Lost Teeth and Some More Help

Well, Roarke lost not one but two teeth. Because he always has to out-do his siblings? Hmm...I´m not sure but he is a fierce risk tasker and the stakes run higher then, don´t they? So today is the first day my three year old woke up looking like a boxer. Here´s how it happened: We went to Los Charcos to put in our time with manualidades, that´s hand crafts for you English speakers, and stop laughing at me because you know my secret that I suck at crafts. The task was to make a lot of piñatas for sale at the Los Charcos Christmas Bazaar. Literally, I was 2 minutes from being finished, we had been there for 4 hours and were ready to go. In those two minutes, Roarke ran outside to play a sort of keep-away game fell and smashed the right side of his face into a tree stump. Out came two teeth, roots still intact.

For those of you that may not know, Sebastian lost his left front tooth in a weird accident November 11, 2001. Seven years and 11 days later...baby brother tops his loss. Did I mention I had a crappy week? Oh yes, there have been many real life saints along the way but something about this loss was the breaking point for me. Really, what are two teeth? Baby teeth at that, you put them under a pillow and the tooth fairy comes, víola, everyone is happy. However, the loss of teeth is following this theme of broken things, to the extreme, in my life. My circuits are overloaded, I need some new circuit breakers, thank you very much.

Iretí, Roarke´s teacher from school, held him on the way to the dentist. How my heart did weep, for Richard and myself. One of us should have been holding him, not just driving. How Roarke did cry; "Mommy, I´m tired! I want to sleep on your shoulder." I drove with precision and speed that I had not encountered before, in Mexico anyway. If I could just get to the dentist, I could hold him and offer comfort. Iretí was a constant reminder to slow down, breathe, everything would be okay, put on a face of tranquility for your child. Everything was okay, no lost life or limbs, no need for panic. Roarke was a champ through x-rays and sitting on my lap and when we were done, this is what he said:

R: "I wanted to loose two teeth, mommy. Will the ratoncito (Mexican equivalent of the tooth fairy) visit me?"
Me: "Yes, he will visit you tonight."
R: "Can he bring me a wallet?"
Iretí: "Well, you know, the rantoncito has been very busy today, maybe he cannot bring a wallet tonight."
R: "Oh, okay. Can he bring it tomorrow?"
Iretí: "Yes, I think so."

After all that, he really wanted to loose teeth? Isn´t there a better way to earn money, like clean up your toys? Well, at the end of the dentist visit, I just couldn´t keep the dam gates closed anymore. My tears for the week of challenging obstacles became too much and I cried on Betti´s (the Dentist, her full name is Beatrix, the alternate girl name we threw around for Roarke) shoulder...for a week of losses and gains, for Roarke´s lost teeth and bravado, for Richard´s absence, for an amazing community of people that help when you are immobile, for not leaving two minutes earlier.

Later that night, I received two phone calls from Los Charcos parents. They were checking in to ascertain Roarke was doing okay. One conversation was in puro Español, hard for me on the phone, I´m better face to face. How my heart sang to know the other family was concerned for Roarke and offered their support in whatever way I needed. The second phone call was from my friend Paloma. Her words still bring tears to my eyes. The summary of her words were; I realized today what a strong and beautiful woman you are and how glad I am that we are friends. How I needed those words when I felt anything but strong and beautiful. My weakest moments, those beautifully painful human moments, when I just want to sit down and cry, but I cannot. Roarke, I said a few posts ago, you make me grateful for living in the moment...I am, but I am afraid.

How grateful I am that I have this fierce boy, Iretí-the maestra (because she offered me strength when I had none), Betti for her shoulder to cry on, Maestra Lucy and Jose Luis for bringing the lost tooth #2 and the hugs, Richard for talking me out of my 100 foot tree, Anna for conversations in Español, and Paloma. Paloma gave me the greatest gift of all, pure love. I felt anything but brave, it was a moment of ordinary courage, when I felt like a chicken heart. For someone to tell me, it´s okay, you did it...this life has been insane, but today has been okay.

A Day of Obstacles and Lots of Help

Have you ever had a day when you want a gin and tonic by 9:30 am? No? Consider yourself lucky. That was my day yesterday. Sucky from the moment I stuck my warm sleepy feet on very cold Mexican tiles. The details of the pitfalls of the day aren´t really important, it´s the same story, different details for everyone, the world over. The people that enter your life in a day and offer to give is what matters. I was on the receiving end of so much love and those random acts of kindness...I´m still pinching myself.

Thanking Alex, Ramon and Josh. For taking my kids to school and helping me out of a rut, literally. Thank you Shannon for this kid/husband tested, mother/wife approved song, we love you for bringing us a new family groove! Thank you Bjanetta for all things DIY and being all around amazing woman. Martha, thank you because you are you (and will listen to me tell stories in bad Spanish and make it better). Thank you Richard for being a patient husband. Thank you to my inanimate camera for deciding to work because without it I wouldn´t have been able to capture the following moments.

 

 

I was intrigued by Sebastian´s yoga pose and the use of mudras. He said "I don´t know where I learned it. It´s just here, mom." Wow. Yes, Sebastian it really is just here. Thank you to the universe for the day. Out of selfish me moments, I received the lesson that I am small in this life without others.

Caminata de Faroles

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose for existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of being.
- Carl Gustav Jung

November 11 is San Martin´s day, a most beautiful festival weekend here. There will be men and boys riding horses passing through San Miguel, processions of pilgrims that can be miles long. The United Sates, or Indiana at least, never offered visions of pilgrims. Pilgrims of debauchery perhaps, going to the Indy 500. My soul however needs the complex beauty of men riding horses, honoring San Martin, marching towards their Lord and chosen patron saint. Children weaving their way through the darkness with lanterns, singing songs of San Martin

San Martin´s story: Martin was from a long line of soldiers, going into the business of marching towards war at the age of 15. His story takes off at the age of 18 when he´s out soldiering and sees a beggar in need of clothes, Martin felt compelled to rip his cloak in half to share some warmth with this poor soul. Martin dreams that night the beggar was really Jesus referred to Martin is the unbaptized Roman soldier that has now clothed him. Martin chooses to be baptized, pagan no more. For two more years Martin continues his life as the now baptized Roman soldier...one day he says; "Enough! I am a soldier for Christ, I can no longer fight." Religion over duty didn´t work so well for the Roman Army, they threw Martin in jail. While he is in jail Martin offers to go into the melée unarmed, the Army liked that idea, one less loco religious dude hanging around. Luckily for Martin and us, the invaders concede to peace! Martin is spared with an honorable discharge, official walking papers to live a life devoted to God.

There is the story of how San Martin chose to walk in the light. It´s hard to renounce what you know, be persecuted and still say "What I have known is wrong, what I have done is wrong but I can move foward and make a much better go of it today." Sure, St. Martin has other fantastical stories associated with him but I love this one story of simplicity. Of a radical conversion in his life that caused him to change. Martin´s journey took about 5 years, change rarely seizes us one night and wham-o, I am a new improved better human being. Change is the gradual shifts of the heart that happen everyday, I talk about those often, but rarely do I see a "New! Improved! Digitally Enhanced! Better!" me instantly. Growing up in a culture of instant gratification, I want those changes, NOW, thank you very much! But we must wait, I ask my children for patience daily. Why is it so difficult for me to wait for the savory gifts in this life?

Each year the children and maestros of Los Charcos have their Caminata de Faroles. For this festival, the school chooses a cause to donate to in honor of San Martin. Last year we brought donations for the state of Tabasco, suffering from the mud-slides and hurricanes. This year the community will focus on the orphans from the girls orphnage, Santa Julia, specifically, two scholarships to Los Charcos. The two candidates deserve the right to a wholistic education, they have lived through trauma...the girls have no family to provide for them, that is trauma enough. My mother heart aches for all of the girls in Santa Julia, all of them deserve the love and support a community can bring, especially one like Los Charcos. I know the capacity for love in this Waldorf school, it is immense and all children have a right to receive this. Not just my children because I can afford to pay tuition.

Parque Juarez, in San Miguel de Allende, this Sunday November 9, 2008, will be illuminated by children from pre-school to junior high, carrying lanterns, walking slowly, singing songs. The children I think are unaware of how beautiful this sight is, a generous moment for all adults present. Last year I could not stop the constant stream of tears down my face. No tears of sadness, only joy and pure love for every child in the procession. Festival de San Martin is the lantern for my soul, watching the children that shape our future...walking, giving, loving in communion.

On Adventure and Love

In case you are in need of a film that shows just how strong the human spirit is, here is a trailer for "God Grew Tired Of Us". This is the story of a few of the Lost Boys from Sudan, their story is tragic, emotional and fiercly beautiful. I encourage you to visit your local video store or library to find a copy.




Our Experience in Africa:
During the Christmas season Sebastian and I traveled to Gulu, Uganda to be with our best friends, ´becca and Elliott Nimrod. Though this adventure, began with a joke:

´bec: come with us to Uganda to wean Roarke!

me: okay i´ll talk to Richard.

Richard: sounds like a great idea, book the tickets!

Yes, it really was that easy folks. I´ll endure cataloupe sized boobs while weaning anyday if I can travel to the unknown places of my world. Even 24 hours of travel with an almost 7 year old. Hell, one kid...that is called an accessory! Somewhere between Amsterdam and Entebbe though, I woke up with a jolt and said "Shit, we´re really doing this aren´t we?" To no one but myself and I only wish I could tell you I had been more eloquent, but I wasn´t. No the $700 USD in painful vaccinations didn´t register "Hey, we´re going to Uganda!", only a minor "wow, my arm hurts". What it took was being on a plane, cruising over the Alp´s, with my son´s curly head resting soundly in my lap to sink in. Well, I´m 2/3´s of the way there, live the adventure.

I recall, I felt vaguely at home, people cooking over wood fires, brush burning everywhere with that acrid but pleasant smell, limited water supply, random electricity...all of these we had become accustomed to being in Mexico. Painful illnesses...I never knew my bowels could hurt so until Octobert of 2006. Mexico had provided Bash and myself with lots of extra flora and fauna, we had 2nd world antigens but man Gulu is 3rd world, can we survive 16 days of this. Now I am thinking; "what have I done bringing my 7 year old here" and I pray for the best.

What is the best is to step outside of your white self, which is hard when you are an anomaly, and start breathing like this is your last breath. Soak in every bit of what you can, because it is such a short time, when will you be back on the continent of Africa, what story can you take back that may change someone as much as it will hopefully change you? When I finally started breathing, I opened my heart and I let go of all the things I felt I had to do, I opened myself to love.

The stories my ears received were so painful to absorb, my whitebreed existence knew nothing of this sort of pain. Grace with her lovely daughter, the product of rape by the Lord´s Resistance Army (LRA), didn´t love her daughter any less. Agnes, her policeman husband murdered by thugs in Kampala. Agnes was left to provide for 5 children, one child currently in the hospital with malaria. The mad woman outside of the H.E.A.L.S. compound screaming to the maid "REBECCA, REBECCA, PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!" The malnutrition ward of the free clinic, children didn´t suffer from starvation because of lack of food. No, they suffered from parasites, worms eating up their insides to nourish themselves. Without medicine, my discomfort in Mexico from amoebas turns into death in Africa.

I went through my days there almost perfunctorly, would listen to a person if they made their story available, but I didn´t pry. Now, I wish I had pried, the interviewer in me. But in those moments of listening I began to know this woman sitting next to me, speaking in her lyrical voice, I am cooking with her, and she has experienced a tradegy in life I heretofore have never known. I want to give her my heart, my ears, my love and sit, chopping onions and listen. For the first time in my life. I. REALLY. LISTENED.

The whole crew sat around the campfire on Christmas Eve and listened to Grandpa, Jolly Okot´s father, tell his story. Of many nights, running from their compound, in the bush hiding from the LRA with his family, praying to God not to be discovered. Most clearly I hear him saying "It is because of God that I am now here with you today. Because of God I know I have to give something to my people because we have suffered, but we have survived. God chose me to survive and I will give what I can." Norman, Grandpa...you caused my son to weep when we left you, you caused me to open myself to what love there is in this life. How could one person be worthy of such a gift? I owe you much more than I can give in this one lifetime. Of two Christmas gifts I am most grateful, Sebastian´s birth, 4:55am Christmas Day 2000, and Grandpa talking about the joy of living Christmas Eve 2007.

This is my oh so short story of Gulu and the gifts received when you untie the ribbons. I sent out an email after we returned from Gulu and I will end this post how I ended my email: Lastly, I would say to all of you, go...go to the place where you think you can help. It could be Africa, it could be the house next door to you. Just go and let your heart blossom and work for change, our lives are depending on it.

Peace to you all,
biz

A BIG P.S.
Thank you to Richard for encouraging me to believe that children have a right to travel and experience at a young age what some adults are afraid to see. That we have made three lovely children is already a joy, that you believe in the power of change because of a child...you´re my dreamboat. I know there are few husbands and fathers that are cut of your cloth. Everyday I wake up grateful for you, for your adventure, for your open heart. I love you. Thank you to ´becca for also encouraging me to belive traveling with children and teaching them about love can be done at home and in the world. ´bec, you are a constant source of inspiration in my life and I value our friendship so much more because I never thought there would be a friend like you in this world. Thank you also for your quote "go after love as if your life depended upon it...it does." To both of you, I look foward to many more adventures!