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07 August 2011

August 4

A month ago was the fourth of July in Honduras.  It was, in fact, the fourth of July all over the world.  I think, however, that I will remember this Fourth of July more clearly than many others.  (Though, I must admit, watching fireworks from the top of Caldwell Hall several years ago comes in a close second.  Those of you who were there know who you are.)

A month ago, I took to killing flies (close to two dozen of them) in the dining room and kitchen while two of the American brothers (with the help of a Honduran friar) attempted to light a cranky charcoal grill.  Another brother attempted to make macaroni salad with what passed for mayonnaise in Ocotepeque.  I took a break from fly killing to slice pepper, tomatoes and onions.

I have spent time on this retreat considering what in me has changed between the Fourth of July, 2011 and August 4, 2011 in my life.  Frankly, I do not know. 

I do know that things have changed.  I am looking at trees a bit more closely, am praying a bit more deliberately, am enjoying silence more fully.  I still cast a wary eye at tap water, but I imagine that will change soon.

The long-lasting change in my person, I believe, will likely be just as long-term in coming as the depth of change itself.  To paraphrase co-director of postulancy from another province, “You never know the value of what you learned in Honduras [the novitiate] until you’re out.”

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I got a hold of your unedited comments. Now they can be published:

I do know that things have changed. I am looking at trees a bit more closely, am praying a bit more deliberately, am enjoying silence more fully, am disliking the Mets more vehemently. I still cast a wary eye at the Phillies Phanatic, but I imagine that will change soon.

Welcome aboard!

Chris J