Late Night Musings of an SLM

Yesterday was my last day in Juba.  Today I made the long journey to Maridi, where I will be doing my year of service.  I have been so blessed to spend the past two and a half weeks with the community in Juba.  I have experienced so much!  Here are my thoughts on some of what I’ve observed/learned:

On Community Values:

-    People take joy seriously…  There’s a Brother here who makes up songs all day, smiles widely at awkward times, dances whenever he gets the chance, and says that anything you want/need is “no problem!”  The priests joke around constantly.  The Sisters play basketball (in their habits).  I have never laughed so often or smiled so consistently.

-    People appreciate simplicity...  Looking at pictures we’ve taken so far, I realized how terribly washed out I look, and how young.  At home, this would encourage me to wear more makeup.  But here, the fact that I live just as I am (without modifying my appearance), is so much more beautiful a thing than looking a little better in a photograph.  It’s not worth losing that feeling for the sake of a little mascara.  I think I’ll stay washed-out.

-    People are generous...  There is a woman who makes beaded bracelets and rosaries.  I inquired about buying some.  She then made me a personalized bracelet of the South Sudanese flag and a special-order rosary with my favorite colors.  She did this with 2 days’ notice. It takes a full day to make one rosary.  She went far above and beyond for me.  This spirit of generosity is not uncommon.

On the Pace of Life:

-    Time is determined by the sun/moon instead of numbers on a clock.  At night, we sit out on the porch all together.  We talk, enjoy the stars, and sway to the melodies of a soft guitar.  This is how life is supposed to be lived.  We don’t “plan” time together, we don’t trouble ourselves about the tasks of tomorrow, we don’t do anything except love one another in the most natural way.  Life. Is. People.

On the Third World:

-    Exhausted after chasing the kids around outside, I needed to rehydrate.  Not thinking ahead, I filled up my water bottle and brought it outside.  10 kids ran over and fought for the “moya”, and in seconds the bottle was drained.  Afterwards, I remembered: I am in the middle of a community considered impoverished even by South Sudanese standards.  That bottle might be the only filtered water those kids get in God knows how long.  I am spoiled.

-    In the city, there is a billboard advising people to “Wash.  With soap.”   In the US, we’re urged to check for cancer or safeguard against diabetes.  Here, the government wants to get people to wash their hands.

-    The young ones here are poster-children for the heartbreaking commercials we have back in the States, the ones that tug at your heartstrings until you pledge to give $13/month to save a kid.  They wear the same (often dirty or ripped) clothes each day; babies’ stomachs are distended from malnutrition; some have patches of bald spots from infections; and everybody plays without shoes.  I am living in an infomercial.  The thing is, though, until I step back and make an actual effort to view things like this, I don’t see any of it.  All I see every day are happy kids, joyful adults, and loving families who live fulfilling lives in a wonderful community.  Everything here is “normal” to me.  Perspective is everything.

-    I went to mass at what they call the “Hanging Church”.  It was some plastic chairs (and a blanket for the kids) under a tree.  It was wonderful!  People make do with what they have.

On Spirituality

-    I have come to really enjoy daily rosary.  Not only am I able to sit through it (a feat in itself), but often times I find it ending too soon.  To embrace the rosary like this is a cool feeling.

-    Here, spirituality is about community.  Every week, the church is packed and the sounds of jubilation are comfortingly deafening.   The villagers practice singing and dancing for hours every afternoon in preparation for an upcoming feast day.  Church is not a requirement, but a privilege.  Worshipping is not a task, but a gift.

-    For morning and night prayer, we read from a breviary (a book of prayers and meditations).  I find at least one thing to copy into my journal from every session.  To make such strong connections between the prayers and my life is uplifting.

-    Being surrounded by such religious people is changing me.  I don’t have the words yet to describe exactly how, but I feel it.  And I absolutely love it.

On Maridi

-    I am Home.  Never in my entire life have I felt the way I did as we came into Maridi.  I immediately had an overwhelming sense of Belonging, like this place has been calling my heart my whole life and I finally answered.  It nearly brought tears to my eyes.  There is zero doubt that this is absolutely where God wants me.  I am overjoyed, I am comforted, and I am Happy all the way down into my soul.