Today’s been so long, I had to make another list.
This is:
Kayla’s never-thought-she’d-be-thankful-for-but-was-tearfully-surprised List
- Rain, because it reminds her of home.
- Her Song of Eve book, because even though she’s read it five times, it still takes her away from where she is.
- Her baby sister, because she really is her lovely best half.
- The color dirty-grass green, because it means God’s still got a plan.
- Her passport, because with it she can head home.
- Her imagination, because it helps her eat U.M.O. (unidentifiable and moving objects)
- Sobs, because they let that really tight and icky ache her throat go away.
- Hugs that are a bit too tight, because they remind her that if these kids can do it, so can she.
Only a cup of cold water. That’s all God asks for sometimes, and too often it feels like too much. The cup is too far away; the water is too hard to find, filter, and cool. All God asks of us is obedient and humble service, but all I can think about is all I’m missing out on at home.
That solitary cup of cold water feels heavy and it freezes my hands. How can I carry such an icy and weighty burden?
God, give me patience with myself, so that I can remember that change takes time. Give me the wisdom to know that tomorrow will worry about itself. And God, give me the strength to simply make it through today. One day at a time, God, one day at a time. Please be with my family and Don. Hold us together in your hands. Bring me peace. Much more of you, much less of me…
September 3, 2007
Before I forget, I want to write down what Maximo, our house dad, did for Ashley and I last night. The girls had been acting up a lot and the weekends are always really hard for me anyway. I think I was asked if I was okay, if I were sick, why I was sad, etc. About 5 times each... Anyway, after evening worship he asked Ashley, Orquedia, and I to go for a walk. We thought we had done something wrong and were going to be split up; Ashley and I somehow ended up grasping each other’s hands tightly. Instead of a harsh rebuke however, we heard him almost tearfully explain how hard it is to be in charge of a houseful of older girls. How you can tell them to go to bed, but that doesn’t mean they’ll sleep. Or to come to worship, but you can make them love God. He just wanted to make sure we felt welcome.
At the end of the road, there’s a tiny store that has everything, and I do mean everything (except good food) in it. He bought us each a soda. At nine p.m. I drank a quarter liter of caffeine because I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. I’ve never loved strawberry pop more. It’s a beginning. A start. A simple and genuine gesture of appreciation. I may just find a home in the Dominican.
Earlier today I was wondering if I’d ever be able to accept where I am. Will I ever be able to appreciate the orchestra for what and where they are? Or will I forever need to close my eyes and pretend I’m at the symphony in a silky dress sitting next to Don. Do I have to pretend every time I hear the violin that Jared and Nathan are stroking the strings and the hard bench I’m perched on is really a cold metal chair? Can I ever stop hoping the hand rubbing my arched back is my grandma’s and not my sister/friend’s? Or that the voices loudly bantering outside are familiar and English…?
God, I miss home, but don’t let me leave here unchanged.
September 3, 2007
Why I think I’m here:
- To hear the stories of shattered homes, to feel my heart shatter, and to only be able to mutter “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
- To smile with all I’ve got, even though I’m breaking inside, to receive a grin of a kid who was caught staring.
- To experience heartbreak and never think twice about kissing the dirt-streaked face who felt it long before me.
- To make a never-thought-she’d-be-thankful-for-but-was-tearfully-surprised list.
- To say “I’ll succeed when I can get my boys to hug me” and have three rush to my waist.
- To shake the hand of the campus’ crazy and not rush to the sink with soap afterwards.
- To greedily read the gospels.
- To listen with my heart, and learn that I have twice as many ears as mouths for a reason.
- To laugh until my stomach hurts about a joke I still don’t understand.
- To wonder if playing the cello will free my heart’s song.
- To lost weight because there really isn’t much, look down at my “food,” and then at everyone else’s, realizing that I have twice as much as they do.
- To wash my clothes until my fingers peel, and my hands cramp and my arms ache. Minutes later I know I’ll rush out to help the girl who had the chore after me.
- To be thankful for the life I’ve lived, knowing full well that it will never be the same again.
“Porque ire adonde tu vayas, y vivire donde tu vivas. Tu pueblo sera mi pueblo, y tu Dios sera mi Dios.” Rut 1:16
I always thought I could do what Ruth did. Leave all she knew out of loyalty and strength of will. I am being proved wrong day after day. I could not leave all that I’ve ever known solely because I loved the mother of my dead husband. Look at me! I left with my best friend and I’m in shambles. There’s no kinsman redeemer waiting here to buy my land and sweep me off my feet…
The cutest thing happened in class today though. First/Second was more obnoxious than usual and I threatened to force one of the boys acting up to sing all by himself up front. In an attempt to subdue the class, I offered the question to everyone. I watched mouths shut and eyes lower to the floor, slowly however, the hand of the tiniest girl inched its way up past her toothless mouth and braided hair. “Profe, yo quiero a cantar.”
I motioned her up front and got down on my knees. She clasped her bitty hands in front of her and swayed gently for a few seconds. Ever so quietly she started to sing of her best friend Jesus who was always with her, and held her when she cried. As the she lisped through the song, her eyes lifted from the floor and up to mine. I smiled and nodded my encouragement, only then noticing my tear-blurred vision. My heart was wrenched from my chest, and has now been given to every little girl who wants to sing, to every little boy with a crooked smile and lazy eye, to every student who struggles with my broken Spanish, and to every child who just needs a chance.
September 7, 2007
Random cravings/happy list:
The sound of an alarm clock. Pine cones. Cold milk. Ice cubes. Crosswalks. Costco muffins. My moccasins. “A White Christmas.” Daddy’s voice. Kari’s handwriting. Jeep rides with Mom. Eric’s guitar serenading. Mom’s coffee cake. Jeff’s crazy driving. The Perk. Sunglasses. Alex’s jokes about Jared Hiscock. My hard-chaired spot in the library. Texting. High-speed internet. Taking stupid pictures with my phone. Business day. David Bowen. Contra dancing. Professor Eggbert. Finals week. Sleepytime tea. Dancing in my underwear up and down the halls. Campfires. Shorts. Swimming. My Gap man jeans. Arguing. Mail. Asphalt. Bicycles. Don’s hugs. Don’s laugh. Don. Snickers candy bars. Long fingernails. Bug-bite free skin.
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