One day at church in Saint Vincent

I can’t really talk about how each religion celebrate their rituals, but, I daresay that faith has been, along history, a way of bringing people together. Churches and temples welcome people, from babies to elders, and have been places to strengthen bonds, not only in a spiritual way, but also, in a homely manner.

St. Vincent and The Grenadines is by nature a warm-hearted place, then imagine how sympathetic going to church here is. I had the idea —taken out from movies like Sister Act — that it was going to be something with amazing voices singing, dancing and basically making a party out of worship. Well, that was not far from reality.

It was Sunday. The Pastor picked us up and his words where wise since the moment we went inside the car. He had lost his mobile phone, but, as everything else in his life, he let that in God’s hand. “I can’t stop things from happening, but I choose how to assume them, even though sometimes the situation seems to control me”.

We arrived to Petit Bordel, the village where the church is located. Everyone looked so nice: girls were wearing dresses that made them look like princesses, woman had fancy hairstyles and men, elegant ties, perfect for the occasion. 

That was just the beginning. The worship started. Most of the assistants closed their eyes and raised their hands towards God, making prayers and enjoying each second of that intimate encounter. I was surprised when one woman started to cry, so I asked the girl who was next to me why. She answered that the lady was feeling the Holy Spirit and her tears were a sample of joy.

The weather was getting warm, the location was small and crowded, but that didn’t seem to matter, because everyone was happy to share that moment. At the same time, some little boys fell asleep. The heat had lulled some of the children and their lovely parents consented them gently. Melodious voices completed the scene perfectly. A choir of women wearing colorful shirts, a man playing the piano and another one playing the drums made a party of bliss. It was simply impossible not to feel the music and joy, it was something contagious that unconsciously made your hands applaud and your feet move in synchrony with the music.

The celebration finished after a couple of hours and, to our surprise, the pastor called us forward to present ourselves to the community. Everyone was warm, receptive and happy to welcome us, as when a new member joins a family. It felt just like home, a new home that since that day has had its arms wide open to this group of volunteers that can only be thankful for all the love received from the vincentian community.

*This article is specially dedicated to Juliet, Glenroy and their children, who have been an example of a special, caring family and unconditional friends in Saint Vincent. 

A prince charming came into my room

For some reason, I’ve been waking up one time during the night for the past few days. Last evening, I went out of my room for a couple of minutes, leaving the door open. I hadn’t even repair on that; anyway, I knew I was not going to take too long outside.

When I came back, right in the middle of the dark corridor, with the dim romantic light of the crescent moon, he had sneaked into my room. One jump was enough to have him inside. Just as when love arrives, I couldn’t have time to think or hesitate. It was just like a crush that freezes you out, without knowing what to do. I was totally disconcerted, thinking why I hadn’t closed the door, but all these days I had been out without having this surprising visit. After hesitating for a couple of minutes if I should go inside, I decided to be courageous and get in, to deal and confront the situation, just like any compromised couple does.

I took the first step, without knowing what to do or what to say. I sat on my bed and started to smile and laugh, but some tears came out of my eyes. To be honest, I wanted to cry. It was just like the reaction brides have when they get their bridal dress. They feel happy but they can’t hold their tears. What a powerful feeling. And as more as I wanted to control it, the stronger the feeling became.

I didn’t want to see him. I turned my head just a couple of times to know where he was. I wasn’t brave enough to make eye contact. We were just there. Both sitting. Waiting. That awkward moment when you are fighting and silence takes over the place. Everything passed through my head: ways to fix the situation, going to a specialist to deal with the issue or just leaving the room and wait until next day. I was so confused. I just didn’t know what to do. Laughter and tears became more powerful and unstoppable.

After some minutes I decided to take the initiative and confront what was happening. But when I turned my face to see him, it was not there anymore. I didn’t feel the getaway. Shocked and confused I walked to my room door to see what had happened. Five meters far from me, in a corner, there he was. Quiet and resigned. His heart was bumping so fast that I could see the chest moving back and forth, heart going crazy with diastole and systole palpitations.

He just knew that it was not meant to be. I was glad and thankful to be understood. Silence had said everything. I really hope that that prince charming finds her princess, because at least now, I don't want to kiss any frog. 

Taken from:  http://photobucket.com/images

¡La felicidad es amarilla, como el Caribe!

Hay días en que la felicidad es completa, es amarilla, es de todos los colores maravillosos que pasan por los ojos, sorprendiendo cada milésima de segundo y excediendo las máximas expectativas de lo que el paraíso podía ser.

Compartir con los vicentinos es algo que me llena el corazón, es una bocanada de aire, es sentir que va a explotar el corazón, tal cual como le ocurre a un globo cuando lo inflan y parece que no diera más, pero siempre cabe un poco más de felicidad. A mí me cabe cada día un poco más de felicidad por estas personas.

Es un paraíso único, sin igual, y su gente lo hace simplemente maravilloso. Los chiquitos disfrutando cada segundo y su risa sonando constantemente como melodía. Verlos recitar el Padre Nuestro o el Gloria con sus ojitos cerrados y moviendo su cuerpo, casi bailando, porque cantarle a Dios es para ellos una fiesta, que aunque no haya música, la sienten y la celebran.

La capacidad de hacer amigos en una noche —realmente amigos— dejando de lado lo que estén haciendo, para llevarnos de regreso a nuestra casa para evitar la extenuante caminata de 50 minutos, sabiendo que la próxima vez que nos encontremos, el apretón de manos y el choque de puños será un símbolo de complicidad al hablar el mismo lenguaje, el de la música y el de la risa.