Palm Sunday

Tomorrow is Palm Sunday. I must confess that Palm Sunday holds small significance to me as a religious holiday. I do remember at the Methodist Church, when I was a child, there were palms on the alter and at Sunday school we were told the story of Christ entering the city, greeted by waving palm branches and cries of "Hosanna!" My Catholic friends, as I recall, were given little crosses woven from bits of palm. But what I am remembering today is our first trip to Ecuador in 1999. We went to see Emily and where she was living and working and we happened to be in the beautiful city of Cuenca during the week leading up to Palm Sunday.

On that Saturday, as we walked around the city we kept seeing people making and selling intricately woven decorations made from palm fronds. They ranged from tiny little birds and stars and crosses, to large fanciful pieces designed to be carried and waved. The sellers sat on the sidewalks and wove the pieces as they were selling them. Some buyers would request a certain size or shape and wait while it was woven.

The next morning we were walking past the Cathedral as the service ended and saw that nearly every person was carrying and waving one of these palm creations. It was quite beautiful.

In my photos you can see the white, Panama hats that many Ecuadoreans wear. The hats, which are not from Panama at all, are famously made in the city of Cuenca. On that first trip we were delighted by everything we saw. We felt, so much, the differences between our cultures and found ourselves both in awe and a bit apprehensive that our daughter had chosen to come to a place so foreign.

Emily was renting a room in an Ecuadorean home and that afternoon we went to dinner there hosted by the family she was living with.

Here you see Emily; her host mother, Gerardina; Gerardina's son Pedro and her daughter Nubia, with her now-husband Diego. Since Pedro was the only one in the family that spoke English, he is the one we first bonded with, but came to know the rest of the family through translation and our poor Spanish. Gentle, kind, truly lovely people. Pedro, when we first met him said, "our home is Emily's home and while you are here please feel it is your home." Behind an anonymous-looking street-front facade, we found their modest multi-story home, with light pouring in through skylights, gleaming wood floors and beautiful Ecuadorean artwork and mounted exotic butterflies from the jungle. Pedro had gone to the flower market for the flowers in the picture in our honor. Such wonderful hospitality. At one point I saw Gerardina lean over and give Emily a smile and a quick, affectionate hug. This was the mental picture I carried home with me about Emily's life in Ecuador and I worried so much less.

We have seen Nubia and met her children on subsequent visits to Ecuador. We saw Pedro at Emily's wedding. We were deeply saddened when Gerardina died from cancer several years ago. Emily was heartbroken. Today Pedro and his wife and son, who all now live in San Diego, are here in Portland visiting Emily and Cayo and getting to know Sofia. They are coming for dinner tonight. We will think of Gerardina and wish Nubia and Diego were here too and remind Pedro that it was on Palm Sunday 11 years ago that we shared our first dinner with him. I bought flowers in his honor.