We are all dependent on one another, every soul of us on earth. --George Bernard Shaw

Wednesday. the children made their first craft with us! they made these sweet, sweet little frames for pictures we took of them a few days before. it was such a gift to watch them finger little fuzzy balls, looks of absolute concentration on their faces as they worked to decide where to place it. they got to pick what color paper they wanted and what color crayon they wanted to use and if they were going to make a circle around their picture with the furry balls or just let their placement be sporadic. they let their personalities shine as they let their minds create and stretch and imagine. when we came to each of them with their picture, so excited to put each one in the little box the children had left empty in preparation for its placement, we were stopped by the first child. Davian. we practically jumped over to him, so pumped to see five months of planning and days of butterflies represented in his finished craft.  he swirled his goes-on-purple glue stick on his paper, and we stuck the picture on top. and he was absolutely mesmerized. his eyes scanned the glossy image, starting in the top right corner, soaking in the entire thing. he stared into the eyes of the little boy and looked almost scared. Raymond said, "Davian! It's you!" and Davian smiled, knowing that it was him, but not recognizing it just the same. and it was a heartbreak. and a deep breath. and a prayer for strength. and a smile for the next child. 

Wednesday afternoon I hopped in the car with our wonderful driver Ken and traveled out to Mustardseed Jerusalem. this is a small community of multiple homes for individuals with disabilities. there is a large building for individuals from infancy to forty years old who need intense, specialized attention. Latoya, Cleon and Nikida were transferred there from Marigold last year, so we've been back to visit. but i wasn't going there this time. Ken and I passed by the large building and the porch with the "anti-mosquito" cages for the the most disabled and the fenced-in play area and the small homes for individuals who have more highly-functioning disabilities and finally arrived at a lime-green building with Mickey and Minnie Mouse painted on the front. this was Dare to Care. i walked in and met Ms. Clovel and she could not have been more kind. she remembered our phone conversation and explained how their home works, showing me the dining room and sitting area for the children. she introduced me to Auntie Maxine, a beautiful young woman with bright silver pendant earrings and flowered scrubs on. Ms. Clovel told Auntie Maxine i was there to visit Rackeem. Auntie Maxine was very surprised, repeating, "Rackeem? Okay." she led me into the room with four old, ragged, dark-floral print couches with chunks of orange foam sticking out of the arms. and there he was. Rackeem. Neal's light and joy and happiness and best friend for the past three years. he looked at me with his big, round, deep brown eyes, and i saw Neal reflected in them. i pictured them standing on the veranda of Marigold, Rackeem on Neal's hip and his eyes following Neal's finger as it pointed to "bus!" on the street. i remembered the sound of Rackeem's laughter and the sight of his smile as Neal popped bubbles with him. it was so good and so hard to see him. him being there was confirmation that he has HIV, as do the 54 other children living in the home. it's just unreal to hug and love on these precious children knowing the unjust infection they harbor inside. good thing Neal is going to cure it. 

Thursday was another day of stark contrasts. we spent the morning at Marigold drowning in wasteful hoards of clothing that the children are not allowed to wear because it's all for "special occasions." what a lesson in living life in the moment. i felt like we were standing in the room looking at shelves and shelves of stitches and cloth representing every day the children are held back from living. they're kept from an education, from love, from friendship and cannot even write their own names. but it's all right there. it's all stacked on shelves and piled in offices and stored in minds. and they can't reach it. their lives embody the feeling of standing on your tippy toes and reaching so high you start to sway just trying to reach the whipped cream (or something more substantial-i just love whipped cream) on the top shelf of the fridge. it's all you want and you can see it and you know it's there but you just cannot reach it no matter what you do. and then you fall. and you give up on trying to reach it because you couldn't and no one was there to help you. and you close the door to the fridge and watch tv. and the chance to harness that enthusiasm, that hunger for life has passed. and now the easy road looks a lot more appealing. anyways, beyond strange metaphors about piles of clothes, the morning was wonderful. then we left Marigold a little early to go to the Rotary Club of Kingston's luncheon to sell tickets to Marigold's upcoming fundraiser. after wining (with water) and dining with the members, Tara and i made our little announcement and then stood at the rear of the room as everyone processed out to sell tickets. everyone was so supportive. even those who did not purchase a ticket took a moment to say hi to us and ask questions and express their perspective on our summer plans. they were so open to speaking with two foreign girls decades younger than them about our plans in their city. it was so encouraging. i think that these past few weeks have really been working on my heart to just approach people rather than situations. or maybe i was just sleepy and not paying the best attention. i hope it was the first. 

AND THEN MY FRIENDS CAAAAAAAMEEE!!!!!! yayyy!!! and Jamaica was Jamaica as i've known it but just amplified by the two weeks i have spent here and Tara being here too. when they arrived they, of course, immediately wanted to jump into their trip so we drove out to see sweet Rackeem. and this is where my words end. because Neal and Rackeem reuniting was too big and too special for words. it was (i don't even care how trite this sounds) magical. when Rackeem came crawling around the corner of the dining table, we were all blessed to witness friendship transcend distance and time and illness and age and situation. and it was inspiring and beautiful. and why we're here. 

Friday. Frustration. the children at Marigold were not allowed to go to school on friday because the teachers had to go to a workshop. when the children don't go to school they go absolutely crazy. they literally bounce off of not only the walls but any other surface in the building. they have more energy than any of the workers can manage, which then creates tension within the home and leads to situations like this: an older worker was walking around the orphanage with an electric mosquito swatter that looks like a tennis racket. she was waving it through the air for a few minutes and then bent down to eye level with a little boy, Matthew, who was playing beneath the dining table. "Matthew, touch it!" the little boy reached his pointer finger out and, looking the woman in the eye, met the racket with his finger. he burst into tears, screaming from the pain of being shocked by it. the woman told him to stop crying and then slowly raised back up. which is when she saw Liz and Neal staring at her. "you didn't see that! you didn't see anything!"

Neal replied, "um..yes we did. we saw that." and then walked away.

the woman turned to Liz and said, "he gives me trouble! he touched it!" 

Liz said, "i saw what happened, and i know what that is. you should not be walking around near the children with that"

(get it friends). their appalled expressions spoke to how much it hurt to witness such brutality. the children are disciplined and we know that. it's so challenging to try to understand the dynamics of Marigold. it's so challenging to love the workers as well as the children and to separate their relationships with the children from the hardships of their own lives. three workers were unable to come to Marigold in the days of extreme turmoil in the city because they lived too close to it for travel to be safe. they struggle and make frayed ends meet and need love and compassion just as the children do, but sometimes i just worry that my heart is not big enough for it. i just want to tell them to just let the love of the children lift their souls like it does mine every morning. i'm just praying for compassion to take over my heart and bridge the gap in understanding. because i have realized that i cannot understand their treatment of the children because i cannot understand what it must feel like to tuck my hungry children into bed at night. i cannot imagine the scars that kind of life must leave on a mother's heart.

Saturday we got to find another friend, Durant! he and Danny were really good friends when Durant lived at Marigold and has since been moved to Mustardseed. he has the same giant smile that he had when we knew him there. he giggled and played in his stroller, joyful as ever. Neal got to feed him his mush of blended corned beef, rice, potatoes and cheese and he knocked the bowl and spilled it all over himself. we all laughed so hard together as we wiped it from his legs and arms. while we were there we made a new friend, Brittney. her refrain for the morning was: "i love you" and she told Michael that he has a "big belly" as she hit it. the suffering was immense, but the joy floated to the top. smiles graced the faces of children and adults with muscular dystrophy and cerebral palsy and they shared with us their lunch hour for some laughter and friendship. 

after relaxing with Liz, Tara, Neal and Michael today, i have been flooded with gratitude for friendships. in the past few days at Marigold and Mustardseed, witnessing the loving friendship between Neal and Rackeem and Danny and Durant and reassured by the closeness between my own friends, i have realized that in relationships lies my own strength. that i am held together by the love that surounds me and showers upon me from above. i don't think i have ever realized how great a gift it is to have people to share my life with. watching Roy and Teshawn leave Marigold this week, headed off to a new home for children, my heart was broken realizing that no one will miss them. they don't have friends to ask where they went or think of them when they swing tomorrow. no one will ever say, "do you remember that time when Roy flung rice on Mrs. Grant?" the children at Marigold aren't taught to befriend one another; told constantly to leave each other alone and to stop talking and listen, the children have no chance to bond and form relationships, something that i feel would be such a harbor for them. and as i sit here surrounded by my sweet, humble friends who so embody Christ's love, i pray that the love God has for each of these children will flood their hearts with assurance of His constant companionship. that they will meet their Best Friend in Him and be able to turn to Him as their source of love and courage in their tumultuous lives. i pray that they will never, ever feel alone but instead feel His loving hand holding theirs ready to laugh and smile and cry and grow with them in a way more perfect than any worldly comfort they are deprived of could. i pray that they will fall giddy in love with God so that as they are moved from house to house and caregiver to caregiver, they will have possessions unimaginable in the wealth of their faith. because Heaven knows they so deserve it. Or, in the more eloquent and stunning words of Mother Theresa: “May today be peace within. May you trust your highest power that you are exactly where you are meant to be... May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you... May you be content knowing you are a child of God... Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love. It is there for each and every one of you.”

love ya for rill


eeb