Overtime

I was never a Catholic schoolgirl, but I`m familiar with enough pop culture (and family stories) that when a nun barks an order at me, I get a little frightened. Such was the case late Monday afternoon at work-- I was walking outside with Marisol when Sister Maria called over to me, told me to put Marisol to bed and to``Wait for me here.``

I did as she said, thinking that she would do something like give me a copy of papal document to study or ask me to clean a shrine. In the back of my mind, I was worried that she would reprimand me for wearing torn jeans or for chatting to long with a male volunteer.

``Let`s go,`` she said when she came over to me, and to my surprise we walked outside of convent grounds.

``Where are we going?`` I asked.

``We have to cross the street,``

``Yes, but were are we going?``

``It`s so dangerous here, I don`t coming here alone,`` she remarked as we began going down a steep hill in a sketchy part of town. ``There are drug addicts everywhere. One of the ladies from my Friday group died and they called me. It`s a sad story—she lived in a beautiful house but her daughter fell in love with a drug addict and moved into one of those tin shanties.It was too much on her heart and blood pressure``

``We`re going to a funeral?``

``I want to pray,`` she said taking out her rosary. ``Should we do it in English, or Spanish so you can learn?

``Spanish,`` I said, so that I could learn and so that I could avoid a lecture on the fact that I don`t have many prayers memorized in English.

We passed by Lupita (Sister said there was no time to talk with her) and other drug users and arrived at a home at the bottom of Pueblo Nuevo, very close to where the Sisters of the Incarnate Word live. I realized that I had actually been to the house before, when I was visiting various infirmed people with Sister Angelita last November.

We went inside a beautiful home that seems out of place for Santa Fe. Inside was one of the Sisters of the Incarnate Word as well as Dona Mari, an older lady that Jess and I often visit who is also part of Sister Maria`s Friday group. Everybody was wondering when Padre Salvador would show up to say Mass. It seems that all the circles I run in are closely linked together.

In front of the coffin, a relative of the deceased began wailing that God does`t exist. Sister Maria took her away to talk with her and I sat next to Jackie, a physically handicapped girl whom I had met when visiting with Sister Angelita. She was very shaken up but able to say that she remembered me. Soon Sister Maria returned and led everyone in a Rosary—pausing to tell us to slow down and listen to God.

Then Sister Maria left with another nun of the same name for some sort of sisterly business and two women came over to comfort Jackie. Which left me alone and funeral crashing.

A handsome man came offered me food several times and I didn`t eat but watched him pass out plates of spaghetti. One young woman was sitting (and occasionally giggling) with who I think was the cousin of the host and said to him ``Gracias pero no guapo, cariño, hermoso.`` So from my vantage point, funerals for older people in Mexico are like those in the United States—for certain parts of the room, it`s the worst experience of their lives, but for others, it`s an excuse to flirt and eat.

I left with Sister Maria soon after we returned—she was in a hurry and I ran to catch up with her after saying goodbyes to the people I knew. As we walked, she showed me her moist hands and said that she had received a golden glistening from the Virgin Maria while praying the Rosary.

We stopped several times as we walked up the hill—cathecism students said hello to her (she pointed out the ones who are bad in Mass to me) and we paused because she was tired. She often walked backwards, staring at the mountains and said that looking at the beauty gave her the strength to keep going.

Once we reached the convent, she thanked me profusely for coming along with her, gave me an apple she didn`t want and said maybe I could come on visits with her more often as she needs someone to go out with. And I am looking forward to those outings because despite the awkward moments, I love that I am collecting experiences here.