Is it weird to say I have a ‘favorite’ part of the “Lord’s Prayer”? Probably. But I’m going to say it anyway. And, as you may have guessed, the words that resonate most with me are, “Give us this day our daily bread.” Why? you ask. A reasonable question. Say it like this: “Give us this day our daily bread,” emphasis on the ‘this.’ What’s the difference? Well, really there is none; it’s only a reminder of the significance of the word ‘this.’ But for me, it’s significant. It reminds those of us who pray the “Lord’s Prayer” that we have a God of the moment, a God who recognizes that in each day, in each moment of each day, in each breath of each moment of each day, we need something to go on, to move forward. You encounter struggles, obstacles, joys, and unexpected turns. And if we are to stay grounded, we need sustenance to take that next step, to address whatever challenge or demand has presented itself. And while that sustenance may not be ‘bread’ in the literal sense, it is still just as real. There is still a need for “daily bread,” whatever form it might take, and that need comes “this day”…this moment.
As you might expect, there have been many, many moments in Bolivia
Let me paint a brief picture…
There is a young boy, Miguel, who stopped me after dinner the other night as I was leaving Hogar Don Bosco. I rarely stay long after; dinner is usually enough of a challenge for my Spanish, and I like to stop while I’m ahead. But Miguel came running up to me just before I left the property and said, “Hello, how are you?” “Hablas ingles?” I asked, and he just smiled. And for the next 30 minutes or so, we practiced English, and he told me how much he loves to learn the language. I learned a little about his family, his passions, and he promised to teach me some karate in the future. Had I not stayed, had I cut the conversation short, had I stuck to my original plan, I would have missed starting what might become an important relationship for both of us.
Give us this day our daily bread…
I had a great day last Friday running around the city with some Salesian Lay Missioner friends, trying to get the next step in the visa process together. It was a great time with some great people, and I was on something of a high. That afternoon, I had promised a sister of one of the employees at Proyecto Don Bosco that I would help her with her English, and so at 4:40pm I got on a bus to head towards the center of the city. I hadn’t ever ridden the bus in this direction, but figured I could figure it out. On Bolivian buses (micros) you just yell, “Pare, por favor,” (stop, please) when you want to get off. Now, I wasn’t sure of the bus route or how close I could get towards the center of the city, so I kept assuming I could get a little closer. Onward and onward we went, and I kept saying, “Just a bit closer.” I said this until I no longer knew where we were and finally decided to wait for the bus to loop around. Funny thing about Bolivian buses…they don’t loop. I rode it until the end of the line and back, missed the meeting, and walked home a bit dejected after a 2.5 hour failed endeavor.
Give us this day our daily bread…
Yesterday I was invited to go on retreat with the young people from Barrio Juvenil, Fr. Ivan, and Giulia. I was a bit uncertain as to my role and didn’t have much to say, but I was able to talk to several of the young people, learn a little about their families and backwards, and share a joke or two. While I couldn’t say for certain what my purpose there was, I think my presence was important. The more they see me, the more the young people will get to know me, to trust me, to share with me. I’ve already had ice cream with one of the boys, Louis, and I’m hoping we’ll become better friends.
Give us this day our daily bread…
It’s still hard to speak and understand. I easily get frustrated with my Spanish, and I’m afraid others get frustrated too. They have to repeat themselves over and over again, and I feel like the dumbest person they’ve ever met. But still they invite me out for dinner or ice cream or simply chat with me at the table. I’m still included in different projects and given responsibilities. And, with any luck, I’ll soon be teaching English to some of the kids at Hogar Don Bosco, an exchange of sorts. So we’ll see…
Some of my reflections have been on the nature of the Crucifixion. By human standards, the event itself was a complete failure. Jesus was killed, his mission ended, his followers scattered, the end. But for anyone who buys into the Christian story, the tale is far from over, and what is a failure by human terms is a great victory for God’s project. I try to keep that in mind when I feel like I’ve failed—when I can’t understand what’s being said to me, when I can’t think of anything to say to one of the young people, when I feel overwhelmed with the size of the city or the task put in front of me, when I think about what I’m actually doing here (Am I doing, or simply being? And which is preferable?)… There is plenty of room for failure, at least by my standards. But I have to believe that, at the end of the day, it’s not really my standards that are going to matter, and that my apparent failures will become something much more.
Interested in seeing some pictures? Check out this link: Santa Cruz 1
Incredible as always. I'm sure your spanish is improving greatly and seems like you will soon be a karate master =) The pictures are beautiful and as always I cannot wait to hear more.
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