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In N.Va., a Latino Community Unravels

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* * *
The choir at Our Lady of Angels Catholic Church in Woodbridge broke into a final, spirited chorus signaling the conclusion of the Easter Sunday Spanish Mass. A 28-year-old Salvadoran woman named Nury Fuentes pulled a set of rosary beads from her purse and waved them at a woman a few pews back.
"To work!" Fuentes whispered with a grin.
As coordinator of the church's Spanish charismatic prayer group, Fuentes was in charge of rounding up members for a post-Mass recitation of the novena for divine mercy, a devotion modeled on the nine days of prayers said by the Apostles after Jesus's ascension to heaven.
Until recently, Fuentes said, she could have counted on nearly 40 people to join her at the front of the church. Members of the group call each other "brother" and "sister" and rarely miss a meeting.
But since October, more than two dozen have moved away.
Now only four women and seven men trickled forward.
As Fuentes watched them take their places beside her, she said afterward, she thought sadly of those not there: Brother William, the young Salvadoran carpet layer with a knack for guitar playing, who used to keep them all in tune; Sister Marta, the motherly Mexican who still had time to pray over everyone else's problems after she lost her job as a house cleaner.
"You feel their absence like a deep pain because we are like a family," she said. "Each one has their role."
* * *
The sun gleamed over Manassas out of a cloudless sky. A Guatemalan woman named Silda pulled a curtain across her living room window to block the glare on the television. Her 3-year-old daughter, Cynthia, careened past on a scooter, crashing into the couch.
Normally, Silda would have spent a day like this walking around the mall, or chatting on the stoop with her Salvadoran friend next door while Cynthia played with the Mexican children across the street.


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