A small sentimental tangent

I miss my chicitos today.

I miss the way Manuela would put on a pair of adult shoes and walk around until she tripped and laugh at herself and do it all over again.

I miss how Daniela and Vilma would pull my hair clips out of my hair to pull back their own hair even though they had a million little bobby pins, clips, and ponytail holders. they always wanted mine regardless.

I miss the way Daniela would fall asleep when you were checking her head for lice.

I miss Tito's laugh and the million-miles-a-minute pace he kept until 7 pm bedtime hit and he was the first to fall asleep

I miss sitting beside their beds and watching them fall asleep

I miss Vilma's sassy little walk that leaned slightly to the right

I miss the "husband and wife" game Tito and Vilma would play that always ended up with them trying to trip or tackle each other

I miss picking them up out of the shower and wrapping them in towels and for that one minute they were totally mine, not going anywhere, doing anything wrong or wanting anything more

I miss Vilma's butterfly kisses. And her ritual questions that she asked at the end of every night

I miss seeing Tito scrunched down real small and compact as he played marbles with the other boys

I miss swimming with them and watching them fly into the air before they jumped off the dock and seeing their little bodies work so hard to swim back to the ladder to do it all over again.

So that was just a personal share session mainly for myself. One of those entries you need to do every now and then whether or not anyone else will connect with it or not.

culture shock is alicia shock

I've been home for about a week now and been able to talk to many friends on the phone and hang out and lounge around with my family quite a bit. Friends have been warm and curious in their reception asking me how I am adjusting and if culture shock is too bad. And I have been responding that it's actually not bad at all and I have no complaints so for the time being I will soak up the honeymoon while it lasts. But then I started thinking about why I felt like there was a slimy little film settling on my heart this week. I wouldn't call this culture shock. Or at least it's not what I expected culture shock to be. Then again that is probably why it's called a shock because it is exactly that, the unexpected. What I mean is that I was afraid that culture shock would mean I would walk around wide eyed, and develop a cynicism about American culture and a disappointment with the setting I have now found myself in. Yet I have been able to take a week of Dallas, Texas in without any extreme reactions. And that's just it. It should be harder for me and it isn't. I wish it were strange to adopt a lifestyle of creature comforts but I've perhaps taken up the old Alicia too quickly. It's been harder coming back to Alicia than coming back to the U.S. I guess the pre-Guatemala Alicia never really left she just took a break while I went away for awhile.

I think I had hoped for more permanent change in some areas without realizing that a necessary component of the change process, making choices, was absent at Casa Guatemala. Facing two sets of choices and learning how to make the better decison and from that establishing new patterns of living seems to be how lasting change comes about. Yet in Casa Guatemala my circumstances were prescribed for me. I didn't really have much in the way of choices. I was a minimalist because life is made minimal for you. It was only logical to live the way I did. There is no reason or possibility to fix your hair or paint your toenails. You have 4 pairs of pants or shorts to choose from and that's if they are all clean. You don't worry about the calorie content of your food, you only hope that there might be a vegetable served with the usual rice and beans of the day. You don't make out a to do list or call and set up arrangements and appointments to fill up your day. At Casa my schedule, the hours I worked or rested was set for me and I had a clear purpose and a goal set before me. It was exhausting most days but I felt like all of my abilities were used and every part of me was either tested or pushed towards the goal.

So today after having changed my outfit more than once before leaving to run some unessential errand in my air conditioned car and I sat down and let the incredible disappoint sink in. Not in Dallas or Texas or the United States. I was disappointed in me. That here I was back to my old vanity, and my consumption mindset. After only one week I feel like I bought things I didn't need, looked in the mirror too much, and spent too little time searching out God, who I desperately clung to ever hour of the day when I was on my hands and knees chasing after kids in Guatemala, trying to pour love into their bruised little hearts. I remember my friend Scott Zeller commenting a few months ago to me that I was really lucky to be in a place where "learning new things about yourself and being forced to think about why you do certain things or act certain ways is a daily activity." He said that when life is easy like it often is in a given, normal, American day you can go a long time without reflecting on your choices. I agree and see that you can go for quite some time before you start redirecting yourself towards the direction you want to be moving.

I overheard my mom telling someone on the phone today that she knew that when I was at Casa there were days when I would have given anything to be free from my circumstances for just 24 hours (or just having all my limbs to myself for 24 hours would have been enough). She went on to say that she can tell that now that I am at home constantly thinking of those kids I would give anything to be there. And it's almost true. I would like to be there again but more that that I just want to be somewhere where the upkeep of Alicia, physically and emotionally, is not the main objective of the day. If you find that place, let me know.

Putting your feet up or closing the door

While sitting around laughing and chatting, drinking coffee and eating sweet bread in the girls dorm at casa guatemala with the five guatemalan orientadoras who are the moms of casa guatemala I was thinking to myself that I feel like I can finally put my feet up, emotionally in this place. In this strange, backwards orphanage in Guatemala I at home. geeze five months later she finally feels at home. Yet after five months seeing my real home never sounded so good.

So I've arrived at my last week at the orphanage and I have been wondering if I am suppossed to be thinking, feeling or doing anything in particular during the last week of a 5 month stretch. Some volunteer's last week here is a breeze. They see the end in sight and suddenly they find that last bit of energy and the little things no longer bother them. Others wear that "I have to survive one more week" look all over their faces. I'd love to say that I am peppy and only positive this week but the disappearance of my voice would tell you otherwise. At the same time, though I am seeing how incredible this place can be more clearly than ever. So what does a 'leaving week' look like for me....

It's not taking things so seriously and letting the chicitos dance in the cafeteria when they should be eating the rest of their rice and beans. It's laughing at the hilarity of their funny, growing minds and smiling at them more just because they are beautiful creatures...

yet in the next hour it can be an absolute lack of any patience and incredible frustration with all the whining, hitting, complaining, and what seems to be an acute deaf syndrome in the ears of four year olds when they hear the words, "come here" "stop" or "right now."

It's appreciating, even liking people who I thought I might despise for the entire duration of my stint here. However it is also finding the once "cute" or "endearing" habits of your favorite kids here to be getting on your very last nerve.

It's feeling known in a place where you are foreign. It's reaching the point where the chicitos know your lullabies and can even sing along with you in english. Yet it is also feeling a painful ache in my heart to be with those who know me most deeply, Daydreaming about those who I will get to hug and where we will go to have coffee together.

It's being asked by the older kids the time and location of the going-on's at Casa Guatemala as if I were in charge or actually understood how this crazy place functions.

It's dreading the energy I will have to muster up to resist the gluttony of American culture when I get back.

So 'goodbye' is not always warm and sentimental, sometimes it's closing a door when you see your heart starting to leave before your luggage has. It can be painful realizing how insufficient your love is and how far you miss the mark but yet the beautiful moments when you share a smile and laugh little arms wrap around you for a hug and you don't need any translation or explanation keeps the door cracked open forever.

Word Fast Part II

By the end of college some of my closest friends might have told you that I had a tendency to hold back from speaking off the cuff or that I was decently good at listening before speaking. And I had gotten so used to them having to request a response from me that I started to think it was true. "Maybe I am a good listener and I don't always have to get my word in edgewise..?" FALSE. I have found through the second part of my involuntary word fast in Guatemala that I am not genuinely a passive speaker or a natural listener. The ugly truth is that inside I feel I have a lot to say or a lot of words to share with people that I tend to think might be helpful or insightful or simply worth hearing. But here in Guatemala without my full arsenal of verbal skills at hand I realize how much stock I put in my ability to explain, respond or question with my words.

This really hit home after one particularly trying day for the chicitos. Sunday morning the five of us were headed to the arts and crafts room when an older woman calls out to Daniela with arms open for a hug, "My granddaughter!" Daniela paused for a moment, seemingly unsure how to respond (I'm not sure whether it was because of how unfamiliar this woman was to her or the fact that her grandmother could hardly remember Daniela's name). After being around Daniela and her grandmother for only one hour I was able to get a clearer picture of how messy Daniela's family life (or lack thereof) is. Her grandmother was falling asleep most of the day and when she was awake she kept making comments about how Daniela wouldn't leave her alone. And she continued to talk about Casa Guatemala and the institution as if she were some sort of investor rather than a grandmother, "how is the construction on the clinic going....Oh look there's Angie, the director...etc, etc." This is when I realized I have a mean judgmental streak and not a lot of patience for families who abandon their children to orphanages. I wanted to shake her and say, "don't you get it, this isn't some great boarding school you send your kids off to because you want a bright future for them. This shouldn't be some option for families who feel it's not worth the time or sacrifice to take care of their kid. you have one day. one day with your granddaughter. how hard is it to stay awake for one day?!" But no like the good southern bred woman (i.e. passive aggressive) that I am I smiled and tried my best to explain the delay on the clinic and respond to her other questions as well. Daniela was strange that day. She is usually incredibly thoughtful and giving and today she was hoarding things for her and her grandmother and she was stand-offish to everyone but her grandmother.

Vilma carefully watched Daniela all day long, as she had just the week before watched Tito when his mother had visited. She looked pensive and unsure all day. When we were finally alone as walking from the soccer field to the cafeteria to get a drink of water I asked her as she stared off distantly what she was thinking. She said she was thinking about her mom and dad (who have passed away) because Daniela's grandmother was there. As I racked my brain to search for the most meaningful response in Spanish that I could find she was distracted by something and changed the subject. But as we walked back I made sure to ask her if she knew that I loved her, and so did her other orientadora, teacher, friends and brothers. She shook her head 'no' naively or perhaps out of embarrassment. It felt overly simple to say in regards to such a difficult trial for a 4 year old but it was all I had.

That same afternoon the chicitos' teacher left, it being her last day at Casa Guatemala. So I had Vilma sad and confused, realizing one of her fears yet again which is having people who love her leaving and an hour later Daniela is crying because the grandmother who casually steps in and out of her life left again. That evening as I put them to bed, Vilma angrily cried herself to sleep weeping for mother and father and refusing to receive any consolation from me (which I can understand. I would be pretty ticked off at the world if I were 4 years old and lost my parents as well). Daniela, wired from the intensity of the day, finally fell asleep next to the grotesquely enormous doll her grandmother gave to her. And so I sat there watching them sleep thinking of all the things I would have said throughout the day but couldn't in Spanish. So I started praying instead because I knew that even if I could have said everything I wanted it would still have fallen short of the ultimate solution, an invitation to the kingdom of heaven where all of us who have been orphaned by our own fallen nature find our father again.

I think those of us with a social work, pyschology, or counseling background sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that we can find some magical combination of words to heal people as if cognitively or emotionally we can convince a person of a solution to their woundeness. But they will still only be words. I cannot step inside a heart like God can. He moves in our hearts, lives in them reshaping and bandaging the broken places, something that my words no matter how empathetic or truthful they may be cannot do. So my words are probably better used in conversation with God telling him what I desire for these chicitos. Trying to fix little lives on earth is futile, but kneeling before the Lord asking him to bring them home someday is never an empty exercise. Although I often feel utterly helpless on days like this one I have to remember that the solution was never in my hands to begin with. I will never own the solution, not in English, not in Spanish, not with a social work degree or 20 years of counseling experience. God always possesses it in his hands. It has been so challenging to me to be content to be silent at these times. Especially in these situations where I want to verbalize something in order to remedy a problem. Or I want to ask more questions or understand more about the person or the problem. And not just in the situations where the chicitos are heartbroken. No folks, don't let the 'orphanage volunteer' label fool you - I am no saint. I often wish I could quit this fast from freely speaking my mind at all times for the sake of my own image or for the sake of being able to contribute my two cents to a problem we are trying to solve as a volunteer staff. Instead I will have to let any perception of me (that I might otherwise explain or defend more clearly) simply stand as is. And the painfully broken system we have at Casa Guatemala will keep functioning without my meddling with it. Ultimately His word is final, his word is sovereign. My words, regardless of how much they might reassure me on the days that I think I'm running my little world, only float on the surface of things. Yet His word plunges deep into the hearts of the orphans he is waiting to adopt.

When the storm roars

"I just want to be somewhere colder..." this is what I was thinking to myself on day 3 of being passed out on my bed sick from amoebas (apparently I didn't have dengue fever....so amoebas are much better but it's still no fun to be sweating and sleeping your days away at Casa Guatemala). This isn't something that usually comes out of my native Texan mouth but being sick in Guatemala heat has changed my attitude about weather.

So once I finally had the strength to leave for my week off I headed for Nebaj, somewhere colder, slower, and mountainous. I was aiming to leave the rain behind as well but instead I was met with more of it. Which was fine because I didn't have grand ambitions for my week off. I just wanted a place to reflect, observe, absorb, and participate a little in the surroundings, as well but mostly I just wanted to think. I wanted to gear up for the last stretch of my stint here because I had a suprisingly desperate but fleeting desire to leave after my sick spell. I'd rather spend my last month thinking about how to live than how to leave. I think without my realizing it all of my usual optimistic energy and faith was used up by immune system when I was sick. When I called my Dad to say I was running a nasty fever my dad said, "i'm ready for you to come home baby." That's when I felt I could jump on a plane in that moment and go straight home without looking back. I guess my daddy's girl syndrome accompanied my amoebas as well. But a few days later I realized I didn't really want to leave and one week of vacation would be remedy enough.

So in the little mountain community of Nebaj, I was able to get a little perspective with the help of the very rain I was hoping to escape. The thing is you can't do anything when it's raining. As you sit indoors you have to resign yourself to the rain and let the steady, quiet rhythm do it's therapy. And I realized I need to carry over the effect of the rainy days during the dry ones as well. Live a rain lifestyle (insert witty comment about my last name here). Because there is no use trying to change the rain. You just have to acknowledge the one in control of the rain. The one stopping you and reminding you that you were about as in control of your little world as you were in control of the rain. I only have to take a glimpse at my 4 year olds to realize how against our nature it is to relinquish control, to admit helplessness. Any time I try to help brush teeth, put on shoes or comb hair I am immediately met with, " No, I can do it!" How many times does God look at me and smile and say 'ok go ahead. I'll be here waiting for you when you realize it's easier when I do it.'

And the timing couldn't be better. I think the 'I quit' sentiment rang so true for me a week ago because I have completely run out of gas. I have run out of spanish, out of wonderment, out of patience, out of energy, and out of gratitude. I have even worn out that young, proud 'I-have-something-to-prove' pact with myself. All that is left is a reminder of a promise, God's promise- "stay Alicia, and I will show you my glory in your weakness." How many times have I heard this little lecture in my life? I heard it as a camp counselor, I heard it as a young life leader, and I heard it on mission trips and in sermons on Sundays. I even sing it to the chicitos at bedtime from the childhood church camp song I know,

"...when the storm roars, when the storm roars when the storm roars all around, hey! He is strong when I am weak by his might I hold on tight. When the storm roars...."

So my eyes are peeled, waiting to see what the final touches on this experience will be when God takes over because Alicia has quit. My friend Andrea gave me a helpful tip about this point in my trip. Don't reflect too early. She's right. In a way this is the beginining of the end of Guatemala for me. But my focus should be on the beginning aspect, rather than the end aspect. Rather than become overly reflective, which is what you do when you are looking back I desire to have an attitude of expectancy, what you do when you are looking forward with hopefulness. Because I don't want to remember my last days as a time when I was squeezing the last drops out of my own well of energy. I don't want to live in survival mode, conserving what little energy I have for what?...the next day? The next day will come one way or another and instead of merely surviving I can flourish. Instead I can pour out, gush, overflow when the source is His well spring. If I ask for the rain and he will break the floodgates. I think this last time around I will look for the storm to roar, and look forward to experiencing his strength in my weakness.

Meet the chicitos

I have been blessed with the company of 7 chicitos (3 of them I only see during the school day for 2 hours during their lunch break). These kiddos would suprise you with how much personality they can have after 4 short years of life.

Vilma: she puts up a hard shell at the beginning, she is almost mean to you until you have earned the right to be a part of her world. She is sassy and has quite the attitude, but my father would probably tell me that I am getting my share of what he had to deal with when I was a half pint. She is fiercely independent, stubbornly so at times. When you need everyone out the door for school and she won't let you help her comb her tangles out of her hair this can become a problem. She is a big comedian and she loves to play jokes and this big grin comes over her face when she believes she has successfully pulled one over on you. I love it when she laughs, and especially when I can diffuse a situation by making her laugh. She actually thinks it's funny when I do impressions of her "attitude" face, which has become a helpful teaching tool as well. Vilma lost her parents in a tragic accident and my co-volunteer pointed out to me that the reason Vilma asks a million questions isn't just because she is a curious child but an anxious one as well. The other night I mentioned that she asks a lot of questions and she laughed knowingly. But then I asked her if it was because she was scared. I asked her at what times did she have fear and she replied, "when volunteers go back to their countries...snakes, spiders, scorpions..." I turned away for a moment so that she wouldn't see my eyes well up with tears after that response.

Daniela: Vilma's best friend. The girly, girl who always chooses a dress to wear each day, or anything pink. She is very clever and everything intrigues her or catches her attention. In one sense this is good but when you simply want her to wash her hands and instead it takes her ten minutes because she has discovered how to make bubbles with the soap it can be a problem. She can harldy finish a meal in under an hour because she gets distracted by conversation after every other bite. She is an excellent swimmer and content to play alone as well as with Vilma and the others. She is temper tantrum crazy and on average starts crying just about every 20 minutes. no exaggeration here. She often explodes with anger and suprises herself by how out of control she can be. Yet her sensitive side is often endearing as well. She cares about the feelings of others and is the first to comfort her friends. When I explained to the others that Manuela would be calling me 'Ali' because she has trouble speaking. Daniela said "well we (the chicitos) are going to help her learn how to talk." She loves to point out to me when she behaves well or when she is doing exactly what I ask her to do because it is so rare.

Manuela: This chicito drives me crazy one minute and the next melts my heart. She was born with a cleft palate and after a major surgery and over two months of recovery she has come back to Casa and is finally learning how to speak. This challenge often causes a lot of problems in instances when you aren't sure if she is saying I want a "tortilla" or "medicina." She throws tantrums like it was her job. I guess I can see how after years of frustration from having words trapped inside her head and no way to express them this the only way she knows how to react. This probably led to people catering to her every whim and spoiling her. So now we are trying to undue years of bad patterns. Not exactly a small feat for a group of young 20 year olds who have never been parents before. But when Manuela is happy and she often is happy she laughs so hard it makes everyone around her laugh. Her whole face lights up and she practically wears herself out from laughing. She is incredibly affectionate but often times she wants to be held and to hit you all at the same time. Needless to say she is challenging but loveable (as they all are). I have found one fail proof trick with Manuela, anytime I call her "my monkey" she usually drops whatever she is doing and calms down and if I am lucky a smile might even break through.

Tito: Tito is the youngest of four kids in his family and yet the oldest of the chicitos. So he is basically the baby of Casa Guatemala (being one of the veteran chicitos along with Manuela) and the King of Casa Guatemala all at the same time. He enjoys "taking care" of his little sister chicitas and all things considered he is quite patient given that he has to wait for three girls to shower, get dressed and eat in the morning. He tries to talk in this tough guy, gruff voice and often wears a fierce little face but ever since I asked him to start smiling more he loves to randomly show me a smile just to suprise me.

Pablo: the other boy of the group but he comes only for the school day and often times we are lucky if he makes it 3 out of 5 days of the week. Pablo is hilarious. He is quite short and has this big round belly which causes his pants to sag until they almost fall off, especially if he is running somewhere, and he runs everywhere. However, if he isn't running he has this great little skip, if you can call it that. Actually it's more of a hop on one foot. Pablo is from the neighboring Mayan village so Spanish is his second language. Add onto that a lisp and everything that comes out of Pablo's mouth is amusing..."¿Shñra vamosh a eshcuela?" Pablo is incredibly mischevious but whenever I try to reprimand him I usually break into laughter because he thinks everything is a game. Half the time when I am half heartedly attempting a reprimand he jumps into my arms and gives this big hug and presses his nose to mine to the point that I can hardly move my head. Pablo usually smells funny...sometimes like cerveza and usually he has a lot of holes in his clothes and his shoes on backwards but all things considered he is one of the happiest kids I have ever known.

Erica: Erica is equally as happy and adorable. the permanent smile on her face, her huge round eyes and equally big cheeks make her an irresistable child. Her hugs are preceded by a dead sprint and a jump into your arms. And then she has the ability to hold onto you even when you drop your arms. she can even climb up onto your shoulders with hardly any help as well. This one almost never throws fits, and is never in trouble. I would take her home for sure.

Leslie: Leslie is a bit strange but equally as loveable. Leslie usually sits back and watches the others wide-eyed until she has figured out what she should do or what she wants. Then she goes a bit overboard trying to copy the behavior of the others but you feel a bit sorry for her because she wants to be one of the pack so badly.

Alicia (the caretaker, yours truly): you will often times find her being used as a jungle gym, kleenex, towel or sponge. She is often tired, impatient and dumbfounded as to how to do her job. She finds herself dirtier and sweatier at the end of every day and yet usually carrying the scent of baby shampoo. Her hands can usually be found in the hair of the chicitos searching for lice. Although this week you can find them in her own hair scratching her head, and not because she is curious about something, yep she has lice, too. At the end of the day her head is often swollen but when her heart is swollen, too she is reminded of how lucky she is too have this job.

valer la pena

Giggles arose from a traveling blue bundle as three little chicitos (4 year olds) traveled down the path all underneath one sarong, careful not to trip over one another or go too fast as to lose one from the huddle. When you are only two feet nothing a lack of towels after a swim in the river is easily remedied with only one grown-up size sarong. Nina looked over at me and said "it’s at these moments that I wish I had my camera with me." After agreeing with her I realized that I had become like one of those moms that finds everything about her kids either utterly adorable or tragic.

A week ago I changed my volunteer position at Casa Guatemala from teacher to caretaker. I have a new group of kiddos, chicitos or toddlers, and it has made a world of difference for me. As an English teacher I noticed that my patience was beginning to grow thinner and thinner along with my ability to see my purpose in it. Out of wishful thinking I asked the volunteer coordinator about working as an orientadora or caretaker for the chicitos. I didn't expect it to actually work out but only one day later one of the volunteers for the chicitos decided to leave early for health reasons among with others. I started on Wednesday and by Friday each of them had already carved out a little place in my heart. As a teacher I had been crossing off the days and weeks and although I was going to stay until the middle of July it seemed like an immense feat for me to do so. It was hard for me to believe in my work as an English teacher because frustration often outweighed what I saw grow into relationship. But as a surrogate mother for the chicitos it is impossible for me not to believe in my work. With the chicitos everything is challenging and beautiful all in the same moment. While one is throwing a tantrum in the corner of the bathroom refusing to get in the shower the other three are melting your heart as they laugh from the chill of the water while you rinse off soap from little munchkin legs. The tantrum that Manuela threw at 11 am, the one that Daniela threw at 12, and the second one Manuela threw at 1 are all worth the stress when at the end of the day Vilma kisses your cheek goodnight- "valer la pena" or worth the cost (a new phrase I learned this week in language school, where I am spending my week off).

This new job is a bit more of what I originally expected before coming here. I realized my emails before this change often detailed how hard my job was for me. There's nothing wrong with handling the unexpected or sticking out a struggle but I am relishing the challenge more with this new group of kids. However, one unexpected change is being reminded of exactly where I am working. I realized that in a sense I had forgotten that I was working at an orphanage while I was a teacher. You can't escape this aspect when you are acting as mom for toddlers though. The tragedy of an orphanage is brought to your attention in a stronger sense. When Manuela crawled into my bed in the morning and mistakenly called me 'Mama' words got stuck in my throat as I wondered how to explain that I was only her temporary caretaker. While putting Vilma to bed I (perhaps too hastily) told her "Did you know that I love you?" She smiled, paused but then replied, "And when will you go back to your country?" I gulped hard but my response was interrupted when Nina walked over and told Vilma that Alicia would sing one more song to her before she went to sleep. I did my best version of "tu-ra-ru-ra-lu-ra" (an Irish lullaby my mom used to sing to us as kids) off key and making up some of the words as I went along. Lucky for me Vilma doesn't know English. After Vilma's question I suddenly felt like part of the problem rather than the solution. Like I was contributing one more loss to her life, somehow replaying the same loss of her real mother as each person who cares for her eventually leaves. For the first time at Casa I actually wondered to myself what it would take to bring one of these kids home. It's crushing to me to know that at 4 years old Vilma has already learned how to prepare herself for people to leave her. And now I've started to think that short term volunteer work with kids like this is not so healthy for them. But for now I can only keep trying to plant the truth about love and safety into their minds and hope that their hearts endure these struggles.

This new work is often a headache after 10 tantrums, often a heart-break after poignant questions, and often a back ache after holding a different toddler every hour. However seeing big eyes, big cheeks, having little kisses, holding little hands, and pouring yourself dry to hoping to help form a little heart- valer la pena, indeed.