Two Places

October 12

Some days here seem normal. I wake up in the morning and will myself to get out of my tent, which usually ends up being an embarrassingly long process as 5:20 just does not do it for me. And when I was at school? 7:40 didn’t do it either. I obviously need to work on some stuff.

I go to worship, breakfast, teach Bible, Math, and History for 3^rd and 4^th grade and then English for 5^th. Then there’s lunch and a free period and then work for a couple hours before there’s supper, study hall, and I find myself putting my boys to bed before I fall asleep so I can wake up and do it all over again.

And then there are days like today. When I am brought to an abrupt halt as I am made aware of the life I am living, and I realize this is not the way things have always been.

Last night I kind of had a break down, to be honest. It was my turn to stay at the orphanage, so instead of spending my Sunday in town talking to people and eating pizza and getting a break from taking care of fifty little beings, I stayed back and? Took care of fifty little beings.

Usually those Sundays leave me feeling exhausted and like I missed out on the happenings in town and so so anxious for the next Sunday to come so I can get off campus. But this Sunday?

It left me feeling excited and energized and so ready for the week ahead.

(I just think I need to insert here what is currently happening in my house. Gabriel is walking around with his eyes covered by the underwear on his head. And it’s all fastened neatly with a belt. Ain’t nothing but a thang.)

Anyways. Back to Sunday.

Ashley and I were in the kitchen. We made rice, beans, and salad for lunch. Then during our break before we got started on supper, I laid outside on a bench and Belsa picked thirteen live lice out of my hair. Really cute, I know. Thanks everyone so much.

My head itches.

Then Ashley and I were ready to start supper, but low and behold where are all the kids? So we walked over to my house to see if my boys were there. We found Rodrigo and Wilfredo, so we grabbed them on our way to look for the others. It was a chilly day (PRAISE) and Rodrigo declared he couldn’t walk all the way to Casa Grande as he would freeze. And so I pathetically agreed to carry him. Trust me. He is just too cute to resist. You’d say yes, too. I had him in my arms and he was attacking my face with kisses when Wilfredo walked over and linked his arm through mine.

And I thought to myself I could stay here forever.

We found the rest of the kids over at the shed, making little airplanes out of wood. You would be blown away. They have this new obsession with getting blocks of wood and carving a plane out of them with a knife. And I mean, they are impressive. They make moving propellers and everything, and then they run around campus with them. Jancy was hosting a contest that night, so they all worked on their planes throughout the day.

And so we decided to let them stay, as they were having a fabulous time. Ashley and I headed to the kitchen to work on supper.

After everyone ate, I was trying to get the kitchen cleaned up. I had three girls helping me, and none of them wanted to be there. One was in tears as she was stressed out of her mind, telling me how the kitchen needed to be perfectly clean for the people making breakfast the next day, the other was throwing a fit that she had to wash dishes she didn’t dirty herself, and the other girl was sitting in a chair declaring she was only washing the counters, but only after everything else was done.

It’s in moments like these, when I have to deal with attitude and my Spanish vocabulary is so annoyingly small that I get frustrated and overwhelmed. And so yeah. That happened. I said what I could, best I could, and thankfully right then Carol walked in and helped me. Let’s just say one girl chopped a whole lot of wood and the kitchen got cleaned.

That night everyone was at the Vegetables house watching a movie. I went over for a little bit, but then decided to just go to my room as I was still frustrated from what happened in the kitchen. And so I laid in my bed and just had a little breakdown. Basically I cried a lot.

I know I have gotten a lot better with dealing with the kids and giving discipline and demanding respect but goodness sometimes it is so hard. I can’t speak the language, and on top of that I hate punishing the kids I don’t know very well as it makes me wonder if they will think that is all I do.

Later Dani came in and I started talking to her about everything but that’s when I realized what was really upsetting me. And it was not the ordeal in the kitchen.

It was how much I love these kids.

These kids? I love them like a mother. I love them in a way I have never loved anyone before.

And even though sometimes I get so frustrated with them or hurt by them as I try to help them and they just don’t want it? Well, it’s okay. Because they’re still beautiful to me.

I just want to grab them and look into their big brown eyes and tell them I’m only doing this to help you. I only want to help you.

And so I’ll just do the best I can, even with my small vocab and not very intimidating voice. I’ll try to give them what they need.

But I know that April is going to come around and I am going to have to tell them good-bye. And so many of them have already lost so many people in their life. And so I just feel terrible walking away, too.

This same Sunday Jahel and his brothers decided they won’t have any more contact with their mom who abandoned them three years ago. And Jahel is the one who just recently started calling me mom.

Fabiola is always throwing her arms around me and saying, “You are my mom. I’m just missing my dad.” I’m sorry, darlin. But I don’t have that for you.

I am sure this is something that every SM faces. The reality that we are only here for a short time, and eventually we are going to have to tell these kids good-bye. It’s just hard to do when these kids know I could stay.

And it makes me realize that for this year and the rest of my life? I am going to have to learn to live with my heart in two places.

Forever

October 6

What is life without children all over you?

What is life without waking up to rain pouring down so hard you can’t fall back to sleep?

What is life without cockroaches? Everywhere.

What is life without little girls and boys running over to you, throwing their arms around you, looking up into your eyes and saying, “Tu es mi Mama.”

My life here is full of so much love. Every day.

Last night I put the boys to bed. It was Wednesday, so we had just finished having worship altogether in the church. As soon as we got back to the house I had the boys brush their teeth and told them to get in their beds as soon as they were done. Then I started going to each bed to hug and kiss them goodnight.

As soon as I walked over to Henry’s bed, I noticed that he had blood all over his face and hands. Poor boy had a bloody nose and wasn’t saying anything about it. I told him to go wait in my room and I’d help him as soon as I told everyone else goodnight. I walked over to Fermin’s bed. And of course, since he knew that Henry might get a bandaid, he was desperate to go to my room as well in case he might get one.

Fermin. Loves. Bandaids.

He (as always) had a sore on his foot, so I told him he could get some Neosporin, but that was it. He excitedly went to my room.

I finished tucking everyone else in and turned off the lights. Then I headed to my room to help little Henry and Fermin.

I wasn’t there for two minutes when I looked at my doorway to see all my boys (other than Gabriel who must have fallen asleep) desperately looking in. “Bandaid, Teacher? Please?”

I told them I didn’t have that many left, and they only needed a bandaid if they were bleeding because bandaids don’t just make the pain go away. But they don’t seem to understand this. I’m pretty sure if they cut their leg off they’d come ask me for a bandaid and then go finish their day.

But even after I said this, they asked for only medicine, Teacher. Only medicine. Please?

You know, there are times when I just want to close the door, turn off the lights and crawl into my tent. I’m tired and just want to go to sleep.

But then? There are nights like last night, when I look around to see seven little brown-eyed boys who crawled out of bed and walked to my door just to see if they could get a bandaid.

And I give in.

And so last night I sat in a circle with my boys and I applied a whole lot of Neosporin to a whole lot of little wounds. I don’t know how much it is going to help, if any. But I just sat there, putting Neosporin onto their little sores thinking oh my goodness I have no idea what I am doing what even is Neosporin but wow I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

The other day the boys’ rooms were an absolute disaster. I mean the house was a wreck. Dani and I told the boys they weren’t allowed to eat seconds for the day, hoping it would teach them the importance of keeping the house clean.

Goodness. It breaks a little boy’s heart when you take away his food.

Of course, after that the house was spotless the entire day. I mean they prided themselves in their neatly folded clothes and straight shoes and little toys being all lined up.

So that night? I decided to recognize them for how clean it was.

“Oh my goodness! Boys! Come, come! Look!”

I basically freaked out over how clean one of the rooms was. And these little boys? They started jumping up and down frantically screaming “Tomorrow, too! Teacher! Tomorrow, too!”

Their room wasn’t clean the next day, but hey, it was an exciting thought.

I’m basically trying to say that I live in a house with eight little boys who have stolen my heart. They’re babies. Oh my goodness.

And I love them.

It’s crazy to think that in just a month and a half all these boys are going to go home for the summer. I can’t imagine being here without them.

I also hope I don’t forget what it is like to live with them. Especially after I go back to America. I hope I don’t forget what it is like to be a mom.

And that’s something that always frightens me a little bit. I feel like these are my boys. They are my kids. And so it is hard to accept that I am going to leave and they are going to keep on living here so far away. I know it is literally going to break my heart in two.

But I’m thankful. I am so thankful I have this time with them. I love walking to Casa Grande and hearing a little boy running a few feet behind me and then feeling him throw his arms around me or grab my hand and then we walk the rest of the way together.

I love when Luis Migel hikes his pants up too high.

I love when Fermin lays in his bed at night and says, “Benga, Teacher! Benga!” so he can hug me until I force him to let me go.

I love when Hugo throws his arms behind his back and runs around like he’s an airplane.

I love when Gabriel looks at me with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide and just has the blankest stare in the world.

I love when Rodrigo runs around playing with a stick and a wheel for a longer amount of time than I would think that could entertain anyone.

I love when Wilfredo breaks out his weird dance moves or just drops down into the splits in the middle of the house at the most unexpected times.

I love when Ronald sits next to me and puts my arm around him and just cuddles.

I love when Henry does his little boy giggle and tucks his arms into his chest as I give him a million kisses.

I love them all. So so much. They have my heart forever.

Loved by You

October 3

Friday night, after supper, I walked outside to sit on the sidewalk.

It has been a week.

Since Dani has been in the kitchen all week, I have been dealing a lot more with the boys. I’ve been giving more worships, bandaging more wounds, and, well, dealing out more punishments.

It has been exhausting. Keeping up with eight little boys can just be a whole lot of work. And go ahead and throw in a total language barrier.

I’m trying so hard to follow through and to be fair and keep my word but goodness. It can be so hard when it is just so much easier to let things go.

Sometimes it just leaves me wondering am I doing this right? Am I helping anything?

And so I sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, exhausted. And over walked twelve-year-old Bismar. He sat down beside me.

He wrapped his arms around me. And he looked up into my eyes for the longest time, as if I was the most beautiful person in the world. I started singing songs in English as I miss doing that. And he just sat there and listened, his arms around me. Periodically he would look up at me with the most adoring look on his face, and I just sat there, wrapped in the arms of this little boy thinking

who am I to be loved by you?

I feel that every day. Fabiola, every time she sees me, gives me a million kisses and says, “I love you so much Teacher! I love you so much!” And then she giggles and runs away.

I have to pry myself away from Fermin and Hugo at night as they would literally hug me and kiss me and tell me they love me until they’re supposed to get up in the morning.

Today before Sabbath School, Jahel begged me to sit by him. I told him I couldn’t as I needed to sit by my boys.

After Sabbath School he sat down and turned around to see me standing in the back. Right away, he got up and ran over to sit with all my boys. Then he turned around to look at me, a giant smile on his face. I was actually giving the sermon so I wasn’t able to go sit there, but the fact he was willing to leave all his friends to save a spot for me?

Who am I to be loved by you?

There are moments here that can be so frustrating. I have never been a mom. I have never been completely in charge of children. I have never had to punish and reward and do all the things that come along with raising kids. And now it is my life.

And there are times that leave me in tears as I wonder if I’m doing anything right or if the kids just think all I do is yell at them. Or I worry that if I’m being too easy and I let something go that I shouldn’t have.

And then a kid comes over and looks up at me, when my hair is a mess and I’m sweating from all the heat

and tells me I’m beautiful.

And I just think

You, my dear, are worth it all.

Each of my boys? Through all the tears and frustrations and wondering if I am doing anything right or if they'll ever learn their lessons?

Well, they’re worth it all.

All my students? As I sit down at my desk and wonder how I’m ever going to teach Social Studies in Spanish or if I can bear to explain how to multiply one more time?

Well, they’re worth it all.

At the end of the week, when we gather in a circle and go around and hug each other?

This week was worth it all.

I just stand there, holding hands with the kids on either side of me, feeling overwhelming joy in the pure fact I get to be here as I look around at little brown-eyed faces and think

Who am I to be loved by you?

It Sure is Good

October 2

Our toilet has been having some probs lately. If you don’t want to know about that I suggest you do not read this blog.

Last night, Luis Migel desperately needed to use the bathroom. “Yo necessito caca alto, Teacher! Alto!” He declared, throwing his hand above his head in desperation.

In case you don’t know, the literal translation of that is “I need to poop tall.”

Cute, I know.

The cool thing is our toilet hasn’t really been working properly. It just won’t flush. And this kid was determined he would not use the bathroom until he fixed the toilet.

And so? While I put the other boys to bed, Luis Migel locked himself in the bathroom. I could hear him fill the bucket up over and over again and throw the water down the toilet in an attempt to flush it.

Every now and then I’d knock on the door. “Are you done yet?”

“Ahh!!! No!!” he’d say, “Yo necessito caca alto, Teacher! Alto!”

(sorry for the TMI. There just really would be no story without it.)

And then the door would slam shut. And once again I’d hear him fill up the bucket and throw the water down the toilet, fill up the bucket and throw the water down the toilet.

And I just stood there with my hands in the air thinking

I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into.

Soon enough little Hugo was doing a dance behind the bathroom door.

“Do you need to go, too?”

“Si, Teacher. Mucho! Mucho!”

These boys. They love to wait to go to the bathroom until after I put them to bed. It’s adorable.

I finally decided to take Hugo and Luis Migel next door to the Frijole’s house, as they happen to have a working bathroom.

I turned the lights off in the house and told the other boys I’d be right back.

“I’m so nervous, Teacher!” they said. I’m not sure if they were just saying that to be babies, but honestly I can get a little nervous alone in the dark in that house so I told them I’d be gone five minutes tops.

“I’m counting!” Henry said, and I could hear him counting out loud as I shut the door.

Sidenote: On my way outside I got attacked by ants. There are these super creepy ants here that have giant eyes and super long legs and they crawl onto you and grip on tight and then bite you. Adorable, right? I hate them. And I find them everywhere: in my skirt, crawling up into my bed, all over my shoes. BAH THEY DRIVE ME CRAY. Anyways, on my way out the door they were biting me everywhere. They were all over my flipflops. I started screaming and jumping up and down and being incredibly dramatic and little eight-year-old Hugo ran over and saved me. He grabbed my flipflops, killed the ants, and then wiped the few survivors off my shoes. Meanwhile I hopped around on the sidewalk like the world was ending. So just in case you were wondering if I’m a jungle beast yet? I’m not. Also it’s slightly embarrassing to be calmed down by an eight-year-old.

We got to the Frijole’s house and I let Kevin know why the boys were there. Based on what Luis Migel had told me and also knowing he happens to spend hours in the bathroom every day, I decided to head on home and just tell the boys to come back when they were finished, being that I had a feeling they’d be in there more than five minutes.

I got to my room and was sitting in my tent when, a few minutes later, I heard giggling and got up to see two little bodies sneaking into the house, thinking I wouldn’t see them.

For those of you who want to learn how to sneak into a house, giggling super loudly and crawling dramatically is not the way to do it.

I told those crazy boys they needed to brush their teeth and go to bed.

I found my way back to my tent when, a few minutes later, I looked up to see Luis Migel and Hugo standing in my doorway.

Sopping wet.

Head to toe.

Evidently what was supposed to be brushing their teeth turned into a water fight.

And I just sat there with my hands in the air thinking

I don’t know what I have gotten myself into.

Hugo looked from Luis Migel to me, and then back to Luis Migel, and then back to me.

And then he broke out in that little giggle of his that makes me wonder if there is any sound in the world that contains more joy.

And then Luis Migel started to crack a little smile.

And then I lost it.

I laughed so hard. And the three of us just stayed there, in my room, late at night, giggling away.

That same night I had just gotten all the boys in trouble for misbehaving at Casa Grande. They had been running around and not listening and throwing water and my goodness I was so frustrated with them.

So when we got home I gave them a big stern talking to, and three of them ended up crying. Which makes me think I may have finally finally found my stern look.

There was a part of me that was glad they had gotten the point and thought maybe they would learn their lesson. But another part of me? Well, I liked it a whole lot better when they just came home and played.

And so? When Luis Migel and Hugo had a little water fight? Well, I decided to let this one go.

And my word, what is cuter than little giggling jungle boys.

Eventually I told them they needed to change their clothes and get in bed, as sleeping with sopping wet clothes was probably not the wisest idea.

I walked with them to their rooms to make sure they changed. Luis Migel took off his shirt so that he was just wearing his pants.

“Can I, Teacher? Can I?!” he asked, wondering if he was allowed to sleep without a shirt.

As it is about five thousand and seventy eight degrees here on a good night, I told him he could.

Immediately little Hugo tore off his shirt, thinking it was the most exciting and hilarious thing ever, and leaped into bed.

I walked into my room and listened to them giggle into the night, thinking

my word I love my boys.

This life is made up of so many moments.

Jahel called me mom for the first time this week.

I just started teaching fifth grade English. There’s a boy in the class named Daniel (he’s actually Fermin’s brother) who isn’t a huge fan of school. He seemed grumpy in class and I had a feeling he definitely wasn’t loving it. Last Friday night after vespers when I went to hug him, he looked up at me and said, “English is very good, Teacher.” Ah. I am so glad you think so. Thank you.

Last night as I was walking home Armando ran outside to give me a giant hug. And then I looked up to see Dagner running over, his arms open wide, saying, “I love you!”

Maribel just got a super short haircut that is cute as ever, and she keeps climbing onto benches and looking over at me, asking if she can jump and begging me to catch her.

Last night Fermin was in trouble so he couldn’t go to the Big House with everyone else to watch the movie. I turned the lights off in the house and put him to bed. After about ten minutes of crying, he walked into my room, holding his little stuffed cat. “I’m scared, Teacher.”

And so I talked to him, told him if he would have listened this wouldn’t be a problem. And then picked him up and let him sleep in my hammock in my room until the other boys came home.

There’s moments that make me run around in circles, throwing Maribel in the air or chasing Jahel or hopping up and down as ants attack my feet.

And then there are moments that leave me standing still, as a kid calls me mom for the first time, or as I look up at the stars and think about how small my problems are, or as Hugo and Luis Migel stand in my doorway, finding more joy in a little water fight than many find in an entire day.

And it leaves me speechless, standing with my hands in the air

thinking

I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into but it sure is good.