She is incredible. "Good mawnin' miss Molly Deeeee," she greets me every day, with a huge smile on her face. "Everyting is everyting?" Yes, Mrs. Bee -- everything is everything.
Half-expecting her to rattle off the rest of the famous Lauryn Hill lyrics, I ask Mrs. Bee, What does that saying even mean? "You know," she says. "It means dat everyting is a-okay."
Between our frequent rants in the office -- "72 copies? Why would a teacher need 72 copies of a worksheet with one math problem on it!?" (me); "what in Gaad's name does dis even say?!" (Mrs. Bee) -- and our lengthy conversations about Belizean "Politricks," Mrs. Bee and I have gotten particularly close. She is spunky, she is hilarious, she is absolutely great at what she does (she has single-handedly eliminated the need for a volunteer in my position at all), she reminds me of my mom, and best of all, she has made my work days in Belize more than bearable -- sometimes by blasting the radio and showing off her Punta dance moves, sometimes by telling me humorous stories about what it was like growing up in a village, and sometimes by kicking or swearing at -- "oh my trials!" -- the nearest piece of technology that gets busted in our office (computer, photocopier, printer, fax machine, coffee maker, etc.). Not to mention, she has the cutest granddaughters ever who are undoubtedly my two best Belizean buddies -- Melisha and Monique (we have an "M" club) -- whom she has raised.
I have really struggled in my "work" here -- I say "work" because: a) What is work anyways? Simply a way to feel good about ourselves? To feel productive? To gain recognition or accomplishment? b) I understand that my experience as a volunteer has very little to do with whatever amount of said productivity I am able to bring to the table -- the way I see it these days, as long as I'm not prohibiting others from being productive, I'm doing okay. And c) My job as a pastoral associate (okay, my title should just be "Father Dan's personal assistant") at St. Martins doesn't lend itself to, well, too much work. There are always things to do, of course, but mostly, my job consists of photocopying, dispensing out water and pencil sharpening sessions at school break times, going to church way too much (is that possible?), and hanging out with Mrs. Bee.
Okay, I'm being hard on my work experience so far. There have been bright spots, most of which have occurred in the past week. Last Sunday, the Youth Group played a massive game of Jeopardy which was not only awesomely engaging and exciting for high-schoolers that don't usually want to do much of anything, but also really fun for me to plan. Most of the categories were interactive; the final product was more of a Jeopardy/Cranium/Carmen San Diego combination with categories ranging from "The 10 Commandments" to "So You Think You're a Rockstar" to "All things Molly" (not one of them believed me that my real name wasn't "Molly" but MaryGene -- I had to show them my license!). On Monday, my Confirmation class -- also consisting of high schoolers who don't usually want to do much of anything -- was surprisingly in a good mood, enough so that I followed their lead and found myself turning a lecture on the gifts of the Holy Spirit (what in the ... ?) to a group question and answer session about peer pressure and different forms of prayer (my favorite one being a 2nd Form student -- sophomore -- who said that he always prays when he's going to the bathroom! He's got the idea!). And finally, yesterday, I had the group of St. Martin's Primary 1st Communion students who needed remedial Baptism lessons before they were ready to receive their 1st Communion (this place has weird rules). Basically, I had all the troublemakers. A group that was supposed to be 8 kids turned into 15 and then 20 and by the time we got to the exercise where I made everyone hug each other, I'm pretty sure there were about 25 kids milling around the parish hall. Considering I had spent a fair amount of time planning specific activities relating to Baptism, I was surprise at how flexible I became as soon as the room flooded with students -- most of whom were sent by teachers who just wanted a break. Where I thought I was anal, shy, and under-confident, I was suddenly animated and on fire with spontaneous games and activities -- apparently I have some inner reserves of some accumulated elementary school/retreat/birthday party repertoire.
In any case, I'm not sure that this job is the right fit for me. For some time now, I think it has been contributing to a fair amount of identity crises I have been experiencing (post-collegiate, perhaps?), and quite honestly, the draining aspects of parish life -- the scrutiny and demands of the congregation ("I'm sorry, M'am. I can't Baptize you're baby! I've told you, I'm just not qualified!"), the administrative work and photocopies galore, and even the growing frustration of balancing my personal, work, and spiritual life -- have made my complete withdrawal seemingly imminent. Lately though, my outlook has been more positive; as to whether or not this will be my job for my second year in Belize, the jury's still out. But at least I'm feeling more excited that there will be, in fact, a second year for me in Belize.
And so, I am a-okay. I have been spending an increasing amount of time out-of-doors lately which has slowed down the rapid pace of my journal marathon-ing, but has allowed me to "enjoy the view," as my dad so perfectly advised, at the start of this second lap. I have stopped compartmentalizing so much my feelings, the time, and my relationships and am finally growing into the idea that for right now, this is my life. Life, life, life. And my life, albeit absolutely, 100% different than the life of Mrs. Bee or of any of the students I am interacting with on a daily basis, is Belize. The people, the food, the company, the strength, and the heartbreak -- all belongs to Belize, and all belongs to God. And accepting that has made it so much easier to go with the flow, to rest in the fact that it will all be alright and that, at the end of the day, everyting is everyting.
