Category: San Antonio

Our Time

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

download.pngThere are moments in our lives that leave us without words. They body slam us to the ground and we find ourselves lost in a maelstrom of anxiety and confusion. We suddenly see clearly and yet feel unfocused and muddled. Time becomes so relative that it practically stops. We see the world around us acting as though everything is normal and we want to scream out, “Hey, don’t you know what just happened?” We’ve all had those kind of experiences and they are raw and visceral, hurting while making us just a tiny bit stronger even as we feel so vulnerable and weak.

This past week has been like that for me and my family who had gathered together in the beautiful Texas hill country to celebrate the freedoms and abundance that we so enjoy as citizens of the United States. We’d just had lunch on Monday and were laughing and talking and trying to decide what to do for the rest of the day when we heard a strange thumping on one of the doors. Once, twice, three times it interrupted us, and so my son-in-law Jeremy went to investigate at just about the time that we all heard my husband Mike’s voice weakly exclaim in a very slurred voice, “I can’t get up!”

Of course we all jumped to attention at that point realizing that he was behind the guest bathroom door and that something had gone terribly wrong. Thanks to the good thinking of my daughter Catherine there was a little key perched on the door frame that allowed her to open the locked door quickly. There we saw Mike lying on the floor lodged between the toilet and the vanity with his feet splayed in such a way that he was keeping us from opening the door all the way. It was his face that caused our hearts to stop, for his left eye and the corner of his mouth were noticeably drooping while he proclaimed that he thought that he was having a stroke.

I shouted for someone to call 911 and I think that my grandson Andrew responded first. Meanwhile son-in-law Jeremy had worked his way inside and managed to comfort and reassure Mike and pull him into a sitting position. Son-in-law Scott and grandson Jack attempted to remove the hinges to the door so that the EMTs would be able to get inside when they arrived, while Andrew, daughter Maryellen and I searched for Mike’s medical information from his wallet. Admittedly I also used this time to have a complete and total meltdown out of view of Mike. I didn’t want him to realize the depth of my concern so I let it all out so that I might recover quickly enough to show him a brave face.

Meanwhile all of the younger grandchildren, Ben, Eli, Ian, Abby and William were in the front yard waiting for the first responders to arrive, which they did very shortly. Those young men who emerged from the fire truck and the ambulance were a beautiful sight as they strode inside so confidently, ready to get down to the business of assessing Mike’s situation and rendering aid. By then the family crew had managed to get Mike situated in such a way that the opening to the small room was sufficient for the rescue workers to do their work.

After quietly taking control of the situation they had Mike safely ensconced in the ambulance with me in the front and Scott sitting in the back with the paramedic. By then all of the physical symptoms that we had seen in Mike had disappeared which was somewhat reassuring, but our fears had not abated as we raced to Methodist Stone Oak Hospital in San Antonio.

Soon Mike was in the care of the very professional emergency room team that included Dr. Mansur and nurse Alyssa, strong, compassionate and highly professional women who became my idea of perfect angels in that moment. Before long Maryellen, Catherine and Abby had arrived to sit with us as well. Mike smiled and mentioned how happy it made him to have all of his girls together.

By then his vital signs had stabilized and I suspect that his blood pressure was better than mine because I felt as though my heart was going to literally jump out of my chest. Still it was wonderful to hear him being his old self, laughing and joking with the medical personnel about being a Rockets fan rather than cheering for the Spurs. All of this was reassuring to all of us, but we were not yet ready to celebrate.

Hospital time is unlike that in the world outside its walls. It is a ritual of hurrying up and waiting. The wheels grind slowly, particularly on a holiday weekend when the staff is half of what it normally may be. We tried to remain patient as the medical personnel slowly but surely performed one test after another on Mike, all with great precision. Eventually they announced that he would be staying overnight for observation so that the various diagnostic procedures might continue in the morning. We reluctantly left feeling exhausted and confused.

The following day was a repeat of waiting endlessly. Mike demonstrated that his mental acuity was intact as he answered a question about the date by stating that it was July 4, 241 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and then proceeded to quote the document. I can’t remember a moment when I was prouder of his knowledge or happier to see that it had not been destroyed.

It was well into the evening before the hospital discharged Mike instructing him to follow up with visits to his doctors and a neurologist. It seemed as though the whole city was celebrating the holiday and we had to pinch ourselves into the realization that the world was indeed still rolling along. Later we sat outside Catherine’s house and enjoyed fireworks displays that gave us a tiny bit of hope and the first moments of happiness that we had felt in the last forty eight hours.

I’ve made a long story a bit too long. We have all been left traumatized by the events, but we are trying our best to hold on to the fact that Mike is still here with us. We know how much worse this might have been. Our new reality for the moment is uncertainty filled with questions. Ours has been a frightening journey but we now know that we were never all alone. We have a renewed affection for first responders who toil almost unnoticed day after day until we need them. We have a great appreciation for the doctors and nurses who stand ready to help in emergencies. We realize the magnitude of the love that surrounds us from friends and family. We know that the road ahead will be different but we are ready to accept its challenges.

I’ve often written about the serendipitous nature of life. I’ve urged everyone to seize the day and embrace the love. After our most unusual week I realize that such thoughts are far more than mere platitudes. They are guideposts for living. We really don’t know what is in store for us from one moment to the next. We truly do need to stop long enough to see and appreciate the incredible beauty of life. It is more important than anything to express our love and our gratitude as soon as we feel it. None of us have the assurance that we will see another day. This, here and now, is our time and it is up to us to use it well.    

Remains of the Days

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

Mission_Concepcion_San_AntonioSan Antonio is a well known tourist destination. It attracts visitors from around the country and the world with the Riverwalk, Six Flags, Fiesta Texas, Seaworld, friendly citizens and a dedication to showing guests a good time. Virtually everyone who comes to the city takes an inspiring walk through the premier Texas shrine, the Alamo, but far too few realize that this sacred battleground was once part of a network of five missions that were built along the San Antonio River in the early eighteenth century. All of them remain standing even to this day and are easily found just south of downtown. They are a treasure that all too often goes unnoticed but one rife with history.

The missions were the work of Franciscan priests who travelled from the centers of power and commerce in Mexico to the northern reaches of the country to spread the Catholic faith and secure the land for Spain. The missions resembled Spanish villages in Europe, centering life around the church. The priests encouraged the local native people, who had traditionally been hunters and gatherers, to settle down with the offer of food and lodging. Because living off of the land was wrought with difficulties not the least of which were attacks from other tribes, many were attracted to the seeming generosity of the padres.

Of course the real intent of the priests was to convert and change the people. They considered it God’s work to baptize those who were willing to accept their religious beliefs, learn the Spanish language, and be trained to perform various jobs. Much of the labor that built the churches, buildings and walls around the missions was done by the local people whose culture quickly changed under the tutelage of the priests. They learned how to plant and grow crops. They helped to create aqueducts that directed water from the river to the village. They herded cattle and sheep and even became experts at making cloth. They became stonemasons and artisans. In fact the people of each mission were generally so self sufficient that they even had excess supplies of food that they often traded for goods from Mexico City.

Mission Concepcion is perhaps the best preserved of all of the San Antonio historical landmarks and is the closest to the present day center of downtown. Its church is much like it was back when it was an active center of daily living. Even the wall decorations are just as they were back then. The church boasts the Moorish influence seen in many Spanish edifices. It sits along an intersection of busy streets where passersby are moving so quickly that they seem not to even notice this jewel that shares its space with a seemingly forgotten neighborhood. At one time the St. John’s Seminary was next door to the mission but it was abandoned at the end of the twentieth century and is now a spooky mix of rotting buildings scarred with graffiti and neglect. Somehow the entire area is a mix of incongruous contrasts but Mission Concepcion remains gloriously beautiful in spite of the brutal passage of time.

Further down the mission road, which is actually Roosevelt Boulevard, is Mission San Jose which is a massive property that includes the official Visitor Center for all of the missions. It provides a glimpse into what the daily routine might have been for the priests, nuns, military and native people who once lived there. The remains of the wall that surrounded it as well as many of the original buildings are still intact. The church is active to this very day with priests living at the site and providing daily masses and other services for the parishioners.

Next is Mission San Juan located near a present day airport but still somewhat hidden from the view of modernity. It is a quiet place where the spirit of what happened in the long ago feels much more real. It is easy to imagine the gathering of people carrying out their routines of salvation and existence. The work must have been hard and relentless under the hot San Antonio sun. Everyone including the children had jobs to do. Sometimes there were raids on the food supplies and livestock from the Comanche who refused to join the white men who came to the land wearing strange robes and preaching of a God so unlike their own. Here there is a graveyard where many of the people were buried when they lost their lives to disease, violence and old age. It is a sacred place that lies quietly under trees that might have once shaded the very same people when they were alive.

The most rural of the missions is Mission Espada. It stands in a more remote field than any of the others. It was the farthest outpost and the only one that features bricks in its architecture. Like the other missions its purpose was to bring a measure of spiritual and political civilization to an untamed area of Mexico. The efforts were supported by both the government in Mexico and the king in Spain. As the European world colonized north and south America the Spanish government had claimed more land than any other country and missionaries were always part of the efforts to bring the Spanish culture and beliefs to the native people in what was then known as New Spain.

Texas eventually saw an influx of settlers who had come with the promise of a new start in life. When they believed that the Mexican government had reneged on those guarantees they fought for and gained independence from Mexico. The missions lost their importance and faded into history. Somehow in spite of progress all around them they remained as reminders of a forgotten time. They were saved from total destruction by the National Park Service which now serves as the protector of this amazing collection of history. 

It takes most of a day to explore all five of the San Antonio missions but it is time well spent. They provide a glimpse into an era long before there was a Texas or a United States of America. They are monuments that remind us both of our human strengths as well as our failings. Visiting them is much like going on a spiritual journey back through time. They should be at the top of the “things to see” list for anyone who chooses to travel to San Antonio.

We learn much about ourselves by studying history. Discovering how those who came before us did things reveals mankind’s mistakes and complexities. The Spanish missions were part religious, part political, part business much as most things are today. We might debate whether they helped the native people or hurt them. Perhaps it is impossible to ever really know the full ramifications of what happened so long ago. The only reality is that the missionaries came and we are lucky enough to be able to view the remains of their days in places like San Antonio. It is a gift to us to be able to glimpse the past, a destination that we all should seek.