I write to you as I contemplate the landscape. The sun is barely visible, but I can already see the silhouette of the volcano in the moonlight. Today I again climbed the mountain, one of those places where I lower my defenses and I can imagine, on the other side of sunset, the faces of those, not those I left behind, but all those who constantly allowed me – and still do – to fly, at times with fear, but still trusting in this great plan that God has for each one of us. For me. I look intently at the horizon, God and me. Me and God alone. He allows me to get close, and embraces me through the wonders that I can see. He waits for me in silence on top of this small mountain any time I believe that I cannot make it, any time reality becomes cruel, any time everything turns dark, or too heavy to carry… At these times, I climb the mountain, I let go of the heavier stones I carry in my bag, to be able to go on. I climb searching for silence, for hope, looking for myself. Looking for God.
The sun has already left this small mountain, and I am left alone with my thoughts. Thus, I remain alone with the cry of those who come this way, seeking refuge, seeking love, seeking God. During these unfathomable moments I become part of nature that surrounds me.
To climb the mountain allows me to get out of myself, to quietly observe nature around me, to feel all that I carry inside me, to realize that love is made up also of falls, that we also build with the stones found along the way. It allows me to see light. I allow my eyes to open and no longer face the darkness buzzing around me as I climb, I see the little lights shining in the midst of these people, I feel the divine presence among us all in these little lights, in these hearts seeking for him, in the hope of those who believe, in the perseverance of those who dot give up in the face of sorrow, in the knees of those who pray, in the courage of those who risk to move ahead, and then I see the lights that remain in me.
And, as I descend from the small mountain, I feel God again with me. Once again, he invites me to meet with the poor and the needy, with all those who open their doors to me every day, and with all those who still wait for me to arrive. He makes my burden light and makes me feel the joy to be mission in the only way possible, through love.
May we all be able to climb the mountain as often as necessary during this journey of life. May we always empty our bag we carry all the time. Let us not be afraid to speak of whatever happens within us when we are alone with God.
I am Monica Cervantes Suarez, I am 18, and I was born in the city of Sahuayo, Michoacán. I am about to start my university studies majoring in integrative medicine. I wish to share with you my experience in this missionary journey. Beginning when I was denied access to the career I wanted, I started looking for something else that would fill this void I felt, because I was far removed from God, and even though my parents are active in Church family movements, I kept a distance from all that.
I must confess that, if I had any missionary inclination, it was more out of curiosity about knowing different cultures and traditions, above all for the adventure, for seeing new places, etc. I had the opportunity to attend a national mission congress for children and adolescents with the them: “WITH JOSELITO IN THE MISSIONARY HEART OF VOCATION.” I really did not know what I was doing there and at the beginning I felt out of place, but everything changed within me when I realized that I needed to discover my life’s mission.
After this experience, I decided to get in touch with the CLM Beatriz, who had spoken on the Missionary Vocation and given an account of her life at the Congress, to ask her to let me attend the mission camp. Having received a positive answer, I started with my formation to attend the Holy Week Mission Camp. I was waiting for my departure day with much enthusiasm but, when the time came, I felt both a lot of fear and at times joy, because what I had been awaiting for so many years was about to come.
We arrived at the parish of Metlatonoc, a community of Vicente Guerrero, where I stayed for a week. We faced several difficulties to get there, including a long journey, and steep uphill roads where we had to leave the car and walk to the place. But staying in the community I had the chance to discover that there is greater joy in giving than in receiving and also that a missionary learns from the community that accepted us with joy and enthusiasm. We worked as a team. We worked with the girls, forming three teams to share the themes and the eucharistic celebrations. Because we had no priests, we did not have the Eucharist, but we had the celebration of the Word in which I was chosen to lead the Easter Vigil. I felt a great responsibility and, wanting everything to turn out well, I was very nervous. Just the same, by the end I felt the peace and joy of having lived this great experience. Without a doubt, the Lord was able to seduce and trap me so that I may continue to serve. Coming back, I could look at life differently, trying to see always the positive side of things. I continued to follow the missionary activities and the meetings that have helped me to discover my vocation.
I just finished attending another National Youth Missionary Congress in July, in Villa Hermosa, Tabasco. The theme invited me to go beyond myself: CHRISTIAN YOUTH AT THE PERIPHERIES OF THE WORLD. There I could share experiences with people of my age who, just like myself, have questions as they try to discover their journey in a life of service in mission.
Now I am anxiously waiting for the formation retreat that will take place at the Comboni Seminary of San Francisco del Rincón, Gto. There I will start the process of formation as a Comboni Lay Missionary, since I feel that I identify with the missionary charism of St. Daniel Comboni.
Perhaps our idea of mission and of the world is a little rosy, but for me mission is a rainbow of colors, emotions, instants and learning. Mission is more than the vast blue sky I embrace every day at the beginning and at the end of it, it is more than the brown color of the desert’s sand that covers the ground. It is also more than the green of the scenery where some trees fight to stay green, or the grey of foggy days hiding the volcanos.
Mission is an immensity of colors. It is the color of the faces that make me smile and the color of the stories I listen to hour after hour reminding me about what we are made of, and it is the color of all those hearts that teach me how it is possible to love more. But it is also the color of the smiles, the hugs, the tears and the color of the natural and human scenery. The daily mission to stick with them has a lot of colors.
They are the children who call to me in the streets or in the kindergarten, where I joyfully share my returning to being a child with them, giving myself without fear. They are the elderly who freely dance when they come to visit since, allow me to say it, for them we are often the only family they have. There are real stories of survival and struggle. Or the families when we gather to share it all, which is the sum of individual parts because it through this occasion that we meet and donate of ourselves without preconceptions or conditions, simply because that’s the way it is. It is also in the daily visits where I find the true meaning of my walking around and where I see the colors of the world here and now. Here in this little burg I daily live the experience of being me, with the essence of all the colors I feel inside and of those I allow myself to see in the world.
I confess to you that often I allow myself to be molded by them, by their experience of life and of God, that I allow myself to observe and where I have many teachers. So, I allow myself to get out of myself in order to learn from them. I always believed that they did not call me for nothing else but to love. To love these people, this culture and these customs. To love in all its aspects, in the falls in the errors, in the getting up and with the hope of being a better version of myself every single day. And even though over a year has gone by, I keep on learning from them – we learn together. Thus, each day I discover another color both inside and outside me, in this interchange of life, histories and faces where every day I discover the color of love.
PS. Love is not of one color. Love will also have the color you choose!
It has been two months now since I am in Africa. My first stop was Democratic Republic of Congo. First thing that surprised me when I landed in Kinshasa was the temperature, it was very, very high. I was already in Kenia twice so far, so I supposed I would not be very surprised by African reality, and for sure not by the weather!
At the airport, there were waiting for me two persons: father Celestin, responsible for CLM movement in DRC and Tiffany – CLM Coordinator. They took me to the provincial house of the MCCJ where I was welcomed very warmly by all CLM and Comboni fathers’ community.
During these two months spent in Kinshasa, I focused mainly on learning French, but also on experiencing community life, in big international group. It showed me that diversity is truly beautiful. So many different cultures, different languages, habits, it can really work and give joy to the people who live together. We can find something that connects us: first of all – God, other people, happiness of being together, common mission and care of God’s work. Of course, life with other people is not easy, but the awareness that we share the same goal helps a lot.
As I mentioned before, time spent in Kinshasa was mainly to learn French, quite difficult experience for me, but it really taught me many things.
At the beginning, I tried to mix up French and English, but most of the time I still used simple English instead of French. The later, the harder, more and more people required from me to speak French, but that worked for the best! I was of course stressed and frustrated, but I knew that was for my own good and I am grateful for that time. Every day I tried to speak more and more in French, sometimes I felt shameful because of my spelling or grammar mistakes, but it was an additional motivation to improve my language skills.
Now I know, why it is so important to speak, even with mistakes, because someone can correct them. We need other people to help us with defeating the barrier of speaking (even with the mistakes). That is why community is so important.
In our Comboni spirit it is crucial to appreciate people we are among, their presence and support, their motivation. Alone, we do not have so much strength as we have together. Maybe you can find this as an ideal vision, so perfect that cannot be true, but that is my experience both from Cracow and Kinshasa.
This time showed me how adequate are the words: “God does not call the qualified. He qualifies the called”.
When I had some free time on Saturdays, together with Enochi (CLM from Kinshasa) I served people on the street. It was a program called “meal from your heart”. It was prepared by one family for people who lived on the street. Kinshasa is a very big city, and people came from different parts, just to have a warm meal. During a couple of hours, we were giving around 250-300 plates. I realized how blessed I am that I have something to eat, access to drinkable water, place to sleep and clothes to wear. There is so many people in the world who cannot afford it. I have in mind pictures of young boys who “take a bath” and washed their clothes in the small moat near to the provincial house. I will remember it for the rest of my life.
Time in Kinshasa allowed me also to experience the happiness of people here, despite of difficulties, they need to go through. To see their energy and commitment.
Now, for over 3 weeks, I am in Bangui – capital of Republic of Central Africa. I will stay here also for two months to learn Sango – local language. I got to know my community – Christina and Simone, I will live and work with them in Mongoumba. On Friday 28 June, we celebrated together the Day of Holiest Heart of Jesus Christ. It was time for adoration, dinner and talk together.
I wanted to ask you all to pray for me, for the people I meet here, for all I am about to do here, my mission and my life. I will also pray for you.
In mission between Kenya and Ethiopia, our CLM Carolina Fiúza writes for the digital newsletter of the diocese of Leiria-Fátima (RED). We share the article with you.
I write to you as I am about to end my stay in Nairobi, Kenya. It was a tourist tip I really desired. For reasons beyond my control I had to exit Ethiopia, because the visa we as missionaries use to enter the country is a business visa valid for a month. For longer stays, such as my two years, upon reaching Ethiopia, during this month we must obtain a residence certificate. But my business visa expired and, in order not to remain in Ethiopia illegally, I had to step out into Kenya for a week, then come back and start again the residence process. The exigent bureaucracy makes it difficult for us to enter the country. Perhaps we can say that, generally speaking, the history of Ethiopia is marked by demanding regimes and imperialist systems that were very controlling. This the history that marks the population! Let it suffice to say that they lived under an emperor up to 1974 and it is one of the few African countries that were never colonized… Ethiopia has history, a great history!
Feelings of sadness and frustration added up the day I found out that I had to leave. Mostly, because I had already started to attend Amharic classes two weeks earlier. So I was going to miss a week of classes at the school, which is the door to enter into the culture, where they plant the sounds of the words in our heads, making a melody that I am beginning to love. It is not an easy language! I must admit that I feel the paradox between the enthusiasm of being like a little girl learning words by imitation (how to say colors, food, animal, etc.) and being doubtful. I feel that learning quickly this language will be a complicated affair.
It was not enough just to learn Amharic, a complicated language, that now I have to go to Kenya, miss classes, slow down my learning of the language! This way I do not know when I will be able to do what I came for – mission! – This is what I was thinking.
We fall into the temptation to think that mission is to do, to be successful, to plan everything at a practical level.
But let us not fool ourselves. I am fooling myself if I think that my true mission will start the day I will begin to live with the Gumuz and start a project with my group. We forget that it is not the great things that we see and touch that will produce much life. Not a few times it is in silence that we do the most.
I could tell you that it is easy to personally understand this paradox of waiting. This time spent learning the language makes me feel the lack of practical results. By I gratefully remember the words of my friend, CLM Cristina Sousa, who is currently in the Central African Republic, when she was saying with a play on words that she was leaving for the mission to graze (pastar). To graze, translates in our Portuguese saying that if you graze, you are doing nothing. But you can change it into P’astar, namely To Be. And reflecting on these wise words I tell myself, Carolina, you have already started! The same I say to all of you… for you, mission has already started from the moment when you came to be in the world as God’s creatures.
First you are surprised, then you understand. So goes the saying. Having accepted that the Lord wanted me to know a new and wonderful country like Kenya, now I can say that it was worth coming and it was for me a necessary visit. Nairobi is like a European or North American city – it’s green and organized, despite the heavy traffic, cars, people, but it does not have the heavy air we breath in Addis Ababa. Besides studying Amharic through the audios my classmates sent me when they had internet connection, I got to know the center of Nairobi with two Kenyans, members of the Parliament Mass choir, in which I took part at the invitation of Comboni Fr. Giuseppe Caramazza. It is also a business city, and it is enough for this to glimpse at the great Kenyatta Convention Center, a 28 story building, which is the venue for many assemblies, seminars, exhibits and international meetings.
Speaking of Mass, its red soil is already a symbol of its preparation and celebration. Many people gather very early to prepare what will be the real celebration. One of the choir members told me: When you go to attend a festival or a concert, you get ready, don’t you? Therefore, we must do the same, or better, for the Eucharist, because there is no greater feast. And here, this is the rule. This is a Eucharist where nobody just comes, but participates, from children to grownups. They all have something to contribute to the banquest with their voice, dancing, palms, etc.
A transversal reality, not only in Kenya, but also in Ethiopia is that at the Eucharist you do not look at your watch. It is not the kind that lasts 50 minutes or an hour, where often we see people busy with their watch, in the hope perhaps that the Feast may be close to the end. Not so! Here the Eucharist lasts about one and a half to two hours. The rhythm is given by happy songs and dances, a well defined rhythm that awakens the soul… and then I become aware that my own body is swaying, waking up. And suddenly, after we have been filled up by this banquet that gives us life, the feast in the Lord’s house is over and those who had been invited to it linger at the entrance to converse. I look at my watch, time just flew by!
And so it is. Time here flew! Just like the hugs I am sending to you, filled with good memories.
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