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I woke up in the morning from my alarm clock, but when I got out of bed I realized that it wasn't mine and that I still had 20min of sleep left. I hit my head on the bunk above mine as I sunk back into my flat, toothpaste stained pillow.
I went to get breakfast which wasn't very filling but was very tasty. I met the rest of the team and was encouraged to share my testimony with them, (considering our goal is to share it with the children we come in contact with). I was starting to get pretty good at it. Not that I was shy at first but rather in the sense that I had crafted my story into a more concise and structured story complete with a conflict, climax, and resolution. We got on the bus to go to the orphanage and were encouraged to share our testimonies again with someone we didn't know. I have to say, I was truly enjoying listening to other's testimonies, but I was getting tired of telling my own. It sounded so... Christian.
I spent most of the morning pretty quiet, drowning in the estrogen sea. You know it's funny, girls will have a plan but they won't stick to it. They get easily sidetracked. For example, we were going around in a circle playing a name game and about halfway through a girl said something about herself that sparked a conversation between her and another girl. It started out like a normal conversation but it eventually turned into a conversation race, each one speaking so fast that it seemed like they were competing against each other. Meanwhile the rest of us were just gawking awkwardly in silence, and the next thing we knew it was time for us to leave. I felt bad for the half of the group who didn't get to introduce themselves because of this extreme digression. If we couldn't complete a goal of finishing a name game, who's to say we can control an entire VBS lesson?
God can.
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During our planning for VBS, I tried to take charge thinking that we would need a solid plan in order to be successful. As I said earlier, I was scared of hurting the children as opposed to helping them. If you have the chance read the book, "When Helping Hurts" by Steve Corbett and Brian (Fikkert?). It's a good one.
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When we got to the orphanage, we got a little explanation of the home's mission and then the kids slowly leaked out from the inside. Next thing I know everyone is playing with kids except for me and a couple others, but there was no more room! I eventually decided to be a man and to just sit down and play. I grabbed some balloons and sat next to a group playing with Play-Doh. I fused the Play-Doh around the base of the balloon, weighing it down and giving it punching bag properties. I had a lot of fun with the "punching balloon" creation, but the kids had more fun simply blowing up the balloons and releasing them into an atomic frenzy.
We played for about four hours and during that time I had a lot of laughs, saw many cute faces, saw kids make fun of my mannerisms, saw many bored faces, and saw a lot of confused faces from Americans who can't speak Spanish, including myself. Even though I can hold an intellectual conversation in Spanish, the kids tended to just blankly stare at me ignore me when I was struggling to communicate. One thing I noticed that I thought it was interesting was how similar the children were to those in my Mom's 4th grade class in low-income Denver. The older girls thought I was weird and lame (as I noticed by judgmental stares) and the boys flat out ignored me considering there were 22 other beautiful American women, willing to give them attention. I just lied though. I think the children liked me fine. The young ones will have fun with me, but as I've noticed from my Mom's 4th grade class, it seems like the older ones put me through a "testing" phase to see how I react when they're mad. Makes sense because anyone one be friendly and nice when everything is chipper, but when things go wrong a persons true colors shine. I think this theory of mine is interesting because it's almost as if they test people because they don't trust them because of some sort of natural instinct. Almost as if they feel like they've taken the fall for something and we (men) should have been there to lead them. Hmm, strange coincidence? Or proof of God and the human condition?
I also lied when I said that the boys ignored me. They interacted with me, they just showed more affection toward the ladies, which I suppose is a good thing.
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When we left the orphanage, and we all said goodbye and gave hugs, they told us that they loved us. I didn't get a single hug. But I figured I never hugged them either, so who's really at fault?
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As the day progressed I grew ever annoyed at the "soppy-ness" of everyone, and the stereotypical Christian lifestyle that I always tolerated until I read Blue Like Jazz, which is also an awesome book; however I am coming to the realization that while there are many truths in Blue Like Jazz about man-made religion, the majority of my attitude comes from my realization that I don't know how to love. Maybe that's why I don't have a girlfriend.
"God, I truly love you. But I pride myself because I can't love myself. And since I can't love myself it's impossible to love others, which makes it impossible to love You. I guess that also makes me a liar. But that's ok because You died for me so that I may truly love you the way You designed me to. I think I know how to love others I just have trouble demonstrating it. Lord, guide me like a beginning golfer, taking your arms around my body and grasping my hands, guiding me through the entirety of the swing so that my drive can nail a hole-in-one, that way your Spirit, the golf ball, can fill the hole that is in all of our hearts. I want to love children without words. Maybe I wasn't sent here to perfect my Spanish, but rather to learn how to love without words."
God,
Love,
Jory
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