Sleepless Nights: Update from August 19, 2010

I have been writing a lot about children lately; how my time with them affects me, how they love, and other random thoughts. I have always known that I want to have my own someday, and raising a family is one of my dreams, but this past weekend put that dream closer to reality. I was on a team staying the night at an orphanage for kids who have been abandoned which also served as a refuge for mothers who have been abandoned which was a good hour drive outside of Monrovia, Liberia. There were around 15 kids that lived there ranging from infants to 12 years old, around 5 severely, mentally handicapped and there was one mother with triplets who had been abandoned.
It was a crazy place that, to be honest, I was not quite ready for it, mentally. As we arrived, the kids were shy and were made to sing us a welcome song. The place we were to spend the next 48 hours in was nicer than I thought it would be, at first. As you got to know it, it became less enamoring, but the hearts that the place housed became all the more wonderful. It was a simple building painted something like a school out of the 80’s or early 90’s with the bland yellow color and an ugly maroon shade occupying the walls. There was a TV there which was used every night when the generator was turned on, around 7 or 8 pm. One experience was the Liberian movies, which were like a bad High School drama production. We brought along a Veggie Tales movie to play for the kids, but I am not sure that they quite understood it fully, as a lot of the humor is very American. They liked watching it because they could tell it was well done though. The first night was occupied with dinner and getting to know the kids a little bit and a movie.
The next day was Sunday, and we had prepared a program for the kids for some point in that day. After a hot, restless night, I woke up to babies crying, which I would find out consistent ambience all throughout our two days at the place. As the day progressed and we played with the children, the Sunday “service” was called. We did our thing, or parts of it, and finished. The day continued and, as the team ran out of energy, the playing fizzled into naps and reading with the kids. That night, we got the front seat to another African movie, which was awful. Then we went to sleep, or at least I tried to.
The second night was worse than the first as it was just as hot, and I was too tired to sleep well. The bed I was on (we were very blessed to even have beds) gave me the impression that I was being invaded by a legion of bugs that wanted my flesh. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning I was grumpy, but the kids were not. They wanted to play, which is about all I could squeeze out of my energy.
Details aside, the trip was awesome, and the most touching parts were the attachment built by the kids to us, and to see how they appreciated us giving them attention. To see at least some of their needs met, not only by the things passed out, but also by the attention we gave them; especially the two of us men. God used us even though we were broke, even though we ran out of energy half way through and could no longer play with them that much.
As we prepared to leave, all the kids started to cry, which cut to my heart. I was too tired to cry, but my heart went out to those which I had developed a strong bond with. They were beautiful.

Sleepless Nights: Update on August 19, 2010

I have been writing a lot about children lately; how my time with them affects me, how they love, and other random thoughts. I have always known that I want to have my own someday, and raising a family is one of my dreams, but this past weekend put that dream closer to reality. I was on a team staying the night at an orphanage for kids who have been abandoned which also served as a refuge for mothers who have been abandoned which was a good hour drive outside of Monrovia, Liberia. There were around 15 kids that lived there ranging from infants to 12 years old, around 5 severely, mentally handicapped and there was one mother with triplets who had been abandoned.

It was a crazy place that, to be honest, I was not quite ready for it, mentally. As we arrived, the kids were shy and were made to sing us a welcome song. The place we were to spend the next 48 hours in was nicer than I thought it would be, at first. As you got to know it, it became less enamoring, but the hearts that the place housed became all the more wonderful. It was a simple building painted something like a school out of the 80’s or early 90’s with the bland yellow color and an ugly maroon shade occupying the walls. There was a TV there which was used every night when the generator was turned on, around 7 or 8 pm. One experience was the Liberian movies, which were like a bad High School drama production. We brought along a Veggie Tales movie to play for the kids, but I am not sure that they quite understood it fully, as a lot of the humor is very American. They liked watching it because they could tell it was well done though. The first night was occupied with dinner and getting to know the kids a little bit and a movie.

The next day was Sunday, and we had prepared a program for the kids for some point in that day. After a hot, restless night, I woke up to babies crying, which I would find out consistent ambience all throughout our two days at the place. As the day progressed and we played with the children, the Sunday “service” was called. We did our thing, or parts of it, and finished. The day continued and, as the team ran out of energy, the playing fizzled into naps and reading with the kids. That night, we got the front seat to another African movie, which was awful. Then we went to sleep, or at least I tried to.

The second night was worse than the first as it was just as hot, and I was too tired to sleep well. The bed I was on (we were very blessed to even have beds) gave me the impression that I was being invaded by a legion of bugs that wanted my flesh. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning I was grumpy, but the kids were not. They wanted to play, which is about all I could squeeze out of my energy.

Details aside, the trip was awesome, and the most touching parts were the attachment built by the kids to us, and to see how they appreciated us giving them attention. To see at least some of their needs met, not only by the things passed out, but also by the attention we gave them; especially the two of us men. God used us even though we were broke, even though we ran out of energy half way through and could no longer play with them that much.

As we prepared to leave, all the kids started to cry, which cut to my heart. I was too tired to cry, but my heart went out to those which I had developed a strong bond with. They were beautiful.

Paralyzed: Update On August 11, 2010

We are now in Liberia!

It was my birthday yesterday, and what a unique birthday it was! After some down time in the morning, I was to go to a home for disabled people, most of whom are suffering from Polio. We were told that the home was composed mostly of children, so we prepared a simple program for the kids the day before.

The five of us headed out to the road to try and get a taxi after receiving somewhat vague directions. We could not get a taxi to pick us up so our group split into two, and the first group of two got picked up quickly, while the group of three that I was in had to watch as yellow Toyota after yellow Toyota passed us. We were once picked up but told that the fee was more than we were told to pay and had to leave. After about 45 minutes, some locals came and helped us flag down a car who let us pay the right fee only because we were Christians. Thank God for that.

When we arrived, we were shocked: there was one child in the home. The home was holding a service with us as the guests of honor; the pastors. So we prayed and then entered the home as the residents were singing worship songs Africa style, not quite knowing what we were going to do exactly. We did our program-minus a few silly songs-and the people seemed to like it plenty, but what happened after was the memorable part for me.

We split into groups to have prayer time. In my group was one of the leaders of the home, who asked me to explain the Ship more, so I told her that the true goal is to love people no matter what their circumstances. So I asked them how I could love and pray for them. They went around in the circle and gave me points of prayer including peace, joy, staying out of trouble, long life, and steadfastness (I had to bite my tongue every time I heard them ask for “prosperity”). I prayed for the points I remembered, but I felt a strange feeling of unworthiness deep down. I don’t know why, but I felt like they had more to offer than I did, even though many were in wheelchairs.

I am not worthy to be God’s servant, but here I am, praying for handicapped people in Africa, telling them about a love I have yet to fully understand. In my opinion I should have never been allowed to come here, due to a hard heart and an almost nonexistent faith.

I guess it is good that God’s opinion is not mine.

Words cannot describe what was running through my heart at a school in a lonely town in Takoradi, Ghana a few hours ago. I was on a team of around 8 that were to go to a school for special needs children. I won’t lie, I have been struggling mightily as of late with a lot of issues, mainly of my own heart, and I wasn’t really ready to go to this special education school, but it was certainly ready for us. When we pulled in to the compound, one of the kids was running with the bus screaming in excitement. As we walked out a few of the brave souls came to shake our hands and try to get the football (soccer ball) we had. The sheer delight of seeing new faces that were coming for them was exhilarating, and it broke my heart then as it does as I recollect our story. I held back the tears of sorrow and pity because I wanted them to know that I felt no better than them.

So we did our program for the kids, and they ate it up. I honestly don’t know how well they understood the symbolism of the play, or the literal lyrics of the songs we sang, or if they’ll ever be able to read the booklet we handed out, but I can truly say that they loved us. Maybe it was because of how we made them feel, or maybe it is because the world is innocent to their eyes, but I’ll get to the philosophic part later. After the program, we just spent time with these kids, these people. They were severely special needs, and I usually don’t know how to act around them, until I realized a beautiful truth about their simplicity: they love whether or not you are cool, regardless of what you look like, and in spite of how selfish you can be. So I spent my time hugging them (my way of showing love), playing soccer, and dancing with the kids. As we started to leave, the tears of shame and pity again welled up in my heart as it was broken again, but not just because they have been dealt an unfair hand in life, but because these people that are made fun of and ridiculed have so much more love in their heart than I can dream of, especially lately.

I don’t think I could ever explain to them that I do care for them, not because I have to, but because they are so beautiful. I have never seen real love so genuine and quick, yet real. It is a shame that people prey on their mental inadequacy and miss out on the lesson to be learned from these people. They don’t know a thing about you, but if you make yourself available, many will love you. Love is tossed around in a lot of shallow and humiliating ways today, but I feel like these people, who survive on mere instinct, know what it actually is. They don’t have to understand the why of things as many of us do, they don’t have to know motivation; no, they just need to know you are there. Indeed, the discarded people of this world understand a piece of the meaning of joy, and the basic fundamental that our salvation has been built on. These lovely people taught me more by existing than they ever could have if they could quote any book. Love is so simple, yet so hard for us to do, but not for them.

Tunnel Vision

Two years is a long time from many life perspectives. I have now been away from a life at home for one month short of two years. The same paradox that is involved with time often is in play here; it feels like I have been away for ages upon ages, yet it feels to have gone by so fast that I can barely keep up with the memories. My years on board have been a huge blessing to my spiritual life-maybe even the birth of a deep relationship with my creator-but I have been known to possess a very bad case of tunnel vision throughout my life. In High School, my senior year was a year of academic apathy and discord. The last months of that year (in which I had only 5 classes, 3 being gym related classes) were full of figuring out ways of not getting in trouble and being with my friends: I barely picked up a book that whole year.

Now, 5 years after graduating High School, the same feeling of readiness, even eagerness and need, for change occupy a large part of my living consciousness. As I have said before, the Ship has helped save me from a live of potential immorality, and I feel I owe a huge debt to it for that, but I am ready to finish. The ministry here is certainly unique, and I fear I don’t exactly fit the mold of what they want, nor am I willing to conform into anything but what I am. The ship is amazing in the fact that it can isolate people by bringing them on board something very few get a chance to experience, into a seriously Christian environment. People on board take Christ seriously-although the weakness can be glaring at times, especially in my own life- and many people don’t get to see any form of truly authentic relationship with Christ. When one comes here, they have a good chance of being engaged by an evangelist, of which is almost never me. That is where I don’t generally fit in well, not only because I lack the social confidence that many here display, but also because I refuse to accept that the gospel can be displayed fully through sales pitches, phrases, catchy tracts, or anything of that sort of matter; it needs a relationship to be completely relevant. This is said not in an offensive stance toward evangelical tactics and practices, but as a cause for reflection. Sometimes, evangelism can be shallow and not actually loving (often the “brimstone and fire” approach stirs these feelings most), but as Paul said, it only matters that the gospel is preached, even when selfish intentions are used, as long as it is true. I fail to let myself be vulnerable, and have respect for those who can initiate relationship quickly, as I tend to take time to let my heart be opened (ask Tawny).

The conclusion I aim for is to convey that I am ready to leave the place I have called home the past two years: I am ready for what is next. The reasons for this can be simplified by saying that I am not a people-person in a place that is full of people. Everywhere you go, anything you do, you can’t get away from people for long. This state of affair is severely draining on my mental life. In fact, I feel like I would like to be alone for a while year, even though I know I would eventually get lonely; well, maybe. Apart from that, I have a relatively clear idea of where I would like go to, which involves attempting to write, learning to draw, getting a job, and heading to Nepal in September 2011. That is what I would like, but where God will send me I have no idea, which I am perfectly fine with. Please pray for strength to endure this mentally trying time, and to learn whatever lesson God is presenting me with.