Mother Mary

Sunday, July 31, 2011

My other grandma calls and she reminds me that I have to go stay wit her in Valparaiso.  I don’t want to go.  I love my grandma and I want to see her but I don’t want to stay in that house with those crazy neighbors.  Besides, grandma is very religious and mom and sister say she made them go to church every day for 8 hours.  I am not sure if it was an exaggeration but I think it’s the truth, and if god is really there I don’t think he wants me anywhere near his church. 

The weekend in Ojo is filled with people from smaller towns coming to do all their shopping and you can hear the streets buzzing with life even from inside the house.  Inside what is my room for now, I hope, I close my doors and wish the day will roll past me like the wind.  It doesn’t and I have to get up and face the day.  I have to shower, a rare occurrence here since water is very scarce and every drop must be used wisely.   I put on my fake mask filled with makeup and anger.  I have to pretend like nothing is wrong and its eating me up inside.  I get dresses in my nice Sunday clothes and put on a smile ready to great family members driving in from out of town home for Sunday lunch, a regular tradition around here.  Family arrives and I make nice, laughter here and there and the occasional story of days past.  It’s time for church and part of me wants to go.  Am I being punished for not believing?  Is all that is happening to me and my family god’s way of telling me he exists?  I am reminded that if in fact he exists he’s not just a loving god but a vengeful one as well.  I want to go to church and scream at the top of my lungs “why is all this happening?”  Was I an evil person in another life?  I know I’ve made mistakes in this life but nothing that would warrant this pain. 

Church in Ojocaliente is just like I remember it as a child.  All the gold statutes and paintings are still there and so is Christ in his glass coffin.  I look up and notice Mary crying and as if in pain having lost her child and I want to ask her how she could allow my mother to loose her child?  I thought she was supposed to understand and look out for mothers, why is she allowing mine suffer?  I have so many questions.  How am I supposed to believe with all this rage and pain left unanswered?  Somebody answer me, one f these statutes need to get up and say something!  I listen to the priest in hopes of finding some peace in his words but all I find are announcements for the local fundraiser being held outside to benefit the youth group.  I search the church for answers and the light bulb in one of the chandeliers begins to flicker and smoke.  Is that you god? I am listening, but he’s not saying anything. 

I leave the church filled with more anger and pain than when I went in and I wonder to myself why I went inside to begin with.  My blind aunt, grandma and I leave church and partake a little in what the locals do here on Sundays.  Grandma rarely leaves the house and when she does it’s either to buy something across the street for meals or church.  Today’s church outing is forcing her to be out of her element because my aunt and I want to walk around the town square and eat some street food.  One lap around the square is all we get and back to the house it is.  I try to distract myself from thinking but its not working, going back home will only give me more time to think.

When my sister and mother went though the same situation I am in right now I remember how they prayed and visited churches with merciful saints.  They lit candles and prayed.  I find no comfort in doing that and I wonder what is wrong with me.  Am I broken?  Maybe that’s why all these things are happening, because I am not really whole.  I am bits and peaces of trash that life scared about the earth and collected in me.