Dear Chicago...: Still not 35

Back at it again because this was one whole week and we've only just discussed the first two days! You ready to read some more? Because imma write a whole lot!

Day three allowed for more ‘just wait’ moments. Luckily by then I was allowing myself to be okay with the idea, so the attitude workout didn’t hurt as much. Day three we spent at an orphanage, loving on and playing with kids of all ages.

This was the first orphanage I’ve been to, and I was surprised in the best way. I have a sensitive spirit and certain places really affect me. Does that make sense? Places affect me on a spiritual level. That sounds weird, and I’ve tried rewriting that several times but I can’t word it in a less odd way. So deal with it.

Honestly though- the atmosphere of buildings affects me in a deep way. So I was thrilled when I walked into this orphanage and was immediately bathed in natural light streaming through windows and giant doors. I had prepared myself to carry the heaviness of the orphanage- to carry the hurt, the pain, and the hopelessness that I expected to feel.

I blame Annie for this one- Annie and her scrappy pals and Miss Hannigan. I was prepared to see orphans dressed in rags scrubbing the floor until it would shine like the top of the Chrysler building! Is that the line? Whatever- that’s not what I saw.

I stood in the entryway, surrounded by photos of happy, healthy kids, and I could only smile. The light in the building was something I couldn’t get over. It was almost tangible- and heavy with all of the best things: love, joy, laughter, hope.

There were some six year old kids that a few of us played with during their recess time. Except I don’t think they call it recess, because I asked one of them “is this recess?” and he just stared at me. So I’m not sure what that was about.

First we threw a Frisbee around- until the only six year old girl threw it onto the roof of their school building. So then we played with a soccer ball until someone head butted it over the side of the mountain. Luckily the ball was retrieved but then the kids decided it was too valuable to risk losing so we put it away. After that we just watched the boys race down the hill on their scooters.

No fear- except for me. I had fear because

1. They kept almost running into me and

2. There were like five of them and they all FLEW down this hill at the same time and I was sure they would crash and then it would be like a 40 car pileup on the Turnpike.

Thankfully there were no accidents.

Unless you call asking yet another Jamaican child to guess your age. You're 35.

No kid, I'm not 35.

Are you sure?

Unfortunately not every orphanage had the same peaceful presence. Day four we visited an orphanage that was more like what I had been expecting. The hallways were narrow. The lights were fluorescent and harsh. The floors were concrete and cold. The sadness, hopelessness, and hurt were thick.

The children clung to us. One little boy wanted me to hold him. So I did, and he pointed in the directions he wanted me to walk. He didn’t want to play, he didn’t want to slide or swing or sit down beside me- he just wanted me to hold him. So I stood on the playground, holding this toddler, not sure what to do while slowly losing feeling in my arms.

Then I remembered that my aunt Lynda always talks about the memories she has from when she was young of her mom singing while she held her. So I started to hum. Of course, no Jesus-y worship songs came to mind right away (oops), so I hummed Wagon Wheel, One Direction, some JT- you know, the classics. All this time I was softly patting little boy’s back.

At one point I stopped humming and patting because someone came over to talk to me. Little boy immediately lifted his head and started grunting and smacking my back with his small hand. I wasn’t sure what he wanted- I thought maybe he wanted me to walk around with him. So I started to walk and he just beat my back faster, almost like he was in a panic.

Then I realized that his grunting was actually a very aggressive form of humming, and his smacking my back was a more panicked pat.

So I stopped moving and resumed the humming and patting and he stopped, laid his head on my shoulder, and softly patted my back with his little hand.

I mean, just shatter my heart- yeah?

All too soon it was time to go. I told him it was time for me to leave and he wrapped his little legs around my waist, his arms around my neck, and he held on for dear life. I slowly walked inside and with each step he tightened his arms and legs around me. I laid him down on the mattress on the floor where two other toddlers had already been placed and he looked up at me with big brown eyes and then he started sobbing. Like hardcore wailing.

My heart was crushed. He didn't say a single word to me, but he freaking broke my heart. I could hear his cries as I left the building. The bus ride back was quiet.

Day four we also went back to the school from day two. One girl excitedly announced to the rest, “yes, they’re back!” when she saw us waiting again outside.

At one point while interacting with the kids, I made the mistake of asking two girls if they were friends.

“No”, the first girl said to me. “I’m not friends with her because she’s too bossy.” The second little girl’s face fell and her shoulders sagged as she looked to the ground.

“Oh no!” I quickly replied. “She’s only bossy because she has great leadership skills!” The second little girl lifted her head, her eyes lit up.

“I do?” she asked, her voice dripping with innocence, her eyes filled with hope.

“Yes, you do! You’re going to learn how to be a great leader, and guess what? The world needs great leaders” I reassured her.

“But I don’t know how to be a leader” she admitted, with defeat threatening to take over her sweet little face.

“Oh child, but you will. You’ll learn. And one day, you might lead us all.” The second girl’s smile covered her sweet, small face as I said a quick prayer of thanks for Pinterest and whoever it was who created the pin that says all girls who are told they’re bossy should instead be told that they have leadership skills. Because no way I could’ve come up with that response on my own.

#pinterestsaves #Jesussaves

The rest of day four was spent moving the remains of a house from one pile on the base to another better organized pile on the base.

I wish I was kidding. But they did tell us that it was helpful, even after we made fun of ourselves for relocating the pile just up the hill. Still, it kind of felt like a waste of time.

Either way, I like to think if God is cool with telling us that it’s okay to do nothing and wait, then God would also be down with us wasting time by moving a pile from place to place.

Day four was actually a big day because we went to another orphanage that evening. This orphanage was happy too- the kids were older and they had every right to be angry and hurt, but they were happy. They played barefoot soccer, they showed us their toys, they gave us tours, and they opened up about their lives.

I met little girl- she wasn’t actually little- she was 12- but somehow little girl feels like an appropriate name for her. Anyway, she immediately started telling me all about herself. She likes the color blue, she likes science and language arts, she plays football, she loves Tommy Lee, she taught herself to play the recorder, and she’s going to be baptized on the first Sunday in February.

Little girl also proudly showed me her bedroom, which she shared with a handful of other girls. Bunk beds lined the walls, clothes were overflowing from plastic bins, and backpacks were scattered on the floor. She asked me to guess which bunk was hers and was pleased when I picked the bed with the blue sheets. Never had I met a 12 year old so excited about her blue sheets.

I tried to imagine a 12 year old American girl- proud of her bed sheets and the fact that she can (sorta-kinda) play the recorder. It's (sorta-kinda) impossible. When I was 12 I was mean. I'm not kidding- I was mean. I was looking through my mom's prayer journal from when I was a preteen (she told me I could), and it was filled with my mother's prayers for my troubled heart.

Caitlyn's been acting out again. Caitlyn seems so angry. I don't know what to do with her. Caitlyn has such a bad attitude right now.

Mom used to give us "Attitude Workouts"- they were just as terrible as they sound. We had to do chores until we apologized for having such a crappy attitude. And when you're 12 and your mom tells you that you've got an attitude, pretty much any chore that she assigns you is better than apologizing because in your stupid little mind, you're not wrong- mom's wrong.

I was so freaking stubborn and I REFUSED to apologize. It got so bad that there were times when all the chores were done and mom would make me sweep the basement steps. Seriously. I knew I had her right where I wanted her when she would send me to the basement steps with nothing but a dustpan and brush. Except that I usually ended up crying because I knew that she was frustrated and I felt bad. But my point is- I was terrible.

And I had a mom and a dad who loved me. I had siblings. I had my own bedroom. I had a basement with steps. I had a dog. I had a piano (which I hated). And what did little girl have? She had parents who for whatever reason couldn't raise her. She had a bedroom that she shared with at least six other girls. She had a flimsy recorder. She had blue sheets. And she had a happy heart.

What could we possibly have in common?

Then little girl turned out the lights in her room and showed me that she had a galaxy on her ceiling.

And I gasped because when I was 12 I had glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars too. Still have them, in fact.

God bless the creators of glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars, because little girl was so proud.

This kid refused to eat. I couldn't relate.

A framed photo of each child.

Her old man hair had me cracking up!

I wasn't the only one who almost got taken out by boys on scooters.

Nichi accidentally referenced her wedding photos which she had access to on her phone. Then she started yelling, "No! Don't take it off airplane mode!" and I knew she needed help. So I took a picture. Then I helped.