Generosity

Fog greeted us this morning and the sun is going to come out later. The heat is on. The temperature at 61 degrees fahrenheit feels cool and is welcome. Today is Sunday.

Yesterday was a day of travel south. The trip was to get donations to the sanctuary, to introduce a young man who is dedicating himself to the work of healing communities recovering from the experience of imprisonment to see how love manifests, and to keep a promise to stay connected to a small piece of land that is hosting many refugees from violence, climate disasters, and political persecution. The generosity of spirit can be felt here.

Earlier writings talked about the joy that is palpable, even in the midst of what is clearly poverty-plus, in terms of material conditions. But the tenacity that holds on to faith, the willingness to share whatever is available, and the deep desire of wanting to be in service, brings a kind of joyfulness that would seem impossible, but for the fact that it really exists.

The sound of children laughing and playing in all the places where daily life is happening - the kitchen, inside of the sanctuary, on the playing field that was built to embrace the energy that children put out into the world - uplifts the spirit of the whole place. While being down and depressed is surely present somewhere - perhaps in the bunks that line the dormitory recently built - most of what is very present is the feeling of generosity, love, and care.

And there is the constant work that is happening in the background. Mostly women doing the food prep, with men hauling huge pots of beans, rice, and sacks of potatoes and other women doing the laundry in the makeshift laundromat while men continue the site's building projects and digging trenches for the next rains. There is no payroll office. The currency is generosity and gratitude. The entire place buzz with LIFE. It's all because of the generosity of spirit that originates with el Pastor, and the people - adults who wish can work as hard as they want, kids can make as much noise as they want, visitors can give as much as they wish to give, knowing it will sustain this sacred space.

In this heat, you notice there is really no tree shade, except where the very young children have a "nest" which is a kind of pre-school area set up to begin giving the children a chance to learn how to be together, listen to stories, make art, and nap. Here, there is a very small area with trees - the trees that once provided early refugee children with a place to learn to meditate in silence. You can really feel the effect of trees when you go to this space - they are like nature's way of hugging the children who visit the nest.

One day, if you are lucky, you will have a chance to visit this place - they call it Ciudad de Dios - the City of God. If you believe there is a god, or even if you don't - this is what that spirit would look like among human beings.