I think I'm finally really here

Today is an important day for Armenians. (Unlike the US, today is actually the first day of fall here, but that's not why today is important). September 21 is the anniversary of Armenia's Independence and status as a republic (1991). Armenians are a little wary, however, because the celebration of days tied to their independence have been kind of hushed, and the government (?) has recently used these days to for celebrations completely unrelated to the republic/independence.

I wanted to share two important parts of my time here in the last two weeks:
I. The move from the "Recollection Room" to "Bittania" (I'm not really sure of the spelling on that one, but the English translation is "Bethany"
II. Becoming a Godmother


I. So I'm out of the upper room and into the village. This means I finally have separation from the work site (though I did like the recollection room). I live in a trailer in the village that the local government has allowed the MCs to use. Half of this trailer is occupied by a permanent Belgian volunteer, and the other half has become by little home- for now. I really like that I am finally in the village and among the people. I feel really strongly that I need to continue to learn Armenian and make an effort to talk and spend time with the people here as much as possible! The other thing about this trailer is that it is really living in poverty. It lacks a lot of commodities (I'm not sure this is the best word) that most people reading this would believe are absolutely necessary. I have to admit I am a little nervous about the cold in the coming winter- but so is everyone else who lives in the village year in and year out.

II. I've never been a godmother before. And if anyone asked me to imagine being a godmother, I would probably think of being a godmother in the Roman Catholic Church and of a baby, or child- or at least someone younger than me! Last week we had an Armenian Catholic service with 10 baptisms. Most were babies and children, but there was also one older woman who came to be baptised. While mass was beginning, the superior ran over to me and whispered "will you be a godmother?" It wasn't really a question. I didn't understand how I could be a godmother since I was baptised in a different rite and, furthermore, because I am going to leave Armenia at some point. She said, "oh it doesn't matter to them- they usually just find any Christian out on the street and pull them into the Church."

She told me to choose a godchild, which I felt particularly uncomfortable with...but I chose an older woman partly because I figured anyone choosing a godchild would have an easier time approaching a child or baby than an adult. In the Armenian rite they receive baptism, holy communion and confirmation all at the same time. So, she received her sacraments, became Catholic, and I thought I would never see this godchild of mine again.

Well turns out she teaches "sewing" to the children here. And, I hadn't really seen her around before because classes didn't start until the first week of September. She asked the Sisters two days after the baptism whether I could go to her house with two of the less severely handicapped children on the third day after the baptism. They told me this the night before I had to go. Then, the morning of, one of the Sisters mentioned that I might have to "wash" my godchild because the Armenians have a tradition of not bathing for three days because of the holy oil received in the sacrament of confirmation- and the godparent is supposed to bathe her godchild 3 days later.

I went over to my godchild's house with two of teenage girls from the Sisters' house. The first thing she did was show me pictures of her 22 and 24yr old sons who aren't at home right now. (Very strange to have a godchild with her own children- sons, no less- who are my age). A few of women from the village came, and we lit her baptismal candle as I washed her face, hands, head chest, and behind her neck three times. We then ate a kind of Armenian feast. The two girls who came with me acted as translators (which is really an amazing experience in itself). I spent several beautiful hours there. I can't even really describe how blessed this time was!

I realize more and more that I need to live in a disposition of openness and readiness to receive what God gives me. I never know what will come my way around here- each day really brings its own adventures in a more intense way than I've ever felt.

God is good and life is good.

I also climbed a mountain last week!

Thank you for your continued prayers and support and letters.

Love and prayers and peace!

a quick ps

I have a cell phone here because it was actually the most economic way to go. It's free to receive calls- even international calls. So, if you feel so inclined, my number is: 011 374 94 745 955.

Four Sisters and a Land Rover

For some reason, I have failed to mention thus far that the Sisters have a Land Rover. It's ridiculous to see them drive around in this thing- and it's even more ridiculous to be in there, bumping all around in there with them. We also have a crazy driver who finds it offensive that I buckle my seat belt, and always sneaks to unbuckle it whenever I sit in the front seat.

Another note I've forgotten to make is that I hand wash my clothes with "BARF" detergent. I tried to convince myself that it was a joke the first time I noticed this very appropriate brand name. But it's not. Sometimes life makes a lot of sense.

But sometimes life makes little sense at all. And, in fact, I've had more moments of frustration- especially a kind of frustration-with-self- than ever before. I think it's a good thing- well, at least a good thing to experience and move through. We carve out a lot of time for prayer around here, and that time has been more exasperating and exhausting than rejuvenating so far. As I've mentioned a couple of times now, I really feel myself being torn apart at a very basic level- "at the seams"- and it is difficult and indescribable to say the least. This time of quiet has allowed me to peer into myself in a way that creates a lot of disquietude. But I believe it's been good.

On a totally unrelated note, I think my English is getting worse and my Armenian is not getting much better. I met a young Polish priest last night who told me I have no excuse for not knowing the language better considering that I've been here for almost two months. While he's right, I will shamelessly defend myself a little bit by saying that I'm kind of exhausted at my core- and while I try to wake up before 7 to study the language, it's been difficult. Also, I am not by any means flooded with Armenian. In one day last week I heard Latin, Armenian, Dutch, Lithuanian, English, Russian, Italian. I am not even kidding. This place is the most international place I've ever lived. I've thought a couple of times that while religion does seem one of (if not the) deepest cause of discord and unrest on earth, it can also provide a great source of unity. This place is so international because it brings together people from all over the world who have a similar mission that finds its root in the Church.

And, speaking of being international...Two weeks ago I had an indescribable hitchhiking experience with four Lithuanian women in their late twenties and early thirties. It's the kind of story that I'll tell you over dinner when we meet again sometime. Needless to say, I've had many unexpected adventures...and I have no reason to think that they'll run out any time soon.

I would like to reflect a little more on the specific details of my time here. I spend most of my days with the twenty young people who live in this "Home of Peace" (that's literally what it is called). Most of them are within three years of me, though a couple are in their mid-teen years and we'll have one lady who will turn 50 this winter. They have all different kinds of disabilities- retardation, Down Syndrome, psychological, physical. Some children do not have physical disabilities, but there are not any children without some kind of mental disability. It's been wonderful and difficult to be here. I really have to provide the energy and the creativity- it doesn't come naturally from the young people. They like to do the things they've done before, and they function really well within the structure here, which is really more of a home more than an orphanage. They will never leave here, and no other people will ever be admitted here. Because of this, there is a deep sense of community among the young people. It's pretty neat to see and to strive to enter.

I've also had a little more interaction with the community outside of the Home of Peace. The Sisters told me and two other volunteers last Monday at 9am that we would begin a three day summer camp for 30ish village children at Monday at 10am. The Sisters gave us pasta and a soccer ball for a 6 hour camp and sent us on our way. It was chaotic and I was really frustrated with the lack of prior notice, and I would hardly call that kind of semi-organized chaos a "summer camp." But, in the end, it was a really good experience and opened the door to a better contact with the villagers. These kids know me now. And they come to say hi whenever they see me walk through the village. In fact, they don't just say hi, they sing this ridiculous song about eating bananas that I learned at ND Vision last summer. The banana song follows me wherever I go- both inside and outside of the HOP (haha that acronym is great). Most kids can't really pronounce my name, but they have no problem shouting, "EAT BANANAS EAT EAT BANANAS." I'm also called "American girl" or "big American girl" on occasion, as I'm at least a head taller than every woman (and some men).

Anyway, I want to reiterate a thanks for prayers and letters and emails. It's wonderful to have your continued support. I miss you and love you all.