Old Wounds and New Friends

Sometimes in a new place, the old, old wounds beyond the recent past, break in with some new force. Perhaps it is the change; perhaps it is the sudden ambushes that happen with a smell or a sight or a sound that one has not felt for many years; an old memory of grief is plugged in suddenly, leaving one defenceless.

I had a vivid dream last night of an old wound, and I realized that perhaps the deaths, smaller deaths of broken relationships as well as bona fide deaths, are similar in that they leave a wound that does not heal in this life. Something in that does give me hope, because the longing for healing, the expectation of it, coupled with the knowledge that nothing, nothing in this life can truly heal it, is a kind of Lewisian proof of the afterlife.

Also, it reminds me of the sense of place, and how deeply important that is...we are physical and spiritual, and our lives are an attempt at harmonizing these to play a song of God. What feeds the senses then has more importance, in this light.

Perhaps it was the sound of the cicadas, which I've not heard for seven years; perhaps it is that gardenia bush outside our door; perhaps it is the fire that flickers on the trunks of the eucalyptus trees that tower all around. I don't know, but the wound was opened up. What do I do with it? I carry it, I suppose, and only hope it can, somehow, become a source of insight and life for me, in God's fecundity.

We did have a wonderful day Sunday; we met the Reyes family and other families at Our Lady of the Angels in Kellyville. People seemed genuinely interested in us; no one thought we were conspiracy theorists, at least for now. Sometimes starting over is freeing. Perhaps that is the rolling stone in me. I was happy to see the girls surrounded by other teenagers after church, looking like fresh adults, in earnest conversation with small explosions of bouyant laughter.

We went to the 'shops' with the Messmores; TJ seems to like their son Josh. Ana and Sophie were interested in the variety of clothing stores and had fun exploring, and they came back with little items, happy as clams. There was an amazing cake decor shop, and disturbingly, a rather realistic cake of a pregnant belly (where's the rest of her?!) with a little saying: "Goodbye Tummy, Hello Mummy." We all wanted to leave after that, although the ninja cake was a hit (for $250). "That's all I want for my birthday," said T.J. This made me worry about his future.

Over lunch in a Tex Mex next to a little pool with giant balls that one could get inside, we talked, as four Americans on a mission in another culture, of the challenges ahead in trying to help create a fervent, lively, Catholic institution. One issue, I gather, is that old issue of cultural differences to be unwoven carefully...the Australians are very conscious of the separate place of work and leisure, and I think (I could be wrong) that their definition of leisure is more about 'doing what we want outside of work' rather than an attitude of wonder and receptivity, or the understanding of kenosis towards an apostolate. But of course I will probably eat my words in a short time; I've been Third Culture long enough to know that I don't know anything, really, about this culture. Yet, I know that any mission will fail that seems imposed from above; one cannot understand a culture quickly, but receptivity towards it allows real communication and a chance for unity. I hope to be educated in part through my cousins, Lynnette and Jenny, who have both lived here for many years.

Then, later, we had a great evening with the Reyes and Messmore families. The Reyes are from the Philippines, from the class of that society that owns companies and has multiple servants...they are unusual in that they, as a couple, chose to move to Australia thirteen years ago, because they wanted their children to be able to pursue any career or vocation, from baking to the priesthood. They knew that the stark class system in the Philippines would not allow this freedom. They were also tired of the political corruption.

Mr. Reyes has a refined bearing, a gentle voice, like the singing of crystal. Mr. Reyes is an avid sportsman, from rowing to squash, and he offered to teach Thaddeus squash. I wonder if they'll remain on happy terms after Super Court Thad kicks in. Mrs. Aileen Reyes seems always to be laughing; they seem like genuine and generous people. I have now met two women, Karin and Aileen, who seem both tremendously bright and adventurous, and deeply feminine in a serious way. We ate Dominos pizza and ice cream and enjoyed some good conversation--what a blessing that is.

When we were driving home, we got stopped for an alcohol checkpoint. One doesn't hear of gun crime or much violent crime, but drunk driving seems a real problem. He asked us what kind of visa we had and then we were waved on. Thaddeus of course was wondering about the political ramifications. The police here seem somehow less threatening in their aspect; their uniforms are less military-uniform looking, and more like those of parking attendants. The testosterone aspect is toned down here.