Knowledge of what is possible is the beginning of happiness. --George Santayana

i'm starting to notice the children's fingerprints on me. when eating, i think about playing games with Jackie while feeding her, pretending to eat her bite of food and listening to her laugh and laugh. feeling the wind blowing, i remember Michael sitting on the swing in the front yard of Marigold bursting into laughter when a gust of wind would blow into his face. the weather each day doesn't seem real without the children's song of "today is a sunny day and sunny is the weather! S-U-N-N-Y! S-U-N-N-Y! S-U-N-N-Y! and sunny is the weather!" i miss my little meteorologists. my clothes are too clean. there are moments when Tara and i will find ourselves sitting in silence together when one of us will say: "i wonder what the kids are doing,"  knowing we're both thinking it. it's incredible to have this feeling, really. it helps us know that this summer was all we believed it was while it was happening-we felt and shared genuine love with these precious children. they've left sticky, messy fingerprints on our hearts, and now that their hands have left ours, they've crawled from our laps and our arms for the last time, we're learning from their prints. we're listening to our memories. we're learning how to love the future children of Marigold through what they have taught us. 

the children taught us to never be complacent. constantly told to sit down, to stop talking, to go tidy, to eat, to sleep, the children were subjected to so many efforts trying to calm them down, to make them docile. and they were still crazy. they still laughed, they still splashed in puddles, they still made messes. they embody resilience, denying negativity access to their hearts and seeking out happiness. so for Loraine, who blessed our mornings with a beautiful smile despite the sagging, soaked and soiled diaper she wore, we went on area visits hunting for diaper donations.

Raymond and Danielle taught us how beautifully a child's artwork can capture their personality. Raymond, a fastidious artist, would spend the entire time allowed for a craft carefully tearing pieces of construction paper up to fit perfectly into the outline of the wing of the plane he was supposed to be filling in. he never finished, but his work was such an awesome exemplification of his little quirks-his patience, his attentiveness, his excitement over seeing his own work. Danielle loves color and patterns. her artwork had a trademark this summer-the circle of puff balls. in every project that we brought the puff balls out for, Danielle would be drawn to them. she would ask for dots of glue in a circle around her project and then carefully pick out a puff ball for each dollop. when she finished hers, it was time to help one of her friends...even if they didn't want her help. for them, we're having the best time writing a year-long curriculum of lessons and crafts for volunteers to share with the new children.

Ronaldino IS perseverance. we always played this game with him where we would stand still and count how long it would take Ronaldino to climb up us and latch onto our necks. he would literally use us as ladders to get into our arms. and he never, ever gave up. he would find the awkward dent in my knee and use it as a step, he'd leap a little and grab onto the collar of our shirts to pull himself up a little higher, he'd pull our arms from our sides and walk up our torso's Mulan style. but when he got level with our eyes, it was always the same. he'd look straight into them and get a huge smile on his face, then he would wrap his arms around our neck, wrap his legs around our waist, rest his head against our collarbone, and settle. you could feel him relax into you, happy to be held and noticed no matter what crazy route he took to get there. i think his record was six seconds from floor to relaxation. learning from him, we called PayPal one more time and, thanks to the incredible patience of Tara's wonderful mom and a darling woman named Erin on the other end of the phone, we found a way to conquer the little bumps we've been struggling with. 

Victor is the teething King and Anita the escapist Queen. between the two of them, the cribs don't stand a chance. so we're going to spend some time with Tara's aunt and cousin making sure that, when future Victors and Anitas come, the cribs are up for the challenge. 

we've been planning these projects for a while, but until now they just seemed like things to do. they were just the physical component that we had the opportunity to help with. and now we're learning from the caregivers and trying to love the children in different ways. we're missing the kids by scraping paint and thanking them by digging up plants. it sounds crazy, and it probably is. but it's given our time so much more meaning. we're not just doing stuff, we're doing it for Kelina and Janeel and Bimbola. it makes it so much more fun. 


Laugh like a Jackie!


eeb

and now the diaper story!! this was so, so cool. so on Thursday we're standing in the supermarket and Tara's mom is talking to an old friend who worked there when they lived here. Mrs. Mullally's telling her about our summer-the time we've spent, some of the hard things we've seen, and especially about the dismal diaper situation. she's telling her about how we're looking for a commitment from area pharmacies and supermarkets for monthly diaper donations. and the woman (Rachel) could not have been sweeter, showing her compassion for the children in her eyes and directing us to the owner of the supermarket chain who happened to be in the office today. the owner could not have been more kind, explaining that they send back dozens of packs of diapers to the distributor that have been opened by customers or damaged in superficial ways. she encouraged us to speak directly to the distributor and provided us with a list of contacts to call, which will be so awesome as we continue to look around for help. and then we walked out of the office and Rachel called Mrs. Mullally back over to her. i went and looked for some groceries and when i got back Mrs. Mullally had the brightest smile on her face and was so pumped-a woman had overheard our conversation with Rachel and had asked Rachel to get our contact information because she was so touched by the story of the children and wants to help. seriously. that happened. and then we ran into a sweet woman named Gill who was friends with the Mullallys when they lived here (along with 80% of Kingston..such a wonderful family!). she graciously offered to help our efforts to collect diapers and plans to link up with Marigold as a caring supporter when we leave. it is absolutely incredible how giving the people of Jamaica are. everyone we tell the story of Marigold to is not only deeply touched by the suffering of the children, but so eager to share in their burden. we are constantly offered donations of time, prayers or services to help the children; it is such a testimony to the power of community and genuine compassion. it has been such an unexpected blessing to witness the dedication to helping others that unites Kingston.