balance.

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

- Mary Oliver

When I Am Among the Trees

I’ve been thinking about this poem a lot today. As I mentioned in my last newsletter, I’ve started to work with a group of small family farmers who host a market in a town called El Colorado a couple of hours outside of Resistencia. It’s absolutely wonderful. My main task is a series of interviews with the families about their products – prices, preparation, and presentation – pretty basic. Along with the job, though, it has been such a blessing to sit and chat, listen to them talk about their lives and families, their work and community, and in turn to share a bit about mine.

It has also been fun to start a job after 8 months in Argentina. I am not the Spanish-master I thought I’d be, but I’ve come a long way since the vaguely panicked confusion I felt during my first meeting at María Magdalena. There have been drawbacks to the slow start, though. A month from today, I’ll be back in Minnesota, so this has been a period of both beginning and ending, diving in and stepping back. Somehow or another, the scheduling worked out in such a way that my time here with the market is on the same days as my time as the children’s workshop and women’s group meetings at the church. I’m finding it hard to really commit to this new job (and finish the task at hand) while not neglecting this oh-so-important period of closing at the church.

Last Wednesday, I spent the morning at the market and then made the three hour trip to the church, knowing I would miss most of my time with the kids but hoping to at least make it in time for a 6 o’clock meeting with the women. When I got there at 5, though, I found out that the meeting had been moved to 4. I arrived just in time to hear the wrap-up and participate in some final organization of plans. I spent the first couple minutes feeling bad for myself, wondering how in the world I was actually going to be present with this community given my current schedule. Then it occurred to me that by spending the little bit of time I had thinking about all that I had missed, I was missing out on what little time I actually did have with the women. Oh goodness, so simple.

Anyway, my favorite part of my new job is the home visits. When I can, I try to come a day or two early or stay a day or two late in El Colorado. It gives me a chance to hang out with my coworkers, sit around the office and eat delicious meals of the freshly picked fruit and vegetables we buy at the market. It also allows me to visit the homes of the people we meet at the fair. The visits are spent drinking mate, chatting with the vendors and their kids, eating yummy treats, and taking walks through their land. The days are beautiful. It is a time to simply be together. They are work trips, and we definitely fit some information gathering and planning into our conversations. These visits have given me a glimpse into the importance of diversifying production and shown me the extensive amount of time and energy these families put into maintaining a relatively stable income. But for me, the trips are so much more than simple information gathering opportunities.  Today we visited two families from the market, and after all of the time I’ve spent lately feeling pulled every which way, it was exactly what I needed. The fresh, cool air and the slow pace, the breathtaking views and the baby animals, the afternoon light and the welcoming smiles of new friends, all of it helped me slow down, refocus, and simply be present for a while.

Now go back and look at the poem again. Really. Mary Oliver and I are having a “Killing Me Softly” moment right now. It’s so easy to get caught up in the complication and difficulty, to forget to notice the beauty and move away from the person I hope to be in the midst of all of this newness and discovery. And then a slow day or a long walk or a beautiful view becomes a reminder to “walk slowly, and bow often…to go easy,” because only then can the light and the goodness of the people and places around me find its way in. Wonderful.

I’m going to leave you with some pictures from my visits to the homes of these new friends of mine. Thanks for sharing in this journey with me. :)

All my love.