Recurring Themes: fèt and pyebwa mango (a party and a mango tree)

Our chapel before liturgy this morning.  

fèt

Today we had a special liturgy followed by a celebration to finish the school year, say good-bye to one another for vacation, a special farewell to our oldest residents who are aging out of our program, and celebrate May and June children's birthdays.  It was a great party; ala yon bèl fèt!  We, the sisters and two Canadian lay volunteers danced as we had at the sisters' party last week; some of the children seemed impressed and a bit surprised that we (especially the sisters, and most especially the French Canadian sister and this American sister) could dance.

Tomorrow children begin to depart for summer vacation This orphanage keeps children connected with whatever extended family members they have, and sends them "home" during long school breaks.  Good-byes are never easy.  It will especially be strange in September when the oldest of our children will not be returning.  I wish them the best.  There is a sister who keeps in contact and offers support to the young people after they complete their time here.

A lay volunteer who has been working and living with us since  December also leaves tomorrow; she has been a wonderful presence both with the children and in community.  I will certainly miss her.

pyebwa mango

A few weeks ago I wrote and submitted a piece to the Haiti Hub writing contest.  My writing was chosen to be published on their blog.  I include it below.  I've included the link to the Haiti Hub blog too.   I encourage you to go also read the other pieces which are very well written, you may find them more interesting than mine, (especially since I have previously posted at least two blog entries here about mango trees.)  https://haitihub.wordpress.com/2015/06/11/what-weve-seen-what-weve-learned/      

 Pyebwa Mango

I step out of the door way, onto the cement path, and lock both doors.  Just outside the orphanage’s play therapy room there is a mango tree.  Sometimes I pass it without paying much attention to it.  Sometimes I admire the flowers, leaves, or developing mangoes.  On this evening, as questions float through my head, its very being speaks to me. 

 

The mango tree providers shade, sheltering people who desire respite from the hot midday sun, always inviting, never coercing.  There is no guarantee that anyone will eat its fruit, benefiting from the nourishment it is there to provide.  Nor does the tree know if any of her seeds will ever be planted, take root, or bear fruit.  It does not need to know.  It allows the flowers to die, so the mangoes can come and in time releases the mangoes, keeping nothing for itself.   The mango tree stands tall and firm, although like all living things it is vulnerable to the environment in which it finds itself, and can be hurt when branches are torn off prematurely by wind or playing children.  The tree is aware of the other mango trees in the lakou, rooted in the same soil, entrusted with a shared mission though each is unique. 

   

I walk by the house of the younger children and turn towards the convent, accepting that that I may never receive and do not need answers to my questions, certain only that since being transplanted, I have grown.