Today's Psalm is 34, it is the one I used for my sending Mass when I left Oregon. Today I again find comfort and challenge in this scared scripture.
This week I have reached the half way point of language school. Honestly, I really wish I had more command of the language at this point. However, I know that I am in a better place with it than I was 1.5 months ago. Today I was in a 3 hour lecture on church history in Brazil. (I know right about now you are thinking how lucky I am). Of course it was in Portuguese. I understood 3/4 of the talk which I was happy with. I am able to understand a lot more, however, I am still struggling with speaking. I like to say I speak shopping. Because I can go to the grocery store and get whatever I need. Granted it is messy but I get it done.
Today some one said to me that we should enjoy our time in language school because this might be the best time of our mission. I totally disagree with this statement. At this point I think this may be the hardest part for me. Learning the language is challenging and humbling. Many of the students reflect about how stupid they feel when trying to speak with Brazilians. It is true I do feel stupid a good part of every day. This person said we are lucky because we have a great room. Which is true. And I love, love, love, that Maria washes my sheets and towels every Friday. But for me this time is not what it means for me to be a missioner. It is a necessary time for me to learn the language and the culture. It is important for me because it gives me some of the tools to build my foundation as a missioner. However, if I could I would run out the front door of the school and into the streets where the people I came to accompany live.
As I reflect on the words "The Lord hears the cry of the poor," I feel like I too have heard those cries. In my work and ministry for the last 25 years I have listen to the stories of the poor. I have seen their tears and felt their pain as well as their joy. And it is those cries that have brought me to Brazil. To do what, I still do not know but I long to be able to get started. My heart's desire is to live out my vocation to journey in this life with the poor.
But for now I have to think about my own poverty. My lack of control and power at this point in my life. My dependence on others and a humbling of my heart. I think about a child learning to ride a bike. I remember my dad putting my training wheels on my bike. Then having my parents holding on to the bike and running alongside me, until I was ready to go it on my own. At this point in my journey as a missioner my training wheels are still being installed. I have so many people that are working on running alongside me. As much as I desire to take off and ride I am not ready yet. I long to feel the wind in my hair as I peddle on my own, but for now I know I must embrace my journey. I need to trust that I will get there, and appreciate all those around me who are cheering me on.
I think the cry of the poor comes from each of us. My poverty is no where near that of others. And yet in my poverty and in my weakness I know that God listens to my heart. He hears me and answers me.
O Senhor ouve o grito dos pobres, bendito seja o Senhor.
What matters is not how fast we go, only that we go.
The Cry of the Poor
