Flying on planes, walking on water

We arrived at home at about 2:00 this morning after a cancelled flight, a splitting of the group, and 5 flight delays for those of us who had to wait. The thing that counts, though, is that we all made it home safe and sound.

I spent the evening at Newark (9/11 looms still) watching the Manhattan skyline. I was amazed by the height of the Empire State Building--even if it was a bit away--and I regretted the fact that I never got to see the World Trade Center. I stood at the gate and tried to see where it would have been. I think I spotted Ground Zero. Remembering didn't freak me out like I was afraid it would, considering. It made me think even more about that day, though. I watched people in the terminal, thinking that those folks on those planes had probably been doing exactly what we were all doing last night. Maybe they ate a bite at the food court; maybe they read the morning paper or did word puzzles or played cards with a friend. Then they got on their planes expecting to get to their destinations just as safely as we all did last night and the Sunday before. Sometimes it turns into something even more personal than it had been previously.

But what a week and a half...

I thought I would journal a lot, but time and energy (lack of, actually) didn't allow me to do as much as I had hoped for. I think I can remember things. Let's hope.

The plane ride was great except we saw mostly clouds all the way in to Newark. We did, though, spot the Statue of Liberty. NEAT! Then it was dark as we went to San Juan. But when we got to San Juan, we could see the cruise ships and the city. After we got packed up in our rental vans, we drove for nearly 3 hours to get to Mayaguez. I was amazed at all the house lights that seemed to line the hills and mountains. Seems the folks of PR have learned that the higher up you are, the cooler, more breezy the air is.

Monday we painted and cleaned in the morning while others passed out flyers; of course, the group who had passed out flyers came back with a story. Seems our youth minister (YM from here on out) carried around this duck puppet that has a song box that quacks out familiar tunes as they were visiting children, inviting them to "camp" (VBS to us). Dave knows little Spanish, but he loves to use what little he knows, so he was walking around with the duck saying, "Pato, pato" ("duck, duck") to the kids. He got a little worried when people were kind of smirking, chuckling, and giggling, so when he caught up with John, he asked him, "'Pato' does mean 'duck', doesn't it?" John grinned and said, "Yes, but here 'pato' is slang for 'homosexual.'" Dave dumped the duck.

After everyone got back from passing out flyers, we went to Wal-Mart and the mall; then at suppertime we went to Ana and Felix's house. Ana and Felix are a couple who came into the church early on. If Bart heard right, Ana was a witch before her conversion; now she is a wonderful Christian lady who is a hoot. She is also a wonderful cook. We had Christmas dinner at her house. Christmas dinner in PR consists of rice (as does every other meal) that is cooked with pig's feet, pasteles--a meat mixture stuffed inside either yuca or plantain and wrapped in a banana tree leaf for cooking, and roast pork. I was surprised that I liked it all. And we loved the company.

Tuesday we went to El Oyo ("The Pits") to do VBS. I'll be honest: I'm not one to do VBS here at home. I just don't do kids that age in those quantities very well; however, now I'm rethinking my position. We started out with 12 kids. Within minutes I was trying to decide how I was going to sneak the youngest one out past her abuela, into my suitcase and back to the States. She was one of the cutest little girls I have ever seen. We also had one little girl who had Downs; she came with her sister who obviously adores her. (As a matter of fact, they wouldn't come in until I had motioned for them to do so. Their mother seemed reluctant--like she didn't know if we would accept Melisa.) One of the boys was the class clown, but he was wonderful to his sisters. I will never forget this incident: Dave passed out animal crackers to everyone. Jeanpiel had two, just like everyone else. He kept one and took the other down to the older of his two sisters. She, in turn, broke it in half and gave half to the younger sister. That told me just how poor these kids are. We also had sandwiches for snacks. No one else would take any until the younger ones--especially the girls--had had enough. Then they all took something. I decided then and there that we as members of the United States are spoiled brats who think only of ourselves due to our material gluttony. How many kids here would grab the last sandwich, gloating all the while?

Tuesday afternoon we went to the beach in Boqueron. Think of palm trees, sand, calm waves, coconuts--a picture postcard. This is Boqueron. The water was so calm that I stayed in it for almost the entire time we were there. One of the boys found a starfish--something Christy, the missionary's daughter, said she hadn't done there in her 28 years. Another boy found a baby jellyfish (it can't sting yet) and it DID look like jelly. That same boy also dug up a crab as he was making a sandcastle. We watched yachts and boats of all sorts as we relaxed in the water. Beautiful stuff.

We ate lunch at the school--chicken and rice. (By this time I must say I was starting to feel the effects of the rice and they were just the opposite of what I expected.) Supper was brought in, too. It was another chicken and rice dish.

Wednesday started out with about 15 kids at VBS. On this day we had a new family. A mom brought her four children and she came with them. We found out later that she was a seeking Catholic. (Catholocism there is a little different than it is, for the most part, here. I'll probably explain this at another time.) We also found out that she had been widowed several years before by a husband who had died of lung cancer. Her circumstances, from what we could gather, were desperate. This was confirmed by another mother the next day.

On Wednesday afternoon, we ate lunch at school and then went to the Shrine at Hormigueros. This shrine had been built during the time of Colombus's visits by, I believe, some of his men. BEAUTIFUL. The shame is that the Shrine supports so much superstition among the people of Hormigueros. It is, as I mentioned earlier, a differnet type of belief that they have there. The power the superstition holds over the people is heartbreaking.

I have a lot more to say, but I guess I had better stop for now. I'll continue with the trip for a while. Now I'm going to view the CD of pictures that I have and hopefully I will jog my brain because I know I'm leaving stuff out.