ALL SOULS DAY

Today I slept! It was raining all night which was a welcome sound to the normal noisy city life (and dog barking) that echoes into the Monastery Halls at night. I woke "on time" and joined everyone at Mass to pray for the Souls in Purgatory.

Upper Courtyard at Bethlehem Home

I had never given All Souls Day much thought in the past. The community here prays fervently for those family and friends who have departed this world so that they may be purified and then be able to enter heaven to spend eternity with God. I listed a out the many friends and family members whom I have lost over the years including those that passed before I was born. I thought also of Steve Mazurek who recently passed this year.

I have heard of the "Day of the Dead" but had associated this with Halloween and skeletons in crazy costumes adorning shop windows. It was educational to hear more about this celebration in detail from Father Raymond as well as a wonderful experience to spend time thinking of shared memories with these loved ones. All were encouraged to go to the cemeteries and pray for Souls today. We were also encouraged to pray for those Souls who have no one to pray for them. Following Mass, I went on with my day not knowing I myself would also be visiting a cemetery.

The tiles are GONE!

Life of the living marches on. TODAY....the room renovations continue! The wall is being knocked out and the reality of change is no longer just a nice thought! There was a bit of angst when the first tiles came down and the initial burr holes made. Fr Raymond came by to supervise the work....he made some suggestions that made the project a bit more involved though agreeably better for the kids. This is a man that works with FULL trust and confidence. Then on the flip side there's me....saying "Should we do this????" or "Would it be better to do that?" The walls come down as I argue back in forth in my head the decision is made for me instead.

The boys get excited about anything new and different. Here, they all want to help push the wheel barrow, shovel tiles out the door and play in the rubble. We have a mass of helpers ready to work! I am trying to keep them out for their own safety, but this is a lesson in futility. The workers themselves are devoid of proper shoes, masks and eye protection. This is something that I need to remedy as they are doing God's work and should be protected.

Looking back up the hill as I wind my way down

I leave the "Office" feeling good about the changes. I receive a wonderful treat of riding home with the Sisters tonight. They are late picking us up because the main van remains in Rwanda being repaired and the pick up truck is taking one of the boys for treatment in nearby Entebbe. The only remaining truck had to pick up the Brothers and Sisters from the Good Shepherd Home and then come to get us. I can tell with the bumping of the road, however,  that we are going a different way home. Sure enough, we make a stop at the Cathedral and everyone hops out. I realize this is our opportunity to pray for the dead at the cemetery. I am glad it is not midnight as I chuckle to myself.

We all spread out in the upper cemetery and began to pray for the Priests and the Brothers buried here. I am alarmed to see several who born the same year I was and yet passed recently. I then spot a line of white robes with blue sashes moving to a lower garden area. I curiously follow them down a muddy path through backyards and between banana trees. Women watching over pigs and chickens pay no mind as we pass  as if it is a normal thing to have a line of Brothers marching through your yard. I am really getting curious now.

Brothers moving about the
lower cemetery

We end up in a very old graveyard with overgrown plants that obscure cement crosses that are weathered and barely visible through the vegetation. There is a small building that is falling in on itself. It looks to be a chapel but I do not have the courage to enter until I see some of the Brothers leaving. I pull out my camera in secret hoping to snap a few pictures of this beautiful old building but not sure if this is allowed. It does seem odd to be taking pictures in a graveyard when I think about it.

I walk into the building alone stopping to feel the history and wonder what sermons and Masses may have been said here. It feels old yet still retains some of the Peace as most chapels do. It feels misplaced and lost which gives me a sad feeling. There are small boxes along the walls on either side. I wonder if these are pillar stands for something ornate that once stood here. My thoughts are interrupted by one of the Brothers who silently came in...they do this often...move slow and quietly and suddenly they are there...rather startling at times.

The chapel of the first Missionaries to bring
Catholicism to Uganda

Brother tells me this is the chapel built by the first Catholic Missionaries to Uganda. No one seems to know how old the building is. A local man is called over but he shrugs in response to the question. Brother tells me the boxes are the graves of the Missionaries that came here. They are all buried in the chapel. I walk over and brush the dirt and mud from the crumbling walls off the tops of the graves to reveal the names. It seems the only fitting thing to do on All Souls Day. The names are indeed European. The burial dates are the early 1900s which confirms the chapel is quite old.

Looking inside the chapel

It is sad that such a treasure seems to be falling into obscurity....the Missionaries that were buried here probably came here with no intention of being recognized as anything other than servants of God. They continue even in death to maintain their place as servants among the people, buried as they are in the common graveyard.

The graves under the window

It is quiet all around me...I look out of the open wall to see robes of white moving amongst the gravestones slowly and reverently...it's as if the Brothers create a silent march of spirits of the living amongst the spirits of the dead. The dead here are all recognized today...they are not forgotten. I wonder if they can feel this.

Asking a local how old the Chapel is

The Missionaries that are in quiet repose here are in the place that I am sure they had loved. I wonder if what brought them here is what brought me here. Brother and I say prayers for them together in the open chapel...our voices echoing against the empty mud brick and plaster walls and heavy dark beams. We then walk silently out knowing that these Missionaries of the past are not forgotten and have been thoughtfully prayed for by the Missionaries of the Present.