There is an almost indefinable quality about Susan Cordova. The Jarales native has the kind of serenity and unshakable faith that most monks would envy. But she also has a very pragmatic view of the world, and humor enough to laugh at the absurdities.

She will tell you her birthday in on March 30, but isn't as forth coming about the year. It is a birthday that has seen its share of joy, and more than its fair share of sorrow.

"My younger sister, Mary, shares that birth date with me," Cordova says. "It's also the same date my father was in a fatal car accident, and later my mother died on that date."

Her smile tells you she still celebrates the day every year for both herself and her sister, and in honor of their parents.

This faith, this joy has washed over her community as Cordova has worked quietly behind the scenes to make the rural, farming community a better place.

In addition to holding a full-time teaching position at Belen High School, Cordova and her brother, Nick, serve as the Mayordomos de la Iglesia in Jarales.

It is a duty they took up with great joy and pride.

As one of the mayordomos, Cordova cleans the church inside and out, helps set up for Sunday Mass, opens the church every Friday for people coming to pray novenas and makes sure the building is available for different groups that meet there.

"I wear many hats for whatever needs to be done. It has been a joy. I think of it as taking over where our parents left off," she said. "They were the last ones in the old church, and we were the first ones in the new church."

And getting to the new church is a tale in itself.

"The old chapel was water damaged. The foundation crumbling and the walls were melting," Cordova said. "My parents motivated people to help save it, and they held fundraisers for the cost of repairs."

They even moved the church and its services into their house for nine months.

"The living room was set up for Mass. I think it scared the boys who came to pick us up on dates," Cordova laughs. "You could see them looking at all the statues of the saints and thinking, 'Guess he really means hands off!'"

But what may have driven most teens to distraction, Cordova took in stride.

"The more you give, the more you get back," she says. "Growing up here, the women of the valley showed me how to can and freeze the vegetables from our garden and so many things. The more you ask the more you learn. The more giving and asking there is, the more getting and enjoying life there is."

Even after the church was moved back to its proper place, Cordova and her family continued to have it as a touchstone in their lives.

"After my sister's husband died, she fell into a depression. We finally took her down to the church while I cleaned with my other sister," she said. "You could pray, scream, cry. It's good to give to God."

And that little church has experienced at least one miracle, Cordova said. Last spring, a car hit a nearby electric pole. The subsequent power surge started a fire in the breaker box inside the church.

"Not long before this happened, we had brought a case of water to the church, just to have in case people got thirsty," she said. The water was sitting on a shelf close to where the fire started. The small fire melted the water bottles and extinguished the fire.

"If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is," Cordova said.

One of her other commitments is to the continued use and enjoyment of the Don Jose Dolores Cordova Cultural Center ― the building that started life as a schoolhouse established by her great grandfather Jose Cordova.

Two years ago, the renovations on the historic building were completed, and the public was welcomed with the ringing of the same bell that summoned children to their studies for decades.

"This has really been something that we've been working on one way or another for almost 20 years," Cordova said. "We are trying to get this to be something that is easy for people to use and take care of.

"We want this to be used by the community, and part of the community. County administrations come and go, and we're still here. We want people to use it as neighbors, and not damage it so it's around for a long time."

Meeting at the cultural center, the residents of Jarales have begun organizing a neighborhood watch.

"We want to stop crime in a peaceful way. We want people to know we're watching," she said. "Then maybe some of these people who are doing the wrong thing, well maybe we can lead by example."

And Cordova, along with the board of directors for the cultural center, has taken the lead in a project to help local kids further their education with the hopes that they will return to their community and bring their new-found expertise with them.

Last year, the group was able to raise $1,500 for three scholarships for recent high school graduates from the Jarales area.

"We have so many bright wonderful kids here, and they just need a little help," she said.

Cordova was also involved with organizing a recent appreciation dinner for the officers in the sheriff's department.

"They don't get a lot of accolades for doing their jobs, so it was good to break bread with them," she said. "But there weren't a lot of them there that night because there was some kind of incident. So we packed up the food and took it up to their offices so they could enjoy it later."

Opening her heart and home to the community is something Cordova isn't shy about.

"If the community center isn't available, well they can just come to my house for their meeting ― if there's not too many," she says with a laugh. "I'll make some coffee, and they can sit around the kitchen table. That's how we used to do things."

Cordova waives off praise for her dedication and hard work on behalf of her community.

"It's fun, so it's hard to say no. I guess I see something in people's hearts, a need, and I want to help," she says. "There are so many beautiful souls in my life, and I think how many people helped me. And now they need help, so why not?"

She sits quietly for a moment, contemplating.

"Our veterans put their life on the line. Some of them walked in the Bataan Death March, so I can walk as far as I can go.

"I guess I grew up with too many good role models. My parents and grandparents ― I can't even begin to put my feet in their shoes.

"God blessed me with good health, and my brothers and sisters through the good, bad and ugly. And there are such good men and women in this community, they feel like brothers and sisters."