Dear Chicago...: Today was beautiful

And then came day five. You know the drill- another day, another stop on the Attitude Express.

First, we went to the house. Half the team was building a local lady a new house. I clearly was not a part of that team- not because I’m a girl and I can’t build houses but because you haven’t heard anything about a house until now.

And also because I can’t build houses and I just so happen to be a girl.

Correlation does not equal causation… or the other way… or something… I don’t know... FEMINISM.

So anyway, we went to this house to dedicate it. This was the first that I’d seen the house, so I was kinda excited. Jordan Sparks led our march- Battlefield was playing LOUD from one of the neighbor’s houses. I sang along as long as I could but then I was out of breath because walking uphill and HELLO not in shape.

Then I saw the house. Bright green- like fluorescent- and small. It almost looked like the size of my brother’s shed which is parked outside of my parent’s house, at the end of the driveway. And this is her house, which she shares with a bazillion of her children and some grandchildren.

Cool. So we continue to climb the mountain and then I realize we have to climb these treacherous rocks in order to get to the door of the new house. Little lady who lives here is maybe 60 years old (?) and she has to climb these rocks whenever she comes and goes.

Again, cool. So I climb the treacherous rocks and reach the door only to find that there isn’t actually a great way to get through the doorway because the rocks that I had just climbed kind of drop off. So the others were grabbing the side of the door and sort of swinging themselves up into the house.

Perfect.

And then I was pissed. Because this sweet lady has this bright green house which she’s so proud of and it’s freaking tiny, has no indoor plumbing or electricity, is only 2 rooms, and you can’t even walk into the house properly.

So I refused to go in.

My apologies to everyone who offered to help me into the house. I didn’t want to do it because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that a 60ish year old woman would have to risk her life just to go inside.

What if it rained and the rocks were wet and she slipped and broke her leg?

Very possible.

Then she asked us all to go inside and sing together before we dedicated the house. So I parked the attitude express and I swung myself into the house for her. And I sang about how great and faithful God is. And she cried when we prayed because she was so moved and so grateful.

And y’all her house was literally built on a rectangular slab of uneven concrete. But she was so grateful with so little.

Then we left, and I spent the rest of the day cleaning a house on the base. Jess and I cleaned 3 full bathrooms before she started on windows and I took over the floors. I’m not a fan of cleaning up after other people- especially when it comes to bathrooms. Like I think I’d rather use an outhouse covered in spider webs for the rest of my life than have to clean somebody else’s bathroom. So climbing into these showers with long, black hair sticking to the sides was a real stretch for me. Lucky for you, I’m not trying to relive that experience.

Anyway, I intentionally waited for the rooms to be finished before I started in on sweeping and mopping the floors, but turns out I didn’t wait long enough. The woman who was helping us kept going back over things in the rooms that we had flagged as finished. She would find a single shelf that was un-dusted or a cabinet that was un-wiped and she would dust and wipe and then ask me to re-sweep and re-mop the whole floor.

I’m not kidding you when I say that I cleaned the floors in each room of that stupid house at least 4 times each.

And then God nudged me and said, Cait- would you not clean these floors all day long if you knew that I was moving in? Would you not clean each corner, each shelf, each cabinet, until the very moment I arrived?

Clean this house as though you were preparing it for me.

So then I rolled my eyes as I rolled up my sleeves and I swept the floor again. Because no way I would let the king of my heart sleep in a room with dusty windows. But enough about cleaning bathrooms because here comes day six.

Day six was probably my most favorite/the most uncomfortable/the saddest/the happiest day of the trip.

Day six we spent at a special needs orphanage called West Haven. Full disclosure- I didn’t want to go. I was so anxious that I actually got diarrhea the night before. Sorry to be so graphic, but I did say full disclosure.

Nothing in me wanted to go. I was scared. What if I said the wrong thing, or what if I was grossed out by what I saw? Or even worse- what if I didn’t know what to say?

But day six I wasn’t given a choice so into the bus we piled and around the island we went until we (quickly) arrived. We slowly filed off the bus as children and adults with a variety of special needs confidently approached.

God, let me see these people as you see these people.

I stood there awkwardly, not sure where to look or where to go. I debated getting back on the bus to give myself a much needed pep talk when suddenly I was being led forward.

I looked to my right and a little man in a gray t-shirt had looped his arm through mine. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

“Come on in”, he said as he continued to direct me forward, patting my arm as we walked. He walked me down the little road, into the heart of their home where he unhooked his arm from mine and gave me a quick hug before limping away.

And then I was head butted by a lady that called me “baby, baby”. To be fair, I was warned about this woman and knew that the hug she was pulling me in for was just for show. It was an excuse to get me close enough so that she could smack her well-conditioned forehead into my poor, unsuspecting forehead. So at the last second I turned my face and she ended up nailing me in the right ear which hurt a lot less than I expected. That was definitely the lowest point of the day, but she quickly moved on to her next victim and I was free to mingle with less physically violent folks.

I soon found myself sitting at a picnic table with several people crowded around a boom box. I sang along to the songs that I knew, and the rest of the time I just watched and smiled at the kids. When they’d see me watching them their faces would light up and then they’d squeeze their eyes shut and “sing” even louder.

Not many of them could sing by our definition, but in their hearts man- they were freaking Madonna.

One little boy was standing on the table shouting HALLELUJAH at the top of his little lungs. Like he must’ve seen some old school southern Baptist revival services because this kid was LIT. It’s possible that he also had some anger management issues, because later he hit me pretty hard- unprovoked. But man, hallelujah kid knew what was up when he was worshipping. I’m thinking maybe next time I’m on keys at church I’m just going to HALLELUJAH my way through each song. On the other hand, I better not. He gave me goosebumps, but I’d probably just freak everyone out.

While I was sitting at the picnic table, a little boy with red sweatpants came up and sat on/beside me. He had a naked baby doll with him. One minute he was petting the doll and softly whispering in its ear, and the next he would swing it around by its leg while hollering something that made him laugh hysterically. I smiled at him, and asked if he loved his baby. He responded by sticking his tongue out and licking the doll from its chin to the top of its head. Then he held the doll out to me, as if he wanted me to show my affection for the doll in the same way.

I politely declined, of course.

Then hallelujah boy came over and threw the doll to the ground which ticked red sweatpants boy right off. The unnecessary aggression was not appreciated. My time at the picnic table came to an abrupt end.

There were several young boys- maybe early teens- who would walk around with us girls with an arm thrown protectively across our shoulders. Reuben was a little ladies’ man. He looked like he was maybe 10 years old, but he acted like a solid 17. He quickly made each of us girls his special girlfriend. He’d wiggle his eyebrows at us, hold our hands, sit on our laps, and he was constantly puckering up in preparation for kisses that he didn’t receive.

Reuben made me laugh with his persistence. He refused to take a picture with me, so I refused his advances and would not call him my boyfriend. This didn’t go over well- as you can imagine- so before long I gave in.

He, however, did not. So here I am- one of Reuben’s many girlfriends yet I have no photo to show for it. Typical man.

Then there was William. His smile made me smile. He had several stick-on Iron Man tattoos. So we compared ink and Dan and I admired how brave he was to trust his friend to put an Iron Man tattoo on the back of his neck.

William also liked to show off his muscles so there were several gun shows throughout the day. He liked to compare muscles with the guys on our team. And the show couldn’t end until we felt his muscles and praised him for his strength.

But his smile was the most memorable- the dude smiled constantly. When I asked if he would take a picture with me, he threw his arm around my neck before I even had finished the question. He pulled me close- cheek to cheek- and smiled until Aly confirmed that the moment had been captured. It took a long time because Aly was helping one of the other kids take the picture. Then he looked at me and we both laughed all over again.

At lunchtime, we were asked to help the staff feed some of the kids who were unable to feed themselves. I was timid. I walked around sheepishly, didn’t look the nurses in the eye, steered clear of the rooms where the lunch was being served, and generally avoided anyone who I thought would ask me to help with feedings.

I thought I could trust my uncle Randy, so I joined him on the porch and we chatted a little bit before he straight up said, “Cait, go ask that lady who you should feed”.

Betrayed by my own uncle and he didn’t even know it. I slowly walked over to the nurse- because Randy was watching and I basically didn’t have a choice- and I smiled and said, “Could I feed him?”

I was praying that she would brush me off and be all polite like, “Nah, I got this!” but home girl practically ran into the kitchen to get the bowl of food for the little boy in front of me.

Great. So there I stood, in front of a little boy in a blue t-shirt, laying down in a wheelchair with his arms folded awkwardly by his sides and his knees pulled up tight to his chest.

One of his knees was under his shirt, almost up to his neck. I looked at him and I thought- how in the heck am I supposed to feed this child? There was no way that this was going to end well for either of us.

And then the nurse came around the corner with a bowl of food and a spoon. As soon as this boy saw her, he sat up so straight, so fast. Like lightning speed.

I’m not kidding y’all, I almost fell over. I was so shocked.

You can sit!? I shouted at this poor child. And then he laughed at me.

Ha, God. Good one.

After we all ate lunch, a bunch of us got our phones out and started taking pictures with the kids. The best thing happened shortly after the phones started to appear. I watched as one of the kids walked up to a guy on our team and he pulled a small, rectangular piece of wood from the pocket of his tattered jeans. He held it up in front of his face, just as we were doing, and he took a picture of Dylan, with his wooden iPhone.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I compartmentalized the memory for later.

One boy, we called him Vanilla (because his name sounded something like Vanilla but no one was really sure what he was actually saying) proudly walked me to the gate when it was time to leave. I asked him to walk me out, and he nodded his agreement, taking the job so seriously. Never have I felt so protected and loved as I did in that moment, with Vanilla proudly escorting me to the bus. He gave me a tight hug when we reached the gate, and I almost didn’t let him go.

Only a few hours earlier I wanted to live the rest of my life from the safety of that bus, but suddenly I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving these sweet, sweet people.

The day ended so fast- almost too fast for me to feel as though I was able to fully appreciate the beautiful souls I had just met.

Later that night our team debriefed together. The conditions of the West Haven facility, the state of the children who were confined to beds for their entire lives, the food that they ate, the clothes they wore (or didn’t wear)- it was all hard to see.

A lot of us were struggling with the question- why? Why is this their reality? What purpose are they serving?

Randy shared a little bit of his experience from the day. He was singing a worship song with a girl named Crystal. She spent her days sitting in an outdated wheelchair, unable to talk, walk, or feed herself. Crystal loved to sing, so many of us sat and sang with her throughout the day.

Randy shared that while singing, God answered his ‘why’. Crystal’s purpose is to worship God.

William’s purpose is to worship God.

Reuben’s purpose is to worship God.

My purpose is to worship God.

We are all the same in that we were created to worship and bring glory to our God. No number of disabilities or special needs or outdated wheelchairs or ripped jeans or wooden phones can change that.

And let me tell you, these kids worshipped. They threw their hands up, they shouted hallelujah, they clapped their hands and stomped their feet and they worshipped. They didn’t dwell on circumstances.

They didn’t use their physical limits as excuses. Heck, they didn’t even know that they had physical limits.

I saw a boy rolling down the hill, in his wheelchair, with the biggest smile on his face. He was flying.

I saw a girl being pushed in her wheelchair as she raced a member of our team. She was running.

I heard a boy slurring his words as he swayed to the music with his eyes squeezed tight. He was singing.

And then I thought about little girl’s blue sheets, and that cardboard iPhone. I couldn’t even remember the color of my sheets at home. I couldn’t remember the color and I had changed them just before I left.

I thought about the iPhone I had previously which was seriously damaged in a tragic work related incident. The iPhone has one button, and mine was so badly broken that the button literally fell out. I waited for months, desperate for October when it was finally time for my update because I was so embarrassed by my button-less iPhone with the cracked screen that cut me when I swiped my thumb a certain way.

Suddenly I was ashamed because of how thrilled little girl was that her sheets were her favorite color, and I had no idea what color mine were. I was ashamed because that boy wanted to capture a moment like I do constantly and with little thought- and he didn’t think twice about his wooden iPhone.

I have all this stuff- but do I even need it?

I have mint colored sheets that are so soft I feel like I’m sleeping on a cloud. I have an iPhone that can basically read my mind (I’m lookin at you, Siri).

But do I need an uncracked iPhone or fancy sheets with a high thread count?

Or do I need exactly what those kids had? Jesus and joy and friendship and love.

And then Jess- bless your heart, dear Jess- she said exactly what I needed to hear.

I don’t need a fancy job title in a plush corner office or a rich husband or a big house or even my own house. I need Jesus. The rest doesn’t even matter because Jesus is enough. My purpose is the same as little girl’s purpose, red sweatpants boy’s purpose, hallelujah boy’s purpose, bossy girl’s purpose, and William’s purpose- and that is enough.

And suddenly I felt this huge burden fall from my shoulders because even though God has told me to wait, I can still fulfill my purpose. I can still be who God wants me to be even while I wait. What a relief! My purpose doesn’t change even when my life changes.

Boom, what freedom.

Day six was like a breath of fresh air in the most unexpected of ways.

And then day seven was spent on the beach and it was on day seven that I knew I was in love.

So in love, that when the strange man on the street offered to give me my very own platinum credit card if I stayed with him, I honestly paused for a moment to consider the offer.

Not because I want more stuff, but it seemed like he would be cool with me spending all of my time on the beach. And I wanted that beach, man. Plus he also tried to sell me a copy of his latest reggae album so he’s obviously motivated. Then he tried to sell me weed so he’s got to be an entrepreneur. And he was practically proposing to me, a complete stranger, so he’s outgoing and confident.

But then I realized I would miss my dogs too much so I said forget it and moved on. God bless the lucky lady who will one day accept that kind young man’s offer. She’s #blessed.

The beach day was great. We went snorkeling and it’s safe to say that I’m a big fan. Did you know that there’s like a gazillion fish in the ocean?! There are. It’s great. I tried to be real still so I could touch one of them, but then I’d get freaked out when they’d swim towards me and I’d move and scream a little bit. So that didn’t work out.

We also went to Margaritaville which was just as great as it sounds.

I reluctantly left Jamaica on day eight. I left with a new perspective, an appreciation for where I am in my life, a love for Jamaican bananas, and at least four boyfriends.

The trip was wildly successful. I’m wondering why I waited 24 years. Probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And for real, when can we go back?