El orfanato dia uno | Orphanage day one | Rachael

Friday, March 1st, was orphanage day number one. Often when you think of “orphanage” you think of boatloads of little kids running up to you as you enter. Not this orphanage. From my past conversations with the director I have learned that this is more of a second home as opposed to an orphanage. Many of the children in this home have parents but their parents left them for either financial reasons (couldn’t afford to take care of them), because of social stigmas...or who knows what else. Regardless of who does and doesn’t have parents, I have been at this orphanage on 7 different days now (over three years) and I’ve only ever seen one visitor; he had a camera and was going around snapping pictures. That is the lot of these children. That, and they’re all severely mentally and/or physically disabled. As I’ve said in a previous year’s writing: it is the land of misfit toys. They’re all “broken” somehow.

This day brought much joy to me as a leader, other chaperones, students in the group, Hermania (a beautiful nurse in the upstairs room) and to the children. But the day also brought much sorrow as well. When we arrived the students were paired up: one that I felt would competently and confidently “lead” (aka approach the beds of children) and one who I felt would be more hesitant. As it turned out very few of this year’s students needed a partner. Most were able to approach beds on their own. They showed incredible...courage. I suppose you can call it.

Throughout the day students ventured where they felt comfortable, when they felt comfortable. There were many tears shed by many different people. Students were shocked at the reality of the lives of these children: children who look like they’re three but are five or six. Children who should be able to walk but they do not have any muscles in their legs so they scoot around on the floor instead. Children who have (likely) spent eighteen years in their beds, with their only view being a white ceiling. Children who are completely non-verbal. Children who smile with touch. Children who smile, and sometimes even laugh, with song. Children who follow you with their eyes, for that is all they are physically capable of. A child who’s determination in trying to remove Nick’s watch, with rigid hands and little body movement, was more than admirable. A child who loves to clap; who can clap all day long and not get bored. A child, who I fondly call window-boy, who spends much of his day staring out a small window, watching the street below. A street he will likely never tangibly experience. People he will never meet. Life he will never be a part of. Yet he waits and watches. A child who has a mangled ear. A child with a severely misshapen skull because of hydrocephalus. A child, Anderson, who has Down’s Syndrome and is a fireball. Another child with Down’s who wants to run and play with these Canadians. Children like Gregory, Kevin, Rotida, Jose Luis, Joselito, Carolina, Anderson, Tommy and Ricardo. And then, this being my third year coming to this orphanage, I find myself wondering what happened to some of the children I’ve known from the past, most notably: “dame un peso” (give me a peso) boy. (He would ask people constantly for a peso and he would put it in his plastic container.) We have moved on, lived our lives, experienced the world and many of these children are in the same beds they were a year ago.

Chaperones were encouraged to be “them” that day and do what they needed to do to cope, thus students needed to more heavily rely on each other. The students were incredible. As one wept, another (or two, or three) were there. As one asked questions, another listened. As one was alone, another went to be present. As one cried, another lent their shoulder. As one was afraid, another led the way. When one got tired of carrying a child, another took over. It was a pristine example of community.

Circle time started with regular roses and thorns. Then we went around a second time and pointed out any good that we saw anyone else doing throughout the day. Although I can not remember what I said verbatim, here is a taste of my observations of the day:

- Kristen, Val, Lauren, Teresa, Evan, Brooke and Allyson (and others I can’t place) giving up their lunch time to feed the children there

• Seth and Lauren spending the morning with Carolina. Lauren spending the entire day with Carolina
• Seth having boundless energy, smiles and love for any of the children that crossed his path. I’m biased as he is my brother, but I’m proud of the way he interacted with these children. He interacted with them in the exact same way as he interacts with his nieces and nephews. He saw through their physical and mental imperfections and loved them as just plain kids
• Teresa supporting Piccolo. Who’s kidding who? Teresa supporting boatloads of people: loving on the kids there and supporting her peers as they did the same
• Nick Piccolo spending the day with Rosie and Nick helping her as she tried to grab his watch
• Adam spending much energy carrying a girl around the outside of a room, to every window in the room, every time they made their rounds, stopping at each window for a couple seconds before moving on to the next window. This went on for at least a solid hour. And as they approached each window both Adam and the girl absolutely beamed
• Elliot spending time contemplating life, four feet away from window boy...just watching the world go by
• Nick Weening being a rock, floating, doing his thing, being the first to go to the teenage boys...going to the beds where others had difficulty going to
• Jason and Brad connecting with Kevin: a boy their sister (on the trip two years earlier) spend three whole days beside the bed of. Watching the brothers support each other was beautiful.
• Addy spending time with “Linda”: a girl of 18-20 who looks like she is 8. She is, for the most part, unresponsive
• Evan doing his best to take kids to the outside world. It sounds like a simple task but many kids here don’t see outside very often.
• Hannah running through the courtyard chasing some rugrats, never turning any of them away.
• Pedro spending the first part of the morning watching from a distance, asking questions, pondering, chatting with Brad...processing. Then there was a different Pedro: interacting, laughing and running around with the kids
• Mark hanging out with his amigo Tommy. Tommy remembers Marco’s name :D
• Val spending over an hour with a boy in a crib upstairs
• Will spending time with a boy two beds away from Val’s boy. This boy kept trying to get closer to Will, despite the boys limited body control and strength
• Kristen being willing to go upstairs without a peer, just chaperone Nick, to spend time with the older teenage boys there
• Amanda didn’t hide her frustration, questions or contemplation. She sought me out to ask questions and process
• Ben, within 0.7 seconds of being in the place, had three kids hanging off of him. But then later Ben sat beside the bed of a boy who was immobile and non-verbal (my guess is he’s about 8). The boy cried. Ben did all he could to ease the boys crying
• Joel spent time upstairs, more than an hour, with the most non-responsive child in the home. That is hard. To give and actually get nothing in return.
• Brooke spend 3/4 of the day with the same little girl, sitting by her crib, trying to provide as much love as possible. The day ended with a smile...which was hard work for Brooke to get!
• Vicki not being afraid to set the emotional tone for the entire group. She started the day with watching and contemplating and ended the day with smiles and interactions
• Miraya giving a child a shoulder ride and as Miraya slipped and tumbled to the ground, she protected the child
• Katie and Ang sitting beside the bed of Joselito, the boy with hydrocephalus, for hours as others in the group found it too hard to do so
• Allyson sitting beside the cribs of children singing away: about frogs and countless other “pre-school” things. Her spirit never decreased.
• Erica hanging out with a girl in a wheelchair, Dory. I girl with a big smile and a desire for conversation. Erica worked on her Spanish and spent time with Dory - and time is a beautiful gift.

As exhibited in Monday’s stories, this group processes things quickly. The ‘orphanage’ was no exception. Big questions were asked. The main conclusion drawn today? Life indeed is not fair. The two hour circle time at night was a time that “shouldn’t” happen with a group of teenagers. It was real. Raw. Honest. Emotional. Thoughtful. Encouraging. Insightful. Aware. Supportive. Safe. Reassuring. Hard. We sang like we wanted the kids at the orphanage two hours away to hear us. We worshiped. We prayed. We shared. We were vulnerable. Each of us was vulnerable and that is a wonderful thing for vulnerability is key to authenticity and authenticity is key to group.

We will head back to the orphanage tomorrow, March 8. During last week’s circle time I received many thanks for getting this organized. I received more thanks and appreciation afterwards. Some asked this week what the plan for Friday was. When I said we were going to the orphanage the reply was, “Yes! I love it there!”

So, parents, orphanage days are hard. But if your children are any indication, I think they’re good with it. They seem excited to go back, despite the difficulties that come along with it.

Pray for us tomorrow and in the future weeks as we continue to unpack how this place and experience are to influence who we are and how this place and experience represent this crazy world we live in.

rachael

PS: There are no pictures to go along with the orphanage. This was a decision made three years ago and each group continues to adopt this idea.