New Year`s Resolution 2024 II

This new year here in the middle of January, I still don't have a resolution. The last time I had one was five years ago when I got tired of repeating the same patterns. That also reminded me to take a look at it and if I was faithful, or if there were things I could reconsider. Reading down the list was to stay healthy and exercise. I did some home exercise yesterday morning as I am battling to use my gym membership for the fifth time in five years. Next on the list was to attend church every Sunday as I was taught as a child in the orphanage. 

Today is Sunday and I am not willing to be at church. I returned to the episcopal church in middlebury Sunday new year eve as I have promised to be there anytime soon. I wanted to surprise my friend Bernie knowing he would be there to welcome me, but I walked behind a couple to a closed door. My friend Bernie wasn't there.  As they opened the door their head looked like two question marks as I followed them through. No ushers at the door, so I went straight to the front rows because the priest told me I was a first-row guy. Well, you know I just wanted to be closer to the altar piece, so I better understand the parable of the Lost Sheep.

I sat by a 92-year-old lady whom I met after Christmas service the Sunday before. We sat one spot apart as I wanted space for myself, and so she had enough room to move herself as much as she wanted. As we stood to sing a hymn, I think the title was "Of the Father’s Love Begotten", an old hymn written in the early 19th century. I felt two hands, one in my back and the other one on my tummy pulling me toward the lady. Those hands I thought were God's hand reaching to find me, then I realized they were too tiny. Indeed, it was the elderly lady pulling me to get closer to her. Or being a newcomer to the church I may not be following the sitting protocols. Enough of what it could be.

After one minute or so a gentleman in his fifties or sixties I think came in to sit next to me. The fun thing about the episcopal church is the many stand and sit ups you do. I don`t know why but at least that's the equivalent of ten squats a day. I think most people in there needed that to stay out of physical therapy. As we sat down, I was rehearsing that line … born the Savior of our race: and the Babe, the world's Redeemer, first revealed his sacred face, evermore and evermore... Something didn't sound right to me I thought. In my left ear the gentleman spoke. He asked me to let him sit closer to his mom. So, I moved back where I sat before when she pulled me. She also whispered to my ear: he is my son. I responded: yes, he told me.

I was anticipating church dismissal. It seems like whatever happens one must bore the cross until Mount Olivet. I wasn't ready to be crucified with Christ, and in fact I was no villain I told myself. I had holy communion last Sunday which I think is enough to purge me of my original sin.

Finally, the priest gave the final blessing. I told the lady and her son: "Bon Dimanche et Bonne Annee". Their eyes rolled like I must have been a secret agent investigating them. I am not sure if she remembers me of last Sunday, and also, we communicated in French. No time for explanation. I ran out the door like I was missing an appointment. The priest invited me to grab some coffee, But I declined and told him I am going to visit a sick person.  

Yes, I was on my way to visit my Haitian patient. That might cost me my job, and for ethical norms one may consider not having contact with patients outside of treatment perimeters. In her case I wanted to take the risk. I wanted her to get better, and being by her side she impersonated my mother, and her children are kind of like my generation. 

As I winterwalked to my car thinking about calling Bernie to complain about his absence, oh how I wished I remote started the car and get the heat started too. I parked in front of the coffee shop and was seduced to grab a dirty chai to keep me warm. I ran in there with no intention to sit and wait. Service was fast and the next thing, I was on the phone with Bernie. He told me he does not go every Sunday, but mostly during holy communion. I don't blame him because the church is about an hour drive including speed limit violation.  I Told him how an elderly lady grabbed my body, and what it would look like if it was the other way around.

We laughed and thought there are still a lot of ill-intentioned people out there, and neither one of us is one of them. I told him I understand as I am working to address my own bias. It was Sunday new year eve so we both gave each other the blessing of a happy new year, and plan to catch up another time. 

Middlebury is no unknown place to me. During the pic of covid 19 in early 2020 I used to visit Tina a friend of mine very often. At my job back then I was given a travel permit and would always keep it in my car just in case I got stopped by law enforcement officials. 

Tina`s neighbor Karen likes gardening. Every time I looked out the window, she was in her garden taking care of her plants. I met her once while I was helping my friend take out the garbage. We spoke and I told her how much I love gardening. So, we have something in common, and my friend sarcastically would always label her as my wife.

Tina got a job opportunity and moved out to another state, but she had kept contact with Karen. Sometimes they would talk about how much I am a good guy. No doubt about that because I know my heart. Bad news for Karen: someone broke into her house, took some personal items and drove away with her truck. I was told the police were investigating the theft. Simultaneously she was asking my friend if I was still around, a bad connection. And a couple days later her truck was found abandoned somewhere in Rutland.

Right after the call with Bernie I knew I was not going back to that church. On my way back to Burlington, I was asking myself about the Savior of which race the song was referring to. The church has a Black Lives Matter sign and a rainbow flag for inclusion. Here lies my confusion. It was a nice drive, and I did not want anything to obstruct my view. So, I put the question aside to better discuss it later with a friend I thought had more knowledge than me in that subject.

I arrived ten minutes later than expected to the patient's house because of a detour on route 7. It also took me a while to find her house.  I entered there and she was sitting by her bed joining a virtual Sunday service. I was happy how her movement was improving, and also the great spirit animating in her. We ate together and talked about Haiti. We spoke about “soup joumou”- in English pumpkin soup. It's our national dish celebrating independence from France in 1803, and the abolition of slavery. Every household in Haiti eats “soup joumou” on January first. And if you cannot make it at home somewhere at a neighbor's you are welcome to have a bowl. She told me she was planning to make “soup joumou”  and invite about fifty people to come for a bowl. As her health was not allowing that to happen, we wish for another time. There is not a right time to celebrate freedom.  As we parted ways, in place of saying happy new year we said “Bon Konba”- which is another way in Haiti to express victory.