Colombia journal entries - Nov. 23 - Dec.1, 2007

11.23.07 - over the mountains and the sea

Well, to begin with...
I fondly recall writing a blog around this same time last year in which i claimed that one of my favorite things about the Autumn season was being able to eat five kinds of pie for breakfast while watching Bonanza on TVLand with my dad. I'm happy to have discovered that the same sentiment still rings true today. While i only managed to put away one kind of pie and a cup of coffee with my dad (which, at 1:30am, ain't half bad if you ask me), it was a thoroughly enjoyable way to wake up.

But all of that feels like an eternity ago. Even though our flights have been endurable (none lasting much longer than three hours...and from Miami to Bogotá, we actually sat in business class!), and our layovers not too bad either in regards to timing, it's been one crazy day and we've got the sweat to prove it. We spent our entire layover in Bogotá trying to communicate with people who didn't know or speak any English at all, and then collecting our bags (which we'd been told we wouldn't have to check in until we got to Cali). So basically, we almost left all our luggage there, and while i can absolutely laugh at my own expense in a stressful situation, the kids would have been directly affected had anything gotten lost.

Anyway, we're on the last leg of our trip now, flying to Cali, and the view is incredible. At first, all we could see below was the city of Bogotá, a disturbingly odd marriage of wealth and poverty living side by side. Run-down houses and tightly packed apartment complexes right next to sprawling estates. It's a pretty crummy sight, actually, because i'm aware that the wealthy for the most part remain apathetic to the awful conditions around them, and it makes me just as sick as it does in the States. It's everywhere, honestly, and i don't understand how we humans can live with ourselves letting this go on as it does.

But, for the time being, i digress.

After the city faded out of view, the crops and fields of sugarcane came rolling out like a patchwork quilt. And of course there's the mountains, always mountains. That's one thing i absolutely love about Colombia - no matter where you are at any given time, you can see mountains. But there's just something so incredibly spectacular and breathtaking about that ascent in the air, up above those mountains...you feel larger than life and yet so small compared to the vast, beautiful wonders of nature. Then you break into the clouds and there's nothing but whiteness all around you, a giant nothingness enveloping the plane and you are so vulnerable in that moment, yet completely brave and untouchable. Finally, you break out of the clouds, and the view is like nothing you've ever seen. Actually, it's like nothing i've ever seen, because we've never arrived in Cali during daylight hours before. Right now, the sun is just starting to set, so it's shining at a very cool angle through the clouds. And i'm looking down at Valle del Cauca, a district of Colombia that is the most amazing valley i've ever seen. There's almost a full circle of dark, sprawling mountains surrounding it, and the clouds are perfectly lining the circle just inside of them. We're descending, and i almost don't want this experience to be over.

Except that i'll be seeing the kids very soon and my heart could nearly explode in anticipation.


11.24.07 - if you make it through the fire, you can walk on water

It's just like me to wait until my eyes are buggin' and my brain has long since stopped functioning properly to write. In my defense, i did climb up here in my bunk while the kids were eating dinner earlier to try and start something, but as usual words failed me, and then i got interrupted.

The first thing i noticed upon stepping outside the airport in Cali was the smell. The glorious smell of cows and ever-burning sugarcane that has become just as familiar and welcome to me as the smell of coffee or a worn book - perhaps even more so. And i can't even begin to express how good it was to see Orlando again as he picked us up there in his tiny puttering car. My hermanas will be glad to know that he is just as romantic and dramatic and comical as ever. And i'm sure they would have loved to see him stubbornly fit six bulging suitcases and three backpacks into that car with the four of us packed in amongst them like sardines.

Everything about driving in Colombia is illegal, and nobody cares. We weren't wearing seatbelts, Orlando could barely see out his rearview mirror, and he proceeded as usual to drive in the middle of the road as much as possible. (Then again, am i surprised? In this country, infants ride on motorcycles protected by nothing other than the arms of their mothers.) We narrowly escaped about 7 accidents while Orlando updated us on his life's work, switched cd's several times, ran into the market for a few food items, and stopped for gas. The three of us suffered through this typical insanity while nursing the delicious pastries Orlando had bought for us before picking us up.

The city seemed busier than usual, although we've always arrived during a weeknight in the past so i suppose that's relative. Traffic was utter chaos - neck to neck but moving at a slightly uncomfortable pace, bicyclists and mopeds weaving in and out of cars. Clubs were open and spilling their loud music out into the streets, and teenage boys walked around with squeegees hoping to make a few pesos washing car windows.

Finally, we arrived at the Foundation. Orlando honked the horn at the metal gates and Efraim opened them for us. At first, we couldn't see any kids, but as soon as we stepped out of the car into the courtyard, they all came pouring out of nowhere, i'm assuming from their bedrooms, and we were overtaken by an onslaught of hugs and kisses. It was incredible. I had obviously been hoping for a warm welcome, but i also knew that in these types of situations you just can't expect anything.

There were three major differences i noticed right away. The first, which i had already been told about, was that there was one new boy living at El Camino: 9-year-old Luis Alfredo, whom i call Alfie. He has very sad eyes, but he's been open to our hugs and kisses and he has such a gentle, sweet temperament. I instantly fell in love with him. The second major difference is that the kids now have a television, a dinosaur-sized one in the room next to the dining area. It gets lots of static but the older boys especially are in there a lot at night, lying on the floor watching none other than the Simpsons and soap operas. I'm honestly not sure which is worse, but anyway...The third difference is there is now a new dog here, a male named Nicky. He has such a great personality and puts up with a lot of abuse from a certain few kids. They still miss Princesa, though.

The first night, we were absolutely exhausted, so as soon as we had spent some time reacqainting with the kids, we turned in, along with Jane and David, a couple in their 70's from Florida who are staying here until the day after we leave. They are the oddest couple i've ever met, but very nice, and i couldn't be more thrilled that David is here because he is basically here to work on plumbing and electrical issues as well as painting. I'm looking forward to helping him with some of these endeavors while the kids are in school.

Jane and David are sleeping in the back room. My mom is in the front, and Caren and i are staying where the girls usually sleep when there's a larger team. There are only two bunks left - one for Mariandrea (who is not here this week because of university and the fact that she got mugged in the city last week) and her sister Isabel, and the other for me and Caren. Unlike anyone else, i love these bunks and i always look forward to sleeping on them because i always get the best sleep of my life. I might as well be a rock. It's awesome.

I didn't wake up feeling disoriented at all, but instead feeling like i was home. I attempted to take a shower, but the water was absolutely frigid so i basically stood on the edge of the tub and leaned over to rinse my hair real quick.

So far, no cockroaches.

Surprise #1: Because Mariandrea isn't here, i was asked to share one of my devotionals for Kids With Purpose, which Mariandrea runs every Saturday. Neither of my ideas were fully developed yet, so i spent the earlier part of the morning forcing my brain to piece together a craft/message to present. Talk about being thrown right into the fire.

Surprise #2: Mariandrea usually provides lunch for whatever kids show up for the program, which we were not made aware of until the local kids began pouring into the courtyard and we were now looking at feeding 60 kids instead of 30.

Ah, to be home again.

No worries. Everything actually went really well, all things considered. Mom and i showed the group photos of snow from the U.S. that we brought and i gave them the whole "we're all unique just like snowflakes" speech. Then we broke out a ton of white paper and seven pairs of scissors and made paper snowflakes (copos de nieve). Believe it or not, the kids didn't get totally lost with the directions and many of them made more than one, and they all came out awesome.

As for lunch, we scrambled to the kitchen and, with help from Brayan and Yessica, slapped some peanut butter on 60 slices of bread and passed them out to each kid along with a twizzler (hey, you do what you can do). And after the local kids left, our kids were fed rice and beans (i distinctly remember Brayan calling our peanut butter bread an "appetizer").

While the kids were eating, my mom and Caren and i, along with Jane, David, Senora Gabriela, Orlando and Aldrin, met for our own lunch to discuss the plans for the week. We put together a grocery list so Jane and David could buy our groceries with Orlando tomorrow. It was during this time, by the way, that i noticed how seriously afflicted with flies the Finca is right now. They were all over our food, our chairs, landing on us like we were dead carcasses or something. I suppose i'm fine with them if it's that or mosquitoes. But also, i had to move one of the tables in the dining area and i happened to get a peek at the underside of it...and wished i hadn't. There were spiders crawling everywhere. I can hardly sit there in peace anymore, but what are you gonna do? You're gonna make friends with the bugs here, that's what.

After lunch, the kids all jumped in the pool, even though it had started raining. About four weeks ago, Ana Maria broke her leg when the soccer goalpost fell on it, and she's been wearing this awful cast ever since, so today Orlando and Gabriela drove her to the hospital. We were all hoping she'd be able to not wear it anymore, but she came back with a new one. I feel so awful for her. It's a full cast, but a very sorry-looking one, and she has no crutches so unless someone carries her, she hops around on it and the bottom is just getting all chewed up. Also, her stomach has been bothering her a lot. Because of her condition, she can't go to school but must stay at home, and she can't go swimming or play much except for the few things she can do while sitting. So she's basically sedentary all day and i can only imagine how bored and frustrated she's getting. :(

Caren and Mom and i made chicken salad for dinner while Orlando took Jane and David to a church here in Palmira. After we ate, we sat outside with the kids and had them all pray for each other. The kids were a little rambunctious and we tried to stay up as late as possible, but this is when our eyes started buggin' (a repurcussion of waking up at 1:30 to leave Boston still, i think) and we finally went inside with the kids still watching TV.

Caren started brushing her teeth, but i knew better. And believe it or not, Orlando actually returned home just when he said he would (if you knew him, you'd agree this is no small miracle). And just as he promised, he brought us empanadas and picante sauce. I was still full from dinner, but i've never once turned down a greasy, sweaty empanada, and i'm not about to start now.

Everyone should have a Colombian Papi like Orlando. Life just isn't complete without one. :)


11.25.07 - critters and jitters
9:05pm

I forgot to mention last night that i found a frog in the kitchen. A big one. And in case you're wondering, it takes three niños to remove a frog from a kitchen.

This morning i took a hot shower. Yes, miracle of miracles, a hot one. It was super.

Sunday means church. After some of the kids sang and danced, my mom got up and gave her testimony about how she was told that she had emphysema and was going to die, but that God healed her lungs and miraculously saved her life. All the adults were crying. Then Caren spoke about how we all have a greater purpose, and that the experiences we go through are all a part of it. I had given some of the boys gum before church, and as Christian's sitting next to me, he somehow managed to get his all over himself. First it was stuck to his chin, then all over his fingers, and then it was on his pants and even in his hair. Haha. I'm laughing about it again now. He's one of those kids that you just can't get upset with no matter what. As soon as he looks up at you with that embarassed, humbled little face, your heart swells and all you can do is wrap him up in your arms and love him.

After church, some of the kids jumped back in the pool again. I found Marcos and started doing the handshake we made up in the summer. His eyes widened immediately and he shouted (in English) "You remember!" :) "Of course i remember," i said.

Caren and Mom and i ate lunch with the kids, which was rice and potatoes and a piece of chicken, with limeade made with the limes from the trees in the backyard. Muy rico.

After lunch we sat with Aldrin and Brayan, Emilio, Fabian and Perlaza to discuss next summer. We want to plan two boys-and-men-only day trips, which they decided would be to a swimming park and an amusement park in Cali. Also, we want to buy them a basketball hoop (or two). They loved that idea, and asked for soccer uniforms as well. I have a good feeling that we'll be able to meet these needs for them when we come back.

Orlando returned with dedos for us (kind of like breadsticks with cheese inside...dedos, by the way, means "fingers") and the kids began preparing for school in the morning. The boys polish all the shoes and the girls iron all the uniforms. I went inside for a drink of water and there was a cockroach right outside the kitchen door. Just like the June bugs that tend to hide out in the kitchen, they're totally harmless, but they're unbelievably ugly and skitter around the floor like little matchbox racecars. I found Mauricio outside and made him kill it for me. Then he picked it up by the antennae and carried it out to the trash.

I went to my room for a while and finished putting together a devotional to share with the kids later. I've been feeling kinda dry in that area, like i'm at a point in my life where i feel that i have nothing to pass on to anybody, nothing good to share, nothing of any value to say. But i did manage to put something together and i guess i feel alright about it.

David made us dinner. I guess he's the chef in this group, and he's a good one. We ate pasta with homemade pasta sauce and fresh mozzarella cheese. None of our dinners are at all traditional this time around, by the way. Usually we're a much larger group and we don't cook for ourselves, so it's mostly rice, potatoes, and either beans, soup, or chicken.

We did the devotional right after dinner, and the kids sang a few songs. Then they had to go to bed because they have to get up for school at 4:00 - which we're planning on doing with them. Boy, should that be interesting...

Orlando just walked in with Pastor Alex and Liliana. They stopped by to say hello, but we really have to go to bed, so they're going to come back later this week, hopefully with Juan Daniel and Karin. I miss them a lot. They are such a sweet family and there is definitely a huge element missing here without them.


11.26.07 - take one for the team. oh, wait...you are the team.

I feel like i could go to bed now. This trip has been extra exhausting, and i'm sure it's because there are only three of us doing the work that would normally be done by a team of 10 or 13.

We woke up at 3:45 so we'd be ready to help the kids at 4:00. Caren made sure everyone was taking showers and getting dressed while Mom and i helped Brayan cook breakfast, which he does every morning by himself. I think that's amazing. Thanks to the fact that the gas ran out in the kids' kitchen, we had to scramble eggs for 27 kids and boil an enormous pot of water on our barely adequate stove at the Finca, a process that took forever. Brayan added milk and molasses to the water for the kids to drink...a strange concoction that, while weak, actually tastes decent.

Then all the kids started coming out in their uniforms, which look so cute on them. Haha, last night before bed several of the boys were putting on the girls' uniforms and bathing suits and posing for the camera. It was absolutely hilarious.

We stood outside the gates and watched the older kids get on one bus. Then we got on the next bus with all the rest of the kids and Señora Gabriela to take them to school. That was a nice surprise because i didn't know we were going to be able to do that. It was so much fun. When we got off the bus, we walked a few blocks to the school, which was somewhat of a scary experience. I had little Fabian holding one hand, and used the other to carry Esteban on my hip because he walks too slow, with Marcos and Johanner clinging to my arms. Several kids nearly got taken out by the vehicles racing by. We must have been quite a sight, us three Americans with one Colombian woman leading a team of orphans through the streets. Somehow, we made it there safely.

We were a little early, so the kids happily grabbed our hands and led us around the school to show us their classrooms. The older boys showed up around the same time we did, and of course there were lots more hugs and kisses before we said goodbye and left, taking another bus back to the Finca.

It is so quiet here. I'm sitting outside and the weather is absolutely beautiful, and the staff are out cooking, cleaning and maintaining the property. But it feels so weird to sit here and not hear all of the laugher and slapping of feet on the courtyard. It's peaceful but kind of sad. I already miss the kids.

Wilson just arrived. I also just spotted the hugest spider i've ever seen in my entire life on the wall outside the door of the Finca. I took a picture of it, and i showed the spider to Aldrin but he just smiled and went to grab it to chase me with it. Of course i ran screaming into the house like a little girl. We finally showed it to Efraim, and he immediately plucked it off the wall - with his bare hands! - and tossed it back in the garden. I'm telling you, that man is my hero on all fronts. Every day i love him more.


(Same day)

Holy cow am i sweaty. And tired. And craving chocolate. And...oh my God...an iced caramel macchiato. Man could i use one of those right now.

Shortly after we returned to the Foundation, we hopped a bus with Aldrin to go to the bank and exchange money while Orlando took Jane and David to the hardware store (and several other stores, as well as somewhere else for hamburgers, of course, because we all know Orlando doesn't "just" go and do one thing, ever). He's spoiling us rotten, i tell you. But i'll get back to that.

Our day with Aldrin was really nice. I haven't seen him since June 2006 because this past summer his father and brother were here visiting him from Spain, and i've really missed him. He's still as awesome as ever. It was a long day, lots of walking in the hot sun, breathing in lots of pollution, getting stared at because we pretty much stick out like sore thumbs everywhere we go.

We got home in just enough time to take quick showers before the children arrived. The bell at the gates rang, and all the kids came pouring into the courtyard looking, if possible, even more adorable in their uniforms than they did in the morning. More hugs and kisses (how do i ever go back to the U.S. and go on living without those hugs and kisses??).

The afternoon was spent just interacting with the kids, which i'm feeling more comfortable with as the days pass. I'm speaking more Spanish and they're speaking more English (especially Brayan, naturally. He's quite the smooth talker, that rascal).

Meanwhile, David and Efraim (who can't not help with anything) ran around fixing things everywhere. Light fixtures, sinks, pipes, everything. They went nuts. Jane rests a lot. She pretty much cat naps and reads books and pops her head out once in a while and only really comes out when Orlando's taking her somewhere or there's food around.

Due to David's handyman endeavors, the electricity and water kept shutting off, so dinner for us took a long time to cook. We decided to go out and do our devotional based on the story of Noah's Ark before eating, as the kids had to get up early. We said goodnight to them and they began ironing their uniforms as we went in to eat chicken and potatoes. Orlando cleaned our dishes, which he did last night as well. He's really been going out of his way to serve us as much as he can while we're here. He so badly wants us to take a day off to go out and have fun with him, but of course that's not our purpose here. You should have seen him when we said he might be able to make us French Toast one morning and do a little shopping. He lit up like a little kid. :)

Lastly, we got to bring the kids to bed again. This is something we've never really done before as a team, but because we're so few it's a little more manageable. We tuck some of them in and kiss them goodnight, and you can tell they are really enjoying this aspect of things.

I am, too. More than they may ever know.


11.27.07 - someone, somewhere, is laughing at my expense

The kids will be home soon. It has been a long day. Every day seems much longer because of the whole getting up at 4:00 thing. For example, today we arrived back at the Foundation and it was only about 10:00. We had already spent ourselves for an exhaustive six hours and the way the sun was positioned, it felt like 2:00 in the afternoon.

The kids always want to wear my sweatshirts (sackos) in the morning because they shower and for them the air feels cold when they get out, same as when they go swimming. But they don't know cold like we do, so we always think it's weird and funny when they're standing in front of us wearing our clothes and shivering, or snuggling into our bodies. Meanwhile, we're hot if not comfortable.

This morning Mom and Caren worked on doing all the girls' hair, while Aldrin put me in charge of making sure Kevin and Miguel Angel cleaned the bathroom and Emilio and Perlaza put away the shoes and made the beds. I can't explain how it felt to stand aside in the doorway, arms folded across my chest, watching two ten-year-olds scrub down an entire bathroom with sponges in one hand and buckets of soapwater in the other. All basically in the dark, mind you. It was just...odd.

Someone, somewhere, may find amusement in the fact that i ate a hot peanut butter and fluff sandwich for breakfast. I hadn't had fluff in maybe ten years and it was all i could scrounge up from our sparse kitchen, so i figured oh, what the heck. Why not. And i proceeded to share with some of the kids meandering around the courtyard because, well, it's fun to share with them, and anyway i was curious as to whether or not they'd like it. They did. Thank God i don't take sugar in my coffee, by the way, as someone must have left the sugarbowl open in the cupboard overnight because there were a hundred little ant-ish things crawling around in it.

The chiva was completely maxed out this morning. As in, no room at the inn, sorry, not gonna happen, no way...and yet we got on. Every single seat was taken, and i suppose in Colombia, what's 32 more? Good God was that a scene. Thankfully i'm small and can fit in very odd spaces, but poor Caren was literally bent in half for most of the ride. The kids, like me, were fairly easy to accommodate, although some of the littlest ones were actually sitting on strangers' laps. I found this thoroughly amusing, because i couldn't imagine anyone in the U.S. entrusting the well-being of their child to a complete stranger, and yet here in Colombia where kidnappings are a common occurrence, on a jam-packed bus where people can easily get lost or fall off, caution seems somewhat relative in the sense that you have to do what you have to do to make things work. And it does work, so who am i to judge?

At school today the director took us into his office just so he could sit and get to know us a bit and tell us about himself and the school. We prayed for him and i had a small vision/prophesy which i finally forced myself to share with him. He started crying and told us (through Gabriela, as he doesn't speak English) that he'd sort of been in a bad way lately and had finally asked God just that morning for some encouragement. Apparently, everything we'd said was exactly what he needed to hear, which encouraged us as well i think. I know for myself, i sometimes think the words i have for people aren't necessarily from God at all but of my own fabrication or something. The faith in my gifting just isn't there most of the time, so it was nice to have that confirmation.

Anyway, after that we walked into the city and shopped with Gabriela for several hours, picking up things like underwear and socks and blankets for the kids. I am beat. I just took a shower and feel a lot better in the sense that i'm at least clean and slightly refreshed, but i feel as though i could drop right now and sleep for days.


(later)

I'm pretty sure a day here is 48 hours long. I could be wrong, but i don't think so.

When the kids came home, we almost immediately ate lunch, which consisted of rice mixed with peas and carrots, homemade fries (papas fritas), and fresh papaya juice. Let me tell you something about these dang papayas. They're an evil fruit. When you first bite into a piece of one, it tastes mild and sweet and delicious. But as it sits there on your tongue and you swallow and take a second bite, it starts to take on the unmistakeable flavor of stinky feet (well, um, not that i would know...). And so you can really only handle papaya in small doses, and if you happen to overdo it, you can't stomach it again for a really long time.

Well.

Some very nice man around these parts donated something like 60 or 90 papayas to the Foundation. There are trays of papayas stacked up to the ceiling in the kitchens. You know what that means? It means we're eating lots of papaya, that's what it means. It means sweetdeliciousstinkyfeet papaya juice for breakfast and dinner, and it means Maura (one of the kitchen staff) chasing me down in the afternoons with bowls of diced papaya. And what do i do? I eat it, of course. I do what i'm told, and i never ever ever say no to a feisty Colombian woman offering food.

Anyway, as the little kids were doing a devotional with Gabriela and Wilson was helping the older kids with their homework, an accident happened down the street. Orlando, Aldrin and Efraim took a walk to go see what happened, and as they were returning my Mom had the video camera out and Orlando gave her a tour of El Camino for everyone back home who's never been. Most of the kids were caught on camera as well, and some said a few things for the people who'd visited them from our teams in the past, and good grief did i choke up. It was fun, but altogether too emotional for being so early in the trip.

The rest of the afternoon went somewhat leisurely, with the boys playing soccer even when it downpoured and the rest of us messing around with Play-Doh under the church tent. Play-Doh is awesome, second only to Legos in my book. We had a blast.

Tonight Caren and Mom and i took Gabriela out to eat, which was nice, but it felt kinda crummy leaving the kids. We did wait until they were almost ready for bed, though, which helped ease the separation anxiety a bit. We went to this really pretty restaurant that was dimly lit and had these willowy plants hanging from the ceiling over a water fountain with kois. This was my first time eating out in Colombia, and while the food was great (i had ribs...yummmm!) it took foooorreeevveerrr to come out, even though we were the only customers all night. If nothing else, it was relaxing, and it was nice getting to know Gabriela more. Orlando (who was our ride) joined us for our free dessert, which was flan (i'm not the hugest fan, but it was different).


11.28.07 - 15 minutes of fame (and one magical moment to last a lifetime)

Woke up at quarter to four again. I have to say, i'm rather proud of us for being such troopers and dragging our butts out of bed consistently each morning. For some reason, it doesn't seem quite as hard as having to do it to go to work or something (and i have the sneaking suspicion that reason begins with twenty-seven adorable Colombian faces).

I helped Caren do the girls' hair today. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to style a little black girl's hair? Well, i'll tell you. It's difficult. First you have to comb it all out with this slimy hair conditioner. Then you have to use these teensy weensy little elastics and braid all that frizzy hair with them as tightly as you possibly can. And no, having small fingers doesn't help when slime is involved.

Anyway, the chiva was full again - so full, in fact, that there was absolutely no way Caren was going to fit. Thankfully, one kind saint of a gentleman gave up his seat for her and climbed atop the roof to guard the heaping sacks of fruit and potatoes there.

Having not been informed until yesterday that we were each going to have to speak at the school today, Mom, Caren and i were already understandably nervous. What were we supposed to speak about? How long should we speak for? What age group were we speaking to? All of these questions remained a mystery as we were forced to prepare something out of nothing overnight. So you can imagine how we were feeling as staff members began dragging several big amps and a microphone from out of the woodwork. Sure, we could have assured them that such grandeur would not be necessary, but our efforts would have been wasted. Colombians don't do anything small-scale, especially when there are speakers involved, and most especially when the speakers are Americans. Another thing i've noticed (especially with Christians, but pretty much with everyone) is that they all fully expect that you have something to say, and they'll be damned if they're not going to hear you say it.

Like i said, our efforts would have been wasted. So we kept our mouths shut.

Turns out we actually had to speak twice - once to a group of younger kids, and again to a very, very large group of teenagers. Mom and Caren both shared their testimonies, and i gave a slightly in-depth explanation of how God's the only constant in my life that has never once abandoned me in any way, and that's how i know that he is who he says he is. That's how, even in my darkest hours, i can trust that he loves me and has a purpose for my life.

The kids are absolutely fascinated by us as Americans. They're so uninhibited when it comes to staring that i've found myself feeling extremely self-conscious at times. Some of the older kids have actually stopped me in the school so they could look in my eyes, which are blue and altogether foreign to them (which they like). After the three of us had spoken, the kids swarmed around us like we were celebrities, giving us hugs and asking us to sign their notebooks with messages that were supposed to include our e-mail addresses. One boy gave me a sketch he'd made of Donald Duck, of all things. It was cute. Anyway, we can tell that our kids (meaning the orphans from El Camino) are really enjoying having us come to school with them each day. Sometimes, especially when they grab our hands and walk with us throughout the building or put their arm around us, it almost seems like they're showing us off, i.e. "these are our Americans." Not in a prideful way at all, but in a sweet way, like we're their family. And in more than one way, i believe we are.

Today was also another shopping day with Gabriela and Aldrin. We've got a routine now that includes going to some of the same stores each day (the employees are now familiar with who we are and are super friendly) and then to Leal when we're done. Leal is one of many panederias (a bakery of sorts) in the area that Gabriela is partial to. And all of us have our favorite treat, too. Caren's, of course, is the dedo, which she gets two of each day - one to eat and one to take home for later. Mine is avena, which is basically oat milk. I remember the kids drinking it hot for breakfast one morning this summer and i tried it and liked it, but at the bakery it's cold and soooo delicious!

Gabriela took a bus back to the Foundation while the rest of us took a cab to pick up Mauricio. He's in military school (a thought that still blows my mind, as he's only 11) and he takes two buses to school by himself each morning, but Aldrin has to go pick him up. It was a very nice drive through the city, actually, and we got some cool photos out of it.

The tough thing upon arriving back at the orphanage was concealing the Christmas tree we'd bought from the kids, which was of course in this extremely conspicuous cardboard box. Efraim kindly whisked it away before too many of them noticed, and we proceeded to each lunch with the kids, a healthy mix of starch (rice), starch (pasta) and more starch (fries). There was a period of relaxed hanging out with the kids before we broke out the hemp and beads we'd brought to make necklaces. It started to rain and thunder, and the lightning that followed was kind of scary. Nevertheless (we are in Colombia after all, are we not?), the boys went ahead and continued the soccer game they'd started before the craft. I'm pretty sure there's an unwritten rule in this country about finishing a soccer game, no matter what the circumstances. As lightning flashed and the rain came down in buckets, they pressed on until one team won several hours later.

Shortly thereafter the weather cleared up and i joined Emilio and Marcos in the back of the house where Emilio was helping Marcos make a necklace (he'd missed out on the activity earlier because at the time the colors he wanted weren't available. The boys here are big on the whole black-white-red color scheme, and when there's not enough for everyone it's bad news). It was during this time that i snuck into my room and returned to them with a bag of Cheetos. You should have seen their faces light up. This morning Marcos has been playing his angel face and whispering "Cheetos!" in my ear. I told him i didn't have any, but he kept nodding insistently and telling me in Spanish that i could get them when i went shopping during the day with Gabriela. Fully aware that Cheetos were an American food, i just chuckled it off, saying "posible (possibly)," thoroughly enjoying his professional begging routine. "No maybe," he's started to tell me every time i say 'posible.' "No maybe!" Haha. I love it. So while we were out, i actually spotted Cheetos at the same store where we bought the Christmas tree lights, although they're not the same as our Cheetos. They're not half as crunchy or cheesy. But they absolutely love them, and were pleased that i had remembered. (Of course, after the bag was gone they proceeded to beg me for a spoonful of peanut butter, which is probably the kids' favorite treat here.)

Snuggles on the porch. If there's ever any downtime around here, you can bet that it will turn into a snugglefest, and there's definitely no shortage of little bodies to keep warm.

Dinner for the kids tonight was leftovers - more rice, more potatoes. Meanwhile, David made us homemade bruschetta, which was absolutely delicious despite the fact that it was made with sweet bread (he'd specifically asked Orlando to make sure he didn't buy sweet bread, and lo and behold, Orlando came back with sweet bread). Fresh tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil...mmmmmm.

Switching things up a bit, Jane did the devotional tonight. Also, while we were all huddled there on the porch in the dark, i experienced one of the most magical moments of my life. I held a firefly in the palm of my hand. I first felt a little finger poking me, and it was Oscar. The flickering bug was crawling up his arm, and he caught it and held it in his hands. It glowed from within, and he cupped his hands over mine and i felt the bug's little legs tickling my skin. I had never seen a firefly (or lightning bug, take your pick) up close before. In fact, the only time i ever recall seeing them at all was in Ohio during the summer of 2005 when we were on a roadtrip and staying overnight at someone's house. It was bedtime, and all was quiet in the house, and i was kneeling at the open window just trying to let my whole self be in the moment. I wanted to remember what Ohio smelled like, how the night breeze felt on my face, and if the crickets sounded any differently (i actually don't recall there being any). I was fully enthralled by the magic of the summer, or what i perceived to be magic...and then i saw it. A flicker in the woods down below (i was on the second floor). And then another flicker. And suddenly i realized i was watching a whole colony of fireflies traveling through the woods, and my whole definition of magic was instantly changed. So you can imagine my reaction to holding on of these magnificent creatures in my very own hands, watching its lantern flicker on and off before my eyes. It was incredible. (Eventually i found myself wondering why i couldn't breathe, and then realized i had forgotten to inhale.) But as amazing as the experience was, i felt a little sad for it. All i could think was that it had gotten separated from its colony and would never find its way back to them again. But then, that would make it an orphan, and what better place to be lost but an orphanage?


11.29.07 - the bulb mystery is solved (or, eat drink and papaya)

Nothing too different this morning - got up at 4:00, shared my toast and peanut butter with the kids, dropped them off at school after braving another full chiva, shopped a bit, sat for a while at Leal...and as superhumanness would have it, all before 10:00 rolled around.

It was painting day. I helped David sandpaper the walls and Caren and Aldrin joined us for painting the boys' rooms blue. What a difference a little paint job can do. I also tried my best to scrub down the windows, but years of neglect made it nearly impossible to do away with the layers of dust and cobwebs and ash caked there. Noticing there was only one lightbulb in one of the rooms and all the rest of the sockets everywhere were empty, i asked David why we couldn't just buy a bunch of new bulbs. Apparently, he'd already discussed this with Gabriela and she'd said she only wants the boys to have one bulb because otherwise they'd leave all the lights on and it would be a waste. "So all this time they've been using one bulb?" I asked David, and he nodded yes.

Ah. Well, that explains last night, then. I had stayed up for a while after the devotional, just resting on the porch, listening to the hushed sounds of children scurrying around getting ready for bed in the dark. I saw a light go on in one of the boys' rooms, and then it went off. Then the bathroom light went on, and then that, too, went off. Then a light in the other boys' room went on, and then off. Now, of course, i realize what was happening. If someone had to use the bathroom, for example, he had to run into the room with the bulb, unscrew it, screw it into the bathroom socket, and then replace it when he was done.

Colombia, my second home. :)

While we waited for the paint to dry, we put up the Christmas tree, lights and star and all. It definitely felt odd doing this in the middle of a hot, sunny day, and honestly i don't know how people living in warm climates can appreciate the experience as much as it should be appreciated. I mean, we were doing it for the kids, so it was worth it. But i don't think i could get excited about putting up a Christmas tree every year without that chill in the air, without snow, without Bing singing in the background.

And it was indeed worth it. We videotaped the kids coming home from school and seeing the tree for the first time on the porch, but i'm sure it didn't capture half of what really went on. I swear they lit up brighter than the tree itself, the little ones running around it clapping and shouting, "Arbol de Navidad! Arbol de Navidad!" It was awesome.

After having already pumped us full of homemade lemon pineapple juice and offering me another bowl of diced papaya (yes, even after flies had been sitting on it while i put up the tree, i ate it...*sigh*), Maura made another attempt to converse with us. She's been doing that a lot this time around. She doesn't know a lick of English and she'll just start babbling on to one of us about something and even when we clearly don't understand a word she's saying, she continues using hand motions and very animated facial expressions. Since i was the only poor soul in her vicinity at the time (still picking at that dang papaya), she caught me and went off on a speech having something to do with lunch. She was obviously very upset about something. I was able to understand that she wanted to know whether or not we wanted to eat with the kids. I of course said yes, although Jane and David typically ate inside the Finca. At first she seemed to accept this, but then her brow creased even deeper and she sighed. She began spouting again, and i used my broken Spanish to tell her i couldn't understand. The word "moscas" kept popping up, though. What the heck is moscas?? i wondered, watching her antics carefully. "Moscas! Moscas!" she repeated, pretending to pick at something in the air with her fingers. I still didn't get it. I had to actually lead her into the Finca to find my mom (who is pretty fluent in Spanish) so she could translate.

Flies. That's what moscas means. Apparently, Maura felt there were too many flies outside and she was concerned about us eating in peace. Haha. She is such a sweetheart. So we ate our soup inside.

Then we did something totally unusual and fun. We had to go to the bank with Orlando to exchange more money, so Caren, Mom and i each picked one kid to take with us. Hence, the four of us with Melanie, Cristian and Marcos were packed into Orlando's little car for the ride. It always feels crummy leaving everyone else behind, but if you always look at things that way, no one gets any fun at all. So we drove to the bank, the kids having a blast just sitting beside us and on our laps watching the world go by out the car windows, the boys speaking excitedly to each other about different stores and bikes they saw. Caren, Mom, Melanie and Orlando went into the bank, leaving me alone with the boys in the car (parked in an illegal spot, thank you). I have to admit, i was a little nervous at that point, although i would have stopped at nothing to protect the kids and prepared myself for murder should anything bad happen.

Nothing bad happened.

Before going home, we stopped for ice cream. How could we not? Left to our own devices with three adorable little Colombian children = heck yeah we're stopping for ice cream. You've never seen three more content kids in your life. As we sat there together enjoying our cones (we found it particularly humorous that Melanie ordered Rum Raisin), things were pretty much perfect.

And the rest of the day was just as relaxing. The boys played soccer again, all the kids made ornaments and hung them on the tree, and then Caren and Mom and i took the entire staff out for dinner (as was the case with taking Gabriela out, this was not normal at all). We actually ended up eating at the same restaurant that we took Gabriela to, and it was so amazing to just sit and eat and bond with the staff like that. Orlando told us later that they all really appreciated it, and that this was the first time the entire staff had ever gotten together outside the orphanage to hang out. That was kind of shocking. Needless to say, the experience held great worth for everyone.


11.30.07 - not the last, but the first of many

It's our last day here, and it really stinks that it's not the weekend so we could spend the whole day with the kids. Instead, it was up at 4:00 again getting ready for school. Despite the ungodly hour and the mid-morning exhaustion, i'm really going to miss taking the kids to school. I think it's probably the best way we've ever bonded with them.

You should have seen Cristian this morning, by the way. Gabriela instructed him to clean the bathroom next to the kitchen (which is really just a toilet in a hole in the wall). So here he comes down the stairs, mop and broom in one hand and big bucket of water in the other (i finally took the bucket from him, as i was fairly certain the three objects together weighed more than he did). Keep in mind it's pitch black outside, and there's no light in this toilet stall. All the while as he's preparing, i'm thinking, "This should be interesting. How the heck is he going to clean the bathroom in the dark?" Well, the Colombian way, of course - which in this case meant heaving the entire bucket of water into the dark and sticking the mop in there to swirl it all around - on the walls, the toilet, everywhere - and then dragging all the excess water out with the broom so that it ran like a stream through the courtyard to the trench on the other side.

Never a dull moment at El Camino.

We tried to get on the chiva with the older kids today, but surprisingly the driver wouldn't let us on because there was no room. Up until now, we weren't sure the idea of not having room existed in this country. So we went with the younger kids again, and this time Jane and David came with us.

Last morning getting ready for school, last ride on the chiva...last little cup of avena. :(

Poor Perlaza is still sick. He was fine when we arrived, but every day since he's been getting progressively worse and staying home from school because of it. He's got a severe ear ache, and some sort of cold/stomach flu thing going on. It's making him absolutely miserable, although he's been incredibly well-behaved despite it all. Every once in a while he'll come out of his room (wearing my sweatshirt, which has become a permanent fixture at this point) to accept a hug and watch us do whatever it is we're doing. So he and Ana Maria were the first to know about the Christmas tree, and today they were the first to see the presents. Caren and Mom and i spent hours in the office separating all the clothes and toys we brought and purchased in town and delegating them to all the kids. Once all the little piles were made, i had to write the kids' names on everything and each pile was then tied together with a string and placed under the tree outside. It was an extremely long, tedious process, but again, worth it for the cause.

This afternoon we've just spent cleaning the house and doing more painting. The kids will be home soon, and the grieving process will begin.

I'm not ready for it.


12.2.07 - words

Yesterday had to be one of the strangest days i've ever experienced. In the morning i was still in Colombia, standing on the porch of El Camino holding hands with the kids, listening to them sing a goodbye song for us before the sun had even really peeked over the horizon. And last night, i was home. From one world to the next in a single day. From 80 degrees to 20 degrees in a matter of hours.

It's almost as if Colombia never happened. That's usually how it feels upon returning home, and i hate it. It's like waking up from a dream that you never want to end.

Needless to say, the kids really enjoyed opening their gifts under the Christmas tree. Even when they had families, many of them had never had a Christmas tree in their home, and they certainly never had gifts. It was pretty awesome to be able to create some sort of magic for them, to bless them. The thing that stinks about it is that everyone who donated their money or gifts for this trip will have to hear secondhand how the kids received it and how much it all really meant to them. I wish i could just take everyone to Colombia with me, because nothing compares to actually being there and witnessing it all for yourself.

Someone once told me to keep a journal of my trips to Colombia because someday i would use what i collected to publish something of great impact. I can't imagine how my words might ever be adequate enough to make a difference, but here's another effort to the cause.

regarding Colombia

I think it's safe for me to announce that there's a very good chance i'll be heading back to Colombia this winter. Rates are incredibly cheap at the beginning of December, and nothing would please me more than to be able to visit my bambinos around Christmastime. I'll keep you posted.

Until then, enjoy these photos sent to us by Wilson.


Some of the boys showing off the belts they made by hand to sell in town. They go for about $20 US dollars. I'm proud to say i own one. :)


The kids arriving at "home" from school. By the way, El Camino was just given scholarships from a Christian school for 25 kids to attend, which is obviously very good news. Oddly enough, all they asked for in return was sports equipment. As you can see, most of the children still need uniforms, but at least this school will be providing them lunch, a luxury they didn't receive from their old one.


25 kids packed into one tiny car...now THAT'S the Colombian way! :)

Colombia July 2007 - my journal entries

07.09.07 – Human Nature vs. Trained Nature

I have a habit of stealing in-flight magazines. It seems i can't resist saving articles about the Inuit tribes in Alaska or the wolf packs in Canada to read again later. And if it's not the articles that draw me, it's the photography. Some of the photos i keep simply to look at and transport myself to a different place where my mood inevitably changes, and some photos i keep to use in my collages. The July 2007 edition of The Continental was disappointing and failed to measure up to the standard i've apparently set for most in-flight magazines.

In other words, it's not worthy of being stolen.

But I consider myself a fairly open-minded person. There was an article entitled, "Legends of the Devil's Isle: Discover Bermuda's myths, luxury and lore." Sounds intriguing, right? - especially to someone so obsessed with pirates. Well, for some crazy reason i just didn't feel like reading it. So i read it. And wouldn't you know, it was amazing. If i wasn't already interested in seeing Bermuda, i would be now.

Sometimes in life we have to do things we don't want to do, things we just "don't feel like" doing. In fact, i think oftentimes doing something you don't want to do is more important and in many cases more fulfilling than doing something you want to do. These things are building blocks. They build character. They make us stronger, more patient, more open-minded people. (Not to mention more interesting.)

Yesterday morning, for example, i forced myself to take a very quick, very cold shower to prepare for the week ahead of me. Did i want to? Heck, no. Warm, leisurely showers are nearly as precious to me as air. But i knew that i'd have to put aside the desires of my flesh in order to fulfill the desire of my heart, which was to prepare myself in every way possible - even physically - to be able to serve my Colombian family to the best of my ability.

Taking a quick, cold shower is a small-scale example of someone doing choosing to do something against their trained nature. I say trained because i sometimes feel that in general, we have no idea of the extent of the abilities of human nature. We train ourselves to life live a certain way, which can include something as simple as how many hours of sleep we require or as complex as how we manage our money. Some of these patterns are relatively harmless, while others can be dangerous or even stunt our personal growth. We think we are immunizing ourselves by coating our choices with phrases like "that's just who i am," but instead we are actually limiting ourselves.

If i never did anything i didn't want to do, i still would not know how to swim or ride a bike. I would have no idea that i'm capable of prophesying or speaking to a crowd ot changing a diaper or letting go of a dog that meant everything to me. I would be caught in a stale cycle of safety and routine, with no room for learning and growing and changing. Bermuda would still be that exotic place where Merlin the Wizard went on vacation instead of a natural and architectural wonder with a vibrant history of smugglers, revolutionary leaders and sunken vessels.

What causes us to be unwilling to do something against our trained nature? It is fear. Fear of drowning if we step out into the water. Fear of getting hurt when entering into a new relationship. Fear of having doubt about our beliefs if we study another religion. No matter what we do or how safely and routinely we live our lives, uncomfortable or negative outcomes will always be possible. We cannot be so blind and naive to think that by obeying our trained nature we are in control of anything. If we do so, we are allowing FEAR to control us, and we will - quite literally - be closing ourselves off from a whole world of possibility and discovery.

And as a reminder of this lesson, i have decided to steal my in-flight magazine after all. Bermuda awaits.


06:15 PM same day – Beautiful Strangers

As i sit here listening to the Latin music channel on the in-flight radio, i realize that i am exactly where i am supposed to be - on my way back to Colombia, where we'll land in just a few hours. There are very few things in my life that i'm sure about, and Colombia is one of them. While i'm all about adventure and spontaneity, it feels so good to be sure about something.

My heart is still slightly apprehensive, but i'm finally starting to relax and get excited. A few weeks ago, i still had no idea which children from last year would still be living at El Camino and which, if any, had left. I finally e-mailed Aldrin, one of our translators who became like a brother to me, and asked him the dreaded question. Even though i had completely prepared myself for the expected answer, i couldn't stop the tears when he told me that the two brothers i had bonded with the most were gone. Apparently, no amount of consideration can prepare you for the loss of someone you love or have grown attached to, even if you are not losing them to death. But i have come to accept and understand that this is a new season and that there will be other children who need my love and attention now. Not that i can't be sad or miss those boys, but i owe it to the rest to set aside these emotions for now so i can offer up my whole self in this time of growth and servanthood.

Switching gears, there has been one man during our travels that stood out to me more than anyone else. He stood in front of me during the security check in Houston and brought himself to my attention when he made a comment about my sandals. He said i was smart for wearing them to the airport because it simplified the whole removal and replacement of the shoes process. I agreed that it certainly did make things easier and proceeded to notice the shoes in his hands, which were grubby with dirt and worn and torn almost to the point of being unusable. My gaze trailed down to his feet, veiled with thin black socks that boasted a hole for nearly every toe.

We moved up in line, each grabbing plastic gray buckets for our things. I placed my backpack and sandals in my bucket. The man had two buckets - one for his laptop, and another for his bag, his shoes, and a seemingly endless string of miscellaneous items being fished from his pockets. Pockets that i began to believe were housing everything this man owned.

My observational tendencies kicked into gear and i watched the man carefully, taking pity on this clearly tedious unloading procedure he was going through. I stopped short of offering to help, noting the way the wrinkles around his gentle blue eyes strained wearily behind large glasses. His salt-and-pepper hair hung in soft curls at the nape of his neck, which was flecked with odd clusters of freckles. His drab gray shirt, obviously one of his best chosen to accompany an adequate pair of Dickies khakis, was ruined by tiny random stains and holes - but it was ironed.

Another conveyer belt was made available, and i turned to carry my tray over to it but was cut off by on onslaught of eager travelers that had rushed out from behind me. I returned to my spot behind the nameless man, whose eyes had changed somehow. They were apologising. He was embarrassed.

"If you ever see me in a line," he said, "you should run for another one. People know. I'm like this everywhere i go. Even the grocery store..."

"Oh, i don't mind," i smiled. "It's really alright."

I think the man almost felt too bad to hear what i was saying, or to even accept my smile. The truth was, my heart went out to him and i wished, as i sometimes do with certain characters i run into, that i could hop onboard whatever flight he was taking and accompany him for a week, whatever that entailed. As a friend, as someone to talk to. I wondered why he'd felt so shamed by something that i considered a common occurrence and what he meant by "people know." Was he given a hard time on a daily basis by others? Were people so callous and impatient that they would cause a kind and gentle, aging man to feel guilty about such trivial matters? Or were they judging him by appearance alone?

I'm finding it interesting that my team leader has given us the theme of "choices (opciones)" for this trip, and so far my journal entries have been all about fighting fear, building character and harboring compassion. It is getting quiet now, and too dark to write. I may try to sleep some now, or continue getting to know the Colombian girl next to me who hates traveling alone. Her name, by the way, is Valentina.


07.11.07 - Home

To say it's a struggle to find words suitable for describing how it feels to be here would be almost insulting to the truth. There is no greater burden than spending one's days caring for children and youth whose families either never loved them or could never afford to love them.

It is day two, and the fact that i'm lying here in bed journaling while the children are outside playing in the midday sun in killing me. I've learned from experience that unless i practice self-discipline and pry myself away every from the activities every now and then, nothing will ever get recorded. But these entries will be scatterbrained, as i'm obviously wanting to be somewhere else doing something more important while i'm writing them.

Already, this trip has played out so differently than last year - in good ways and some unfortunate ways as well. Due to some error in communication, Senora Gabriella was under the impression that we were arriving on the 18th (which is when we're leaving), so they had not been expecting us for nine more days and consequently the cooks we hired are working elsewhere at this time. This has meant that the gardener's wife, Alejandra (who just had a baby girl several weeks ago), along with Leidy, have had to work harder and cook our food as well. At first when we tried to help them, they refused our assistance like the hospitable Colombians they are and closed the doors to the kitchens to keep us out. But they soon realized that we Americans can be stubborn as well, and it has been wonderful working with them to clean dishes and serve dinner to the children.

The night we arrived, none of the children were up waiting for us as we expected. We were disappointed, and even more so when we realized that more of the kids we'd bonded with last year had left El Camino than we thought. This took some time to digest and accept, but the process has been gentle. The new boys and girls here are such a joy, each personality so very different from all the rest. But what blesses me and fills me with happiness the most is the transformation i see in the older boys from last year. The ones that remained distant and seemingly disinterested then (it had taken me until the end of our trip to coax some of them out of their shells) are now the most loving and involved of the whole group. The difference between the boys here and the boys in America is like night and day. Here, even the 11-15-year-olds will hold your hand and hug you, and they will still hug and kiss you goodnight. They will pick flowers for you and write letters, and on occasion they will nickname you. Last night i was dubbed "Trinity" because apparently the haircut i had last year reminds them of Trinity from The Matrix. The fact that my hair looks nothing like that now is irrelevant. Quite honestly, they can call me whatever they want and i actually think Trinity is a pretty cool nick.

Some might consider our mornings here rough. If you're lucky enough to get more than a dribble of water from the shower, it's absolutely frigid. If you're not woken by the birds than begin singing odd tunes here at an ungodly hour, you will surely be woken by Lincoln, the goat. Our bathrooms are harboring small cockroaches and giant palmetto bugs this year, and lizards skitter freely across the ceilings over our bunks. We meet by the pool at 8:00 (later than last year!) for team time, where we sing a few songs and talk about what we're going to do and pray. During this time the children finish their morning chores, then wander the yard waiting for us to wrap up, some clinging earnestly to the fence around the pool, watching and listening. But after this time we eat breakfast, which usually consists of some form of eggs, toast, and freshly squeezed juice of either mandarin, banana, pineapple, the delicious tree tomato or my and Kayla's absolute favorite in the whole wide world, lulo. Lulo fruit is shaped like a tomato and appears as one on the inside, but has a bumpy rind that looks like a cross-breed of an orange and a lime. Kayla and i have thought long and hard about it, and finally came up with the ultimate question: What if the tree tomato and lulo fruit had a baby? The thought alone was enough to satisfy our liquid needs for a lifetime.

Due to our setbacks, the middle of our days have been a bit lackadaisical so far but that's okay. It's relaxing and soon the olympics and outings will begin. Nighttime is again by far the best time of day, however. The children will take our hands and lead us to their dinner tables, where we'll sit with them and watch them eat chicken and rice, soup or plantains. We brought more money for food this time, so they are eating much better this week than last year, which makes me so happy for them. Then they will hurry up to their rooms to change into their pajamas and brush their teeth and then join us on the porch to sit as a giant group in the evening talking, laughing...Pastor Alex will break out his guitar and the children will sing a few songs. There is a whole lot of snuggling going on. :) When it's time for bed, every kid will come and hug and kiss us several times over. Some of our team will go inside to chat and have coffee while the rest of us hang out with the older boys who don't have to go to sleep yet. We sit outside in the dark and lie down in the courtyard together staring at the stars. The boys will try to say things to us - or just about us to one another, as they know we can't understand a lot of what they're saying and have therefore felt free to say things they probably shouldn't and then laugh. :) We've learned to tell when this is happening. Even when the boys finally go to bed, they don't really sleep but continue patrolling their balcony in the dark or calling things down to us from their open windows. We'll remain lying down on the ground stargazing and listening to scattered hisses of "Trinity!" and "Goodnight!" Last night in particular was beautiful. It was warm, the stars were incredibly large and clear, and lightning was flashing nearby without a trace of thunder. I couldn't imagine myself anywhere else in the world in that moment.

I am home.


07.12.07 - Revival

Revival: An awakening. Restoration to life. Strength.

My dad gave a message of revival to the people of the church we visited last night. It was amazing. He had asked me before we left for Colombia to read his notes and i really liked it, but his delivery was incredible and the people received it with such humility and enthusiasm. I was so proud of my dad because he'd known for a very long time that he was going to give an important message to the church of Colombia and went for it full-throttle and courageously, without ever having stepped foot in the country before and without the ability to speak their language. But the awesome thing about being brothers and sisters in Christ, and the awesome thing about love in general, is that language is never a barrier. Yes, Orlando (who I will describe for you in much better detail later) translated for my dad, but as you will soon find out, words are not necessary for communicating much.

What happened after the message was given is not adequately describable at all, but some record is mandatory so i will give it my best shot. Our team was called forward to stand at the front of the church (which was constructed of thick bamboo stalks and concrete, and covered with a sheet of metal) to pray for whoever wanted it. An elderly woman with oppressed eyes shuffled as quickly as she could to the front of the room and stopped before me and Sam. We laid our hands on her and immediately i felt heavier, as though a weight had been placed over my shoulders. I knew that God was allowing me to feel the burden that she was carrying. We began to pray for her, speaking freedom and release and peace into her life. She was weeping, her tears wetting the cold floor. Whether or not God allowed her mind to understand our English i'll never know, but her heart understood exactly what was happening. When we were finished, she moved towards me and i took her in my arms and held her for a long time, both of us feeling lighter and speaking volumes to each other in our silence. The next forty or so minutes went likewise. We joined some of our other team members in praying for different people. The band got onstage and began to sing and play, but we continued praying. At one point Dee, Kayla, Ilya, Sam and i were all laying hands on this one young man and praying for him at the same time, hardly able to hear what anyone else was saying over the volume of the music. I remember nearly every word i said to this young man and every word of prophesy God had for him. Since he couldn't understand English and we couldn't even hear what the person next to us what uttering, i know this young man's reaction was not to our spoken words but to the Holy Spirit. He began to cry and his entire body shook as though a private earthquake was taking place where he stood. Then his feet stamped and he spun around in such an oddly perfect fashion that i knew the motions were not of his own doing. From what i gather, knowing what i had prayed and later finding out some of what Dee had prayed, i believe that we were witnessing both the effect of the very real presence of God and perhaps demons fleeing his body as several curses over his life were cast out and replaced with blessings of protection and prosperity. It was like nothing i had ever witnessed before.

The prayer eventually stopped, but the worship went on and only got more amazing as the night progressed. People were dancing and singing and holding absolutely nothing back. Orlando took me and Dee into the aisle and danced with us. Others ran down the aisles as if they had been set free from some kind of bondage, and it's likely they were. I know my dad took some video of this whole ordeal, and i'm looking forward to revisiting that incredible night. It lasted for hours. Orlando spoke. We didn't leave until about midnight and by that time we were emotionally and physically spent. Great night.

This morning after breakfast, we broke out the wiffle ball equipment and in keeping with tradition attempted to engage the boys in the good old American pastime. It actually lasted much longer than last year and the boys seemed to have a lot of fun with it. As usual, however, there comes a point where the whole rules thing gets thrown out the window and reigning them in becomes a laughable option. So baseball was scrapped for a sport that NEVER gets old in Colombia - futbol, or soccer as we know it here. These boys play futbol every single day, for several hours with no mercy, no rules and no exceptions. Let me just put it this way: if you cannot handle getting bodychecked by a barefoot, barebacked nine-year-old with the grace and good sportsmanship of a humble man, save yourself the embarrassment and don't bother. In conclusion, i will end with this amazingly awesome list put together by Kayla, who bravely and not without her fair share of suffering endured not just one but several games of futbol with our little Colombian brothers:


07.14.07 – Near-Death Experiences (not to be confused with cow tongue)

You are not going to believe what happened at breakfast yesterday morning. Orlando put a slice of cheese into his coffee. Yes, cheese. He called it a "Colombian microwave." Apparently this is a common improvisational method with Colombians lacking this little, now to be deemed critically necessary, appliance. The cheese slice gets placed into the coffee and stirred just for a moment, then left alone for a bit to melt. After a minute or so, the cheese is removed with a knife and spread onto toast. Believe me, just watching the process was painful and our entire team nearly lost our appetites. Not only was Orlando's coffee ruined with a hint of cheese, but his toast was ruined with more than a hint of coffee. And he proceeded to ingest both the coffee AND the toast - happily, i might add.

Incredible day. Just like last year, we took a bus ride up into the mountains to a pool resort - not quite as impressive as our previous location, but still beautiful and just as satisfying. The ride was definitely more interesting this time around. (I sat next to Marcos, an 11-year-old boy who was for the most part distant last year and who i've been getting very close to now. Everything about him fascinates me - his beautiful face, his lust for learning English, his mischievous streak...he fills me with warmth and brings out all the motherly inclinations in me. I love to snuggle with him.) We were about 50 passengers onboard this bus, which rumbled through the mountains along very long, narrow, curvy dirt roads with no guardrails or anything to prevent us from propelling several hundred feet off the cliffs should a landslide or any number of other accidents occur. With no other vehicles behind us and none coming at us, our destination began to seem rather mysterious. In fact, the roads were actually being repaired in front of us as we drove, leaving some of the team with a not-so-great feeling. I personally have grown so used to the Colombian way that i'm just finding humor in every given situation. I love it.

The water was quite cold, so i allowed myself to bake in the sun for a bit before diving into the pool with my friends. It was refreshing, but unlike the pool back at El Camino, i could only stay in for a few minutes at a time. Eventually, we all made it up to the outdoor cafeteria for lunch where i had...*drum roll please*...cow tongue!! I was feeling adventurous and Orlando said he'd eat it if i didn't like. But i liked. At first, the consistency (a bit like that of liver, but worse) threatened to ruin the experience, but the taste resembled that of roast beef and i managed to eat the whole, er, slice. Dee and Kayla braved it as well and took a bite so they could check cow tongue off their list of things to eat before they die.

No trip to Colombia would be complete without a near-death experience by Pastor Alex and Orlando. Indeed, i can see this is quickly becoming another tradition. Instead of jumping off a building into the river this year, they decided it would be fun to jump off a cliff into the pool. We had relocated to a pool in the back of the park that was now occupied by our group alone. Despite numerous warnings (which were clearly all made just so it could be said that they were given, as everyone knew full well that nothing would stop these two daredevils and besides, we'd be lying if we said we didn't want to see it happen), Pastor Alex and Orlando dove in. Very, very stupid - but both survived and went on with their day and everything was great.

Not.

Orlando, who has come to epitomize the term foolhardy, could not be satisfied with just one jump into the pool. He couldn't just be happy with the amazing photo that Caren took of him jumping off the cliff, gloat a little, thank God he was still alive, and move on. He had to jump in again, resulting in a late-night trip to the hospital as his head hit the bottom of the pool (surprise, surprise) and left him with a bloody head and severe pain in his neck. None of which stopped him from heading up the mountain to play an intense game of futbol with the boys, of course.

Even the ride home was interesting. On top of the simple thrill of thundering back down the mountain, one of the girls vomited in the back of the bus, forcing many of those who were seated back there to head to the front and squish themselves among the already packed crowd there. Everyone was exhausted, so the only activity we did upon arriving home was a devotional, which was really just me and Sam reading a children's book that i wrote and he illustrated. The kids seemed to like it, so i was happy.

Caren hasn't been feeling well, so she went to bed early. Since she and Wilson (El Camino's accountant - awesome man, very sweet) were going on a trip the next day, the rest of us wanted to stay up and plan what we were going to do with the kids. When that was done, my dad broke out his guitar and we sang a few songs there in the living room, starting with "Wrap Me In Your Arms." It was a very powerful, intimate time as a team. The song was hardly over before Kayla started telling us how it touched her and before we all knew it, she was bawling her eyes out giving us her incredibly moving testimony. Not one person could stop their own tears from flowing and just when we'd all settled down and started to breathe again, Kayla started prophesying over each one of us as though she'd been doing it her whole life. She even made us all move into the bedroom where Caren was sleeping to lay hands on her and pray her sickness away. It was amazing - definitely one of the most defining moments for our team during the trip.

Every night, long after we've said goodnight to the kids a thousand times and walked around the facility appreciating its spectacular beauty, Orlando will come back from wherever he's disappeared to with treats for those of us who are still awake. This is tradition #3, by the way. One night he brought us empanadas with cilantro sauce. Another night he came back with three different kinds of bread - coffee bread (no, really, with ground coffee beans in it), fried corn bread, and this mmmmmdelicious loaf filled with sugary paste and raisins. Last night we tried so very hard to stay up but Orlando was out for so long that we just had to go to bed. The makeup came off. The teeth got brushed. The lights went out and we climbed into our bunks and fell asleep for all of maybe ten minutes before there was a knock on our door. "Come on, i have something for you babies," Orlando was saying, and we all smiled and dragged our sleepy faces and clean teeth out to the table. Pastor Alex had come to join us, as he does some nights. Orlando had brought us goat cheese and banana pizza, which actually tasted really good. The cheese was very mild and the banana complemented it well. Of course we all wanted to know how Orlando's hospital visit went, and apparently a few pills and a "don't be stupid" would suffice. No major harm done.

Today has so far been fairly relaxing. Mom, Dad, Sam, Holly and Wendy acted out a few puppet skits for the younger kids while Dee, Ilya, Kayla and i took the older ones to the backyard where we played Knot and Winkum, a few team-building games that went over really well. We also served ice cream sundaes to the kids in the late afternoon. The best part though, i think, has been when my dad and Sam took the oldest three boys (plus Jhonatan, Brayan's friend who is visiting during our stay here) into the house and with a translator got to spend some man-to-man chat time with them. My dad was able to ask them what the hardest part about living at El Camino was, what kind of things they were interested in, and what kind of things the few of them would like to do the next time we come. The problem for the older boys here is that they are living with lots of little kids and always have to do little kid things and be in big-brother mode all the time. They are constantly being told "no." Despite all of this, they are still well-behaved but definitely have moments when the frustration shows. So having us come and spend time with them, throwing one another in the pool all afternoon or staying up later than everyone else together means a lot to them. We are consciously aware that they get overlooked, so we make an effort to include them or do special things separately with them. It's hard because the younger kids get jealous and need so much attention. So we've decided to plan things ahead of time to do with the older kids next time we go.


07.15.07 – From Humble Feet to Happy Feet

After such an exhausting 48 hours, the slow pace of today was much-needed and very welcomed. Church is always incredible here. Pastor Alex, who plays the keyboard, has acquired a drumset since last year which Brayan has learned to play very well. Emilio is still singing and his voice has only gotten better. After worship, my dad shared a little message with the kids and then Orlando asked our team to stand up and form a line, calling all the children up as well to stand around us and lay their little hands on our shoulders. He began praying and knelt down to anoint our feet with oil and pray over each one of us seperately. I couldn't help but remember last year when the children themselves were down on their hands and knees praying over our feet, which is still my most humbling experience to date. I am willing to bet that nothing else will ever compare to that pure, innocent expression of love and humility from the children, which broke me in so many ways and simplified my entire life down to that one defining moment. I wept oceans that morning. Today was a bit different, but still...when someone humbles himself and takes on the heart of a servant and touches your feet with oil, crying and praying over them as if you were the most valuable object in existence, something happens that is simply unexplainable. There is no question; it will change you.

Jhonatan stood between me and Sam during church. This boy is 15 years old and has already lived several lifetimes of devastation and corruption. His mother was killed by guerrillas in the mountains and one of his brothers died of heart failure. Years ago, he'd left El Camino to move back in with his 4-year-old sister and father, who sells drugs and pornography. Because of the things he's been exposed to and the effect they've had on him, Jhonatan is not being allowed back into the children's home out of fear that his deep-rooted problems will corrupt the other children. However, he's best friends with Brayan, the oldest boy living at El Camino, and has been allowed to stay here while our team visits. During this time, Sam and i have taken a natural liking to him. The fact that he knows virtually no English means nothing where communication is concerned. I hug him as often as i can. We pray for him. He throws me into the pool and Sam tackles him to the ground. The two of them even share an inside joke. He has now started calling us Mother and Father, which has taken me completely by surprise.

After lunch, my parents did their devotional, which was followed up by the building of balsa planes. The kids absolutely loved putting them together, painting them, and flying them around the courtyard. Several got lost to the rooftops.

Tonight we gathered all the kids into our house to watch Happy Feet. Wendy made popcorn in a skillet on the stove and served it with Coke. I'm a big fan of Movie Night, but it always makes me sad that the kids have to watch from a cold, hard floor. There are no couches. Some of us retrieved pillows and sheets from our beds because the kids started lying down and even falling asleep on the stone tile. Oh, what i would give to be able to snuggle up with some real blankets on a real bed with some of these kids...


07.16.07 - Reflections

Shopping Day definitely needs to be eradicated from our trips to Colombia. First of all, we can only bring a few kids with us - which is usually the oldest few boys, which is awesome just because they do need that special big-kid time - but saying goodbye to the rest of the kids in the morning and waving as we leave the facility in the van without them is way too hard. It means time spent away from them, time that they will spend being bored and sad and maybe feeling a bit jealous. Secondly, it's selfish. Us Americans need more things like we need holes in our heads. Yet here we have thirty children all in desperate need of shoes, socks and underwear and we're wasting away several hours buying souvenirs for ourselves in Cali. Granted, this year (since the need for the basics in clothing has grown) we did drive around for a while searching for things like shoes and pajamas. What we should have done was spent the whole day doing this until we came home with these basic needs met. Instead, we gave up the search in order to have ample time for shopping and only managed to purchase a pair of pajamas for each child on the way home. Talk about feeling guilty about something. I repeat: Shopping Day must die.

We did have a good time, though, and i know the boys enjoyed themselves. When everyone was done shopping, we went to an outdoor mall for lunch and i was able to have some Lulo juice! Bottled, though - not nearly as delicious as the homemade Lulo juice I’ve been spoiled with at El Camino - but still a nice treat.

Even better of a treat was coming home and being able to just laze around doing nothing in particular with the kids. They are all so starved for love in their own way that you can literally feel the need grabbing ahold of you when you're around them. Every time one looks into your eyes or rubs your arm, your heart breaks a little more. They have no one to call Mommy or tuck them into bed at night. They don't even have pillows. So you try to do the best you can at filling some of these enormous holes in their lives, all the while knowing that soon you will have to leave them and once again they will return to their daily routines as their childhoods quickly disappear.

We ate dinner and then went back outside for more lounging in the dark. I brought my bedsheet out and in one of the leather chairs on the porch, wrapped Marcos up in my arms. He lay contentedly in my lap, an intimacy he only gets to experience maybe once a year, and held my hand. Over the last several days, he'd been pointing to anything and everything in sight and asking me what the English word for it was. He'd also come up with some words on his own that he wanted to know - like "mentiras," for example, which is their word for "lies." He quickly made up a game with this word, which he proceeded to play tonight while snuggled in my lap. He would point to my shirt and ask me in Spanish what the English word for it was. So i'd say "shirt" and he'd turn his head away with squinty, mischievous eyes and say "Liiieees!" Then he'd point to the chair and i'd say "chair" and he'd say again, "Liiieees!" And as i'm writing this out, i truly hope that at some point in the next couple days this game gets caught on film because it's absolutely hilarious and Marcos looks so cute doing it. Every time he accuses me of lying, i just crack up!

It was so beautiful out tonight that some of us couldn’t imagine going to bed just yet. Sam decided to go swimming and Kayla and i sat at the edge of the pool, soaking our dirty feet. There are no lights by the pool here, so when Ephraim heard that we wanted to hang out there, this man moved heaven and earth to provide us a light source. After a while, we begged him to stop because we didn’t really need that much light and as usual, he really was going out of his way for us. The end result? He wired an extension cord through one of the bathroom windows and hooked it up to an indoor lamp, which he placed outside and directed toward the pool. The man is a miracle worker.

Anyway, on second thought, beautiful doesn’t describe the night accurately enough. I’d never seen the sky so clear or the stars so big and bright. It was warm, but there was a slight breeze. There were lots of bats out, and they were swooping down close to our heads (gracefully, though, not in a threatening way), which actually just made the experience all the more incredible. It was a great time to just sit and appreciate where we were, talk about all the amazing things that had happened during the trip, and begin preparing ourselves mentally for the emotional aspect of the final day and saying goodbye.

I would have wept at this time if the night hadn’t been so peaceful and feeling as though it would never end.


07.17.07 – We All Need A Healing Room

Breathe. Don't think.

It is our last day here, and despite its obvious horrible connotations, it has been one of my favorite days out of the whole trip. This is because, with the exception of the fiesta we have planned for this evening, we have nowhere to go and no real activities to do. Like last night, we've been able to just relax and love on the kids all morning.

Still, the day has been laced with its inevitable sad moments. We had our final team time before breakfast, which really just entailed singing a few songs. One of them, which has become a team favorite, is called "El Camino mi Corazón." My dad wrote it. Every time we sing it i get immensely emotional, and since this was the last time we would sing it before leaving and because it manages to encapsulate so much feeling and truth about being with the kids at El Camino, i just began sobbing. When we got to the "one child at a time" chorus, the dam inside of me broke and i felt my heart breaking with it.

Fast forward to a happy moment. I'm sitting on the porch in the back of the house with Marcos, and he's making me teach him more English. Then Cristian and Pastor Alex's daughter Karin come along and join us, and for the next half-hour to forty minutes i'm in conversation with them. We talk about candy and sharing and more English words and Cristian starts telling me all about winter - hats, earmuffs, jackets, mittens, hot chocolate and even snow angels. He tells me he's never seen snow, not even a photo of it, but he wants to. I tell him when i come back i'm going to bring some pictures of snow. He starts memorizing me and says that he wants my white skin and my blue eyes. I tell him i'd trade with him if i could, but that he's beautiful and perfect just the way he is. At this point Brayan walks by eating a coconut and as soon as he realizes i'd like one he yells over to Ephraim, who's cleaning the pool again, that one of the Americans wants a coconut. Ephraim drops everything, grabs a very long metal pole, sticks it through the fence, and begins jabbing the coconuts in the palm tree nearby. After about 10 minutes of this gladiator-like sport, two coconuts finally drop to the ground. Ephraim disappears and then returns with a machete, which he promptly uses to whack at the coconuts on the grass. He rips off the course brown outer layer and chops off the top so i can drink the milk inside, then proceeds to break the coconut into pieces with his bare hands so i can eat the flesh. I know i already said this, but i LOVE Ephraim. I feel as though this man would bring me the moon if i asked him to, and in a way for me he did. No one has ever retrieved a coconut for me before, especially in such primitive fashion. For that one act alone, there will always be a special place in my heart for Ephraim.

Fast forward to another sad moment. I'm in the backyard with Cristian and Jhonatan. They are the first ones to sign the back of my team t-shirt. They spend a lot of time getting it right and taking photos of what they wrote with my digital camera so that i can see. When they're done, i can tell that Cristian's emotions have taken a turn, which every child eventually does in their own way in their own time. He begins asking me when i'm coming back and if i'm going to forget him. My heart is breaking again. Then he hangs his head and i know the tears are falling. An enormous lump forms in my throat and i'm thinking, i can't do this alone. There is still half a day to get through and i cannot fall apart right now. So i hug him tightly and take his hand and lead him to "The Healing Room." This is what i've begun calling the room my parents are using, because every time one of the kids gets sad or injured, my mom takes them in there, closes the door, gives them some chocolate and talks to them. Cristian humbly accepts the chocolate but saves it for later. We wipe his tears and ask him what he’d like us to bring next time we come, and he answers, “snow.” We smile and Mom explains to him why this is impossible, but that we can bring photos. This seems to satisfy him. We hug him several times and soon he is ready to go back outside.

Now i sit on my bed, feebly attempting to collect myself so i can follow Cristian out and brave the next 8 or so hours with some amount of strength.

Breathe. Don’t think…


07.18.07 - Brokenness

The moment of brokenness came in the form of a haze that cloaked his body with the pity, gentleness and determination of a mother applying alcohol to her child’s wound. Yes, it would hurt. But the pain would be necessary for the healing process to begin.

He had been happy and laughing right along with the rest of the young people up until that moment. The night was cool yet balmy, and thoughts of our team leaving early the next morning were temporarily warded off as the singing, breakdancing and cupcakes served as welcome distractions. Sam and i sat with him in the back of the crowd and we teased each other as everyone else finished their meals.

In the midst of our laughter last night, Jhonatan suddenly grew quiet. I looked over and he was hunched over, his face in his hands, tears slipping through his fingers. Others began drifting over to ask what was wrong and he took off, heading for the bedrooms. Sam followed after him a few minutes later and i waited a while before making my way through the dark up the stairs and down the balcony to the room where the older boys slept. Sam stood there and glanced at me with pity in his eyes. I looked up and there was Jhonatan, curled up on the very top bunk in fetal position, heaving like a small boy, face covered. No words had been exhanged between them. I had been sent to retrieve Sam for a skit that we were acting out, but when he tried to leave, Jhonatan just kept saying, "No."

My heart, just as i imagine Jhonatan's, was breaking into a million pieces as i stood there in the doorway watching as right before my eyes this young man who had been forced to grow up far too quickly was reduced to a hurting, desperate little boy who had never experienced the feeling of being loved. For the next two hours straight, he remained in the same position and wept heavily nonstop, leaving me wondering when the last time was that he'd allowed himself to cry at all.

It was no mistake that Jhonatan was there at the children's home when our team was visiting. His life experiences had left him numerous holes in his heart, and for so long he had attempted to mask them. But because we were able to recognize these holes, we were also able to fill some of them up - with the freeing, forgiving love of God that he never had known before.

Although Jhonatan doesn't live at El Camino, he represents many of the children, both older and younger, who do. Children who every day face very real giants of rejection, neglect, abuse, loneliness and fear. Children who have nothing and literally would not survive without this love that heals and restores. Children who have been rescued and kept safe for the time being but still harbor the looming question of how they will ever make it once released from the protection and familiarity of the four walls built around them. They need mothers. They need brothers. They need consistency and lots of affirmation and assurance.

So many people do not feel as though they have much to give to children so in need. But Sam and i were just ordinary people doing what came naturally, and the result of that was the breaking down of a boy who for the first time had been shown that his life had value. I will never forget him, and every time i see his face i will be reminded that love truly is the greatest gift of all.

Aside from that incident, the fiesta was great. We served the kids a dinner of grilled pork, potatoes and bread, and they had a blast showcasing their talents on the stage. I have mixed feelings about the timing of it, though. On the one hand, the event certainly distracts us all from thoughts of saying goodbye on the last night, which i suppose is preferable for the kids because the last thing we want is them focusing on those negative emotions. On the other hand, i sometimes wish the final night could be more relaxing and we could appreciate each kid and give them all individual attention before we go. It’s hard to explain, but when you know that the instinctive motherly or fatherly love that you show these kids is the only love of that type that they’ll receive all year, it becomes difficult to justify occupying your time doing anything else but lavishing that love on them. I know the kids always enjoy and remember the fiesta night, though, and that’s all that matters.

This flight out of Colombia always feels like a flight to my death, with nothing but emptiness and depression waiting for me at the other end. I have left my family, my passion, my purpose for…what?

I look like a train hit me. There was a noise at the girl’s room window this morning and we drew the curtain to find seven or eight boys standing there in the rain, waiting to say goodbye to us. That will go down as one of the worst moments of my entire life, just so you know. And it was not too much later that we were all standing on the porch hugging and kissing and crying and feeling as though our hearts were being ripped out of our chests. Cristian wrapped his little arms around my waist and looked up at me and asked if i would remember him always – another moment for the record books. I struggled to answer him adequately in Spanish, as he simply has no idea that i think about him every single day of my life and would take bullets for him in a second as though he were my own.

Jhonatan had me sit next to him on the ride to the airport in Cali and he cried the entire way there. When we all waved goodbye in the terminal, he was sobbing into Orlando’s shoulder. With the exception of my fellow teammates, no one will ever understand what it was like to leave him in that state – a teenage boy with a horrible past and tormented soul who seemed to have just found and bonded with his long-lost family, only to have them walk out of his life. It broke him, and it broke us.

My emotions are a mess and my thoughts are a jumble, so it’s hard for me to write coherently. I’m going to force myself to fall asleep now in an attempt to escape reality, if only for a few hours.