Saturday, January 31, 2015
Well, weeks 7,& 8 here have been the most challenging yet. An older girl left our house two weeks ago to start University- (Congratulations Kenia!) -which is a fabulous opportunity for her, but as she packed up her few small items and said goodbye to the people and place that had been her home for 14 years, the sadness was palpable. Her absence has left all the older girls a bit emotional, and we now have four new small girls up from the toddler house, so more work with less people. Five of the little girls will be moving up to the medium girl house soon which is stressful to me. Why? Because it's a house of 80 girls ages 10-14. That's why. School is starting on Monday. A new year which many girls are very excited about and others are so nervous they won't make eye contact when talking about it and Suyappa just shakes her head very slowly at the idea of going back.
Last week Joey and Guy were throwing rocks and busted a pipe outside the Little Girl house so water was spraying everywhere for a good long while. Elena stuck a bead up her nose. One of my own small children had a pretty good meltdown about why she didn't get more food and a cookie while thirty hungry small girls waited for lunch and watched.
I found myself rushing the children through the daily routine. Less smiles as I tied nightgowns. More telling girls to stand in line and less hugs. After showers I brushed heads of hair faster and harder (there are 34 and dinner is soon you know). And it doesn't matter where you are. Everything new becomes old.
And in my life as soon as the new hits a routine I can do it fairly mindlessly. Some days, in America or Honduras I can do the whole day without even waking up. I have spent years rushing my babies out of diapers and cribs and into independence. I have spent days here in Honduras on autopilot. Rushing to do the next step in my schedule just so I can do the next step in my schedule.It is so easy to let my attitude shift towards laziness and crankiness. Almost every sentence can begin with "I".
The other evening we were sitting in chapel of Wednesday night church. the sermon (rather long and boring) was lost on me. I sat there my mind wandering when it suddenly awoke to the way the sun was setting through the large wall windows in the church. As the light dipped it cupped each head in this silhouette. Every child had black hair with a halo of golden light. And I watched the tiny particles of dust dip and swirl. Everything and everyone was bathed in this light. It was breathtaking and beautiful. It is the same light that was shining all day. I just noticed.
The next morning I sat in the playground and braided jet black hair. I went slowly. Everything new grows up. Everything old moves on. Soon there will be no more girls on the playground, they will all be in school. Five beds will be emptied and five bodies moved to a new house. And our five bodies will go back to our home in America.
But today we are all here.
The threat of it all ending isn't enough to make me enjoy today. I shouldn't savor today because one day I won't have it anymore. Love doesn't threaten like that. Love just gives.
We enjoy today not because it won't be here tomorrow, but simply because it is here today.
It is all such a gift. He gives such good and perfect gifts.
Yet today we are here with our broken pipes and broken children. Broken thought processes and crumbling priorities. Stressed out bodies stressed out souls.
Today is still a gift, wrapped in this crepe- paper thin light. Today the sun peeks up around the mountain and again whispers the promise:
Rest assured beloved- He is making all things new.
Posted by Kate