My blog posts are often about difficult “limit situations.”  These situations are hard to read with honest eyes of faith, and so they throw me into prayer and reflection.  This Advent I want to sit more with the fragile signs of hope that pop up in the middle of those rough realities, and let them also lead me to pray and reflect.

For example, in my first blog post (”On the Contemplatio”) I wrote about a group of ice-cream vendors who were facing humiliation, exploitation and violence from their boss.  Well, months later, the boss is still at it — just this week two more of his employees came to our lawyer for help, because he arbitrarily fired them after stealing their money and identity documents.  They say that things have only gotten worse after we failed at bringing him to justice in the penal courts for his acts of violence (it’s another long story), and the labor tribunal process is still incomplete.  But there is a small sign of hope in the middle of all that — we’re very close to setting up a group of the original employees, including Axly and Guepson, with a loan so that they can start their own business and work with dignity.

In another post, I wrote about violence against Haitians in the Dominican Republic.  Recently, I visited a migrant group in a small town near Azua (in the South, not too far from Neyba), and they told me about several cases of horrific crimes that have occurred in that area recently, with no mention at all in the media.  For example, they recently recovered the remains of a man who was killed and then set on fire after demanding that his boss pay him for his work.  They live in fear and poverty.  This same group, though, has started its own school — the parish lends them a chapel for a classroom, and one of them, who is a day laborer like the rest but was a schoolteacher in Haiti, coordinates classes from literacy through the 5th grade for those who’ve never had the opportunity to study.  Besides the direct benefit to its students, the school offers the possibility of building community with Dominican neighbors from a position of strength, solidarity and respect.

On a more personal level, I’m still facing a too-heavy workload and lots of pressure (see the post, “Too Blessed to be Stressed”), but I’m slowly learning that I need to put my relationship with the divine, infinite mystery in every person (and Person) in the center of my life.  Insofar as I’m open to that, the daily work and stress become less overwhelming and very relative; the dryness of my spiritual life gets a little rain and softens, and I become more-who-I-am.

So yes, there are flowers growing out of the cracks in the asphalt.  And they are as fragile as they are beautiful and moving.  The loan for the fired ice-cream vendors is still uncertain — lots of details need to be worked out and it’s a risk all around.  The school near Azua is completely unofficial and runs precariously in terms of materials, not to mention more serious threats to its existence (what if the schoolteacher gets deported tomorrow?).  As for my personal spiritual life, I struggle with the contingency of these signs of the Kingdom — yes, it’s among us, in this “already-but-not-yet” way, but why do we only get these little tastes?  When and how does the Resurrected Lord come in a way that we can finally leave the Cross behind?

I pray that the Lord will help me during this Advent to learn to read — and to trust — those signs that, like his Incarnation, enter through the cracks of history, small and fragile but with a promise that has the power to transform all reality…

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