2011 TDCH Dominican Trip

In this update:
The orphanage trip (the first one)

I am going a little off-track here. The last update took us to
Saturday, the 20th of March. This should be a weekly update, but it
will be an update about one day: Wednesday, March 23. I have started
the other weekly update but those details are going to have to wait.

This is my second year doing a trip like this in the Dominican. Last
year, while here with my students, we did many of the same things that
we are doing this year. One of the rotations that we had last year was
the orphanage. Now, many of you probably have a picture of an orphanage
in your head: a run-down building, lots of kids, chaos and mayhem
abounding, an institution etc...
Well, that is not the type of orphanage that our children went to.
This orphanage was for disabled children.

I have seen many orphanages in my travels but I have never
experienced anything like this one. When I first went there last
January I was completely broken in a way I had never expected. I can't
even describe it other than to use the word broken.
There were two floors that we visited: 27ish girls on the first floor and 47ish boys
on the second floor.
The floors were lined with beds/cribs.
Many children were tied to their beds.
Many had few clothes on.
Many spent their time in repetitive motions.
Last year’s students would go to this place regularly as one of their rotations.
By the end of their trip this was, for the majority of them,
the experience that changed them the most.
It made them question their perspective; both on who they are
as individuals in this world as well as who they are as citizens in
such a world as this.

Needless to say I was thrilled to be able to share this type of
experience with this year’s students. When we first got here in
February the leaders went out to get some of the rotations set for the
next day. Guido offered to drive us. (sidebar: Guido is our Dominican
host. He runs the Ministry Centre where we stay. He looks after our
food and lodging, solves many-a problems for us and randomly buys us
ice cream. We heart Guido). He drove us to the orphanage. We were
warmly greeted by the guard and his gun. We went in to talk to someone
to make sure we were allowed to volunteer there again (and we were
hoping to start the next day). He told us that, in actuality, we were
no longer able to visit there. I was stupefied, mystified, confused and
down right annoyed...and slightly freaked out.

The nature of the home has changed drastically since last year.
Instead of having many non-verbal and immobile children needing a
loving touch, the home is now filled with juvenile delinquent types:
kids who have had trouble with the law, drugs, abuse etc...
The only way we were going to be allowed to volunteer would be to get a special
permit from the government.
My gut reaction was to drive straight over to that silly government office and,
not gonna lie, use my white people power to get what I wanted for my kids...
but I didn’t have the guts to ask Guido to drive us.
Fail number two.
We drove home in silence.
Although Jeremy, Jillayna and Peter (the other chaperones)
understood that this was a disappointment, I don’t think they
understood how crushing of a blow this was.

That night I relayed the story to Max. He was very, “cera, cera” about it.
He didn’t seem to have any fight.
Not gonna lie - I was annoyed.
I spent hours that week (who’s kidding who - the hours added up to days)
scouring the Internet for anything that remotely looked like an orphanage
we could volunteer at.
I didn’t tell the children anything.
I didn’t want to say anything until I had a solution
- because then the disappointment would be softened.
They had heard so much about this place from last year’s group!
Between Max’s connections and my searching we came up with a
couple of options:

Max found a home called Rose of Sharon and was excited by the
possibilities ...but then he found out that it was close to the Haitian
border (a good 4 hour drive away).
Max knew of another orphanage locally (and I found the same one
online)...but it housed children affected by HIV and AIDS.
Institutionally we didn’t have the boundaries set up to engage
ourselves there.
There is an orphanage close to the church we attend regularly - but
people whom Max trusts warned against this home based on previous
experiences (it’s dirty - lice etc...and there are issues with how it
is run).
Then we heard of another Rose of Sharon orphanage 15 minutes away. We
tracked down someone who knew where it was. We drove there one evening -
what an adventure it was to find it!
But we made it. We parked the van.
We got out. I entered the gates and saw the building in front of us,
but as soon as I entered the gates I knew something was wrong. It was
empty and dark. There was a man there who told us that the kids moved
out of that home LAST WEEK and he didn’t know where they went.

Right.
This is how the story was supposed to end?
I wasn’t gonna quit until I found more kids for my children to love on.
I kept searching.
Kina arrived and dedicated one day of her time to me so we could run
errands and get some things figured out. While doing errands I talked
with her - female to female (because as much as I love Max and Guido -
they just didn’t have the same need to know why). She agreed to come
with me and stop by the orphanage one more time as it was on the way.
When we walked in Yocasta, the Administrator of the orphanage,
recognized me and said “weren’t you here last week?”
Yep. Awkward.
Kina chatted with her and got some more details. The permit that we needed
was for our protection and safety.
She said that all of the children I was familiar with had been moved to
their sister home in Santiago (two hours away).
I know it is slightly weird and possessive but I felt like
some of these kids were mine and I needed to know where they were.
I asked about Ricky specifically: he is one of the boys we met last year.
He has hydrocephalus (swelling of the brain) and he touched the hearts
of many of last year’s children. Apparently he was with a new family.
This was the last chapter of this novel.
It isn’t how I wanted the book to end.
So I didn’t let it end there...

On Tuesday night I decided to surprise the children for the third time
that week. For nearly four weeks now they have spent time in rotation,
but none of their placements were at an orphanage.
This was something many of them expected and were looking forward to.
On the weekend prior I told many of them, officially, that we were not going to the
orphanage.
They were crushed, but when I told them all the places we’d
investigated they did seem to understand.

Cue Tuesday night: I told them we were going to visit the orphanage in Santiago.
I had booked a bus.
We were going to leave at 7:30, enjoy the scenery for two hours
and spend time loving on children until 4 and then head back to the
base.
They were thrilled! Love surprises.

Some kids were scared.
Some excited. Nervous. Anxious. Unsure. Eager.

I figured that in a group of 22, where I was the only one who had ever
experienced something like this, all of the above adjectives were legit
for someone. Last year we exposed four children at a time to the
orphanage and then we prepared and debriefed in small groups.
This year I was exposing 21 folks at a time.
This was a little bit trickier to prepare for.
As we approached this new home, with (I thought) many of
the same kids we worked with last year, even I was slightly nervous.
I ran in by myself to talk to the director and I was allowed to explore
the home. Even after spending hours with such special children last
year, I still wasn’t prepared for it this year.

Can one ever be “prepared” to see such “limited” lives?

I peeked my heads into some rooms and felt bad that I couldn’t spend
time there...yet. I walked through the gorgeously manicured back yard,
scanned the gardens and immaculate pathways and headed to the shaded
outdoor play area. It was fenced in. Iron fences surrounding a tiled
area.
This may sound crass, but to one who coldly passes by, this area
could remind someone of the Land of Misfit Toys.
There was a girl with a “mangled” ear, children who couldn’t walk, children with misformed appendages and some who only crawled.
What did they all have in common?
They all wanted to be loved.

I went back to the van. I paired up each of our children. I had a
stronger, more relational child partnered up with one who I anticipated
would have a more difficult time.
I did not say much about what I saw other than: be prepared to get dirty.
When you get back on this bus you will have food, drool and dirt on you.
Be prepared to love and be loved.
Be prepared to be stretched.
They were then given a charge: each partner must stick together until lunch.
Explore the place first and then decide where you, as a pair, want to go.
Your task: love.
We exited the van and dispersed.
I watched. I watched them all.

Jillayna went to the fenced in area and picked up a child and started
being exuberant.
DJ, Stacey, Karina and others went to this area and
started interacting with kids.
DJ held on to the same older (at least 14 years old), heavy child for 45 minutes straight. DJ just walked around carrying him. He pushed on despite his muscle fatigue.
Kate and Jake were drawn to a quiet, nearly empty room where children were
confined to their beds. They sat, stroked and sang.
Nathan and Evan went to another room and were exuberant with kids there.
John-Mark,Nicole and Olivia found their way to the room with the really little
kids and started clapping, singing and laughing...while wiping up drool
and spit.

I had told the kids that they could go anywhere, but many were afraid
to head upstairs.
Fear of the unknown, I suppose.
Fear of the quiet.
I took Stacey and Nicole upstairs to kind of lead the way. I sat with
them as we walked through the various rooms and I encouraged them to
stay there. Once I brought these two up, some others followed and “the
upstairs” became less of an uncharted territory. Upstairs was a little
bit tougher to be in because it had the less-responsive children.
It is much difficult to continually love on children when you get absolutely
no feedback.
And upstairs is eerily quiet.

At lunch break I ensured I checked in with each of our children. I
asked them whether it was easier or harder than they expected and I
asked them to share their gut reaction/very first impression of the
place. I needed them to think about these things so these thoughts
would not be lost in the intensity of the day. This, obviously, sparked
some conversation.
It was clear as we interacted that some students
were already having a hard time, many were overwhelmed and were just
coping, a few were in a denial of sorts and some seemed to have come to
terms with it.

From here on out I can only comment on the students I spent time with,
and that was a third of our group.
Know that all of our children had extremely moving experiences.
Each connected with and loved on various other children
and each did so in his/her own way.

The afternoon was powerful for many. This is where I spent the
majority of my time.
Kate spent most of the three hour span with the
same boy: Manguel. My guess is that he as about 9 or so and confined to
his crib. She was drawn to him because of his laugh - it was refreshing
and invigorating.
It was a beautiful thing.
She would move out of his range of site and all of a sudden appear and surprise him.
He laughed hysterically every single time.
David spent nearly three hours sitting on the floor beside the bed of a boy
who seemed to be blind. This boy would be about 15 or so.
He was completely non-verbal and essentially not mobile,
with the exception of his right side which would sometimes
move frantically.
David just sat and held the boy’s hand.
He looked at him.
He was simply a presence.
David continued on despite getting absolutely no response from the boy.

Jillayna spent a good two hours beside the bed of a boy
who hid under his sheet. Again, he was non-verbal and not mobile.
As the afternoon progressed he began to let Jillayna see his face.

Stacey spent all three hours with the same boy who was at least 16,
if not older. Much the same as Jillayna and David,
Stacey learned how to be.
She stroked him, looked him in the eye and held his hand.
She prayed for him.
Stacey and Jillayna regularly sang or hummed to their boys.
The songs and words didn’t matter, the noise and attention did.

Evan, Peter and others spent much time with one of the mobile boys
helping him walk around, and around, and around...and around the room.
He was an older boy so it was tiring, but our children realized the
importance of the interaction and pushed themselves to continue.
There was one boy who was mobile on his own and was kind of monkey -
like as he was able to scale and jump. He spent his day, for the most part,
staring out the only window of the three adjacent rooms. He spent
consecutive hours looking out at the street below. Often our children
were seen beside him, staring at the same street below.

But such an act on our part often resulted in scary thoughts:
...he’ll never be a part of that street below.
We will leave here and he could see us down there as
a part of that street. But he will stay. And tomorrow will be exactly
the same for him. But we will move on and be a part of another street...

Jake. What a heart.
Jake spent two hours, and this is not an exaggeration, holding Jose Luis.
Jose Luis has Down’s and is about 17 years old.
He is a heavy boy who loves to climb and be held. Jake did just that.
He sat on the floor of the room where David, Jillayna and Stacey were.
He held Jose Luis for two hours.
Jose’s head was on Jake’s shoulder.
Jose drooled. Jake was soaked.
Jake just held him, rocked him, talked to him,
was silent with him and gave him love through touch.
Two hours without moving.
Jake was numb early on in the process, but he did not move.
He did not put Jose down.
Jake was committed to loving him.
Jake was not even leaning up against a wall.
He was in the middle of the floor - and if you take a second to think about this
situation you might realize how difficult it would be to hold a heavy
individual without any support other than your body and the floor. Also
keep in mind Jake was the one who injured his back.
After an hour or so, Jillayna noticed that Jake was not very comfortable
and said, “Why don’t you move to the wall and lean against it?”
to which Jake replied, “Because I don’t want want Jose to face a wall.”
Our hearts broke at that moment.
This is love.

Megan.
Megan found her place upstairs just before lunch with a 17/18
year old non-mobile, completely non-verbal boy. When one first looks at
him one would not find beauty in his mangled and dirty teeth, drool and
misformed body.
But Megan found beauty in him.
She and her partner Mitch spent some time with him before lunch.
They realized that singing to him made him really happy -
he gave them the hugest smiles ever!
They got a bunch of people to stand over his bed and sing to him. After
lunch Megan meandered a bit but was quickly drawn back to this boy.
She spent the entire three hours with him, doing much the same as the
others I have written about.
She sang a lot. She made him smile.
Halfway through the afternoon I told Megan to come to me and I gave her
a huge bear hug.
She wept.
She said, “I wasn’t going to do this. You’re making it too hard. You’re making me cry.”
I told her I knew she was holding too much in.
She was trying to be too strong. This was okay.

This is definitely the stuff you’re allowed to cry about. It was only
2:30, we had another hour and a half to go. We needed to recharge. I
told her we were going to process thoughts later, but emotions needed
to be dealt with now. She was not the only one who needed a release. I
went throughout the rooms and found many of our children who needed an
embrace and the reassurance that being emotional was okay.
I loved this role.

As the afternoon progressed Megan became more and more attached to
this boy. She didn’t “do” much but a bond was developing. At one point,
when I was sitting with the boy in the next bed over, a nurse walked
by, smiled and said, “Rotida, you have a new mom today, yes? Is this
your new mom?”
Broken heart, again.

It was extremely difficult for the “upstairs” people to leave: Kate,
Megan, Stacey, Peter, Jeremy, Evan and myself. This isn’t to say that
it was easier for the others to leave, but I can only comment on where
I was. As I stood at the upstairs doorway with this group, trying to
leave, looking at the children in the beds, I was struck by some lyrics
which I shared with them.
The actions of our children today reminded me of the lyrics from Hosanna:
“I see a generation rising up to take their place with selfless faith.
I see a near revival stirring as we pray and seek.
We’re on our knees. Heal my heart and make it clean, open up my
eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like You have loved me.
Break my heart for what breaks Yours, everything I am for Your
Kingdom’s cause as I walk from earth into eternity.”

While some of us were processing the idea of leaving, Kate was drawn
to play with one of the mobile boys, Juan (about 10).
As the day had progressed, the sights and events began to hit Peter.
As he began to realize that this day was coming to a close, reality blew him away and
he let loose. Peter walked away from the group waiting at the door to
deal with things on his own.
Jeremy followed Peter.
I asked Kate to provide support to Peter as well.
As the three of them sat on the floor,
Juan (the boy that Kate had been playing with) slid over and put
his arm around Peter and Jeremy.
This is beauty.
One of the boys we spent our day trying to help was providing comfort to us.

Throughout this account, telling you the ages of these children has
been difficult. I asked the nurses, but the nurses did not know.
Imagine living in a world where no one knows your age?
When I asked their names often the nurses had to think for a minute,
if they could remember at all.
This is not a criticism to the nurses, not at all.
They have plenty to do. This is a criticism on life. I only write these
things to make all of us think: imagine being 17 and having no one know
your age and people have to think about your name.
Imagine spending your life laying in a bed where the only
human contact you get is the occasional pat from some passersby
as they take your picture or from the nurses as they feed, bathe and change you.

This is life for these children.
This is why this experience was such a difficult one for our
children. Some of our children spent three hours beside the bed of
another child close to their age.
Why the difference?
What is right in this situation?
How are we to act?
What are we to do about it?
How are we supposed to let it impact our lives?
We can’t give them our legs to walk, so what should our response be?

Circle Time and post-Circle Time that night was extremely intense.

During Circle Time some folks who take longer to process events were
struck by what they had seen that day.
Many tears were shed, by many,many people.
Many group members were open and honest about their
thoughts of the day and how their life situation impacted how they were
processing these things.
Some of our children, and leaders, who are normally exuberant
were monotone and didn’t have much to say.
It was powerful. Extremely powerful.
After circle time people did what they needed to do:
some went off alone, some went in small groups, some formed large groups,
some talked one-on-one and some found things to laugh about.
As a leader, this evening fascinated me as I watched how
each child responded and processed in different ways.
I spent the post-Circle Time with Olivia, Megan and Rachel.
There was plenty of talking, thinking and crying.
Instead of answering their questions,
we talked about them as a group and tried to figure things out.
They, and many more of our children, were absolutely torn to pieces
after this experience.
How could you not be?
Rachel told us how she was walking around the fenced area,
holding hands with a 10 year old girl.
They were walking around when the girl pointed up to the sky
and said, “Yo se Dios” (I know God).
After some time the girl looked up at Rachel and said, “Mama?”

I am not sure how else to respond to this day: watching a group of 18
teenagers and four leaders be stretched as much as they were. I am not
sure how to respond to the questions our children and leaders asked.
Many of our children wrote lengthy journal entries: were 18-25 pages
long. I don’t shouldn’t write more so I’ll let a song do it for me.
Here are some of the lyrics written by my friend George Strait:

I Saw God Today

[Chorus]
I've been to church,
I've read the book,
I know He's there,
But I don't look,
near as often as I should,

His fingerprints are everywhere,
I just look down and stop and stare,
open my eyes and then I swear,
I Saw God Today,

[VERSE 3:]
Got my face pushed up against the nursery glass,
she's sleeping like a rock,
my name on her wrist,
wearing tiny pink socks,
she's got my nose,
she's got her Mama's eyes,
my bran new baby girl,
she's a miracle,
I Saw God Today

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Quickly...the final moments...

Friday, April 15, 2011

#6 - We saw God today....