Mustard Seed update

March 5, 2009
Days and tasks in Jamaica seem to roll together. We have now spent six days here in the Mustard Seed Communities in Montego Bay.
Physically we are worn down from the daily tasks of priming the new Chapel, painting the children’s therapy room and varnishing the floor. We rise at 6a.m. and begin our day with a meal of toast, pok choy with cod and eggs.
Around 8a.m .we move to one of the four cottages that house close to 40 residents aged 18 mos. To 18-years-old. Some are jumping up and down to see us while others, who are bed ridden, are smiling and grinning as we amble through the doors.
We will sing and pray some mornings and other mornings assist with feeding the children bread or porridge.
Once we complete the morning devotions and breakfast we start our own tasks. We’ll work until noon, break for lunch and resume working until 3:30 p.m.
One afternoon we were blessed with a visit from Mustard Seed Communities founder Fr. Greg Ramkissoon. He started the communities more than 30 years ago. That afternoon he was a whirlwind of inspiration as he quickly surveyed the property and began looking at the Chapel. He asked for advice on color and even its name. He asked us our names, our programs and how we were eating.
A few folks in the group are unsure of how this trip will affect our lives. A handful of us were initially shocked at the twisted limbs of the children as we walked through their front doors. The smell of dirty diapers can be overwhelming in the afternoon heat. But once you look past the sights and smells you look into the children’s eyes and see their soul. You can see how happy they are to have company and someone by their side. They tug at your hands and jump into your arms.
They clamor for attention and play peek-a-boo behind their door. They sway to a beat as you gently clap your hands. Sometimes you aren’t sure what they are singing but the beat in their head is prominent.
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In Jamaica we hear that things are at a different pace. Less hectic. Less structured. The local word for this is ‘Irie.” Wehave experienced moments of this. We went to Mass at the Mo-Bay (Montego Bay) Cathedral. Bishop Charles Dufour gave a wonderful homily complete with a song in the middle of it. Lots of music and swaying. Engaging and lively. Prayerful and reverent. One of the most wonderful Masses I have attended. And it was two hours. Meeting the Bishop afterwards was great. He is a native Jamaican which is few and far between for this island.

-Michelle Kelley.
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Kids are kids. I keep seeing my pre-school nephews in these children. Despite being worlds apart and separated by disabilities, the same things can elicit a smile or laugh – a song, a funny face – the same things are challenges – sharing, setting boundaries. I try to keep this in mind as I see how little these kids have, even though it is much more than they would have if they were not here. I wonder if they are even aware of what they lack. Or if they are simply satisfied with what they have.

-Douglas Leal
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Beautiful children, smiles, play, work, prayer, friendships, sun, blessings…There’s no where else I’d rather be right now.
-Nathaniel Samuel
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“The Mustard Tree”
Bubbles are wafting out of the girls cottage. They erupt in laughter like giddy summer campers.
In the babies’ dorm Jane patiently feeds Curtis and learns Jasmine’s spirituals. Michelle plays with mobile Marissa and Heidi dances with string-legged Robert. Douglas pushes the twins down the avenue.
In the early morning the rooster crows, the kittens meow and the children begin their calls. In the spreading down their choral of whimpers and shouts plays.
The boys hang out the window, clamoring for attention. Their frustration spills out into whacks on each other and on the volunteers, grabbing and other boyish mischief.
All the emotion is palatable, right there on the surface bursting into joy and sorrow. The light of their candles burns glorious kindled by care and love.
The care givers love them like their own, diligently bathing and feeding and wrapping them in kind discipline.
The tree is growing strong, branches thick with fruit. The light of Christ streams from the well and pours out light in their eyes in the smiles, in their touch.
Like the withered hand that is healed, the growth isn’t always easy. The tears balm the wounds – all of ours, but we are all pulled toward the Son, whose love grows inside ours.
-Bill Gural
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Come!
“Come!” Tis is the word the children here at Mustards Seed Communities use to get your attention. They use it to invite you to come and sit with them. Come push their wheelchairs. And come play peek-a-book through the pink shutters of their house.
I felt excited, anxious and emotional all at once as I entered the boys dorm for the first time. I honestly don’t think that anyone or anything could have prepared me for what I saw as I walked through those doors.
A dozen little boys, laying on beds, curled up in cribs, sitting in wheelchairs, peeking down at us from the stairs, jumping around, and a few calmly starring out the window. Their twisted limbs and frail bodies made me hesitate, their loud wailing and moans startled me. I took a deep breath, kneeled down and reached out my hand to a boy who was immobile on a bed to the left of the door. As I looked into his eyes I was moved. I saw the mystery within him. It was not that the pain and suffering was not, but only that I was able to see past his contoured body and see him.
Come. Come hold their hands. Come let the children be your teachers. Come look into their eyes. Come, learn their abilities and disabilities. Come, come to Mustard Seed and see.

-Heidi Kallen
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Look Beyond
Look beyond my useless body and see the face of Jesus.
Look beyond my anger and pain and see the face of Jesus.
Look beyond my frailties and see the face of Jesus.
Look beyond my crying out and see the face of Jesus.
Look beyond my angry outbursts and see the face of Jesus.
Look beyond my tears of frustration and see the face of Jesus.
Touch my heart with your heart and see the face of Jesus.
Look into the loving smile on my face and see the face of Jesus.
-Jane Lash