Now, living with the sisters, I am finding how vibrant, beautiful, and dynamic and independent they are. Some of them curse. Most of them are sassy. Pretty much all of them have the most wonderful belly laugh. Some of them have raised children to adulthood. This is not even to mention all of the foundations they have started, girls they have educated, people they have fed, and sick they have healed. Their hearts ache with raw power for the communities that adopt them and that they adopt. One of my co-missioners pointed out to me that whenever talking about the community they serve, the women always say "WE"; WE struggled with this in El Salvador or WE found this to work in Cambodia. There is no separation between them and the people they accompany. These women have stories that sound like poetry and read like history, told with the humility of a child, the vivacity of a soldier returned from war. And mind you, these are women in their 60s, 70s, and above. Their memories are sharp, their eyes kind, and their hearts envelope you in their love.
I'm realizing that many of the things that I am learning, much of my missionary training is being taught over cups of coffee and beers. It's done while laying on the couch and sitting on the porch, while walking through the forest. Stories are told, beliefs are shared, and lo and behold, vulnerability peeks out and makes itself at home.