vegetables from Julianna, a lovely woman who as a retired school teacher is often called upon to help with translation from English to Rufumbria and vice versa.
I really wasn’t quite sure what a couple of the vegetables were so my helper Grace cooked the pumpkin, not like Halloween orange pumpkin, but more like a huge green cucumber and with butter and salt---yummy. .
The less appealing side of community living are the unexpected early morning knocks on the door, this am from the neighbor children who apparently felt the need to return a couple of clothes pins that had been left on our shared clothesline –smile.
Quite a busy week starting with Easter Monday; yep another unbelievable moving Mass. All seem to attend the nine am service and this time I had my camera. No Olivia as she was a bit under the weather( must have been that sat. night dancing at the Easter Vigil Service),but the Religious Sisters made up for her as the church was decorated so festively and Fr. John encouraged them and all of us (including me ) to surround the altar in song and dance. I, not quite ready to join in the dancing, took pictures and a few priceless mini vidio’s that I so wish I could include in this blog. Until my brilliant Cuz George Tague( calls himself the Keystone Cop when commenting to my blogs) teaches me how, just let me know if you would like to see “The Dancing Nuns” and I’ll email it to you-smile.
I have been on two outreach programs where we go to a village a distance away and educate the people about HIV-AIDS. Then we distribute lined notebooks to each head of the household, sometimes being an 11 yr. old boy or a 16 yr. old girl, caring for several younger siblings. We distribute 10 books and one pencil or pen, per child and bar soap to wash their clothes. This week , in Kinanira (on the border of the Congo) it started to pour rain and since we were all somewhat trapped for an hour, the woman entertained me with song and dance (I also have mini vidio’s of this should you care to see them). This was particularly meaningful to me as these woman are HIV+ and though doing comparatively well were limited in their energy.
Then school was out and we were joined by a million (ok, seemed like a million) children who braved the rain storm to see a real live amuzungu (that would be me).How I wish I’d had a bag of candy to distribute (yes I know it would have had to have been something I didn’t like-ha).
Enclosed a photo of a family of three boys, with the eyes of the eldest showing the weight of being the head of the household. They are dressed alike as, although education is free in Uganda, uniforms are not and are required.. You have probably heard how much Oprah has helped with uniforms and education in South Africa, well it seems these HIV programs and uniforms come primarily through the kindness of the Dutch people. We, Americans can be very generous, but as my dear friend * Carol Balderree wrote in a recent article entitled “ The Inconvenient Truth” for our local paper: “Despite being the largest single donor, US assistance development represents only .22% of gross national income, making us the second-lowest which gives an average of .47%. In real dollars the US gave $27.5 billions in 2005, compared to the $55.7 billions given by the European Union, a comparable sized economy. While the EU is on track to achieve its goal of .7% by the year 2015, the US has made no such commitment.
At the United Nations Millennium Summit in 2000, the heads of all 189 nations signed the Millennium Pledge, agreeing to work together to make the world a better place for all by the year 2015.

* If you are interested in reading this or any of Carol’s insightful articles and you do not have access to: The Sun Times “Progressive Voice” column, Heber Springs, AR. Please contact Carol Balderree at cbalderree@suddenlink.net


Perhaps this has not been as inspirational as my recent blogs yet hopefully the photo’s will inspire you to keep your heart open to our brothers and sisters around the world.
Blessings,
Marie

. .

April 10th to April 15, 2007

Easter Vigil Service "Miss Olivia" Style

Dear Friends
It is one am Easter morning and I have just returned from the most glorious Easter Vigil Celebration I have ever attended!
There have been memorable ones in the past: Baptism’s when I as a young woman was godmother to baby Kevin Shoaf., son of my cousin Mary and her husband Dick., Confirmation, when I stood up for my friend Carolyne Jones when she converted to Catholicism some 15 years ago. There was the Easter Vigil Service when Fr. Paul decided one person was to read all the many scripture readings and that person was to be me! I still can’t read the scripture about the “chariots and charioteers” without getting the giggles. Lucky girl who read it tonight as “chariots and horsemen”, not anywhere the tongue twister that I had to repeat many times.. Somehow I managed thru it and since Fr. Paul filmed most of his Masses, I even have it on a tape somewhere should I forget-smile,
At any rate, there have been numerous happy, holy, unforgettable * Easter Vigil Masses, but none can top my first Easter in Uganda.
I was looking forward to tonight all day because I have been quite impressed with the genuine Lenten devotion. of the young woman and men (yes, I said men) who live here and attend the nursing school.. Each Friday we gathered outdoor for “The Stations of the Cross”. Remembering Christ’s Passion , death and yes Ressurection has never been so meaningful to me as this year has been..Only yesterday, Good Friday, many joined us for this ancient prayer and a photo is hopefully included in this blog..
So I rested this afternoon in preparation for the 10pm service, sent my first successful text messages ever and with flashlight in hand meandered the wooded path to the St. Francis Church, here on hospital grounds. I was early but I heard voices so I followed the sound behind the church, to find the nursing students had started a large bonfire,.ablaze against the night sky..
Certainly it is tradition for us all to enter a darkened church, with only the light of the Pascal candle which, having been lit by the bonfire,(or any form of fire) is carried by the Priest. So it was tonight; as we silently entered the Chapel groping our way to our seats.
. . That was when I noticed that Sr. Justine,(remember Sr.= nurse not nun) had a large protrusion on her back. Quickly I surmised this “growth” was her unbelievable adorable 17 mo old daughter Olivia, wrapped tightly on her back and sound asleep..
Well, I’ve been to church before with Olivia and it is always quite entertaining, as Olivia is a performer and after an hour of being passed from lap to lap, she decides it is time to roam----usually ending up on the altar with Fr. John (thank heavens girls are allowed on the altar these days). But tonight she was sound asleep and lovingly draped around her mothers back, nothing visible except the white beads that jingled from her braided hair..
Mass began with wonderful singing, many scripture readings ( yes the chariot and horsemen were among them). I was already relaxed and content as I listened to the melodious voices, and joined in when I could, when all the sudden Olivia woke, looked around and realized she was in church and had a large captive audience. At first we played the distraction game, but soon she heard the call of the wild, and was off and running. First to people she knew , she even found my lap a worthy one for twenty minutes, but then it was time for the true celebration , Olivia climbed onto the altar, decided to pick the flowers(only it was an arrangement.) and soon was the center of attention. All this time her mother, a quiet self possessed elegant woman, is getting more embarrassed by the millisecond
Following Holy Communion, the music is wonderfully rousing, but no where as rousing as Olivia when she starts to dance.-ha. This child is an old soul, a light, something unique----of that much I am sure! .
We were all enjoying her, except her mother who alternated between putting her hands over her eyes (if you don’t see Olivia dancing at the Consecration , is it not really happening, Justine?) and attempting to corral her offspring within her control., Neither attempt was successful , so Olivia danced as the drums played and Jesus took the form of bread and wine. Alleluhia!!!!!
Then Father announced ”It is Easter, He is Risen! It is time we took a lesson from this little one” So everyone was on their feet swaying and clapping and then dancing! Yep, dancing!! Many circled around the altar with arms swaying in a high Hawaiian movement, others seem to follow a set pattern of right, left, clap. All this time the drums continued to get faster and faster, then the dance moves followed suite and then it all STOPS-----almost as if in mid air. Wow, it was exhilarating.!!
Now it is time to leave and I am use to the Priest and servers leaving and our following them, but here we all parade out with the servers behind us, followed by the priest who is carrying the consecrated hosts across the road to the small chapel.. The celebration continues with more dancing, music and joyous clapping as all the people who were in the huge Church, now squish into a tiny Chapel, accompanying Fr. John as he places the hosts in the tabernacle and turns on a light. Then the Sisters (religious nuns this time) adorn the altar with new sparklingly white cloths and this is all done while they continue to dance and sing..
By this time the guys have gotten into the act and start to do an almost Zorba the Greek routine. It is very much their time and the woman, while still jubilant, stand back to let them have their moment..
Coming home, again flashlight in hand, was more of a skipping, as Olivia, our instigator was satiated and ready to sleep.
.
Thank you Olivia for you gifts of joy and liberation. Thank you Fr. John for recognizing the gifts she brought and honoring them.
..
HE IS, indeed RISEN !!!!!!!!! ALLELUIA

Wishing you, at least half, the Joyous Easter I have had
Marie

* Carolyne, Mary Jo, Heather: Remember Easter Vigil at the Daylesford Abbey, PA.-- , being on page 4 of some 13 pages? Who would have believed that Carolyne would later become a Roman Catholic?-smile


. ,

Good Friday "Stations of the Cross" Uganda

Hosanna Hosanna Hosanna

April 1, 2007 Photo of St, Francis Hospital – Mutolere taken from Parish Church –on the hill
Dear Friends

It is April 1st and how I would love to play a joke on you but I am not fool enough ,I could get away with it so many miles away. So, instead I’ll tell you of my week in Uganda, Africa.: I now have a hot shower and trust me when I say HOT!. There seems to be no middle ground in this country
I also have a refrig and a microwave. I didn’t want a microwave but I got one anyway, according to the Administrator of the Hosp.,” a sophisticated one” that can cook anything-ha.. If anyone has any tips on how to cook tender meat , hard boiled eggs or anything else , please tell me ASAP..

Today , Palm Sunday, was a treat. I attended Mass at the parish church, instead of the hospital chapel . I didn’t have my camera and would not have felt comfortable using it, but I’ll try and paint a picture for you.

OK, here goes: Imagine hundreds of men, woman and children climbing a hilly road to attend Mass at 8:30 am Palm Sunday. Most are dressed in traditional African dress ; many colors and fabrics draped around them and adorning their heads matching scarves. Many of the woman had another blanket wrapped from their backs and tied in front . This blanket held their safely tucked baby who could have been born yesterday or be as old as three years. .
. The older woman and men carried well varnished sticks about six inches thick, that they use for support as they climb the two mile hill to the church. A few motorbikes , numerous people walking their bikes and maybe two cars zip by us. Sr. Justine,( remember Sr. denotes being a nurse not, necessarily a religious sister) my supervisor, carries her adorable 17 mo old daughter Olivia while I carry the palms to be blessed (BYOP- It’s “bring your own palms” in Africa.). Half way up the hill Justine and I trade bundles.
Everyone greets each other pleasantly in spite of the distance or incline, while I, with Olivia on my hip, try not to embarrass myself too much with my huffing and puffing-ha
What is, obviously, a social occasion to the Ugandan people feels like a pilgrimage to me. I am expecting to see a vision of Jesus or the Blessed Mother at the peak of this journey, but happily settle for a pew with a back support on it.-smile.
Since I was the only muzunga (white person) in the crowd, I did not go unnoticed. The children flocked around me as if I were a celebrity, while the elderly shake my hand and bow seeming to want a blessing.. Their response is understandable when you see their statues and painting of Mary and the saints: never has she been so white and blond hair? Come on, will somebody tell these beautiful people that Jesus and his Mom probably looked a whole lot more like them then me!
Ok , now we are in the church and they take Justine, Olivia and myself to the first row to sit with the religious sisters (no blending in here). The church is adorned with palms and everyone is waving theirs in the air singing “Hosanna, Hosanna”, To my left are rows and rows of children singing and waving their palms, each dressed more festively than the next. Imagine the dresses American little girls wear , maybe once, for first holy communion or a party. Imagine a couple of hundred of those dresses in every color and every condition—it matters not. They may have dress shoes on or flip flops but most are barefoot. To the right of me are older children who are in the choir dressed in white dresses or matching green skirts, shorts(for the young boys) with green paper crowns on their heads to celebrate Jesus’s entrance into Jerusalem. Shortly after the scripture readings , the children (on the right side) file up to the altar and gently, at first, begin to sway to the music. Then the swaying turns into dance and it is wonderful!!!
As the Mass continues in their native language –Rufumbria—I am mesmerized by the music, the singing, the dance and the reverence. Truly God is in this place!!! The collection baskets are woven and decorated and not passed around but held by the altar boys while the entire congregation files up to put their shilling or two in the basket. At the end of the liturgy,. the children, again, sway up to the altar, followed by anyone , mostly the young children and woman, who join them in the swaying. .
. Then just when you think it is over the music changes and the tempo picks up and all the children and woman start really dancing , actually jumping up and down. The Priest looks on approvingly as little tiny children and elderly woman in traditional garb and walking sticks, start jumping up and down., barefoot on a cement floor. It is glorious, rousing and if you don’t feel the Spirit there, you’ll never feel it..
Leaving the church is like leaving a rock concert, gobs of people leaving at once, but without the fear of being trampled as it is all in slow motion. No one seems to be in a hurry for this special time to be over. Each grandmother must be acknowledged, each tiny child hugged, each visitor greeted. Carol, at the Mission House, used to speak of hospitality, this is Hospitality with a capital H..
I think coming down the hill was more challenging than climbing up, with rocks to skid on and bikes and motorbikes flying by, but again no one seemed to notice, they were too full of the Spirit and community to notice.
I am home now feeling quite full myself:. I know I am not Ugandan , but I share their religion, and for a few hours I was a part of something “not of this world.”
HOSANNA HOSANNA HOSANNA
.