Solidarity, baby.

You arrive at the front door soaking wet, I arrive soaking wet. You arrive cold, I arrive cold, fingertips red and burning.

Granted, I am only wet and cold from biking to work and not from sleeping outside, but that's solidarity for you.

At least that's what I told myself when I arrived to work sopping wet. It poured this morning as I was biking to work. It drizzled before I left, drizzled after, but poured while I was biking.

Ah, to be a JV.

At least the shelter has free clothes so I went and snagged myself a high quality pair of mom jeans circa 1985. The waist comes roughly up to my arm pits and the legs end somewhere right above my shoes. But at least they are dry.

Retreat, round 8

Including orientation, I just finished my 8th JVC retreat of my time as a Jesuit Volunteer. At first, just getting back from vacation, I thought retreat would be a little wasted on me since I had just had rested up. But the 3 days I worked that week proved to be plenty enough to send me running for the hills. It rained all week so we were quite busy, we had two cases of domestic violence between clients, and another death (which I mentioned earlier). And a fight involving knives. So I was definitely ready to retreat.

We headed to a town near Big Sky, MT which is close to West Yellowstone. It was wonderful to see all of the volunteers from Montana, Eastern Washington, and Idaho, about 40 in all. This year I have gotten much closer to the volunteers from other communities than I did last year, which has been a blessing. It helps me to remember that this is bigger than just my community, just my job. We watched a short video based on the bestseller, My Life with the Saints, which also reminded me this is bigger than JVC.

The most influential part of the weekend, for me, was reading Thomas Merton's Letter to a Young Activist. We just received a copy at the end of the weekend, but I think it is an incredibly powerful letter.

The weekend focused on spirituality and created a lot of time for reflection. Two of the communities, Omak and Hays, have finished their JVC term since they work in schools. It was a little difficult to pair the closure they were going through with trying to renew the energy of those who still have a month or two left.

In addition to the Ignatian Spirituality, there were also campfires, s'mores, and many games of Mafia. I still can't believe how many times the Mafia won...

A little R&R

I think one of the hardest things about adjusting to JVC was going from the college student lifestyle of 4 months of vacation a year to 10 days. Which would've been the case with any job,but nevertheless was a transition.

This past week I took 4 of my vacation days and went home to Virginia. I flew in as the sun was setting, and the pink light illuminated the tall cumulus nimbus. It occurred to me how few people ever get to see this view, the world above the clouds. When I landed at 8:30, the sun had already set and it was dark out. I realized that I had gotten used to the Montanan sun's habit of not setting till almost 10. Oh, this psuedo-Alaskan state.

(I pause here to complain about my work computer. It's so old that the mousepad keeps screwing up and I can barely type a sentence without it highlighting and deleting the last phrase I typed. GAH!)

On Sunday, it was my grandmother's birthday and we celebrated with brunch. After that was a bike ride and I realized that I really need to do a little more pointed training for this ride in July.

The rest of the week was lounging in my parent's hot tub, sitting on the back porch, going on bike rides. And of course...wedding planning. Met with the photographer, florist, baker, hairstylist. Plus got a few other to-dos done.

Then it was off to Baltimore for a cousin's wedding and to see the family. The little ones are growing up, as most everyone tends to do. It was fun to see my parents' old stomping grounds, and to eat some good seafood. Montana's not known for its crabcakes. But the one I had in Baltimore was quite wonderful.

The week went by quickly and then it was back to the wild blue!

We have this hope

March, April, and May have proved to be rough months for the Salcido. We have lost 4 clients over the past few months, and are also reaching some financial trouble. See here.

I won't write about the how we lost the four clients, not because some involve open police investigations, but also out of respect for the privacy any family would desire. That, and death is a difficult thing to write about.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.

Hebrews 6:19

Times like these, it's good to remain anchored in hope. It can be, however, to figure out out for what we should be hoping.

World peace?

An end to hunger, homelessness?

That it'll ever get above 65 in Missoula?

I'm not sure. Suggestions, anyone?

Bitter

I remember once, as a kid, asking my dad why he drank coffee every day since, obviously, it was "gross."

He replied, "it takes a while to realize that not every beverage you drink has to be sweet."

I thought about this for a bit. Milk isn't really sweet. Water isn't either. And juice...well, yeah, that is. And coke...yeah that definitely is. Okay, I guess Dad has a point. But why would you want to drink something bitter anyway?

In college I learned how to choke down the stuff, with plenty of milk, sugar, blending, whipped cream and caramel topping. By senior year, I had learned to take my coffee with only cream, but it wasn't until last year that I joined the adult world with the routine of the daily cup of joe. Working with children at the day care brought me many joys, one of which being the joy of caffeine. Most Friday mornings, in the months that I biked, I would treat myself to getting up a little earlier and going out for some quiet time and a cup of drip at a nearby coffee shop.

I think of coffee when I think of my response to the question, "how has your JVC experience been?" For some reason, I think people often expect the answer to be along the lines of "wonderful, perfect, awesome, so glad I did it, enjoyed every minute, everyone should do it." Usually I mutter something along the lines, "good, but tough. Worthwhile, but I'll be ready for the next phase of my life." Which leaves me wondering why I haven't been more enthusiastic. Or why when I talk to former JVs they don't go into the dreamy haze of reminiscing the "best days of their life" like people do remembering their college years. Here I am, doing a second year, marrying a former JV, convinced my time with the Jesuit Volunteer Corps has been exactly what I should do. Why aren't my responses "wonderful-perfect-awesome?"

I think I have learned to enjoy these years in the same why I enjoy my coffee. It's not sweet, and that's okay. I can appreciate the fragrant yet earthy aroma as I sip my morning cup. I appreciate the bitter contrast that it provides to a donut or cinnamon roll.

In the same way, I am glad that my years have not been completely sweet, but have provided me with a chance to face the difficult. To confront the bitter. And not only to tolerate life's less-than-sweet moments, but thoroughly be grateful for them.

I blame my mother.

I know its one of those things you aren't supposed to say, but its true. I do. Because of her, I am 23 years old and cannot...

make Kraft mac n cheese worth to save my life.

I also cannot make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Unfortunately, because of her, many of the quintessential JV meals I utterly fail at. And yes, it is possible to mess these up. My mac n cheese is always too watery and I consistently burn my grilled cheese.

I jest. I realize I am lucky that I grew up eating real meals and have learned (somewhat) how to cook. I still haven't made it to my mom's level yet, but I'm getting there slowly.

It's amazing how many barriers there are between low-income or homeless people getting healthy meals. Things which don't expire, are portable, and hearty don't tend to be healthy. Things which are healthy, like fresh fruits and vegetables, require places to cook and a little know-how.

There are many ways to respond to this issue. When we donate food to food banks, we could choose items that are at least healthy versions of non-perishables. We could support local farms to insure that things like fresh fruits and vegetables will still be around. We can support health care reforms which include preventative care so more people can learn about proper nutrition.

But for me, its cooking. Cooking is what teaches me to make choices about what I do and don't put in my body. Chopping each carrot and slicing each rhubarb stalk reminds me of the abundance of the earth. Stirring a pot of soup soothes me after a long day at work. And it reminds me to be grateful. Grateful that I have food on my plate. And grateful to have a mother that taught me how to cook.

So Mom, happy Mother's Day!

I have a new friend

This guy:

On a walk last night, Jen and I stumbled upon this darling terrier wandering the streets of Missoula. We could see it had a number on the dog tag, but it was too dark to read it so we thought "we'll just bring it home, call, its probably one of our neighbors."

Apparently, the number was just to Missoula Animal Control, and not the owners. So we would have a new pet until the shelter was open to call them. [If you are my landlords, we have no intention of keeping her! She slept in the garage last night and I've called the real owners]

But in the mean time...

The girls named it "JV." I think just because its fun to say "good JV. or "Bad JV." And even though we are JVs, and on meager budgets, we have absolutely no dog food in this house. Any ideas on what human food to feed a dog appreciated.