It is hard to comprehend that next week is Thanksgiving
already. It has been almost three months in Erie, and life is a never ending
flow of beautiful surprises:
One was a trip to Niagara Falls. The size of Niagara alone is impressive
and the tons of water flowing continuously over the sides is awe inspiring. As
I stood along the edge, listening to the roar of the water and the gusts of
wind through the trees, I heard something else as well. During our time at the
falls, I counted at least four languages other than English. There were people
from all parts of the world stopping at this wonder of nature and appreciating
the beauty. The beauty of the falls speaks to everyone, no matter the language
or culture.
The beauty of music has been a constant in my life, but at the
Art House I got to experience the feeling of being in awe of music through the
eyes of a 12-year-old. A few weeks ago, I was given an assignment by one of my
students to listen to the soundtrack to a certain videogame. I did my homework
and brought back the melody of the score for her to play. We sight-read the
music together. Suddenly, she recognized the melody. Her eyes lit up and she
grinned. She looked over at me and said, “Thank you.” She looked back at the
music, still smiling and asked, “Can we play it again?” It was privilege to be
a witness to her first taste of the beauty of playing piano.
Beauty at Saint Benedict’s Education Center is seen in the meeting
of races, languages and cultures of the refugees. However, one vocabulary
lesson was particularly challenging. The teacher was explaining that a family
is typically a parent or parents and children. One of our Syrian refugees took
out his phone in an attempt to translate. Once he understood, he began to type
quickly. Google translate spoke, “I understand, but all Syrians are all one
family.” This was a much needed reminder that we all belong to one another.
I’m currently reading the book, Becoming Wise by Krista Tippet, a broadcaster for National Public Radio.
In it she includes interviews with people from all different faith traditions,
commenting on what it means to be human. One man, Xavier Le Pichon, commented
profoundly on love:
“ … once you enter into this way of … walking with the
suffering person who has come into your life and whom you have not rejected,
your heart progressively gets educated by them. They teach you a new way of
being … . My heart cannot be educated by myself ... . And if we accept being
educated by others, to let them explain to us what happens to them, and to let
yourself be immersed in their world so that they can get into our world, then
you begin to share something very deep. You will never be the person in front
of you, but you will have created what we call communion.”
My heart has been continually educated over the past three
months. It has been stretched, widened, broken and embraced by people from all
around the world. To walk with the refugee, to listen to the child or to live
with a sister takes a continual opening of each other’s hearts to one another’s
suffering and beauty. This widening makes my heart tender and vulnerable and it
is difficult to remind myself that what I do is worthwhile despite the pain of
carrying someone’s sufferings with me. I have to believe that even though our
hearts are being torn, the love and beauty we find together is worth it. I have
to believe that making someone feel needed, accepted and loved is worthy of our
hearts. I have to believe that beauty will keep calling us back to communion,
whether it is in nature, music or the wonder of our human family.
This Thanksgiving, I’m thankful that my heart has been
entrusted to these people for a short while.
Peace and prayers,
Erin Carey, BWSC Volunteer
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