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An Anam Cara Garden

Seemingly eons ago, one of my daughter Carolina’s godmothers, Susan, gave me John O’Donohue’s book about spiritual friendship. She said I was an anam cara for her, one of her spiritual friends. In September, I will travel with Susan to FarmAid40, a giant concert, where Carolina will be working. Together, we will honor farmers, those who dedicate themselves to nourishing the lives of plants and animals from birth to harvest through the seasons, every year.

During this sad season, I am learning to garden from my chosen anam cara, my husband, Rob. At first, I panicked when I thought he would die soon and take away with him all his wonderful understanding of the first Bible, Nature. I have watched him turn our simple grassed yard into an oasis. Most recently, I have asked him to teach me. First, we asked for help, from the professional haircutters, and paid them lots of money to make it possible for me to imagine going forward later without Rob. And then just yesterday, I sowed a salad of veggie starts in the planters under our welcome arbor. Who knew that I would ever be interested enough and learn enough from Rob to do that?

During this past Fall and Winter, the harvest and slumber seasons, my pod of anam caras has expanded to these “vegetable box people,” my CSA group. In this case, the letters stand for the Center for Spirituality and Action, not the more common acronym of Community Supported Agriculture. We are a circle of 13, a group of seekers, dedicated to the practices of contemplation and now, by God’s grace, to each other.

It feels so right to me, learning to tend my CSA garden as well as the earth. As the poet explained, one’s anam cara tends to be a single being…so close they share dreams, even breath. Even long ago when I initially heard this Irish notion, I couldn’t quite imagine the singularity of such a friendship. That BFF moniker never quite fit for me anyway. After all, there’s her (that friend who comes to mind) and him and that dear one too. There are my sisters too, for Heaven’s sake. Their names all tumble out in my prayers. We have witnessed sparkles of Glory together. How could I ever judge one more worthy than the other?

Thus I am learning as I consider our CSA baker’s dozen. My heart has the capacity to expand, with God’s help, across continents and oceans as well as the small space between the two of us. Everyone in this web is precious to me, including the one who in this moment is walking past our house with his dogs, greeting the day on the other side of our front yard.

This garden of friendship I am embracing is rich in variety including the simplicity of a blade of grass alongside the depth of a rose. All is gracious. All is blessed. I am open to enjoying it all, a living dance of spirituality and action.

Real Time

As per my spiritual director, “Your mother already has one foot in heaven.” Sometimes she shares what it’s like with everyone in her orbit and beyond. This week the hospice harpist offered us a concert in the living room of Mom’s adult family home. While she snoozed, we meditated and watched the muted TV. The white smoke billowed and the choice of Pope Leo XIV was unveiled halfway around the world. Divine. Surreal.

On these days, I still have to face a chore or two like Martha did (see Luke 10:38) but more often I am shifting and leaning in with Mary-energy. My sisters are encouraging me as they handle some of the practical heavy lifting from afar and I weep and anoint as best I can, remembering my hospice prayer:

Holy One,

In your mercy, grant Mom comfort and ease, and shower comfort and ease on all those who love and care for her.

In Jesus name,

Amen.

Via Crucis

Photo by DIRON J on Pexels.com

The Powerful and Deep Meaning of the Via Crucis for Latinos

Holy Week in Latin America has long been celebrated as both a national and spiritual event, deeply rooted in the region’s strong Roman Catholic tradition. For many countries, this sacred time is marked by solemn devotion and rich cultural expressions. Families take time to create the famous alfombras de aserrín—vibrant sawdust carpets—on the streets, which often take days to complete. Others take leave from work to cargar (carry) large religious processions featuring images of Christ at various moments of His Passion—such as Jesus at Gethsemane, or Jesus on the way to Golgotha.

During this week, daily life pauses. Businesses close, schools take breaks, and families gather to participate in local traditions: the burning of Judas, community vigils, and street vendors offering special “Holy Week foods,” all depending on one’s country and hometown customs.

At the heart of these traditions is the Via Crucis—the Way of the Cross on Good Friday. For many Latinos, this is more than just a reenactment of Christ’s suffering and death. It is a sacred, communal ritual that carries deep spiritual and cultural significance. Christ’s pain and journey resonate with the real-life struggles of many in our communities, particularly among those who are poor, immigrant, or marginalized. It reminds us that we are not alone in our suffering—that God walks with us.

In the USA, the preparation for the Via Crucis often engages the entire faith community. It becomes a powerful, intergenerational effort where everyone—children, teens, adults, and elders—has a role to play. In many Latino churches, during Holy Week, the Passion is brought to life through a dramatized procession. Streets, parking lots, or church grounds are transformed into a living Jerusalem.

A teenager typically portrays Jesus, carrying a wooden cross through the stations. Young girls act as the women of Jerusalem, weeping for Him. Even the youngest children may dress as Roman soldiers or members of the crowd. Participants learn specific lines and actions, immersing themselves in the story of Christ’s final journey.

The Via Crucis often takes place at dusk or after nightfall, with tiki torches or hand-held lanterns lighting the way. The final station usually includes the symbolic act of placing “Jesus” in the tomb—a moment that leaves a deep impression on all who witness it.

This living drama is more than tradition—it is a testimony. It reflects the strength and faith of a community that, while often facing adversity, remains steadfast in its commitment to God and to one another. The Via Crucis is an expression of resilience, identity, and reverence. Through it, we teach our children not just the story of Christ, but also the story of our people—a people who believe, who persevere, and who continue to walk with Christ, even on the hardest roads.

El Profundo y Poderoso Significado del Vía Crucis para los Latinos

La Semana Santa en América Latina ha sido celebrada por siglos como un evento tanto nacional como espiritual, profundamente arraigado en la tradición católica. En muchos países, este tiempo sagrado está marcado por una devoción solemne y expresiones culturales ricas. Las familias se toman el tiempo para crear las famosas alfombras de aserrín en las calles, que pueden tardar días en elaborarse. Otros piden permiso en el trabajo para cargar en las procesiones religiosas que llevan imágenes de Cristo en distintos momentos de su Pasión, como Jesús en Getsemaní o Jesús camino al Gólgota.

Durante esta semana, la vida cotidiana se detiene. Los negocios cierran, las escuelas descansan, y las familias se reúnen para participar en las tradiciones locales: la quema de Judas, vigilias comunitarias y vendedores ambulantes que ofrecen comidas típicas de Semana Santa, todo dependiendo del país y las costumbres del pueblo de origen.

En el centro de estas tradiciones está el Vía Crucis, el Camino de la Cruz en Viernes Santo. Para muchos latinos, no es solo una representación del sufrimiento y la muerte de Cristo. Es un ritual sagrado y comunitario que tiene un profundo significado espiritual y cultural. El dolor y la entrega de Cristo resuenan con las experiencias reales de muchos en nuestras comunidades, especialmente entre quienes enfrentan pobreza, migración o marginación. Nos recuerda que no estamos solos en nuestro sufrimiento—Dios camina con nosotros.

En Estados Unidos, la preparación del Vía Crucis a menudo involucra a toda la comunidad de fe. Se convierte en un esfuerzo intergeneracional donde todos—niños, adolescentes, adultos y personas mayores—tienen un papel importante. En muchas iglesias latinas,  durante la Semana Santa, se realiza una representación dramatizada de la Pasión. Las calles, los estacionamientos o los alrededores de la iglesia se transforman en una Jerusalén viviente.

Un adolescente suele interpretar a Jesús, cargando una cruz de madera a lo largo de las estaciones. Las niñas representan a las mujeres de Jerusalén, llorando por Él. Incluso los niños más pequeños participan, a veces vestidos como soldados romanos o miembros del pueblo. Cada participante aprende líneas y gestos específicos, y al hacerlo, encarnan e interiorizan la historia del último camino de Jesús.

El Vía Crucis suele realizarse al anochecer o entrada la noche, con antorchas o lámparas de mano que iluminan el recorrido. La estación final suele incluir el acto simbólico de colocar a “Jesús” en el sepulcro—un momento que conmueve profundamente a quienes lo presencian.

Este drama viviente no es solo una tradición—es un testimonio. Refleja la fuerza y la fe de una comunidad que, a pesar de las dificultades, permanece firme en su compromiso con Dios y entre sí. El Vía Crucis es una expresión de resistencia, identidad y reverencia. A través de este rito sagrado, transmitimos a nuestros hijos no solo la historia de Cristo, sino también la historia de nuestro pueblo—un pueblo que cree, que resiste, y que sigue caminando con Cristo, incluso en los caminos más difíciles.

Meanwhile…

We are in the throws of closing down after Moisture Festival and anticipate major withdrawal as our favorite chef moves on to bigger and better things. Let me explain.

Our daughter Carolina has been visiting while she fed the performers and volunteers who’ve created 29 cabaret-like variety shows downtown over 17 nights. We have loved being in her orbit even as Rob has faced the beginning of treatment for a recurrence of cancer. Such joyous life! Every day she leaves here in a different costume and returns with fabulous left-overs to feed us.

Our humble kitchen practically shivers in anticipation of her energy. It happily helps chop and bake and refrigerate her creations. And now in the aftermath, plastic bags having been cleaned for reuse, hang everywhere. Our center of nourishment settles and waits patiently for the next time she rolls through. Fortunately, she has taught me a few tricks but, Lord, the relative peace and quiet is tangible.

The Upside of Cancer (as if)

We’re on leave from choir so this is my first spring Sunday of journaling on the porch under a down comforter while the boys snooze. Hopefully we’ll actually go to short contemplative Eucharist service tonight – St Mark’s Cathedral in Seattle at 7 pm – where friend Mel Butler is the guest musician.

“Aunt Tater” – brand new nickname conceived during yesterday’s pop-up March Madness birthday party – surprised me with breakfast including lu-ma-mi (LUnes MArdes MIércoles, aka leftovers) of fruit salad and tits, oo I mean tots; bread pudding freshly created by my favorite chef for the morning crew at MF, aka Moisture Festival; PLUS whole cream in my coffee.

What could be better? OK, OK, we know what could be better.