I have been procrastinating on this post . . . for about three months.
I laugh looking back at my post in March - I was like, “Cheers to two weeks of quarantine,” ignorantly thinking everything would be back to normal quickly.
plot twist yesterday marked 5 months of being in lock down.
I didn't realize at first how different the approach and experiences to the pandemic were with the US and Honduras. I mean it makes sense, I am living in a Third World Country with very little resources. But I think it is safe to say that universally, we experienced similar emotions.
For me personally, I feel these past months have been a roller-coaster of changes and emotions. They seemed to have lasted forever and yet passed in a twinkle of an eye. Looking back on these months of quarantine, I feel it has been a process of questioning. It went from, "Why?" , "How?", "Why now?", "Why me?", "Why Honduras?" —honestly, human to human, it was very self-centered and pity party-esc. Praise Jesus, and all His graces, my questioning changed into “How can I be your light to others?", "How can I bring hope to someone?", and "How can I be part of your answer?".
He has been showing me how and using me to love those around me. He has been letting me enter into a deeper understanding of suffering and connection with my fellow brother or sister in Christ.
But before I get into my ramblings, a practical 5-month overview of what we have been doing:
Starting with March, Father Juan Pablo, a Missionaries of Charity Father (Mother Teresa’s order), led us in powerful retreat to remind us how much God the Father loves each one of us individually. He was also encouraging us to enter into asking the hard questions though. Should have known it was the preliminary event and prepping us for the months to come.
We went on our first Spring Break Mission with Texas A&M (see my previous blog). An absolutely incredible mission that ended with us trying to get the team home before the boarders shut down due to Covid and us entering into Lock Down.
What have we been up to since then? I will share Carol’s words of wisdom because she words it better than I can:
We knew from the beginning of the pandemic that God would ask us to be a part of relieving the intense suffering that exists because of the poverty and injustice that exists in this country. We have had the gift and opportunity to discern God’s call as a community in stepping out and doing our part to be present in the midst of a comprehensive crisis that continues to grow. We discerned that we are called to help provide for the basic needs of food, emergency medicines and accompaniment for the families that are represented in our scholarship program, our physical therapy program to the handicapped, and our mother’s program. We have also expanded our door ministry to include giving food, a word of hope and praying with the children and families who come to the door in emergency situations. We are continuing the formation and accompaniment that we give to the young people in our youth leadership formation programs, virtually through videos, phone calls, messages of hope and virtual conferences and retreats. There is not a person in the world that has not in some way been deeply impacted by this crisis and we are privileged to know the Answer and try to be faithful to give Him away.
We were in a continual flux of changes and discernment trying to find the best means of serving our families without putting anyone at risk, in addition to trying to figure out what we were each personally called to do in response to the pandemic.
In April, one of the most difficult changes—at least for me—was that several Missionaries discerned it was time to return home and be “a light in the darkness” on the home front. This was a painful change for me personally because as we discerned together, I felt called to the opposite, to remain in Honduras in the midst of all the uncertainty, and to continue serving here. As several of you know, my family is always first for me. And with all the ambiguity of the pandemic, I wanted to be with them. To call my parents and tell them of my decision was one of the hardest calls. Not just because I tend to be super dramatic at times and was like “I may never see you again” and was weeping my eyes out, but mainly because I felt like I was choosing Honduras over them. Oh I can be such a silly person. When God asks us to follow him, he will never ask us to choose something we don’t want nor ask us to abandon those we love. He granted me the grace to surrender my family to Him yet again and freely say “yes” to serving my Honduran family.
April, May, June and July I worked mainly with our emergency response team, going door to door of the families in our programs, handing out food and doing assessments as to what the needs were and how we could help them. I could talk for hours on everything that has happened, so if you want to hear all the crazy stories and adventures, let’s plan a coffee date when I am back stateside and catch up 😊
For now, I want to focus on one of the areas I have been challenged in the most.
As I stated before, in los principios (the beginnings) of all this, I kept asking “Why me.” Why was I called to stay when the rest from the States were called back? I saw so much suffering—physical, emotional, moral—and I felt so useless. I mean, there was nothing I could do. Yes, I could pray for them or with them, but I wanted to DO something. I wanted to be “in the trenches.” Suffering alongside. But instead, I was in lockdown at the Mission House—comfortable, well fed with beans and rice, receiving the sacraments, etc. As I already covered, I tend to be dramatic and self-centered, so I was wallowing in self-pity. I’m talking thoughts like: “Why wasn’t I from a medical background and could help in the hospital?” or “I am not pulling my weight, I can’t even drive stick and go on my own to do house visits” or “Why do I feel so alone living with enclosed 18+ people”, why why why boohoohoo. Why the others didn’t kick me out to fend for myself with the sheep that always visit us, I will never know.
About three months ago, I had a refocusing, mindset change moment. I was talking with a gentleman who came to the door begging for food for his family. In the course of conversation, he asked me, “Why is there suffering? If Jesus died for me, then why do I still suffer?”
I gave him some vague response about receiving the reward in heaven and offering up the pain etc. But ohhhh it bugged me. Because it made me realize—in my own way, I was asking the same questions. Not questioning the existence of suffering necessarily, but rather, what is the meaning of it all? I mean, I hear the stories and see the living situations of the families I serve daily and I can’t help but throw a glance up to the sky sometimes and shake my head, speechless at the suffering I see.
I am so grateful for these past 5 months. I think they were the hardest in my time here in Honduras because I had to face myself. My insecurities, emotional wounds, fears, etc. You know, the fun stuff. Personally, it is so easy to push my limits on mission and challenge myself—translating, leading teams, doing house visits, sing the duck song for the 100th time, etc.
But to stand before someone and not have an answer, a solution . . . Well, it killed me. I want to be SuperWoman. But I am just Erin. I will do all in my ability to help someone, but when I am unable to, in my pride, I become so frustrated with myself. As the pandemic grew, I become more and more frustrated, angry. These people were starving, struggling to survive, and all I could do was hand them a plate of hot food and offer to pray with them.
An incredible friend of ours, a Doctor at the local public hospital, called me asking if I had extra thermometers and other basic materials in our pharmacy that we could donate. She and the rest of the doctors in the covid and triage section where she had been assigned were sharing the same thermometer because there was only one left and no funds to purchase another. I was speechless. I have heard and seen the harsh realities of medical care here (due to the corruption and the systems in place, basic needs are unfortunately not a top priority). But this was too much. I felt another wave of anger. Anger at the systems, the realities, and my uselessness to make a change (still focused on myself). That night, Caty and I went to drop off the thermometers and I saw the crowd of people waiting to be seen. There are not enough beds for patients, let alone enough materials to treat them. Families are sleeping on the dirty concrete ground outside, not wanting to leave their loved one behind and anxiously waiting to be tested to see if they have the virus. They wait without food, water, or a bathroom. . . I still struggle to describe it. I left with eyes burning with tears, angry tears.
A while ago, my grandfather recommended that I read “Salvifici Doloris”, Saint Pope John Paul II’s (JPII) Apostolic Letter about the “Christian Meaning of Human Suffering.” I had printed it then but just never got around to reading it. As I was deep cleaning shortly after the hospital visit, I came across it again and decided it was time.
Oh, my goodness. I felt like a little cactus flower in the desert soaking up the rain. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend taking the time to read it and then reflect on it.
Now what I am about to share is what came to me as I read and reflected and tried to understand, so hopefully it makes sense.
Suffering—takes so much courage. Both ways. Courage to be vulnerable, to let someone enter your suffering and accompany you. Courage to accompany someone suffering and experience their suffering.
Personally, when I suffer or struggle, I cut others out. Put my head down and push through. I don’t want to be seen in my littleness, my weakness, and/or helplessness. JPII talked about how suffering is an opportunity to be purified and to help rebuild goodness—by asking for and/or receiving help. I realized I had a distorted view, I wanted to protect others from myself – meaning I wouldn’t hurt them with my struggles and I wouldn’t be hurt by them . . . or at least my pride wouldn’t be hurt. While pondering this, I remembered a letter from my Godmother that I always carry with me in my bible. In it, she shared a story of how her friend Judy helped her when my Godmother was going through a stressful time and trying to do everything on her own (I come by it naturally).
My Godmother wrote:
One day she [Judy] said to me, “You must not want me to get to Heaven”. I said to her, “What are you talking about! Of course I want you to get to Heaven!”. She said, “We all need to perform some acts of charity. Who am I supposed to do acts of charity for?”
Erin, I was so humbled by this. The thought that Judy needed me to accept her help and make use of her many talents.
St. JPII and Judy have a point. I need to let others become part of my purification, letting them be part of rebuilding goodness, instead of trying to handle it solo. Just as much as, I need and love to serve others and accompany them in their struggles.
Next JPII explores how Christ conquered suffering by love. In summary, Death is beyond suffering. Christ conquered death on the cross in his love for us, therefore, he conquered suffering with love. The Passion transforms suffering into love and hope. If I want to be redeemed, I enter into the processes of redemption, which is suffering.
As I read and dissected this part, I could not help but think, “SO WHY AREN’T YOU LETTING ME SUFFER?” (Thinking only in terms of physical suffering). If I need to suffer to be redeemed, why am I not suffering?? I mean not that I want to suffer, I am a wimp, and not a fan of suffering. But I am witnessing intense suffering—people starving, working insane hours, families suffering due to death of a loved one—and here I am living in comfort. I am no saint, I am in the process of redemption, so why is it different for me at this moment?
In response it felt like JPII said, “Ah, thank you for asking,” and moved into the next part, “Sharers in the suffering of Christ.” When we share in the suffering of Christ, he transforms our testimony, our story, into one of hope. Instead of believing we were abandoned or alone, we see that he was right there with us. It is a rediscovering of faith. We enter into eschatological glory. A big word that means, “relating to death, judgement, and the final destiny of the soul and of humankind” glory. We have a goal, it gives us hope, purpose and focus – aiming for this glory of the final destiny of the soul. Hence the paradox, in that we are strong when we are weak. Suffering is man’s weakness and emptying of self. In this emptying of self, Christ can enter and use you, hence we have the ability to glorify Him. Not sure if this makes any sense—I am not a theologian or philosopher, just a coffee loving missionary geeking out that there is something bigger then suffering, and that suffering is already conquered.
Anyways, JPII concludes with how we share in the suffering of Christ. As we grow closer to Christ in our suffering, we grow in understanding. When we unite ourselves to Christ in it, we find peace and joy and overcome the sense of uselessness of suffering.
He used the Parable of the Good Samaritan as an example. The Samaritan crosses to the other side, he stops (!) and accompanies. What is accompanying? JPII explains it’s not about taking on the suffering of the other and making it your own—carrying a burden that is not yours. Instead, it means walking along side them, hearing them, and ultimately LOVING them. While reading this section, I reflected on how easily I become burned out while serving others when I try to help by simply giving myself to them; when instead of accompanying a person I try to end his or her suffering by carrying it myself. Only God has carried suffering and defeated it. I had tried to be God, so I got burned out. It is essential that we stop and have compassion like the Samaritan. So how does one simply accompany the other? Is it really enough to just be present for someone?
About three weeks ago, we found out that Juan Pablo, the nephew of Diana (one of the Missioners) had passed away. I won’t go into all the details involved, but it was a painful and a very complicated situation. When we first received the news, I caught myself trying to revert on how I used to accompany—try to understand as much as the situation possible, try to take it on myself and make it my own, etc. I found myself frustrated. Diana and I are close but never really shared our personal family stories. So at first I couldn’t figure out how he was related to her. But then my selfishness entered. Why would I want to accompany her in this suffering? I am struggling enough as is, I don’t know him, and she seemed well surrounded by others, so why should I put myself through this? I felt myself being overwhelmed by the brokenness, the unjustness, and all the questions—and shut down. A few days later, we virtually attended his funeral via Zoom. As we were sitting there, I started thinking back to all my musings on JPIIs letter. And then it hit me (more like CLOBBERED me). It just all came together.
To accompany someone, does not mean trying to be God. It means to accompany—to be present in the moment with someone else. It is enough. Diana didn’t need me to be SuperWoman and try and find a reason to all the madness. What I needed to do, was sit there, not just watch the funeral but “attend” the funeral. To let myself feel the pain her family was going through, not make it mine, and love them.
JPII ends his letter by saying, “At one and the same time, Christ has taught man to do good by his suffering and to do good to those who suffer. In this double aspect he has completely revealed the meaning of suffering”. To be brave and to walk together to rebuild goodness.
So as I said, I have been procrastinating on this blog for three months. I just didn’t know what to write on. I felt like I was trying to keep my head above water while watching all those around me try to do the same and I couldn’t help anyone. I kept mulling over all the changes and confusion, the injustice in Honduras and the States, the pandemic, the suffering, all of it.
So if you are still with me after my dissertation on JPII’s letter and my personal take-away, thank you.
I feel that what I learned through my experience of this pandemic is that we received a chance to be part of purification and rebuilding goodness on a universal level. In being served and serving others, suffering together, we have become more united on a human level. Social Justice issues have come to the light, corruption is being called out, changes are being made. We have a chance to be messengers of the hope and the love that our Father has for each one us. He is calling us to partake in the eschatological glory. He is calling us to not be afraid! To accompany our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ and let them know they aren’t alone.
I have always believed myself to be a quick learner. But Lord have mercy, I have been the slowest learner ever. These past two years, I have struggled so much in my uselessness. I have burned myself out time and time again trying to carry the sufferings of everyone I met. Preaching on how it’s all about loving in the little moments and bring joy to others in the daily routine—and yet, not believing the message for myself and wanting to be SuperWoman.
I kept asking God why. Why me? And while sitting there “at” the funeral for Juan Pablo, I just felt so overwhelmed at how there is so much in loving someone. There is so much in being present for someone. Hearing someone. Seeing someone. Showing through your actions and words, that they aren’t just anther person, but a unique and beautiful individual. Suffering allows us to connect, to be seen and heard and know we are not alone.
Jesus never said it would be easy. After the resurrection, freeing us from death and sin, he still bore the marks of the wounds received in the suffering of the Passion. For me, it is how we approach it. We have the choice to let our suffering be redemptive. To let it purify us and build goodness. Just wish it hadn’t taken me two years to finally let go of my focus on how useless I am, and refocus on how much He can do through me. When I am weak, I am strong because it is no longer me, it is all Him.
These past few weeks, we've been prepping for the new normal and what it will look like for us. And I find myself so grateful for the chaos of these past few months. I am so grateful for these past two years. Grateful for all the ups and downs, the joys and sufferings, the "boring" cleaning days and the crazy adventures. I can’t believe how quickly they passed. Without every moment, I wouldn't be where I am now.
I am currently in the process of job applications and interviews and prepping for the next step. I will be flying back to NC on Friday, August 28th, (in less then two weeks, yowzaa). I am still processing everything that has happened and how much I have grown and need to grow.
Till next time