I have the strangest feeling that my life is not going to be at all what I expected. This is particularly odd because I’ve never really had any expectations of what my life would be like at all. So to feel like it will be different, different that what, I wonder? But the feeling is still there.
It’s like that story where the woman prepares her whole life to go to Italy, saves her money, studies the culture, learns the language and then is suddenly surprised to find herself landing in Norway (or wherever). It’s still a beautiful country. There are still many adventures to be had. There is still the opportunity for a beautiful life there, but she is entirely caught off guard and unprepared. There it is, a beautiful life to be had with many beautiful experiences...completely different from what she had envisioned.
Again, I hadn’t ever really envisioned anything. And along with any heartache, that comes with it, I’ve always (nearly always, certainly as an adult) had an underlying calm about things and life in general. I know that the Savior loves me. I know that I can try again, even when I get frustrated with my own laziness and inability to make myself try hardly at all. I knew the opportunity was there. The opportunity to be happy in any circumstance. In any location. Perhaps my job choice is merely a subconscious effort to prove that point over and over, every three months. :)
When I decided to go on a mission I had one thought in mind: I want people to know that they can be happy. I want them to know that whatever their story is or was, or will be, they can be happy, even through the hurts.
Are there hurts? Please, are there ever not hurts? Are they ever too much? Sometimes it certainly feels like it. Can you pick yourself back up? I wish sometimes I could stay down, but surely enough, a few minutes, days later I find myself hopeful again. Blast that unquenchable hope and underlying knowledge that there are still things to enjoy once the hurt has had its moment. It’s embarrassing at times. To be so maddened and upset at one moment to find myself only a short while later singing the praises of what fun ride this life is.
And it really is. I’ve always seen this life as very short. It’s amazing how one can always feel like they’re right in the middle of their life. But I do. I have very strong memories from the time I was very young and I remember thinking, even then, how quick this life would fly by. I also remember knowing that I didn’t want to waste it. That I want to soak up all the wonderful things, and all the fun that this first time mortal can conjure up to endure, like tasting new wonderful foods for the first, or even disgusting foods for the first time. HA! (Frog legs. Yuck. Not that I’m the most adventurous person with food. Just that I enjoy learning and growing in this crazy, short life.)
When the topic of this life is brought up at church and how we all rejoiced at the idea of coming to earth and being blessed with the gift of agency, having to push through difficulties, heartaches, and overcoming weaknesses, and constantly having to correct ourselves and drag ourselves back to the path, I still get all excited.
I think to some extent, we all do. When kids ask for a puppy I think they really are excited to take care of it, feed it, walk it, clean up after it. I think they know exactly what it will entail and it enthralls them. Of course, like the rest us with this life, they get lazy, they get distracted, they get bored, or think there is something more important than the puppy (or whatever else it is we want) that they wanted so badly in the first place, the puppy and all the challenges that come with it.
We’re created to love a challenge, or at least growth. I’m terribly lazy and my faith lacks more in myself to care for a puppy, or do what it takes to get, keep, maintain the “puppy” rather than the promised and sure reward that will come from having whatever it is that I want. The exhausting, constant, tedious, re-correction, that in the end is part that means the most and that we become most proud of.
We’re more proud of the culmination of events, dedication and survival of preparing for a the marathon when we cross the finish line than those last 26.2 miles we just completed. These are all metaphors I assure you. I’ve never run a marathon. Not yet anyway. I did train for one once though and got up to 17.5 miles...then I got strep like 6 weeks before the race. But that’s another story for another time.
I don’t claim to be a motivated or productive person. In fact I think I score very low on both ends of those measures. But it doesn’t mean I don’t see joy in the today and for whatever reason am very excited for the road ahead, whatever it is.
This is kind of on point, but probably more off point. I think about this subtly when I think about my dad. His birthday is coming up and I’m trying to think of the appropriate way to celebrate. There are so many to choose from. And any or all of them would have some sort of sweetness to them.
The hurt is still there. He’ll always be dead. Time can’t fix that, like it can the frustration of a friend canceling plans, a failed work out, a bad day at work, or a bad haircut. For the rest of my life, I won’t have a father. And nothing is going change that. But it sneaks up at the oddest times. And strikes the most unexpected cords some times. But even while I’m releasing the tears, whether they be of fond memories, or past hurts, I know that when the hurt has had it’s bittersweet moment (because sometimes it feels good to hurt-it forces you admit that you care-and that there are things worth being hurt about...that your soul is shapable), I will continue on again and, sometimes despite my best efforts, find joy in life again.
Do you know that when my father died, and since, only three people in the entire world asked if I was okay? Many offered condolences. Many asked questions and were kind and it was all well-received and very appreciated. But only three looked me straight in the eye (well, two looked me straight in the eye the other via phone, I could tell was sincere, and was really asking, choked me up at the thought of someone seeing through me in the midst of it) and asked how I was doing. It meant the world to me. Just being asked was enough. I didn’t even need to respond.
But like I said, despite the hurt, there is an underlying calm. A peace, happiness, and assurance that all is right in the world. Not that everything will eventually be right, but that right now, even during the hurt, everything is just fine. I’m just as capable of picking up right now and enjoying life (even enjoying the ability to care enough to hurt) as I will be in ten years or was ten years ago. It’s supposed to be that way, and it’s useful. And it’s wonderful.
So here I sit, looking at my beautiful Christmas tree decorated in memories (I used pictures of family, children in Ecuador I fell in love with, and pictures of really good moments that remind me of exactly how I felt in that particular moment), feeling like my flight has just be redirected to some unanticipated path. I look forward to looking back on it, like I do the pictures on my tree and being amazed at all of it.
I’d love to promise you a post about how I end up celebrating my dad’s birthday but we all know I don’t have that kind of follow through.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Me Again...another Ecuadorian tangent.
I may have mentioned this before, or many of you know, the past few years were pretty rough. And although I thought I got through them just fine and had returned to normal life, I really hadn't.
Ecuador brought me back to life. It was a big catalyst for me. And although, it's something I have always wanted to do, and plan to continue to do (the whole international travel/volunteer thing) the timing was quite perfect.
Time had done all it could do in the healing me from my Father's passing, the scare of my mother's cancer, and letting go of a guy I really cared about but new it would never work, but I didn't have that spark/zest for life again yet. And I didn't even know it.
Through these years I still found plenty to be happy about and some things to entertain me. And I don't know if it was just because I was bored or if it was because I was a bit numb. If I was numb I didn't know it, but looking back I can see how maybe all my resources were put into "getting through" that I didn't have much of me left for anything else. (And I did it all alone, which is sometimes easier, and sometimes harder.)
Either way, Ecuador came at a perfect time. I feel pleasantly guilty for how much I got out of loving those children. Whereas I always thought of everything in terms of plane tickets, I now think of everything in therms of orphanages and children and getting back there.
My poor ENT who told me I need to get my tonsils out, (I do, they're really bad. It's quite disgusting), who had me break down in his office in tears because of how much it would cost and me sobbing, "But that's orphan money!" I felt like an idiot.
And I realize that I will remember them much more than they me. I just hope that if I do get to go back to Ecuador the orphanages will let me back in to volunteer. (My sister-in-law, Kelsey-who btw, is one of the coolest people I've ever met- got me in the door the first time. I don't know if she knows how cool she is...) Ecuador will only let you in for 90 days in a 12 month period. By the time I could go (May) and by the time I save the money (set back majorly by the tonsil-thing...if I ever find a way/someone to babysit me when I get them removed), they most likely won't remember me or be fine with me just walking in the way I did before.
When I was there I felt totally alive. Couldn't wait to think of something else to do with the kids, to watch them grow and progress. And I had a good enough report with the staff and those who ran the orphanage that I feel like I was getting into a position to both know what would be useful there, and had their trust enough to start adding/making changes that would benefit the children and the home as a whole.
(Thanks to everyone who gave, especially that last minute effort to get the propane tanks. We were- able to buy two of them, for the record-so that the kids could have warm showers. What they really need now though is showers. I think there is one or two for all 52 children at that orphanage.) I'm sure we could do that without too much trouble...get them showers I mean. I don't know. I don't know what it would take to build like a little bathroom/locker room. The teenagers were clean for the most part, but the younger ones I don't think were cleaned/showered very well/often. And anyway, like I said, I no longer have the report I had with the staff to have them let me start a project like that. It takes time to build a relationship and I don't want to just walk in and step on toes or act like I know what's best. Because it also takes time in the orphanages to see what they, for me to even know/recognize what would be helpful.
(The books were a MAJOR hit! But I was there almost 2 months before I knew that's what might be most beneficial to that orphanage at that time.)
:) Like I said, I think of everything in terms of orphanages now, rather than just plane tickets. That was quite a tangent to prove my point though.
Those kids brought me back to life. And even though I'm home now I've been changed. The flip has been switched back to "on' and I care about things again. I'm excited about things again. I care about learning, and knowing, and doing, and loving. And I'm calm. I feel like me again. And I'm so excited to be back. I owe those kids myself.
Ecuador brought me back to life. It was a big catalyst for me. And although, it's something I have always wanted to do, and plan to continue to do (the whole international travel/volunteer thing) the timing was quite perfect.
Time had done all it could do in the healing me from my Father's passing, the scare of my mother's cancer, and letting go of a guy I really cared about but new it would never work, but I didn't have that spark/zest for life again yet. And I didn't even know it.
Through these years I still found plenty to be happy about and some things to entertain me. And I don't know if it was just because I was bored or if it was because I was a bit numb. If I was numb I didn't know it, but looking back I can see how maybe all my resources were put into "getting through" that I didn't have much of me left for anything else. (And I did it all alone, which is sometimes easier, and sometimes harder.)
Either way, Ecuador came at a perfect time. I feel pleasantly guilty for how much I got out of loving those children. Whereas I always thought of everything in terms of plane tickets, I now think of everything in therms of orphanages and children and getting back there.
My poor ENT who told me I need to get my tonsils out, (I do, they're really bad. It's quite disgusting), who had me break down in his office in tears because of how much it would cost and me sobbing, "But that's orphan money!" I felt like an idiot.
And I realize that I will remember them much more than they me. I just hope that if I do get to go back to Ecuador the orphanages will let me back in to volunteer. (My sister-in-law, Kelsey-who btw, is one of the coolest people I've ever met- got me in the door the first time. I don't know if she knows how cool she is...) Ecuador will only let you in for 90 days in a 12 month period. By the time I could go (May) and by the time I save the money (set back majorly by the tonsil-thing...if I ever find a way/someone to babysit me when I get them removed), they most likely won't remember me or be fine with me just walking in the way I did before.
When I was there I felt totally alive. Couldn't wait to think of something else to do with the kids, to watch them grow and progress. And I had a good enough report with the staff and those who ran the orphanage that I feel like I was getting into a position to both know what would be useful there, and had their trust enough to start adding/making changes that would benefit the children and the home as a whole.
(Thanks to everyone who gave, especially that last minute effort to get the propane tanks. We were- able to buy two of them, for the record-so that the kids could have warm showers. What they really need now though is showers. I think there is one or two for all 52 children at that orphanage.) I'm sure we could do that without too much trouble...get them showers I mean. I don't know. I don't know what it would take to build like a little bathroom/locker room. The teenagers were clean for the most part, but the younger ones I don't think were cleaned/showered very well/often. And anyway, like I said, I no longer have the report I had with the staff to have them let me start a project like that. It takes time to build a relationship and I don't want to just walk in and step on toes or act like I know what's best. Because it also takes time in the orphanages to see what they, for me to even know/recognize what would be helpful.
(The books were a MAJOR hit! But I was there almost 2 months before I knew that's what might be most beneficial to that orphanage at that time.)
:) Like I said, I think of everything in terms of orphanages now, rather than just plane tickets. That was quite a tangent to prove my point though.
Those kids brought me back to life. And even though I'm home now I've been changed. The flip has been switched back to "on' and I care about things again. I'm excited about things again. I care about learning, and knowing, and doing, and loving. And I'm calm. I feel like me again. And I'm so excited to be back. I owe those kids myself.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Dating on the Run
Inevitably one of the first questions people ask me when I move somewhere is, what on earth do I do about dating if I move so much.
The truth is, I’d do just about anything for the right guy. I’ve even made some good faith gestures to let the universe know that I’m open for anything. However, I some times feel like it backfires, or is misinterpreted.
You see, I’m only somewhere for approximately three months at a time. (Although it sometimes ends up being longer than that, if I like it, like the nine months I spent in L.A.) Now granted, that isn’t a whole lot of time to get to know someone, but in my book it’s long enough to know if I’m interested, and that on the off chance that I do meet someone, I can always extend for another three months just to see where it goes.
To me, this is the perfect set up. Staying somewhere I like for another three months, isn’t a huge commitment, and if it means I get another three months with someone I like, to figure out it’s worth yet another three months, great. Major bonus. I also see it that if I end up staying three months and things don’t work out, neither one of has had our lives interrupted, and BONUS, you don’t have to run into someone you’ve dated previously, over and over again, no matter how well it ends.
The universe doesn’t seem to understand my logic, however. The universe, or rather, guys, still see me as a flight risk. Not understanding that I just figure everything will work out just fine eventually. I’m sure this leads to uneasiness and a lack of ability/desire to get close/trust, whatever to believe me when I say I’m interested. I’m sure of it because I’ve had guys say it to me.
Obviously, I haven’t been interested enough, or they haven’t been interested enough (or believed that I would stick around for them if things did go somewhere) for me to actually stick around indefinitely.
I have put out into the universe (admittedly, always more for the universe than the guy, thus far) those good faith gestures, you know just to let the universe know, that I would stick around to figure things out if necessary, by signing up for additional contracts in the area where I thought there might be something with the guy.
Now obviously, as I’m newly in Dallas, and very, very single, there wasn’t ever really anything worth sticking around for, but the universe should really know now that if I needed to I would, for the right guy. Or even just for a guy that seems like he could be the right guy. If he’s not, no worries, I can go back to traveling.
A lot of guys, and even people in my life, wonder if I really have any interest in meeting someone. Sure I do.
Many I think, feel like I’m “running away from something”. Nope.
I would love to find someone and create a life with them, even if it was only in one place. I don’t see it as scary or confining, I just see it as a different kind of adventure. Truth.
I live the way I do now because it works for me. It works very well. It allows me to enjoy the advantages of being single. And I might as well enjoy those advantages now. Just as I intend to enjoy all the advantages of being with someone if and when that happens.
There are many people who think my life is super exciting (And I admit, it has it’s moments ;), but it can be kind of dull sometimes, too).
I’ve never been an either or kind of girl, so I plan on having both. I think I’ll love being single. And when I get married, I intend on enjoying every minute of that as well, and will love it even more.
I hope this clears some things up. Or really, maybe it’ll just give me a reference page to hand to all the people that have and inevitably will ask me this question again the next time I move :).
I’m super excited to meet someone and have a family, which will include at least a few orphans ;). (Too bad Ecuador doesn’t let you choose the child, otherwise I would seriously be in the works right now of bringing my kids home, which would include a permanent job near a good support system.) But the reality is that I don’t have that now.
I don’t see marriage as a trap or confining or undesirable. Quite the opposite. I see it as my greatest and most exciting adventure ever! (Think “My Adventure Book” from UP :).) I very much see it as something I look forward to and hope to have one day. But in the meantime, I think I’ll live it up anyway. And be quite happy to do so.
So, right guy, when you find me, don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
And the dam breaks
I miss my kids in Ecuador. I feel like I
loved each one of them SO much and then they are just suddenly taken
away from me. :/ I was thinking about that a lot tonight and trying to
figure out how to get back to them, and if I do get back to them, how do
I get back to them again after that and how long could I stay and could
I make a difference, and how do I get them all the things I want them
to have. And not just stuff, but like the love and attention and
encouragement and knowledge of possibilities. I feel kind of selfish for
how much good it did me to love them. And to be loved back. I miss them
so much. I actually couldn't talk about it for a while when I first got
back. Too much. it was just too much. I loved them too much and missed
them too much that telling people about it seemed trivial in comparison
to what it was.
I have 3 weeks when this job ends before my next contract, and although it will completely blow all the tiny bit of money I will have recovered-and then some-from this most recent job, I'm looking in to figuring out how to get back there, if only for those short 3 weeks.
Having been down there and knowing how things work, and what they have and don't have, I know better what to bring with me and what help I'd like to try to provide. It's on my mind quite a bit.
...And so is the wonderful shawarma ;) and potato soup.
I have 3 weeks when this job ends before my next contract, and although it will completely blow all the tiny bit of money I will have recovered-and then some-from this most recent job, I'm looking in to figuring out how to get back there, if only for those short 3 weeks.
Having been down there and knowing how things work, and what they have and don't have, I know better what to bring with me and what help I'd like to try to provide. It's on my mind quite a bit.
...And so is the wonderful shawarma ;) and potato soup.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Meet Maria Belen and little bits of BIG Happiness
I’m surprised how long it’s been since I posted something. I guess I just write these in my head or jot down notes and forget that it never quite made it all the way to the blog. I came back on here yesterday to find a link for the paypal button for a few friends who really wanted to help. God bless ‘em. I think God must be a big fan of children, especially ones in need of a little extra love. Turns out there are a lot of amazing people out there who’ve got the extra love to give. I’m so happy I got the chance to be here and to see so much good in the world. Thank you to each of you who have offered, prayers, financial assistance, encouragement, kindness, and many combinations of these and more.
I must let you know that people here, here in Ecuador, are generally the friendliest and kindest people I’ve ever met. And I’ve lived a lot of places. They are more than just kind, they are very giving. I’m always surprised by how many people hand over change to anyone who asks it, whether it be a street performer juggling between stoplights, a person jumping on a bus with some spiel or song, or even just a beggar woman who’s in the same spot everyday probably making a killing off of people’s goodness and generosity, they give. I’m always surprised just how many of them do give.
I have to relate a story to you that happened to me just last night before I forget to write it down and I will also try to get additional past stories up for you to read as well. (Even if I’m not the best at writing/keeping a blog just know that goodness is here and the children I work with...if you can call work-I love every minute of it-continue to melt mine, and many others hearts. And although I only got to be here a short time...just shy of 3 months...I’ve loved as much as I could. I’ve done as much as I could. And even if the only life here changed is mine, it has been changed forever and for the better. I do hope that the love I’ve given, or should I say that God himself allowed to just pour, no flood, right out of me, makes a difference to these little ones. (In fact, I loved one little girl so much she got a bit jealous the last time I came to the orphanage and had to take time away from my talking practice to help another little boy who fell. She cried for a long time and just looked deserted. I can’t say that I didn’t feel a little bit of sweetness in that moment. I do hope that someone continues to work with her after I leave.
Speaking of which, thanks to many of you and another baggage miracle (if you don’t remember the first one, or if I didn't post it here...I don't remember...I was over weight by like 4 pounds, I almost had to leave some stuff behind and the lady at the counter let me take out some of my own books (my scriptures: Bible and Book of Mormon), she weighed the bag and was like, "hey look it's good", printed the tag and then let me put my books back in. this made sure all the donations and my scriptures, really everything I'd packed made it to Ecuador. :) ) a plethora of books will be arriving tomorrow! In fact, 5 boxes of books and developmental toys arrived at a friend’s house and he will be transporting ALL of them to Cuenca, Ecuador in his suitcases. I really believe that this sweet girl (approx 1yr 3-4mos old)-who is so full of happiness, I just refer to her, and her baby sister (6mos-ish old) who looks just like her-as liquid sunshine, will take to the books so rapidly that who ever comes after me won’t be able to stop her from talking once she starts getting read to. In fact, I’m going to have her saying at least 5 new words before I leave this next weekend. I WISH I could show you pictures of these heart thieves. And so you that bright smiles of the faces of the children you’ve helped, but gladly the government does protect them and I’m not allowed to post pictures of them on the internet. (If I’m every in person though and you’d like to see them you can bet that I’ll be so excited to show the photographs of these angels...and terds. Funny how kids can be both and so often at the same time. Aaaaaah, little buggers! I’m tearing up just thinking about their smiles and mischief.)
I will describe this one little girl to you at this time though...you know, instead of getting to that story from last night that I initially intended to write first. I doubt you’ll mind the side track though. :)
She is light as a feather and so small you wouldn’t expect her to be able to be so incredible and agile and balanced as she is. She’s an expert walker even though she looks too young to walk. A pixie really. She is black...well African American, but I can’t really call her African American...I mean I guess she could be. More likely Caribbean? Islander? African-South-American? Whichever is correct, or whatever you prefer. I guess she’s just Ecuadorian to me, or really she’s just a cute piece of heaven to me, with slightly darker skin and tight black curls, yes, a little fro. It’s short, or looks short and tight against her head. Lots of hair, a little pixie sized afro. And the BIGGEST smile you’ve ever seen with lots of excitement lines around her eyes and mouth when she does smile. Her eyes are beautiful, too. Super dark. Almost like a mirror (I’m so glad there’s another one just like her-her baby sister/clone.) In fact, the other day when I walked into the orphanage I mused to another volunteer, “does her hair suddenly looks like a whole lot bigger?” We both giggled as we realized her hair was definitely...bigger. Later that morning the speech therapist (I think that’s her title) came into the room we were playing in and patted her head and started laughing. My Spanish is horrible, but I did understand the story. She, the therapist, had tried to brush out--I’m pretty sure with an actual brush--out her hair. She said the little girl wouldn’t have any of it and hated having her hair brushed, but brushed it was and the more it was brushed, the bigger it got. Hence, the aforementioned, new...bigness. She was so extra cute that day with her poofy hair. Now big hair or not this girl is the happiest little thing I’ve ever had to pleasure to meet. I can’t believe anyone is just born that happy. Let alone able to be SO happy SO many times over SO little. At the mention of her name this little girl is rendered immobile. She gets so excited by someone saying her name that she smiles so big you think the skin on her little face may stretch so far it’ll never go back, and doubles over, more like curls into a ball and can’t move. If you happen to be holding her when you say her name she’ll wrap around your hand (or arm, but really she’s so slight that you can hold her with just one hand) like a little potato bug (aka rollie pollie bug). She laughs so hard she only squeaks at the very beginning then can’t make a sound for the duration of her giggle just jiggles like a silent Santa Claus. I love this little girl so much. I’m so glad God made a clone. her baby sister-also at the orphanage-will light up just the same when given any kind of attention. It’s as if the entire human race could be rebuilt from ruins just with the glow and happiness contained in the tiny little package of this one little girl.
She’s like the all-spark for the human race (for those of you who know transformers ;).)
Back to my story from last night. I was chatting on Facebook, of course about my time here and how I don’t have much left, specifically about wanting to get some propane tanks (for hot water and fuel for cooking) for one orphanage (the one with 51 kids...that’s a big hot water and cook need)...that they have asked help in getting when someone, Amy Awesome Big-Hearted Sharpe, mentioned posting on my old San Diego ward’s Facebook page (a ward being what we call a specific geographic congregation in my church). Now Amy has already done a lot with helping with books and so much else, wanted to be able to contribute as well. So I posted on the Pacific Beach ward’s Facebook page and on my status as well that the opportunity to serve had once again come. I was overwhelmed by the response. In fact, some people who probably don’t even want others to know they’re big ol’ softies, donated as well. An old friend from High School that I haven’t seen since caught the conversation and donated. Even a sweet cousin (Cherie-yes you) who I remember only meeting a few times when I was young (thanks Facebook for keeping family reachable). People just want to help. Not only do they want to help, people, given the opportunity WILL help. Even some that may not have much to give, give, and wish they could give more. I found myself wishing I could help. My heart was bursting with how many wonderful people there are in this world. There are so many people who showed me what I want to be. People I wish I was more like. I was absolutely glowing by the time I headed home from the internet shop last night, bursting with gratitude and the excitement of being able to go to orphanages and tell them, “YES! We can help. We can get you the propane tanks. YES! We can make needed repairs, and YES there is good and beauty and God in this world.” As Mother Teresa says, “God does still love this world. He loves it through me and through you”. (Or a very close approximation of those words. She repeats that several times in a book entitled, “Where There is Love There is God”.)
I can’t believe with as many good people I know I ever forget that. That God does love this world, and also according to a friend, “Kindness...it’s contagious”. It totally is. And thank you for infecting me.
Anyway, so here I find myself walking home, starving, and fully infected wishing I could pass this on RIGHT NOW. Wishing I could give and share the love that I’d just been filled with. I detour a Pizza Hut I’d seen near my house to pick up some dinner and to honor my American peeps who’d just donated...and because it’s my last week here and it’s Saturday night. Turns out it’s 2 for 1 night at Pizza Hut. What I’m going to do with one medium pizza, let alone two is craziness. The lady seems stunned I don’t my second pizza, but really, WHAT am I going to do with a second pizza. Again, I do not speak Spanish, but we all got each other when I turned to the lady next to me and asked, “tu quiero?” She smiled, I smiled, the cashier smiled, her teenage son (or kid with her, don’t know if it was her son) smiled. We all smiled. And she got a free pizza that night. I know it’s silly and small, and didn’t cost me anything, especially compared to what many of you gave, but I’m sure it made her night. Or at least made her smile for that time. It was a kindness of another human being. And she appreciated it. And good humor filled that little Pizza Hut waiting room.
I thank God for that little opportunity to...pay it forward...I guess one could say. Because I was about to explode with happiness, gratitude, and desire to give more. I’m glad that silly little opportunity came my way.
It really is the little things. The one dollar, the ten dollars, the free cup of coffee (or hot chocolate in my case ;) --Mormons don’t drink coffee ;)...) on a any given day, especially one when you’re in a funk and don’t deserve someone to be nice to you, that makes all the difference. And even if one can’t give something tangible, the kind word, the whispered prayer. It all, though small, makes the biggest difference in the world.
I’m glad to know such good people, including these children that I’ve grown to love so completely. It’s makes me want to curl up like a little potato bug around God’s strong hands, I’m so excited and happy. :)
Maybe this is why I don’t post so often...a small post turns into several pages of me gushing. :)
Also, for those who were looking for it here's the link again so you don't have to scouring through old posts to find it:
I must let you know that people here, here in Ecuador, are generally the friendliest and kindest people I’ve ever met. And I’ve lived a lot of places. They are more than just kind, they are very giving. I’m always surprised by how many people hand over change to anyone who asks it, whether it be a street performer juggling between stoplights, a person jumping on a bus with some spiel or song, or even just a beggar woman who’s in the same spot everyday probably making a killing off of people’s goodness and generosity, they give. I’m always surprised just how many of them do give.
I have to relate a story to you that happened to me just last night before I forget to write it down and I will also try to get additional past stories up for you to read as well. (Even if I’m not the best at writing/keeping a blog just know that goodness is here and the children I work with...if you can call work-I love every minute of it-continue to melt mine, and many others hearts. And although I only got to be here a short time...just shy of 3 months...I’ve loved as much as I could. I’ve done as much as I could. And even if the only life here changed is mine, it has been changed forever and for the better. I do hope that the love I’ve given, or should I say that God himself allowed to just pour, no flood, right out of me, makes a difference to these little ones. (In fact, I loved one little girl so much she got a bit jealous the last time I came to the orphanage and had to take time away from my talking practice to help another little boy who fell. She cried for a long time and just looked deserted. I can’t say that I didn’t feel a little bit of sweetness in that moment. I do hope that someone continues to work with her after I leave.
Speaking of which, thanks to many of you and another baggage miracle (if you don’t remember the first one, or if I didn't post it here...I don't remember...I was over weight by like 4 pounds, I almost had to leave some stuff behind and the lady at the counter let me take out some of my own books (my scriptures: Bible and Book of Mormon), she weighed the bag and was like, "hey look it's good", printed the tag and then let me put my books back in. this made sure all the donations and my scriptures, really everything I'd packed made it to Ecuador. :) ) a plethora of books will be arriving tomorrow! In fact, 5 boxes of books and developmental toys arrived at a friend’s house and he will be transporting ALL of them to Cuenca, Ecuador in his suitcases. I really believe that this sweet girl (approx 1yr 3-4mos old)-who is so full of happiness, I just refer to her, and her baby sister (6mos-ish old) who looks just like her-as liquid sunshine, will take to the books so rapidly that who ever comes after me won’t be able to stop her from talking once she starts getting read to. In fact, I’m going to have her saying at least 5 new words before I leave this next weekend. I WISH I could show you pictures of these heart thieves. And so you that bright smiles of the faces of the children you’ve helped, but gladly the government does protect them and I’m not allowed to post pictures of them on the internet. (If I’m every in person though and you’d like to see them you can bet that I’ll be so excited to show the photographs of these angels...and terds. Funny how kids can be both and so often at the same time. Aaaaaah, little buggers! I’m tearing up just thinking about their smiles and mischief.)
I will describe this one little girl to you at this time though...you know, instead of getting to that story from last night that I initially intended to write first. I doubt you’ll mind the side track though. :)
She is light as a feather and so small you wouldn’t expect her to be able to be so incredible and agile and balanced as she is. She’s an expert walker even though she looks too young to walk. A pixie really. She is black...well African American, but I can’t really call her African American...I mean I guess she could be. More likely Caribbean? Islander? African-South-American? Whichever is correct, or whatever you prefer. I guess she’s just Ecuadorian to me, or really she’s just a cute piece of heaven to me, with slightly darker skin and tight black curls, yes, a little fro. It’s short, or looks short and tight against her head. Lots of hair, a little pixie sized afro. And the BIGGEST smile you’ve ever seen with lots of excitement lines around her eyes and mouth when she does smile. Her eyes are beautiful, too. Super dark. Almost like a mirror (I’m so glad there’s another one just like her-her baby sister/clone.) In fact, the other day when I walked into the orphanage I mused to another volunteer, “does her hair suddenly looks like a whole lot bigger?” We both giggled as we realized her hair was definitely...bigger. Later that morning the speech therapist (I think that’s her title) came into the room we were playing in and patted her head and started laughing. My Spanish is horrible, but I did understand the story. She, the therapist, had tried to brush out--I’m pretty sure with an actual brush--out her hair. She said the little girl wouldn’t have any of it and hated having her hair brushed, but brushed it was and the more it was brushed, the bigger it got. Hence, the aforementioned, new...bigness. She was so extra cute that day with her poofy hair. Now big hair or not this girl is the happiest little thing I’ve ever had to pleasure to meet. I can’t believe anyone is just born that happy. Let alone able to be SO happy SO many times over SO little. At the mention of her name this little girl is rendered immobile. She gets so excited by someone saying her name that she smiles so big you think the skin on her little face may stretch so far it’ll never go back, and doubles over, more like curls into a ball and can’t move. If you happen to be holding her when you say her name she’ll wrap around your hand (or arm, but really she’s so slight that you can hold her with just one hand) like a little potato bug (aka rollie pollie bug). She laughs so hard she only squeaks at the very beginning then can’t make a sound for the duration of her giggle just jiggles like a silent Santa Claus. I love this little girl so much. I’m so glad God made a clone. her baby sister-also at the orphanage-will light up just the same when given any kind of attention. It’s as if the entire human race could be rebuilt from ruins just with the glow and happiness contained in the tiny little package of this one little girl.
She’s like the all-spark for the human race (for those of you who know transformers ;).)
Back to my story from last night. I was chatting on Facebook, of course about my time here and how I don’t have much left, specifically about wanting to get some propane tanks (for hot water and fuel for cooking) for one orphanage (the one with 51 kids...that’s a big hot water and cook need)...that they have asked help in getting when someone, Amy Awesome Big-Hearted Sharpe, mentioned posting on my old San Diego ward’s Facebook page (a ward being what we call a specific geographic congregation in my church). Now Amy has already done a lot with helping with books and so much else, wanted to be able to contribute as well. So I posted on the Pacific Beach ward’s Facebook page and on my status as well that the opportunity to serve had once again come. I was overwhelmed by the response. In fact, some people who probably don’t even want others to know they’re big ol’ softies, donated as well. An old friend from High School that I haven’t seen since caught the conversation and donated. Even a sweet cousin (Cherie-yes you) who I remember only meeting a few times when I was young (thanks Facebook for keeping family reachable). People just want to help. Not only do they want to help, people, given the opportunity WILL help. Even some that may not have much to give, give, and wish they could give more. I found myself wishing I could help. My heart was bursting with how many wonderful people there are in this world. There are so many people who showed me what I want to be. People I wish I was more like. I was absolutely glowing by the time I headed home from the internet shop last night, bursting with gratitude and the excitement of being able to go to orphanages and tell them, “YES! We can help. We can get you the propane tanks. YES! We can make needed repairs, and YES there is good and beauty and God in this world.” As Mother Teresa says, “God does still love this world. He loves it through me and through you”. (Or a very close approximation of those words. She repeats that several times in a book entitled, “Where There is Love There is God”.)
I can’t believe with as many good people I know I ever forget that. That God does love this world, and also according to a friend, “Kindness...it’s contagious”. It totally is. And thank you for infecting me.
Anyway, so here I find myself walking home, starving, and fully infected wishing I could pass this on RIGHT NOW. Wishing I could give and share the love that I’d just been filled with. I detour a Pizza Hut I’d seen near my house to pick up some dinner and to honor my American peeps who’d just donated...and because it’s my last week here and it’s Saturday night. Turns out it’s 2 for 1 night at Pizza Hut. What I’m going to do with one medium pizza, let alone two is craziness. The lady seems stunned I don’t my second pizza, but really, WHAT am I going to do with a second pizza. Again, I do not speak Spanish, but we all got each other when I turned to the lady next to me and asked, “tu quiero?” She smiled, I smiled, the cashier smiled, her teenage son (or kid with her, don’t know if it was her son) smiled. We all smiled. And she got a free pizza that night. I know it’s silly and small, and didn’t cost me anything, especially compared to what many of you gave, but I’m sure it made her night. Or at least made her smile for that time. It was a kindness of another human being. And she appreciated it. And good humor filled that little Pizza Hut waiting room.
I thank God for that little opportunity to...pay it forward...I guess one could say. Because I was about to explode with happiness, gratitude, and desire to give more. I’m glad that silly little opportunity came my way.
It really is the little things. The one dollar, the ten dollars, the free cup of coffee (or hot chocolate in my case ;) --Mormons don’t drink coffee ;)...) on a any given day, especially one when you’re in a funk and don’t deserve someone to be nice to you, that makes all the difference. And even if one can’t give something tangible, the kind word, the whispered prayer. It all, though small, makes the biggest difference in the world.
I’m glad to know such good people, including these children that I’ve grown to love so completely. It’s makes me want to curl up like a little potato bug around God’s strong hands, I’m so excited and happy. :)
Maybe this is why I don’t post so often...a small post turns into several pages of me gushing. :)
Also, for those who were looking for it here's the link again so you don't have to scouring through old posts to find it:
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
Ecuador: Amy: Infested
I don't have fleas!!!!!
....I'm just allergic to them...
I've had this obnoxious rash for about 5-6 days now. It's itches really bad and the doc of course can't really tell what it originally looks like because I've scratched myself to bits. It looks oddly like chicken pox...pre-scratched...but I've already had the chicken pox so I'm pretty sure that's not where it is. I've missed 2 days at one orphanage and 1 day (today) at another at the other orphanage because I wasn't sure what I had and didn't want to be case zero of adding another complication to the orphanages.
I had stopped by the Emergency Department (mostly cause it's functions as an off hours clinic) Saturday late afternoon. They kept calling the dermatologist to come in to check out my gruesome scratched up rash, but weren't able to reach him. I'd also been kind of short on breath, but they didn't even listen to my lungs. I was sure to emphasis that I wasn't worried about the rash as much as I was about being so short of breath. Oh well, I went home and thankfully they didn't charge me.
Went to the derm today turns out he thinks I'm having a systemic reaction to few flea bites. he says the rash doesn't really look like bites themselves but that is looks similar to a rash many people not native to Ecuador get when they have an allergic reaction to a flea bite here. Apparently, it's not uncommon. BLAST my awesome, over-active, immune system. It's kind of scary to think I could be having a reaction to something enough to effect my breathing. I can't imagine having asthma and dealing with this on a regular basis. My reaction-breathing wise-is not bad. It's tight and makes it hard to sleep and it's a little tight all the time. In the ED on Saturday they wanted to give me a shot of benadryl, which I declined. I found out from the derm that you can't get Benadryl in pill form in Ecuador....good thing I brought my own!
So it'll be 7 days of steroids (16mg- it sounds like a hefty dose, but I think I'm just used to peds dosing) and Benadryl for at least 10 (that's what the doc said but I'm one of those non-compliant, self-diagnosing nurses that will take just until I feel better and then as needed :) ). Oh and this wonderful cream (I think it has atarax in it) that instantly made me feel better-itching wise. Lungs still tight.
After the doc told me I could try to debug my place but he thinks with the few bites I probably got them from a stray dog rather than my bed, especially since I itch all the time and not just at home or at night and he couldn't find any actual bites. Then I mentioned I work in the orphanages, one of which is particularly dirty and he then became concerned that it might even be scabies because those are fairly present in orphanages he says. If I don't feel better in 7 days or it gets worse I go back to get treated for scabies.
I think the doc is probably initially right with the allergic rash since he's seen it before he says and because my lungs are tight. But I'll let you know if I turn out to be scabies infested.
Either way, fleas or scabies....
.....EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!
Just take this as evidence that I am huggin' and lovin' these wonderful kids :)
....I'm just allergic to them...
I've had this obnoxious rash for about 5-6 days now. It's itches really bad and the doc of course can't really tell what it originally looks like because I've scratched myself to bits. It looks oddly like chicken pox...pre-scratched...but I've already had the chicken pox so I'm pretty sure that's not where it is. I've missed 2 days at one orphanage and 1 day (today) at another at the other orphanage because I wasn't sure what I had and didn't want to be case zero of adding another complication to the orphanages.
I had stopped by the Emergency Department (mostly cause it's functions as an off hours clinic) Saturday late afternoon. They kept calling the dermatologist to come in to check out my gruesome scratched up rash, but weren't able to reach him. I'd also been kind of short on breath, but they didn't even listen to my lungs. I was sure to emphasis that I wasn't worried about the rash as much as I was about being so short of breath. Oh well, I went home and thankfully they didn't charge me.
Went to the derm today turns out he thinks I'm having a systemic reaction to few flea bites. he says the rash doesn't really look like bites themselves but that is looks similar to a rash many people not native to Ecuador get when they have an allergic reaction to a flea bite here. Apparently, it's not uncommon. BLAST my awesome, over-active, immune system. It's kind of scary to think I could be having a reaction to something enough to effect my breathing. I can't imagine having asthma and dealing with this on a regular basis. My reaction-breathing wise-is not bad. It's tight and makes it hard to sleep and it's a little tight all the time. In the ED on Saturday they wanted to give me a shot of benadryl, which I declined. I found out from the derm that you can't get Benadryl in pill form in Ecuador....good thing I brought my own!
So it'll be 7 days of steroids (16mg- it sounds like a hefty dose, but I think I'm just used to peds dosing) and Benadryl for at least 10 (that's what the doc said but I'm one of those non-compliant, self-diagnosing nurses that will take just until I feel better and then as needed :) ). Oh and this wonderful cream (I think it has atarax in it) that instantly made me feel better-itching wise. Lungs still tight.
After the doc told me I could try to debug my place but he thinks with the few bites I probably got them from a stray dog rather than my bed, especially since I itch all the time and not just at home or at night and he couldn't find any actual bites. Then I mentioned I work in the orphanages, one of which is particularly dirty and he then became concerned that it might even be scabies because those are fairly present in orphanages he says. If I don't feel better in 7 days or it gets worse I go back to get treated for scabies.
I think the doc is probably initially right with the allergic rash since he's seen it before he says and because my lungs are tight. But I'll let you know if I turn out to be scabies infested.
Either way, fleas or scabies....
.....EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!
Just take this as evidence that I am huggin' and lovin' these wonderful kids :)
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