The Rhythm of Things

September 28, 2021

The Rhythm of Things

I remember seeing these tired young moms coming into church once a week, eyes tired and hair a mess. I felt half amused and half sad for them. “Motherhood must be tiring, glad I’m not them!”

Fast forward to September 2021—I’m them.

I am procuring prime, first-hand experience of what motherhood is like. In leu of being a free, young adult waltzing around a college campus with only myself to look after, I get to clean, cook, and take care of 9 kids with so much energy that it would put Tigger to shame. It’s a LOT of work.

It feels weird. Not just that motherhood part, but the whole being away from college thing. I am so used to school, so used to this conveyor belt of life that I didn’t realize I was on. One year of school done, on to the next. And the next, and the next. I didn’t realize it, but my whole life in the States have been… pretty self-centered. Always with the goal of getting “that job” with “that life.” Not that it’s wrong, but by taking intentional time to hop off that conveyor belt and serve instead of being served is changing the way my brain thinks. It’s also making me question my goals a little bit. Do I really want “that life”? Will it be as fulfilling as I think? Clocking in that 9-5, longing for the weekends, for those two weeks of vacation? No answers yet, just things I’ve been thinking about recently.

Here at Familia Feliz, normal life is starting finally to settle in for me. On a school day, I try to wake up around 5:30 am, have my devotional, and start breakfast around 6:15. We wake 9 sleepy kids up around the same time and have devotional around 6:45. Devotional begins with a cappella hymns or other children’s songs, and then a reading and reflection. Breakfast at 7:20 and then the kids head off to school by 8 am. A couple younger kids stay behind because they are too young for school, and we take care of them until the kids come back from school around 12:30. Until then, we clean, sweep, cook for lunch, and enjoy the quieter atmosphere for a few hours. After lunch, the kids have chores and some free time, then they start on homework for the afternoon. I’ve been told that many of the kids have undiagnosed learning disabilities, so they need extra time, patience, and help doing their homework. Sometimes we have to sit down with the kids for hours trying to get them to focus. Around 5, we usually head over to the river to hand-wash clothes and bathe the kids. After dinner, which is usually leftovers with a hot drink, we have worship again and then off to bed. Once a week on a non-school night, the kids can either watch a movie or play soccer outside.

Each of the volunteers has a day off during the week where they are free of responsibilities. Mine have been great so far. Every Tuesday, I head into town with my other SM friends. We usually start off our days with fresh, hot empanadas and api (a warm red corn drink) from our favorite street vendor. Then it’s off to a nice hotel to sit in their lounge for cheap Wi-Fi so we can catch up with friends and family or take a short nap. For dinner, we like to try out one of the local restaurants, preferably ones with a foosball table.

If you’ve read this far, I’m assuming that you’re at least somewhat curious as to what’s happened to me so far. Well, I’ll try to recount the big things. The morning after I uploaded my last post, I woke up around 4 am and barely made it to the bathroom in time to puke up my guts. For the next 10 hours, I had the worst food poisoning in my life, throwing up a total of 11 times! At hour 9, I still couldn’t hold down any water or the five different types of medicine I was given, so I thought I would have to go to the hospital to get an IV. However, after one last try with another medication, I stopped throwing up. The whole experience was really awful, but everyone pitched in to help me while I was under the weather. Evelin covered for me and watched my kids, Zach had his kids bring me flowers, and Dain was basically my nurse the whole time.

The other day, one of the volunteers made a bunch of bread to sell to the local community. I was selected to help last minute and hopped into a very crowded car to experience first-hand marketing in Español. We took a right out of the driveway and stopped after a few minutes at the first house. To my surprise, we walked straight into people’s yards, announcing our merchandise at the top of our voices. My North American mindset instinctively expected the immediate emergence of angry neighbors with loaded firearms. But to my surprise, everyone was quite friendly, despite random strangers trespassing deep into their property. Their homes didn’t have fences or security cameras. Heck, they didn’t even have doors sometimes. Their homes were walls made of imperfect driftwood and thatch roofing. The only security system they have are dirty dogs and roaming chickens. Yet they seem content. When I got back to my unfurnished, doorless room at Familia Feliz with my one working lightbulb, cinderblock walls, and mostly functioning indoor plumbing, it felt like a mansion.

The kids here are really built different from all other kids I’ve seen. They aren’t afraid of snakes, spiders, insects, or any other type of nature. Some will catch rats with their feet and kill them with flip flops. They will take long treks in the jungle barefoot, and drink water straight from the streams (which I try to discourage). Lice doesn’t seem to bother them too much either. One of my girls has so much lice, you could look down at her head at any moment and see at least 10 of them in all shapes and sizes traversing their way across her scalp. My lice comb is getting good mileage on her head. I’ve also been graced with such an opportunity. I was walking through a doorway and one girl halted me and pulled three lice out of my hair on the spot. Without skipping a beat, three of the older girls were on top of my head, conducting a search party for more unwanted culprits. No judgement, only love for each other and shared hatred for those pesky bugs. Then even braided my hair afterwards—what service!

When I was a little kid, my didactic father loved to educate me about history and science through articles, documentaries, and videos. One of those educational experiences happened to increase my awareness about boras, which are moths that plant eggs inside the skin of any living creature. The only way to get them out is to wait for them to hatch and grow into wormy larvae so you can painfully pinch them out. This lovely piece of knowledge has come in very handy down here, since basically all my kids have at least one or two. Let’s just say I am now an expert moth killer.

On some Sundays, I watch the older girls while their housemom has her day off. It’s a MUCH different type of vibe than younger kids. With the 2-11 year olds, it’s very hands on—saying no to things, helping them with homework, making sure they eat all their food and at least have pants on. But with the older girls, they can pretty much take care of themselves. They also do much more manual labor. One Sunday, I was told that we were going to town, but my Spanish comprehension isn’t the greatest, so I didn’t understand exactly what for. Well, I found out once our crowded and shaky truck pulled up to a large tomato field. The girls hopped off, hoes and machetes in hand. Boy, was I glad I wore my boots. For the next six hours, Kristen was hunched over, tilling a field, and getting grilled by the sun. I tried my hardest, but my pace was still slower than most of the other girls.

Physical labor isn’t the only thing that takes work. The language barrier is a real thing and is a constant hinderance to being able to connect with the kids. To have the desire to know these kids more, but not be able to understand them completely just tears me up. It’s hard enough parenting and disciplining with sometimes manipulative and hurting children, but to do it in a language that you don’t fully know yet is kinda breaking my brain. And my heart.

For example, I received news that a few of my older girls didn’t turn in their homework for the day. When confronted about it at the lunch table, they said that it was because they needed help, and no one could help them that understood Spanish—that meant me. It was a true, unintentional blow. Nevertheless, I was still able to help with their homework that night. And I still do every day. I know that my Spanish is getting better, but I still have to constantly remind myself to be patient with myself. Despite the challenges, I wouldn’t have changed locations. I love the challenge, and more importantly, I absolutely love the kids. Yes, they are crazy at times and need a lot of attention and a firm hand, but they’ve captured my whole heart.

Speaking of children, I also have been subconsciously comparing childhoods. Take a minute to think of your own upbringing. I’m not sure about you, but for me, I had two loving parents who would give and do anything for me to thrive. They supported me, loved me, and encouraged me throughout all sorts of things, and still do. I felt safe, something that I’ve never had to question. But these kids, kids with beautiful souls and possibilities ahead of them, have had to question their safety for most of their lives. It’s unfair that they have had such a drastically more unstable life solely because of where and to whom they were born.

I get to hold these kids when they’re crying. They greet me every morning with a drowsy “buen dia” and a big hug every morning. We get into tickle fights that usually end up on the floor. They come to me when they get a scratch so I can patch them up. They give me little gifts (only after I close my eyes) and sing me songs they make up on the spot. They fall asleep on me in church. We draw each other and pass each other little notes chalk-full of hearts. It’s infuriating to me that people could birth these beautiful human beings, and then not want them. Sure, some don’t have parents anymore or some just don’t have the finances to, but for the majority, it’s because they aren’t wanted. It breaks my heart.

Anyways, I am learning a lot. A lot about parenting, a lot about self-care, and a lot about God too. I love these kids so much and I feel like I would do anything for them, and it’s only been a month and a half! I wonder how much more God loves us like that. I’m sure He is furious when we are maliciously wronged or mistreated. I would be too for my kids. I’m gaining more perspective about how much He loves us, as a friend and as a parent would. It’s crazy love to really understand how much He sacrificed so that we could be an unbroken family. I’m looking forward to that day, but until then, I’ll keep trusting in His promises to provide and strengthen.

Love from Bolivia,

Kris <3

P.S. Keep me in your prayers, Kristen is going to start to teach art classes this week!