Don’t let me forget… (INDIA 2018)

<<< 09/30/2018 This is feeling super weird. Coming home and being alone, everything clean and tidy, a closet full and a bathroom just for me, a pantry just steps away. Messages reminding me of a thousand things I have to keep an eye on today; being attentive to several things of mine that have to go well. With the inner peace I had in Saboga, I don’t know why I didn’t miss the plane. Don Josepe was so right about not having mirrors; my reflection has made me focus only on myself in less than a day, on how I look based on what I do, on what I say and what I don’t, on how tan I am or the face I have... and two days ago I was commenting on how cute a girl in my lunch group was, how fun it had been to dance with the kids at the farewell, how amazing the mud bath was... These days we have lived with our gaze totally outward, and I think that’s why they have been so amazing. And deep down, that’s how Jesus lived, with his eyes on the suffering of others, on his mother to give her a hug, on each one of us to listen and support each other in Him. The days have passed and I have gradually filled myself up with me, with my things, with my plans. I had almost forgotten the peace I had on that island, until I realized that holding my phone in my hand makes me uneasy, that I have been thinking for two hours about how tired I am instead of talking with my family at lunch, that since this morning I have been organizing my day according to what I feel like most and what suits me best. I realize now that these days have been what I would like my life to be, and I’m not saying that because of the swim in the sea before breakfast. I say it because of living with people I had known for a week but who never stopped exchanging smiles, because the end of my morning was helping with whatever the town needed, because we could all be together painting amid laughter and conversations with the sole interest of enjoying each other. I say it because of a life without mirrors, because I wish I didn’t care how I look so I wouldn’t have to be attentive and, like on the island, only see what I have around me: from a stunning sunset over the Pacific to helping the person next to me by bringing them bricks. But I also say it because of being so close to people who make you laugh and care about you, completely giving of themselves, of Don Josepe worrying about how we were doing, of Panamanians on the streets greeting us good morning, of children running holding our hands or singing in catechism. I don’t remember who said “of course, it’s easy to say here because God is here,” but I think they were right. God was there when two of us gathered, and when twenty of us went to the soccer field; in the smiles of the children when we played on the beach, and when we sang at the Holy Hour on the shore; in the mud baths and when we washed the dishes. And that is the peace I want to seek, the presence I want never to be missing in my life. I hope now that I am here (even though my mind wanders from time to time) I can live with Him as we have these days. Enjoying everything, speaking with my gaze on them and not on myself, without mirrors and forgetting my tiredness or preferences, serving but really loving. May I not forget to “be present,” as they said at the bonfire, to give myself to everyone, in everything, with all my soul. May I not forget that we are God’s “now.” >>>