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An Actual Christmas
I’m on route 7, the one I
have to take for 500 km (a 1000 miles) in order to reach a small
rural establishment where I use to spend Christmas with my
family. However, this year, they’ve asked me not to go because
of the flooding. You must never say “no” to an Irish person… I
went anyways.
I’ve never imagined what
I would see. We advanced. My soul hurt. What a lack of
information! Why does Capital City ignores in such an “absurd”
way what happens in other parts of the country? Aren’t the
country people the ones who are ALWAYS working for everyone’s
wellbeing? How and from where does the “Big city” get its
supplying if not? Who re-invest even their last penny on their
land, without taking their money to other parts of the world? …
Water. A treasure,
indispensable for men and a blessing for the land; becomes the
ruthless enemy!
Flooding! The owner of
the land asks for credits to the Bank. More water and he can’t
afford to pay credits back. He gets indebted. He sells the
machinery, the animals and the house, even though it was from
his ancestors. The fury of the water drags along itself with the
property, the projects, dreams and illusions. In other words
with: EVERYTHING. Dear God! More?
Christmas’ eve is near
and these thoughts sadden my soul. I meditate. No, no-one can
take away from me the idea of “belonging to a place”, like no-one
will ever take me away the dignity of being “God’s daughter”
I am all by myself. Where
everything was noise and activity, now it’s quiet and you can
only listen to the noise of water. I am fine, because I still
have a roof to shelter me, and I can communicate with others
using a cell-phone! There’s no electricity, therefore I do not
have any of electronic house-hold devices I was badly accustomed,
such us my refrigerator, washing machine, etc. I feel undressed
of every frivolity and I am living distressing moments, but with
the certainty of being where God wants me to be: accompanying
the people who suffer.
Right this night, we are
remembering Jesus’ birth, He became a man out of His love for us
and I understand better than ever before that: “HE IS the GREAT
GIFT!”
I contemplate, I imagine,
Belen’s Portal and I count one by one the human deficiencies
that the World’s Savior had. A little baby is born in a very
poor manger, its cradle is made of straw and the breath of an ox
and an ass protects him from the cold. When our truly God is
born that way… What can I complain about? …
And I still think “What
if water leaves us without ANYTHING” How will we subsist? The
Gospel answers: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by EVERY
WORD THAT PROCEEDS OUT OF THE MOUTH OF GOD”
It also says “My Kingdom
it’s not of this world”
And my misfortunes
disappear…
THIS IS THE KING OF THE KINGS,
MY LORD, MY GOD. The center, the beginning and the end of
everything. He comes to instill the vivid and alive feelings of
Faith and Hope in our hearts. Nothing is the same, after the
accomplishment of this mystery of Love without reserves. All my
pains and sufferings from this life, they transform, THEY
ACQUIRE SENSE.
I continue contemplating
on my imagination the Portal and I admire Virgin Mary, the one
that without sin conceived Jesus; She is the Mother of my Savior.
¡Such an attitude of total generosity!
We re-live a story that
is repeated again. God is born small so that men can grow big.
Jesus chooses poverty. That way He teaches us the path of faith,
love and humility in order to discover the Almighty behind an
insignificant appearance.
Glory to God in the highest, and on the earth peace among men
with whom He is well pleased.
A Christmas like this one, there is not. The others lie in our
memories.
Margarita Lalor Cavanagh.
December of 2001
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