Interlude

January 13, 2022

Interlude

So.

I’ve not posted here for two months. And I sometimes beat myself up for not posting more frequently. But honestly it might be because I have had difficulties, and I’m not sure if and how to convey my experiences to you. But at the same time, I also think that you should know that being a student missionary isn’t just the pretty pictures that you see on Instagram or on my blog. It’s also having to change overflowing poopy diapers, washing giant loads of piss-smelling clothes by hand for hours, getting lice from your kids, having all sorts of new infections and illnesses, dealing with four-year-olds screaming every night at 2 am, being called and needed by all ten of your kids at the same time, having people insinuate that you’re not good enough, and not always getting the time you need to feel okay. October through December were some of the hardest months for me in terms of responsibility, sleep, stress, and parenting. As the houseparent, I no longer have someone else to send the naughty kids to. I have had to see and deal with so much of these kids’ jealousy, ungratefulness, selfishness, bullying behavior, and sass to last a long, long time. I am in charge of keeping these children fed, clothed, educated, well-mannered, neat, and spiritually nourished. Do I fail sometimes? Yeah, for sure. But I really try my best given everything I have, so I’m not beating myself up over it. I am so grateful that I have had good friends there to support me and encourage me, and my family is just a call away. God too, of course, my BFF for life.

Even after a month and a half of being a full-time houseparent and teacher, I am still trying to learn the balance of discipline and love. I was told I needed to be really strict with the kids at the beginning, so I really cracked down on the discipline at first. Lots of time outs and taking privileges away. Hours and hours went into the “trouble” kids. But that gets old real quick, for the kids and the parents. I was very, very exhausted after a few weeks. Plus, I felt that while the kids respected me more, I wasn’t as connected. I snagged one of the leaders on campus to ask for her advice. She said, “You need to be the alpha.” My immediate thought was “Okay, I gotta be firmer and stricter and show them who’s boss.” But she immediately followed it up with, “you have to be the first one to show them love.”

And that kind of threw me for a loop. How much more impactful would I be if I went out of my way to give them a hug or help with their homework without being asked? These kids already have so many emotional questions and issues with self-worth. Reaching out first is like saying, “Hey, I’m here not because I’m obligated to, but because I love you and you are worth the time.” You could have a beautifully run household and perfectly behaved kids, but if they are obeying out of fear alone, is it really a relationship you want? First Corinthians 13 is super relatable now. Everything I do, the cooking, cleaning, parenting, disciplining, and teaching, won’t contribute towards meaningful connection if they don’t feel loved. So, I am constantly looking for more opportunities to show the kids that I love them. For example, every night once all the kids are in bed, I go around and give each one of them a kiss on the cheek or forehead. And they just soak it up. Even the older ones, who sometimes feel standoffish and are reaching the teen years where they shrug off parental affection, lean as far off the bed as possible to meet me. These kids crave attention and love. All they’ve had is change. People leaving their lives. It makes sense why they feel that they are not worth it for someone to stay. One of the older girls remarked to me with tears in her eyes, “Nobody wants us.” I am praying and praying for good houseparent to take care of these beautiful children until they reach adulthood.

There’s this one girl who used to really get on my nerves. She’s always complaining about something and picking fights with the other girls. She gives me lots of unwarranted sass. Once you form an idea about someone, it’s hard to combat it, especially if their actions continue to confirm it. But one night after I had been sick all day and in bed, she ran in and gave me the biggest hug. She cupped my face in her hands and looked straight in my eyes, “Teacher, are you feeling better?!” Feeling all her potent energy sweetly directed at me—that’s the moment it clicked. “Oh! She’s just really passionate and outspoken about life!” And after that, I suddenly paid more attention to the other things she did that made her so wonderfully unique, like telling me how yummy something is with more fervency than Gordon Ramsey or recalling to me how big and fluffy her pink dress was for her 6th birthday. I am getting a fuller picture of who she is by appreciating the good and the bad.

I’m kinda struggling right now with how to deal with complainant children. One Sunday, all the Estrellas teachers combined their money together to take the children to town. We went to a big pool, had a birthday party, went mango hunting, jumped on a couple bouncy houses, and ate lots and lots of yummy food. Even after a very fun pool day, an occurrence that doesn’t happen very often if at all, all paid for through the generosity of three college students, some kids were still sour and threw tantrums. I thought that they would be a little more grateful for it. I was a little frustrated. Is this just kids in general? Mercy me. Nevertheless, it was a really great day.

When I first arrived on campus, there was a little batch of 5 kittens. Over time, two kittens disappeared (the kids blamed ravenous jungle snakes), leaving three survivors. One of those little kitties has attached himself to me, and I just couldn’t say no. I’ve started to buy cat food and have taken them in. We’ve already named them all, too. Mine is called Chaco, but I also like the name Simon, so there we might be headed for a remix somewhere down the line. He likes to come up to me in the morning and vibe on my shoulder while I make breakfast. A little later, we also somehow acquired a separate litter of 3 kittens and their mom, so now we have a total of 7 cats! Oh well, what’s a few more pets on top of taking care of 9+ children at the same time?

As November rolled around, so did Thanksgiving. I didn’t get to celebrate it with anyone, which was a little disheartening when I saw pictures of my friends and family spending this special holiday together in the warmth of their own homes. It was also a very hard day because the other houseparents had their day off, and so I was left alone with the kids all day. There was lots of sass and back-talk, which is hard to combat when there is no one to back you up on the spot. One girl was being particularly pruney and gave me incredible amounts of back talk the whole day. At last, my tolerance ran out and I snapped, giving her a punishment for the whole week. She was salty with me the entire rest of the day, and she wanted me to know it. When I was trying to get everyone in bed on time, which is one of the most hectic times of the night, she interrupted me in my tracks and asked, “Hey, what happened to the notes I gave you a few days ago?” They were chalk full of hearts and drawings of me and her. Like all other notes the kids would give me, I hung them up on the wall. But when I checked, there was a vacant spot where her notes used to hang, the faded blue wall beneath seeming out of place. “I don’t know, I didn’t take them down…” But before I could investigate, I was pulled away to another girl’s bedtime problem. After a little bit, the sassy girl came up to me again, said notes in hand. But they were defaced. She had taken them off the wall without permission and scribbled black sharpie over every heart, “I love you,” and even over my doodled face. She looked into my eyes with vengeance. “I found them,” her words dripped with malignant smugness. She wanted me to be hurt. And honestly, I was. My heart broke a little. I paused for a few seconds, debating what to do. Then I moved silently into the room, stuffed the papers away somewhere, and carried on with the chaotic bedtime routine. After a few minutes of feeling sad and processing the whole encounter, I realized something. While this was an act that hurt me, she really did it so that she could get revenge for a punishment that she didn’t like. It wasn’t so much a personal attack on me (although it felt like it), but an unhealthy way to deal with anger and authority figures. My feelings softened towards her. She’s just a nine-year-old who has had a life full of disappointments, sadness, and trauma, and therefore has a hard time processing her emotions properly. I wanted her to know that doing these things would not give her the result she wanted. So every time I saw her that night, I was kind. I hope that it spoke more volumes than me chewing her out.

What. A. Thanksgiving. Anyways, life carried on, and she felt bad. She apologized the next day and made new notes to replace the ruined ones. And even though traditional thanksgiving didn’t happen that Thursday, that sabbath all the SMs got together to have a special thanksgiving dinner, which made my heart happy. I wasn’t with my family back home, but I was in the process of forming a new one.

Side note PSA: I am still learning how to parent, and it is hard. Maybe you think that I mishandled some of the situations I’ve described. And perhaps you’re right. Just, have some grace. I am still learning a lot, mostly through trial and error. And I am sure that as I get older and have my own kids, my parenting style will change too. I’ll probably look back on this and smile at my youthful naivety too. But I digress.

Over this past summer, my aunt unexpectedly passed away, so my family held a memorial for her during thanksgiving week. I really wanted to come home and be there for that, but time wouldn’t permit. Instead, I was able to get away to a place with stable wifi for an afternoon and be there virtually through facetime. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough. I drove back to Familia Feliz that night in mind-numbing silence, still trying to mourn and process the loss of a wonderful part of my family. But when I got back to the house, I was met with a beautiful dichotomy. The kids ran up to my car from the house, urging me to come inside and take a look. My spirits rose as I approached the door. They had decorated the house for Christmas! This was because many were leaving for the holidays and wouldn’t be at Familia Feliz on December 25. There were balloons, paper snowflakes and wreaths, soft Christmas music playing in the background, flowers on the table, and even a Christmas tree made out of a random tree branch from outside! We had yummy masaco for dinner (mashed up plantains with cheese) and oodles of presents for the girls afterwards. I whipped out my polaroid so they could have some physical pictures to take with them for break. I don’t know why, but the contrast of this night really stuck out to me. It’s like God was trying to comfort me a little. There was so much life, right where I was. My aunt would have loved to see it.

Oh! Another big thing… We moved houses! The kids went on vacation to their homes (if they had any) from the end of November until february. But because many of the older girls were leaving for boarding school the next year, it wasn’t very practical to stay in the largest house on campus for a dwindling body of girls. So, the very full Harding house switched houses with us, and we got their old one, the central yellow house. It’s a lot smaller, but it seems more suited to our home needs than the dormitory style of the big house. A couple days after that, my good friend and co-houseparent Laura left for the States, as her time of service had come to an end. It was very sad, but I am so grateful for the time I got to spend with such an amazing person. Her love for the kids and positive attitude made such an impact on me and the kids. After the switch of the houses, things slowed down a little bit. With fewer smaller children to take care of, and older girls to help out with the younger ones, chaos was of a smaller presence. School was out, so we’ve been having to keep the kids occupied, which can prove quite a task at times though. We’ve set up a little swing, which can cause some bickering, of course. We pick lots of mangoes from the trees outside the little store across the street. The same chores are done methodically every day. Days go by like flipping pages of a book.

Because the kids are off for like three months, the teachers are allowed a little bit of vacation as well. Since arriving in Bolivia last August, I really didn’t think I would be able to come home for Christmas. It was just too expensive, too risky with the rainy season on death road, and too complicated with Covid. At first, my friends and I planned to take a tour around Bolivia or South America for a few weeks instead. But after planning it all out, it would be just as expensive as if we just went home. And after four months of working hard in a foreign country, we were all itching to be in a familiar and comforting environment for the holidays. So two weeks out, we booked flights to go home on Christmas Eve. We trekked across death road once more and hung out in La Paz for a few days before taking off for the states.

During that time in La Paz, we toured the massive city and also went for a little expedition to an island on the highest lake in the world, Lake Titicaca. We took a three-hour bus ride (plus a nauseating river crossing) to get to the city off the port of the island, Copacabana. Then an hour boat ride to the island, called “Isla del Sol” (Island of the Sun). All this only cost about 25$! The moment we stepped off the boat, we were met by several tour-guiding children. They recommended places to stay and restaurants to eat at. I was skeptical at first, but we took a leap of faith and trusted them. We were led to a cute, inviting hostel to spend the night in (and no, we did not get stolen from or murdered). The whole island was quite chilly and drizzly, and not many tourists were around. It was a quiet but beautiful destination, full of ancient Incan ruins and quaint little restaurants. Friendly locals led herds of sheep and donkeys along the cobblestone walkways. When we went to eat dinner though, it was kind of spooky. The only activity was stray dogs marking their territory or taking an evening stroll. We walked down the uneven pathway lined with empty but apparently open restaurants and picked one that flashed a sign “Pizza.” Inside it was silent with a great view of the lake; not one customer could be seen. But the owner came out immediately and gave us delicious pizza and impeccable service (granted, we were the only clientele, but I still give it 5/5 stars). The next day we headed back after only a measly 24 hours, but I was grateful for the experience.

While Bolivia was great to explore, I think the best part about my vacation was surprising my family with my return (save for my mother, who was in on the scheme). I was able to keep my mouth shut for the whole time too! Sometimes I surprise myself. After nearly 21 hours of flying and layovers, my mom picked me up from our city’s airport to take me home. But when we got there, I stayed outside. I called my family from my phone and spun a tall tale of how I was still in Bolivia, traveling the countryside. And they just ate it up. After I hung up, I walked in to surprise them. Everyone was so shocked! My dad literally couldn’t believe his eyes, as he took a solid 15 seconds blankly staring at me before smiling giving me a big bear hug. I was on cloud nine just to be with my family for Christmas. Being home for the holidays has such a special glow about it; there’s just no replacing it. I am beyond grateful for this opportunity.

This break has been SO nice. I hadn’t realized it until I got here, but I truly needed it. I was getting burnt out before I left. I was at the point where I didn’t even like to cook anymore, something I really enjoy doing. The first week I was at home, I slept in every day and did nothing, mostly because I didn’t have the energy or motivation to. It just didn’t exist. But over the following days, I slowly started to feel myself being charged up and more motivated to do things. It was also weird because it almost felt like my personality was returning as well. Or, at least, a part of myself was being awakened. Something I didn’t realize had gone dormant—a familiar sense of self. After being extended and pushed and grown into a different person over the last four months, it was nice to welcome her back with open arms. It feels good to be in the realm of the known. But recently I have been missing my kids. I even had a dream about them—they were all back at Familia Feliz, hair all done up with white ribbons. And I was so overjoyed to be there with them. I think it’s a sign. I can’t wait to get back out there. It was a well needed break, but now I’m ready to go back and see my kids again.

For those of you who are reading this and can resonate with my sentiments, maybe you need to take a break too. It doesn’t mean that you don’t like what you do, it just means the body needs to pause. I understand and appreciate why God made the Sabbath. It was for our good. To rest and reset. Humans aren’t meant to be robots who can go forever. We need time to recuperate so that we can better “learn to do good, seek justice, help the oppressed, defend the cause of orphans, and fight for the rights of widows” (Isaiah 1:17).