Birches.

I was driving and I had to stop my car when I saw bent birches, which immediately reminded me of one of my favorite poems and I'm not even a Robert Frost fan. I reread it and it made me cry and thus I post.

"Birches" by Robert Frost

When I see birches bend to left and right

Across the lines of straighter darker trees,

I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them

Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. They click upon themselves

As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored

As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.

Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells

Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust--

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away

You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,

And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed

So low for long, they never right themselves:

You may see their trunks arching in the woods

Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground

Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair

Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.

But I was going to say when Truth broke in

With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm

(Now am I free to be poetical?)

I should prefer to have some boy bend them

As he went out and in to fetch the cows--

Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,

Whose only play was what he found himself,

Summer or winter, and could play alone.

One by one he subdued his father's trees

By riding them down over and over again

Until he took the stiffness out of them,

And not one but hung limp, not one was left

For him to conquer. He learned all there was

To learn about not launching out too soon

And so not carrying the tree away

Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise

To the top branches, climbing carefully

With the same pains you use to fill a cup

Up to the brim, and even above the brim.

Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,

Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It's when I'm weary of considerations,

And life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

From a twig's having lashed across it open.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:

I don't know where it's likely to go better.

I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

What if....

Today's "Will's What If" statement: What if the whole world was flooded with ketchup??? His favorite condiment by far is ketchup, including on his pasta... for breakfast. These are the things that make me giggle. :)

I Have Fear

I really hope that no one reads this and that this can be just my journal with a pretty background and all typed out nice and neat than what my journals actually look like: scribbled thoughts and prayers, sometimes poems. From the times I'm without a journal and just need to write there are the pages of loose leaf paper folded into fourths and sticking out randomly. I hardly ever read them again, maybe once every two years. Every time I finish a journal I always read the first entry and the last to see any growth but I typically don't scour through them.

It's as if I'm afraid that if I read the struggles I have been through, a part of them will be reborn. If you think about it, the small majority of us who have journaled for a significant part of our lives can see how our souls grow, how each lesson changes us. I started writing after my Mom was hospitalized for the first time around the age of 12. Each individual event in my life has changed me. They made me believe, they made me doubt, they made angry, they made me awestruck.

As I get closer to my birthday (24) I can't help but think that I have been keeping a record of my life for about half of my life and that the one trait that is always constant is fear. I wish I could change, especially as it has become more prevalent in the last two years in my life is fear.

I have always been afraid of committing to something and often times someone, if I don't see the escape. I was afraid of committing to college, relationships, volunteer work, work. The past two years have been full of fear of disappointing someone or hurting someone. It's hard for me to let go of control, it's something I pray for all the time. "Lord let me surrender."

Now I have no control. My Dad... It's funny how tragedy makes people react in certain ways. I know people in the face of tragedy and hardship who swear off God all together. I can get angry at how they can give up while I watch my Dad pray everyday, morning prayer, evening prayer, and night prayer, and in the middle of his own suffering he is joyful and tells me, "Han, I pray for grace of perseverance." Dad, make it a double, one for you one for me.

Annual Yearly Progress :)

It has been exactly one year since I came home from Honduras. Probably the hardest challenge I’ve ever had to go through, (knock on wood) wasn’t learning Spanish or living simply but it was coming home. It was like going through a breakup, the disappointment that it’s over, the anger that things weren’t what you expected them to be, and the loneliness of uncertainty. I think it would be difficult and unnecessary to recap everything that has challenged me or has encouraged me in the last year, because I wouldn’t be able to put it into words. I have learned so much about myself, and I am still learning so much that I would rather look at the small blessings that I enjoy much more. One of the goals I made for myself when I came back from Honduras without a plan b, and moving back into my parents house (scary), was to laugh at least once a day. I mean really laugh, like from the bottom of your gut laugh.

This is a list of what has made me smile and laugh... in my jobs, in my family, in my life...

I live within 100 steps of one of my day jobs, but it’s funny the amount of time even 100 steps give me to make observations.

Once, after a hard day I walked by the veterinary clinic next to my house and literally found five dollars next to the chain linked fence (big smile).

This particular week, I saw a hibiscus flower sitting in a pile of dead leaves perfectly in tact and no it was not fake. In my head I began to make a list of possible reasons why a flower could be there in the middle of November. A reason such as one of the neighbors had flowers delivered to the house and it blew away, maybe they had to apologize for something, and this is how my tangential mind works. However I found a sense of joy in seeing something so alive in the middle of decay.

Or there was the time that my coworker turned up the radio when it was playing “I’m too sexy for my shirt” and shouted, “This one goes out to Hannah at the front counter!” Following this I could lead into an array of sexual jokes and innuendos that occur while taking lunch orders but I won’t disclose in such a public way, but they make me giggle.

Non-sexual joking occurs as well like today when a really short guy was waiting for his order and a former coworker said to me, “Hey who left their hat on the counter?” I looked up and only saw the hat of the man patiently waiting and lost it, and for all of you who know me I don’t have a silent laugh by any means.

I have also been babysitting for a family of two children since September every morning. They have literally been a gift to me because I don’t know how I would be paying for my Master’s without this job. It’s not fun waking up early, but the joy the kids give me, and the giggles we have makes it worth it. Yup they’re 7 and 8 but we all still giggle together.

Will who is on the autism spectrum has an amazing smile and tells you what he thinks is “so hilarious,” allowing whoever wants to listen insight into how his mind works. One of my favorite things he has said to me is “What if, my muscles grew sooooo big that I could reach up and punch a space ship?” Looking at me for my reaction across the breakfast counter I said intently: “That would be soooo cool.”

My new favorite thing he said was: “What if, it started raining butts and when the butts hit the ground they started walking?” And anyone who knows me knows that I can’t handle bathroom humor and I just started to laugh. It’s great when my daily laugh quota is filled before 7:30 AM.

This week both Will and Carli have been sick so I’ve been helping out during the day when I can. I have played a lot of games, and watched a lot of i Carly, and Alvin and the Chipmunks. Literally I have watched that movie 3 times this week, it’s time to see the squeakquel.

When she’s not lying on the couch, Carli loves to play make believe and unfortunately she wasn’t blessed with a sister so I get to be Dad when we play house. This week in our make believe adventure, Carli brought a puppy home from “the pet store” but the puppy stopped breathing. So we jumped into the bean bag chair car with our baby dolls securely in the back and drove to the “vet.” I play a range of characters. As the vet I fixed the puppy, and asked for the reasonable price of $300 USD. Carli said “I don’t have 300 dollars!” grabbed the puppy, and our bean bag car was now our get away car. Unfortunately real Dad came home during our great escape. Hopefully the adventure continues soon and yes this is what I get paid for.

At home I had to reconnect with friends from high school that I hadn’t really talked to in so long. I am so blessed with the friends I have, just three in particularly, and they helped save my life with laughter and their time.

To be continued....

Happy Advent!
The time to remember to hope and our perpetual state of waiting and I feel like I have kept the approximate 3 people who read this waiting and my last update wasn't exactly my best work so I'll try it again, and this time with feeling!

It has definitely been awhile... Two weeks ago one of the coordinators of the scholarship program
(Becas) from the States came to get an end of the year report, take pictures and information of certain cases in order to try to find new sponsors for the kids. Since Becas is my primary ministry I spent most of the week taking Charice on home visits and physical therapy sessions to translate for her with the help of Juliette and Lenin, our physical therapist.

At times there were definitely awkward conversations I found myself in, such as asking parents why their special needs child isn't attending certain services, or going to Casa Ayuda (a special needs school in Comayagua). Other awkward translating moments was during the end of the year meeting about the Program of Becas and trying to figure out who met the requirements to continue in the program and how many new children we can afford to support before the beginning of the school year in January. This may not sound awkward but if it were up to me everyone would stay in the program and we could accept 50 new kids, this is why I am not a very business oriented person.

After a lot of meetings, walking to houses, and coffee with parents, Charice had to head back and I hope that the trip was productive from the Stateside perspective! Bringing Charice to the airport was a mini adventure in itself because this was the first time that I have driven outside of Comayagua and into a medium to large size city... oh yeah in Central America. Juliette, Roger, and Aidan said they would come with me on the 6 hour trip there and back. I felt like a real Honduran driver, passing cars and trucks on a 2 lane highway through the mountains, which for me is a feat considering I am usually a timid driver. I'm not going to lie there were a few bad words shouted in English but all in all we arrived there and back, and not without stopping for dinner next to the lake. Carol was disappointed that none of us ordered the fish, the type of fish that is fried whole and when it comes out on your plate it is staring at you. In my defense I was following what the Honduran ordered, and Roger ordered chicken.

The following day was the beginning of our Becas Retreat in the Mountains, so after packing up the trucks, I helped shuttle kids from our neighborhood to the bus station, and then spent another 3 hours in the car going up mountain, until we arrived in Florida. This trip doesn't compare at all to the ones the kids took, 5 hours and between 2 buses, but I paid my dues on the way back. I was never involved in youth group or participated in retreats during high school so I didn't really know what to expect, but from what I hear, high school kids are high school kids. Most of the kids were really engaged, which was moving, and only a handful were not. I told my Mom, "I love them all in groups of 3 but 50 at a time is tough!"

A few from our group went turned against the Gringo volunteers and started to make fun of our Spanish. Me, Aidan, Juliette and Lily all found ourselves defending one another on one couch. Not wanting to let the rule of the mob continue to increase and out of my mere impatience, I began to sass them back saying, "You don't speak perfect Spanish either! You have accents!" I continued sassing until I reached that ultimate point that every parent/teacher/chaperon of teenagers reaches, when you are left with your mouth open and your finger in the air with nothing left to say when Aidan concluded for me dryly in English: "So you can kiss my but." The kids had no idea what he said, but it was exactly what I needed in order to laugh it off... for a good 10 minutes. The kind of laugh that I have when I get close to needing an inhaler. It allowed me to move from the annoyance to being attentive during Fr. Max's talk on Divine Mercy (which was hilarious, way more than it sounds), to being in awe of the kids love and responsiveness in Adoration.

Later that night the girl chaperons were staying with a family at a house, and when we reached the house at 10 pm the house was locked with all of our things inside and no one was there. We walked back to the Church and some of the guy chaperons walked back with us to confirm that we were locked out. I was exhausted and literally in tears, and I felt in accordance with the season that we were in solidarity with the Holy Family with no where to stay. We went back to Padre Max's and he began calling people and offered us what he had to eat: cookies, bananas, and red wine. Eventually we found out that the family went to a party and we got into the house to sleep to wake up very early. The bus trip back was uneventful for the most part, besides the fact that I bought a cup of coffee for 30 cents and that we got a flat tire, and had walk the last mile to our house.

After everything we were able to get some rest and went on a community retreat in Tegucigalpa, at retreat center across the street from the Catholic University of Honduras. For a second I pretended I was at the Dominican House and then took my first warm shower in 3 months. We were well rested and spent last half of our retreat with Sisters who live by Our Lady of Suyapa. The history of the miracle isn't that exciting but the basilica is beautiful and it over looks the city where all of the excitement happened this summer.

Elections came and went peacefully, along with our Thanksgiving dinner. It was a little stressful during the day so it felt like a real family holiday. But don't worry it was delicious! The Hondurans weren't too crazy about our Gringo food but I made a sacrifice and helped out where I could :)

This week we had to do an information intake of all the kids in Becas, what their grades are, how many volunteer hours they need to make up, formation hours and dun dun dun... how they are going to make it all up in the next 3 weeks! Excelente plus! There are not a lot of happy campers around here, especially those who have to make up 50 hours of volunteer work. The bright side of my week has been helping girls find dresses for their first Holy Communion. Literally I'm like Say Yes to the Dress, Honduran style... and for little girls. I found a dress for this chubby little girl because I gave one to her mother and she had to bring it back because it didn't fit. I felt bad because the woman said to me "I told you she was fat!" But when she put the one that fit on, I watched her face as Juliette zipped it up and she looked down at herself so happy to be in the most beautiful thing she has ever worn. It might sound stupid, but I welled up. Ok that's enough.

I'm adding a picture of my very short haircut. It's already growing out so I want to show it at it's peak, in the picture I'm with Dulce a girl in our program who is absolutely amazing! And she didn't make fun of my hair.
I'm also going to add a picture of the Basilica, it's so beautiful!

I'm going to be home so soon, and I hope everyone had an amazing Thanksgiving, thank you for all of your prayers!

Hannah

Just the Little Things

I feel like I have spent more time talking about Martita then anyone else in this blog... Well possibly Yadira. Anyways, the day after she called us all "ugly Indians" she came over to our house for dinner because we were cooking chicken. She is very good at remembering what is convenient for her to remember! I asked her when she came to our door if she remembered calling me an ugly Indian and she said "No you are very beautiful but Padre said it," she has a lot of stories she likes to tell.
When she came for supper she was really sick, if she goes next I don't know what I would do! We made her take her medicine and she started to cry and say how gross it is. She literally is like a child because we had to offer her a lollipop in order to get her to take her medicine. Some people don't have patience for her because she tells a lot tall tales and sometimes steals things, but she literally cracks me up! After dinner, I went to drop her off at her house with Juliette and it was literally terrifying because it was pitch black in her house and I couldn't see anything I could only hear the sound of her feet shuffling across the floor and then rustling in the corner. It was like it was out of a scary movie. The rustling in the corner was actually her puppy in a box that she found in the street and named juguete which means toy. I thought it was a rat, then we nearly ran out of the house because we were so scared to be there alone.
Other than our dinner date with Martita, I went visiting houses with Yadira to give permission slips for the Becas Retreat next week and then I guess the only other news was I got really sick on Wednesday and could barely get out of bed all day. I think I jinxed myself saying I have a really strong stomach and I how I haven't gotten sick yet, and we have had people in the house with a lot of whacky illness: typhoid, salmonella, scabies, and lice, and I managed to go unscathed for how many months? I guess it was time to pay my dues. I was literally running back and forth from my bed to the bathroom and I just thought of one day last summer I was really upset because I had gained 10 pounds that year and my Dad saying to me "My mother always said you need an extra 10 pounds just in case you get sick." I finally understood the significance of that statement.
Every Thursday I run the library in the afternoon and have a group of girls who come, we read and take turns reading aloud and practicing how to sound out the words. This week, only 2 girls came, Evelyn and Amada Guadalupe, so we were playing with a book of puzzles that had stories of the New Testament depicted. We were putting together a puzzle of the Last Supper and I was asking them questions about the picture. When I asked "Who was with Jesus?" I expected them to say "His friends," which is true but they started listing the Apostles, "Pedro, y Juan, y Santiago, etc." They are 5 years old and they can name more Apostles than I can! Haha! Then they told me that Mary, Mary Magdalene, and "Las Monjitas," the little nuns were at the cross. They are literally so cute I love being with them every Thursday which makes me think a lot about teaching and maybe to younger kids than I expected to.

Love and miss always,

Hannah

Todo dia, Cada dia

"It was only matter of time until one of us got a bad haircut," said Aidan after seeing my hair...
I mean, it is pretty funny when I think about how nerve wracking it is to get a haircut in the States never mind when you're communicating in a second language, and for the record my hair isn't that bad just a little shorter than I would have liked, and for 2 dollars I'll take it!

Other then my haircut experience, it has been pretty quiet in the house since a lot of the volunteers went to help the Pan de Vida retreat with the Friars in Nicaragua. In the meantime we had been given a task list, and mine had a lot to do with planning the retreat for the kids in our Scholarship program which I'm really excited about.

In the middle of the planning and meetings, a little boy named Cristian died in our neighborhood. I know that Juliette probably already talked about it but it I'll repeat a little bit. He was a sweet little boy with Down Syndrome who's older sister Milagro is in our scholarship program. I went to her house last week to visit her and Cristian was there, running around, playing and hiding from me and I kept calling him guapo (handsome) as he became increasingly embarrassed. When the house was called I kept hoping that it wasn't the same Cristian. We went to buy food for the family, a shopping list that I feel like we know a little too well now and went to the house and prayed with the family but the person I really wanted to check on was Milagro and she wasn't there. Later we walked over again with Brother Dismus and Milagro was there and I hugged her and she wouldn't let go. Her eyes were swollen, and I literally couldn't imagine being at my brother's wake for 12 hours. At every death, the neighborhood literally storms heaven with prayers and people are in the house all day but it's such a long day for the family. I told her that the day was almost over and that I'm here for her. I just wanted to be with her all night. They had taken Cristian to the hospital the day before to be treated for Dengue Fever and that night he passed away. It is really obvious here how fast life changes and the only consolation I had was knowing that Cristian is no where other then heaven. Milagro didn't come today to our weekly meeting for the volunteer hours for Becas, I didn't expect her to be, but please pray for her family!

Today with the kids in Becas we tried to go to Martita's house to clean to complete their volunteer hours, but she was in a bad mood, wouldn't let us in and called us ugly Indians. I don't know what that means, but there are pictures of Martita on my facebook and a video, when she is sweet she's really sweet but when she's in a bad mood it's ugly. So instead we went further into the neighborhood to this old man's house that I never visited before. He lives by himself, his wife passed away from AIDS, and the poor thing doesn't know how to take care of himself. It was in his house that I became completely in awe of Yadira how she did so much with so little in this man's house. I was laughing so hard because she was asking him questions like: "Why are you cooking in the room you sleep?! There are more rooms," or "Why don't you have any food?" and was really taking the time to try and teach him. Giggly I told her I liked the way she corrected him and she simply said "It's not right." She sent one of the kids to buy a little food and quickly constructed a little stove out of an old street sign and cinder blocks and started a fire to start cooking with. Seeing all the kids in his house trying to help him the old man started to try and weed his yard. He said to me proudly it's "limpita" now, or a little clean, and then Yadira told him again to wash his hands before he eats. After he washed his hands again he started to weed again and Yadira yelled "Why are you touching the dirt again? Wash your hands!" The man laughed at himself, because you could tell from the way Yadira was talking to him that it was out of love.
I look up to her so much...

Ok I have rambled enough,

Con Amor...