On finding Jesus and losing your lunch

Thank God for a sense of humor.

When we first moved into Casa de Romero, we quickly realized the place had accumulated years of former JVs former treasures and our current junk. After deciding to keep certain things, such as the forty pound statue of St. Michael the Archangel (renamed Cletus) and getting rid of others (such as 10 out of the 16 decks of playing cards), we came upon the problem religious knickknacks. Goodwill really only wants so many plastic rosaries and pocket crosses and Catholic guilt forbids from ever throwing these away, so what is a house to do?

And then Brian came up with an ingeneous use for one of the two-inch brass crosses - hide it. Then, when a JV is to find the cross, he/she must yell (preferrably at the top of their lungs and with the intention of waking up sleeping housemates):

"I FOUND JESUS!"

So far I've found Jesus twice, once in the linen closet and once propped up on a picture frame. As it turns out, however, Jesus can be harder to find Spokane than in the Casa de Romero. I've seen him a few times, waiting in line for a meal at the House of Charity homeless shelter, struggling to go down for a nap at St. Anne's Child center, spending another night away from home at St. Margaret's Women's Shelter. And I've seen him in my housemates. Leaving loved ones behind in Massachusettes, Illinois, Idaho to build a new kingdom. I've seen him in the face of those who need help. I've seen him in the face of those who have little to give but their time, their presence, and their hearts. Day by day, we're finding Jesus and we're losing our hearts.


Something else I lost, as some of you might have heard:

my lunch. And dinner. And breakfast.

After battling a "tummy ache" (my vocabularly is shrinking the more I work with the chillins) all weekend, my stomach decided it wanted fight back, and to win on Sunday night. And thus after a night camped out on the bathroom floor, my roommate took me to the ER to get some fluids in me. Apparently the stomach flu is making its way around the baby room at St. Anne's, where I chose to spend my Friday afternoon. All is good, however the doc banned me from work until Thursday. My housemates were great and quite helpful.

They also apparently realized its not a good idea to wake one another up with "Jackie's in the hospital" and maybe "By the way, Jackie got sick last night so she went to get an IV at the hospital" would be a little less dramatic.

Another culture shock: Ginger ale is not popular on the west coast.

Oh and contact information for those who are curious:

1010 E Mission Ave
Spokane, WA 99202


(and Meredith - I am still knitting! I just taught one of my housemates, too!)