February
February reinstated the daily and weekly routines of classes and homework. Looking back, it was not an extraordinary month. Nothing thrilling or outstanding took place. In fact, the days plodded along at a steady pace. But, let us not search in the rarities of life to find source for celebration. Instead, I would love celebrate a few everyday occurrences with you.
February 26th was two of the teen girls’ birthdays as well as a special event at school, so Izzy, Naomi and I all accompanied the kiddos for the day. The bus ride home was hot, and everyone was tired after a day of activity. The sun was relentless and the jolts and bumps of the road were rocking many of us to sleep. When the bus needed a rest (it’s a past its prime), Tío Marco, the driver, stopped at the corner store to buy a 2L of Sprite. As we passed cups, sharing the crisp soda, we were revived, and someone started singing “Happy Birthday”. Pretty soon all the us joined, and, pausing, I looked around. Mary Luz, a five year old, sat in my lap. Around me, kids who have grown so near to my heart were singing, smiling, celebrating two of their sisters. We were sweaty with streaks of dirt on our faces. But, with our cups of soda and the joy in our hearts, I doubted anyone on earth was richer than we were.
One night I was watching the little girls while the Tíos took a very rare and very deserved night off. “Make me a servant” is a song my mom sang to me as a child, and I often sing it to the little ones when they are upset or crying — a reminder to myself to love as Jesus loved as well as a way to comfort them. They asked for that song this night before sleep, and I gladly sang it along with other hymns and sillier children’s songs. I read and sang until each one had fallen asleep. Going around to each bed afterward and praying for their souls and lives, wiping sweaty hair off their foreheads and watching their gentle breathing felt like a sacred privilege.
Tuesdays, I get to tutor the boys. Usually, I work with the youngest, but last week, I helped his older brother. We walked over to the English classroom, escaping the distractions of doing homework in a roomful of nine other energetic boys. After working for a while, we took a break: tossing a beanbag back and forth. My classroom has little furniture and one empty window — no glass or screen. A benefit of only having one bookcase and nothing of value in sight is we could throw as hard as possible without fear of breaking anything. Jesús and I started to throw faster and stronger and faster and stronger. Then, we started throwing the bag against the wall and attempting a catch before it fell to the ground. Right after this new twist, Jesús threw the beanbag with all his might at the wall. It flew straight out the vacant window and continued flying. Jesús and I stumbled to the ground laughing. We made eye contact in that moment, and the shared joy and surprise brought connection.
That connection lasted. Just the other night, the whole home was celebrating with a pizza party outside. The boys love to tap my shoulder as they walk by, continuing on their way as if they weren’t guilty, but really side-eyeing me to see if I noticed. At our evening party, Jesús meant to do just that, but instead of a gentle should tap, gave more of a shove. (I think he was stronger than he intended to be; I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.) I immediately took off after him, giving him a playful push back. We started a game of tag (though “shove” would be a more accurate title) that lasted throughout the night (at intervals). He got some energy out; I got some good sprints in; we both shared smiles and laughs. These moments of connection would be special with any child, but I am especially thankful for them because Jesús and his brother have never known consistent familial love. Sharing love with them is a heavenly honor.
On Thursday evenings, I teach a discipleship class to the youngest girls. We meet in my English classroom right as the sun is hitting at its most golden. The girls have finished homework for the day, and a feeling of peace reigns. Our curriculum answers the question, “Who is God?” In our second lesson, we learned God is our friend because God sees our need, gives us good things and protects us. I love teaching these simple but profound truths. A God who is attentive to my every need and fulfills my ultimate need, a God not only of power but of presence, a God I can always lean on in my weakness is a God who is a joy to serve. On this particular Thursday we memorized Jesus’ words, “I no longer call you servants. . . Instead I have called you friends.”
This month, Eva, one of the girls in university, asked me to make banana bread with her multiple times. I thought she would get tired of the same recipe, so I offered to teach her something new. She said she was trying to become a master of this, so she could sell it for a little extra income. (She would have an edge on the market — banana bread is practically unknown in this corner of the world.) Each time we baked together, she opened up more about her life: past and present struggles. I think being able to make something well gives her not only safety but a sense of control and ownership. The last time we baked together, she did the whole process while I washed dishes. After pulling the muffins out from the oven, she smiled contentedly over them and said to herself, “Three eggs made that.” And I added, “and your two hands.”
For the past three years, I have hosted a Valentine’s art night for my girl friends in San Luis Obispo. This year I was not able to keep exactly the same tradition, but Izzy, Naomi and I did host a little party for the transition girls. We painted, played games and ate together. I told them about my sister, Emily, loving to celebrate these random holidays with us sisters, and they told me about an obscure holiday in March, “Remember the Sea” Day, where Bolivians are called to remember their history when they were still connected to the coast. We will be remembering the sea together this upcoming month.
Just one more ordinary blessing.
“Opportunities to love often come disguised as interruptions.” - Lorraine Maksoudian
I think about that truth often. And I was thinking about it when, after a day of teaching, one of the eight-year-old girls bounced into my classroom. She had missed English class due to a doctor’s appointment and wanted to make up for it. I was tired and wanted to go rest, but love gives us strength. So, I sang the songs with her and let her put up the weather and day-of-the-week clips. We practiced the alphabet and wrote numbers from one to one hundred. We made silly jokes, and she practiced sounding out words. All-in-all, I think we spent one hour informally learning. Rossi is constantly growing, and she has a desire to learn. Getting to praise her over and over again gave her the confidence to try again when she messed up. I am praying that these little moments can teach her she is loved with an everlasting love.
February felt ordinary and lacked pizzazz. But, everyday is a gift. And, if this is how I get to spend my days, I am rich indeed.
Praises
School. As school has started, the kids have gotten into a good rhythm. My biweekly tutoring sessions and impromptu homework help has strengthened connections with the kids.
Discipleship. I didn’t know what to expect when I started teaching this Thursday night study. A night of chaos with tired and ornery children? A five minute lesson while I held the attention of two kids and the others ran around?
I was praying for a time God could touch the kids’ hearts, but my expectations were low. So far, each class has been abounding in peace. I also reached out to Lorraine Maksoudian, who I learned from while aiding in her first grade Sunday School class, telling her I was loosely following her curriculum. She told the children’s director, who reached out to me offering to send the Spanish version for me to use! I didn’t even know a Spanish version existed. The hours of prep I’ll save I can use to give more one-on-one time with the kids.
Transition Girls. Last month, these girls were pressing on my heart. This month, God answered my prayers to connect more deeply with them. I have been able to individually connect with many them as well as spend time with them as a group. I am praying for their hearts as they are in the midst of determining their life’s priorities and paths.
