Peace

     Music wandered through the windows, around the houses, down the hill,
 into my kitchen.  It was "Jingle Bells" with a salsa beat. A baby cried. The motorcycle backfired. From a distance I could see the smoke of a clearing fire. Sunday night in the Colinas neighborhood. These people are poor. There's just no getting around that.
But they are happy. They laugh and gather and eat and fix their cars and watch their babies.  They know no differences. This is their life. It has always been their life and it will be their childrens' lives. They walk to school and walk to town and would walk to
the hospital if they had to.  When they get caught in the rain, they smile, open their
umbrellas and continue on.  There's no rushing or yelling or rudeness.  Just a peace about their walk and a willingness to wait. They have God and know God and are at one
with God. The church is undergoing a massive improvement campaign.  Only they don't call it a campaign.  They just smile and say, "God is good".
     I'm coming back to the States on Saturday.  Back to the rushing and yelling and rudeness.  I'm hoping enough of the peace here has rubbed off on me so that I will be able to smile at strangers and say, "God is good."