Tuck the sadness away...

 Disclaimer: Views presented in this blog are those of Roger German.  They do not represent the views or opinions of the U.S. Peace Corps or the Government of the United States.

                I remember Mother telling me that when I was born, she stayed in the hospital for 10 days, doctor’s orders.  She said she was ready to go home the very next day after I was born, but laid in the darn bed, because that’s what the learned men thought she should do.  By the time she got home, she said she really did feel tired.

                Things have changed some since then, and it appears that the U.S. is finally catching up with Mayan childbirth practices.  I visited down in Tracy’s village of San Miguel over the weekend, and as usual came back humbled.  Tracy’s host mom, Juvena Pop, gave birth on Friday.  She’s 39, and this is her 8^th child.  Six of her children were born at home with the assistance of a midwife.  She had this one and the last in the hospital, about an hour away.  When her labor started, she got on the bus and headed for the clinic in Columbia, and they put her in an ambulance for the hospital in Punta Gorda. The next day, she bundled up her baby and boarded the bus back to San Miguel.

                Tracy’s friend Christina had all three of her boys at home.  We were visiting with her on Saturday, telling her about the new addition to the Pop family, when she told us her mother-in-law helped her give birth to her first son, at home.  And it was no easy delivery.  She went into labor Friday night and didn’t deliver until Sunday afternoon.  The next two she had by herself, on the hard dirt floor of her thatch home, with only her husband Domingo present.  As way of explaining she said, “I saw how it was done.”   The boys are now 22, 20 and 18, and two of the three helped us build the playground in San Miguel.  So much of what I see in the villages reminds me of stories I heard of life in the Midwest during the 20s and 30s.  Dad born at home, in the kitchen, a difficult delivery; electricity coming to the farm with the REA in the 30s; Woody Fogle stringing telephone lines in Pierce County; children dying from measles, scarlet fever, polio…God’s will.

                I don’t think I can tie this all together, but then, there is a thread in here somewhere, and I hope to find it.  We volunteers received an email that our monthly allowance would be late by a week or so, and there was some belt tightening, as we all live pretty close to that allowance.  But by Belizean standards we live well.  Then I received an email from my friend Manissa Pedroza, living in Sarteneja, a fishing village on the north coast of Belize.  She wrote:

“What a reality check morning!:

- was talking with my neighbor's daughter who found out she cannot attend graduation because she hadn't/can't pay the $75 fee ...

- saw the man who lost his legs to diabetes waiting outside the little tienda hoping for some food

- a boy who I know does not get enough to eat, came by with a shilling he found, asked me if I would give his new puppy some medicine, promising he would bring more (meds are $1) as soon as he could

 …I am so deeply thankful to know these people, to bear witness to their struggles ...

And having had a tiny sense of what life is like for most Belizeans every day, every month, every year - not knowing where their next meal or job or income will come from - I am so grateful that my coffers will shortly be filled again.  I hope I will always remember this moment of have-not, even knowing the whole time that it would pass, so that I will appreciate all that I do have that much more.  If only there was a way for our fellow Belizeans (and the other 80% of the planet living in poverty) to have their bank accounts magically filled too ... Hang in there everyone - have a good weekend!”

                 That reminder, of our difference and our similarity with those we serve here, was a shot in the arm for me and for many.  One of the little ways we as volunteers give a hand to each other.  How we become family.
                And then my youngest sister Sherri, who embodies all of the best traits I think of when I hear someone described as a “farm wife,” tied me back into my family back home when she wrote of the upcoming wedding of our niece Nikki, a wedding I will miss as will my sister Sandra Lorraine.
                Sherri was writing of how great it will be to get together, but also how she is  “so sad to miss having (Sandy’s family) at Nikki's and equally sad to miss sharing a very proud moment (Sandy’s youngest daughter’s graduation) with my sister......will have to tuck the sadness away and be satisfied with what is......have learned to do that very well :)”

            Tuck the sadness away and be satisfied with what is...

            It takes a life lived well to learn such a universal truth, and then to have the depth of insight to recognize it.  Always there is sadness, always there is joy.  When it is time to celebrate then, “Tuck the sadness away and be satisfied with what is…” 
                That in no way means we cannot live with the goal of changing those things we believe we can change.  But the Maya women in San Miguel, and the little boy buying medicine for his dog in Sarteneja, and my sister in Pierce, Nebraska, USA all share a very admirable human ability to decide to “tuck the sadness away and be satisfied with what is…”

                I have not always done so well with that.

Comments

[Lew]

Oh, so well written!

[Laura Harling]

Great blog. Colorado Cheryl shared it with me. I am originally from Wausa, NE but now live in Colorado.

[Jim Echternacht]

Sandra Deranged (my wifie) is pulled to the point of despair because of the schedule for this summer. many nights searching flights to make all the family gatherings ...... Many nights I had to duck and cover...the good thing is MB and Rita will be coming to the gradumanation this coming week..Great read rog keep it coming. JE

[Erik German]

Hey Dad,

You were missed, but we raised a glass for you and you were there in spirit.

--e