![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Jun. 13th, 2004 01:40 amThe swinging shindig was tonight, and it was a good time. People actually came over, which was only a bit of a surprise. All in all, I think there were nine of us in attendance- counting my and my sister. But for a party-when-my-parents-are-gone-for-the-weekend, we had fun. We even drank champagne. :) (Shannon had apparently been telling my favorite Pat stories about one of my beverages of choice....) We gossiped, and went on a walk around the block, and told pope jokes, and ate a lot of chips, and learned how to open two different kinds of champagne bottles- quite the informative evening! Oh, don't you all wish you could party like the college graduates!
I spent my afternoon reading about El Salvador. I checked out a kids' book about it from the EP library yesterday, with the intent to teach the Truempi kids some things. I ended up getting educated myself, and the pictures and information brought back a lot of memories. That led me to get out this computer program we have- a century of National Geographic on CDs. I looked up El Salvador and spent some time reading articles and looking at pictures. At first, I did a search to see what all the disks had on them, and I just browsed the subjects they listed. And as I looked them over, I started crying. I started singing along with a cheesy song on the light-rock radio station, and I cried. There’s so much hopelessness to overwhelm that country, and it started rushing back at me. I’ve been trying to tell my stories, and it’s hard. How much can you force a person to listen? How much is too much, and how much is not enough information? How do I convey what I learned and what I felt? The only way is to try, I know. That’s maybe why posting my journal entries and pictures online feels so important; it’s just a way to keep getting out what I’m trying to take from my experience.
I talked to Meghan last night online, and left the short conversation feeling awfully relieved. She understands the need to tell the stories, and she offered to listen any time I need it. I told her I understood why people who come back from a semester in the DR are wrecks, and why the groups get accused of being cult-ish- I imagine they need that desperately, people who will truly listen and understand what they went through and experienced. Meg asked me how I was doing, how I was REALLY doing. It made me think about how I’m going to mass in the morning. Last week was the first time I went since I was back in the country. The Alleluia that Pax Christi sings is a Honduran Alleluia; they’ve sung it for years. The last lines are in Spanish, and I teared up right there in mass last Sunday. How am I doing? Weekends seem to be a little shakier than weekdays for processing.
I talked with Shannon tonight about how our government tries to fix things in other countries, like El Salvador and Iraq, often without taking into consideration the condescending nature of the involvement. I’m convinced that there is a way to rebuild by recognizing the past without dwelling on it, that there is a way to serve while forming relationships, that there is a way to empower without military means, that there can be hope amid practicalities and amid bad decisions in the past.
Cathy and I cooked dinner together tonight. I will say, I was very proud of us; our General Tso’s Tofu came out tasting really, really good. And I had us hold hands and give thanks before we ate.
I spent my afternoon reading about El Salvador. I checked out a kids' book about it from the EP library yesterday, with the intent to teach the Truempi kids some things. I ended up getting educated myself, and the pictures and information brought back a lot of memories. That led me to get out this computer program we have- a century of National Geographic on CDs. I looked up El Salvador and spent some time reading articles and looking at pictures. At first, I did a search to see what all the disks had on them, and I just browsed the subjects they listed. And as I looked them over, I started crying. I started singing along with a cheesy song on the light-rock radio station, and I cried. There’s so much hopelessness to overwhelm that country, and it started rushing back at me. I’ve been trying to tell my stories, and it’s hard. How much can you force a person to listen? How much is too much, and how much is not enough information? How do I convey what I learned and what I felt? The only way is to try, I know. That’s maybe why posting my journal entries and pictures online feels so important; it’s just a way to keep getting out what I’m trying to take from my experience.
I talked to Meghan last night online, and left the short conversation feeling awfully relieved. She understands the need to tell the stories, and she offered to listen any time I need it. I told her I understood why people who come back from a semester in the DR are wrecks, and why the groups get accused of being cult-ish- I imagine they need that desperately, people who will truly listen and understand what they went through and experienced. Meg asked me how I was doing, how I was REALLY doing. It made me think about how I’m going to mass in the morning. Last week was the first time I went since I was back in the country. The Alleluia that Pax Christi sings is a Honduran Alleluia; they’ve sung it for years. The last lines are in Spanish, and I teared up right there in mass last Sunday. How am I doing? Weekends seem to be a little shakier than weekdays for processing.
I talked with Shannon tonight about how our government tries to fix things in other countries, like El Salvador and Iraq, often without taking into consideration the condescending nature of the involvement. I’m convinced that there is a way to rebuild by recognizing the past without dwelling on it, that there is a way to serve while forming relationships, that there is a way to empower without military means, that there can be hope amid practicalities and amid bad decisions in the past.
Cathy and I cooked dinner together tonight. I will say, I was very proud of us; our General Tso’s Tofu came out tasting really, really good. And I had us hold hands and give thanks before we ate.
