The posada is sort of a song, but more of a long, tuneless poem that is split between those outside a building, (seeking shelter like the parents of the Christ Child.) and those inside who represent the Innkeeper. It's bien Catolico because the Innkeeper doesn't really concern himself with the Messiah, but once he realizes that Mary, "The Queen of the Heavens" is outside, he opens right up! Hee. I wanted one of my old companeras to giggle with at that moment.
It was such an exciting night--the music and the colors were so vibrant and everyone seemed happy collecting candy, cheering the skit some of the kids put on, chanting for the crowd favorites in the pinata contest. At events like these, a few of the families of the boys in Casa Juconi show up and it is incredibly warming to see them sitting hand in hand with their mothers or cradling a baby sister. I want them to feel so loved in those moments that it will feed them during the long weeks between visits, that it will smooth away the sting of the reasons why they don't live at home anymore.
These mother and child reunions throw into sharp contrast the boys who don't have anyone. Several of them have been abandoned and Juconi has no contact with any of the boys' relatives. Instead of monthly family visits they get "compensatory visits" when Juconi staff takes them to a movie or swimming.
The night of the posada I felt it thud into my heart--again--the dearness and necessity and rightness of having a family--any kind of family. One of the boys who is an orphan from Mexico City--Angel Ortiz--lost in the pinanta contest and ran off crying. Some of the educators followed him and I thought, he should have his mother here to tell him it's okay, she's proud of him anyway. I had a vision of a woman with Angel's sweet eyes drawing him into a side hug and telling him they'd put the pinata up in the house, and that she liked it best. For some reason this thought was agonizing to me that night and every time I think of it I tear up. I can't stop thinking of Angel and of Silva's plaintive little face playing the cat and mouse game with me through the crowd. His brother ran away in November and that was his last tie to family.
Last night my father told us about having Christmas with his Italian grandmother. We shared scriptures of the Savior and talked about why we were grateful for his birth, we sang, "sleep in heavenly peace" and "peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled." My mother gave my brother a picture of Christ and Lazarus and told him that anyone can be healed from the very worst pain. I do believe that, I feel wretched that I can't get rid of my own entitlement. I just want to take the boys home with me and shield them from any more hurt. I want to stave off their loneliness with hope. I love being here with my own dear family. I cannot relax completely because I keep remembering that night and how the wrongness of being Motherless distilled on my soul.
It does feel so good to be back!
