updated photos

Wilson has sent us some school photos of some of the kids, as well as some amazing black and whites! Enjoy...


A group photo with Aldrin on the left and Wilson on the right. Not all of the children are here.


Wilson helping Felipe and Luis Miguel with their homework.


Emilio


Luis Alfredo


Ana Maria


Brayan


Cristian


Esteban


Fabian Arboleda


Fabian Losada


Mauricio


Emilio


Katerine


Jessica


Kevin


Melanie


Yessica


Jhon Janer


Juan Sebastian


Luis Miguel


Maira


Marcos


Miguel Perlaza


Miguel Angel


Oscar

steps

I don't know what God is up to, but i'm not worried about it.

Last night we called Colombia again, and were informed that Aldrin had left. My first instinct, of course, was to be really upset. Not only was i concerned for the children in his absense, but we had just begun to hatch a real plan to bring Aldrin here to raise funds for El Camino, which now seemed to be thwarted. If only he'd hung in there just a little while longer, I thought. If only we could have told him...

But that worry lasted about thirty seconds. Because in my heart i know this is not the end. I know that our plan was designed by God. He fashioned it a long time ago, and all we're doing is carrying it out. I don't care what obstacles get in the way, or what faith is lost by man, or how hopeless the situation seems.

Proverbs 16:9 says, "In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps." There is a lot of disheartenment going on around El Camino, and i don't just mean among our Colombian brothers and sisters. There is a sense of urgency, a lack of trust in the provision that God has promised. I think we can all relate to this feeling, having experienced it so many times in our own lives. We think to ourselves, "This isn't right. This isn't the way i wanted things to turn out at all. I had this vision, this goal, this dream, and where did it all go?" And we get so frustrated, so tired of waiting for the things that were promised to us that we just give up. We feel foolish for believing.

There's always a plan. Anyone who tells you they've never planned on anything is lying. They might not plan their lives day-to-day, but they're always thinking about the future. They're working towards something, they have hope for something. If they didn't, they wouldn't bother living. And plans don't have to be drawn out to exist; they don't have to be detailed or even entertained. You could be walking through the park one day and watch a dog tackle a little boy, sending him into fits of contagious giggles...and for half a second, a picture can flash through your mind of you with a dog and a child in that park and a pair of housekeys jammed into your pocket where your wallet is stashed, and that's a plan. You've imagined yourself in another time, another life, another setting, with more to fill your heart to the brim than you can presently claim.

It hasn't happened yet. It's just a plan.

Plans take steps.

Steps take time.

Time takes patience.

Patience takes faith.

We can plan all we want, but if we don't allow God to direct our steps, we're going to get lost. Days will go by, weeks, sometimes years...and we'll keep turning over the same rocks and discovering all the same trees, and eventually we're going to give up. We'll lose patience. We'll lose faith.

Children never lose faith. Even though funds are lacking, and even though staff are leaving, the children at El Camino remain happy. Talking to them over the phone, one would think they were completely oblivious to the status of things, but we know they are not. They simply don't worry about anything. Gabriela, too, maintains that she is happy and trusts that God will take care of them. And he does. Which is why i pray for El Camino and all who reside there and/or work there, but i don't worry. Because i know that he is looking out for them. He's not ignoring them, he's directing steps.

Delay does not mean denial. My pastor said that on Sunday, and it's stuck with me ever since. Tomorrow i meet with him to discuss the possibility of moving to Colombia for any length of time.

I'm not worried.

ready. set. wait.

I can't sleep.

There's a lot going on in my head right now, and a lot of it hangs in the balance of uncertainty. I've always said that the only thing i'm sure of other than God is Colombia...so naturally, when i'm not thinking about everything, i'm thinking about that.

What am i doing here? This is the question that has me stumped, day after day. I can ask myself about all kinds of other things in my life and what will become of them, but none bother me so much as this. If i'm sure about Colombia, then what am i doing wasting my time being unsure of everything else? There are children over there who need help, and i'm available and capable to give it...so again, what am i doing here?

I had a crazy thought tonight. Most of my craziest thoughts come to me right around this time, but it's not until morning that i realize how crazy they actually are. I figure i've still got a good seven hours at least before that moment hits, so i might as well milk this idea for all it's worth while my brain is up to it. Anyway, here's the thought: What if i moved to Colombia? I know i've mentioned the possibility before, but in the past i was thinking along the lines of maybe two months, if that. Now i'm talking perhaps four.

Winter in Colombia.

Why not? I mean, honestly, what's keeping me? I don't have kids or a house...my job will still be here when i get back...and the people i'd miss the most would either be happy and support me or join up with me at some point anyway.

I don't want to be brash, but the truth is, each day that goes by i feel more and more like i'm just biding my time, and for what? I don't even know. So maybe i didn't start off on the right foot in this stage of my life. If God's mercies are new every morning, then tomorrow i have an opportunity to begin again with a clean slate. And maybe all the things i hoped i'd be experiencing by now aren't meant to play a part in my life just yet. But if that's the case, then i'm wasting a heck of a lot of time being confused and stumbling around trying to attain them in vain when all the while i could be missing out on something wonderful, something truly important.

I don't want to let this opportunity go by. I'm young, i'm able, i'm unbound. If God can use me to serve somewhere, then i want him to. I saw a movie recently about a group of strangers who became connected while fighting in the war in Iraq. Most of the movie focused on their lives after returning home...those who survived, that is. While most of them struggled and faced trials and experienced tragedies and in the end found something meaningful to help get them through the daily grind of life, there was one young man who eventually chose to go back to Iraq and continue fighting. Not necessarily because he was for the war, but because he was for his men. He felt it was his calling to support them, to give as much of himself and his skills as humanly possible simply because he could. He was young and able and unbound. At first, much the same as i imagine most viewers felt, i couldn't quite understand why someone with so much potential for life in general would choose to jump right back into the fire when he'd been given the chance to escape. And i'm in no way comparing myself to a soldier, but now i think i get it. When this young man came home, he became horribly confused and unsure about everything he'd ever known. He tried to make the best of it, but his heart remained in Iraq. He knew that he could be used to serve somewhere, and so he went back.

I'm still not 100% sold on the idea of moving to Colombia. For all i know, the sun will come up tomorrow and with it, Reason. But i'm starting to wonder if Reason is just another term for Excuse in the Idiot's Guide to Kidding Oneself.

In imminence, i wait.

the dinosaurs are happy tonight

My mother and i came home tonight with these big old grins on our faces. We had just finished talking to Gabriela and a bunch of the kids at El Camino, who were enjoying their first real meal in a while.

Somewhere around 1:00 this afternoon, we had the money wired down to Gabriela through Western Union. By 4:00, she had already paid off her debt to the grocer and was food shopping for the kids. On top of that, welfare finally came and delivered 100lbs of sugar and 300lbs of rice. The immediacy of the whole process was simply astounding, and even now i'm amazed at how in fact God goes about rewarding the faithful. Not only does Gabriela spend every minute of her life running a large home and taking care of abandoned children, she never worries about where her provision will come from.

Needless to say, Gabriela was very thankful, and so were the kids. We used the speakerphone again so my mother and i could both talk to them, and boy is that fun. Hearing their voices and giggles like that makes me feel like i'm right there with them...sitting outside in the warmth of the evening, watching them eat dinner with such gusto. The little ones would be kicking their legs back and forth under the tables while the older ones would serve them milk or juice. All of them asked when we were coming, even though they'd been told already a hundred times. They thanked us for the food and said they loved us.

I realized today that i'm always going to feel incomplete without these kids...without Brayan and Emilio and Marcos and Cristian, Melanie and Yessica...all of them so beautiful and all of them taking up another little space in my heart. And if i ever start to forget even a tiny piece of all that wonderfulness known as El Camino, i'm just one phone call away from remembering.

Thank you, God, for always remembering.

true religion

Almost everyone already knows at this point, but here's the official statement: We're going back to Colombia. And by we, i mean myself, my parents and three other people from my church, as well as six people from a church out of Michigan. It's a large team and most are new to the mission field, so i'm actually quite interested to see how the dynamics of it will play out. We leave July 9th, but it's never too early to start praying for us!

There are a couple of updates, and i'll start with fundraising. The cost of this trip is $1500/person, which is normal. We put together another variety show and raised a lot of money that night, which was pretty awesome. We've sent out all our letters and started the annoying but necessary harassment rituals with friends and family and yes, even strangers. But the coolest thing i think we've done so far is find sponsors for each and every child and staff member at El Camino. We handed out these large plastic bags to people and after they picked which child or adult they wanted to sponsor, they went out and bought some new articles of clothing to fill the bag with. A bunch of people even wrote little notes, which makes me excited for them because i know they'll be getting a response back. I can't wait to distribute these bags in Colombia. This will probably be the first time the children have ever received brand new clothing at the orphanage, nevermind clothes they don't have to share...it's certainly the first time we've brought them. I can already see the looks on their faces, and that fills me with joy. For those of us who've been to El Camino several times, it's going to be a great moment.

Unfortunately, i'm going to bring the mood down a bit. We were informed the other night by Gabriela that the children have no food right now. El Camino is facing severe hardships, and they've been struggling for a while but when the children are going hungry, you know things are pretty bad. There are several reasons we know of why this is happening, and probably more that we don't know. The first is longstanding debt. When we went to Colombia in November, Gabriela owed some money to someone for shoes that she bought for the children, so we paid that off. Now she owes money to the grocery store, which is enough to prevent her from going back until she can come up with the money. The other, more major, reason for the financial stress is lack of support. El Camino is a non-profit home run strictly by donations, and last month they were surviving off of 40% of their usual income.

My mother's been keeping my pastor updated over the last couple of days, and he's been amazing, determined to find some way to meet the immediate needs of the children's home. All of us have been reminded of James 1:27, the guiding verse behind every missionary: "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress..." And so my pastor decided it would be best to wire some money down to Colombia, which should take place tomorrow morning. We'll be sending them money to pay off their debt to the supermarket as well as some money for food.

It breaks my heart to stand by and watch the children in Colombia suffer. And yet, we're not just standing by. We're seeing a need, and we're meeting it. And someday, when we stand before God in the new Jerusalem, as it is written in the book of Matthew, He'll say, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me." Not, "You read your Bible every night and went to church every Sunday." Not, "You never uttered a curse or lashed out in anger." You took care of the orphans and widows. You put their needs before your own. You gave even when you had nothing to give. That is the religion of the God i serve.

I'm not patting ourselves on the back with this story, i'm reminding us all of what is truly important in life. Mainly, i'm reminding myself. Why i choose Jesus Christ, and why i believe. Because it's not about rules or trying to reach impossible levels of perfection or earn my way to an afterlife. It's about love...accepting it, and then giving it away.

tomorrow morning

I'm awakened gently, seduced from sleep by the warmth of the rays from the early morning sun on my face and the miscellaneous signs of life taking place all around me. I stir in bed, but my eyes remain closed. I don't want to open them just yet. I want to enjoy this moment to its fullest, to savor every aspect of its existence, to pretend as though this is exactly how i'm going to wake up every day for the rest of my life.

Children are laughing. Little feet are slapping on the porch as they run right by my room. Someone is sweeping the courtyard, the swish of the broom nearly hypnotizing. Dishes are clinking in the kitchen and i can hear one of the staff kindly ordering a handful of curious children out of the house. I smell coffee.

Finally, reluctantly, i open my eyes. The sunlight is pouring through in such a way that it's making pictures on the floor with the shadows. Someone has drawn the curtains to the sliding glass doors that take up an entire wall in this room, leaving only the sheer drapery underneath so that i can see everything going on outside. Efraim is cleaning the pool, little Carlos at his side. One of the boys is feeding the dog in the backyard under the lime trees. And two of the smallest girls are sitting right outside my doors coloring and chattering in Spanish, where every few minutes another child skitters by shouting. Eventually, they start walking back the other way, hidden under enormous piles of clothing. It's laundry day.

I should probably get up.

I don't normally roll out of bed this late when i'm here (and really, it's still quite early), because every minute is precious and each one not spent with the children feels like a loss. But i feel the extra half-hour of sleep today will be worth it later when i've got the energy to give them my undivided attention for as long as they need it. You can't be lazy here. You don't want to be.

I take the world's fastest shower and hop into some clothes and wander down the empty hallway, past the kitchen and the living/dining area, and step through the open door into the day. I am immediately bombarded with children - one hugging my leg, one with his arm around my waist, and one jumping up and down with his hands outstretched towards me yelling, "Lléveme!" I bend forward and scoop him up in my arms and demand that he kiss my cheek. He does, and then i tickle him. The laughter that tumbles out of his mouth is beyond infectious and makes my heart swell.

This is the perfect morning, I think to myself, but this is only half true. When i'm in Colombia, every morning is the perfect morning. No, there's no thunderstorm, i didn't sleep till noon, and i won't be eating waffles for breakfast. I also technically woke up alone. But none of that really matters. It's true that i never know what to expect on any given morning when i'm here. I may be waking up at quarter to four. I may have to hand-wash thirty plastic dining chairs or fold laundry for thirty little bodies. I may be drinking papaya juice for the seventh day in a row. But it's all perfect, every bit of it, every time. Because everything holds meaning. Every morning i wake up and there's a purpose waiting for me, a sense of joy that there's much to be done and so many special people to do it with. I'm complete when i wake and i'm complete when i fall asleep, and even if my dreams are filled with worries and doubts and insecurities, with the dawn always comes a new completion.

When i'm back in the U.S., i don't experience this cycle very often. I suppose part of that stems from the fact that i honestly consider Colombia my home now and really, how could i expect to feel complete when i'm so far from home? But i hold on to the possibility, the hope that one day things will change and no matter where i am or what circumstances i'm under, i can wake up and think to myself, This is the perfect morning. And i can't help but wonder what that will look like tomorrow...a week from now...five years...ten years. Will i be alone or drinking papaya juice or watching the sun rise or cleaning up vomit? Will i be getting ready for work or crying because of a bad dream? Will i be making pancakes so big they'll have to be eaten straight off the table, syrup and all?

I don't know. All i know is, a wise man with a guitar once pointed out that tomorrow is a long time...so i hope my tomorrow is perfect.

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.