Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Thoughts and Challenges

These past three weeks have been a roller-coaster. Lots of emotional highs and lows, lots of lessons learned. We've just passed the two-month mark, which is pretty hard to believe, and since I've arrived I've been slowly but surely getting to know what these kids' lives are like. I can't even pretend to understand fully what they're going through. But based on what I do see, it's pretty rough.

A bunch of the kids we know are runaways, escaping harmful or abusive home situations. It's not uncommon for the girls to get pregnant when they're too young to adequately care for a child, and it's not uncommon for them to lose the baby as they mistreat their bodies to escape their reality. There are boys who get hooked on paco as young as 13 or 14, and wreck their brains with the drug until they're grown and it seems too late to change. There are little kids who steal, and baby girls who are insulted instead of encouraged in their identity. It's a miserable situation in a lot of ways, and though I knew it all coming in, but getting to know and genuinely care about the people who are living this life is a different sort of feeling. Last week, I feel like everything really hit home for me. It's gross, it's really uncomfortable, and I know I'm only scraping the surface. I'm barely starting to understand the ugliness of poverty. Hopefully, as my understanding grows, my love can grow too...

And the crazy thing is, even though our lives couldn't be more juxtaposed (I HAVE a loving family, supportive friends, an incredible education, an ocean full of potential in the years to come), we're really not that different. Sometime earlier this month, I was leaving the train station to go back to the church and on my way out I passed by a woman I'd met the week before, who was standing by the ticket window with her baby boy begging change. When she saw me, she asked if I could hold her child while she ran to the bathroom, so I did. Taking her spot by the ticket window, holding this beautiful baby in my arms, I looked around and for about 3 minutes I saw the station from her perspective. As the ticket lines got longer, I saw people look at me and quickly look away; I saw sympathy move across their faces when they noticed the baby in my arms; after buying their train tickets, a couple of men in suits handed me the small bills they got for change. They couldn't see my degree, and had no clue that I was a volunteer and not a homeless single mother.
When the mom came back, we got to talking. I asked her why she spoke English (she knew a couple of words: Hello, Oh my God, Please Money), and she began to share a little bit of her story. Turns out, both of her parents are doctors, she had an excellent private school education. Turns out it all fell apart in her early teens. I have no clue what changed, why she ended up here, asking for change for her milk and diapers. It's just crazy to think that this woman and I have more in common than I originally thought; fundamentally, we're not that different, her and I.

There are hopeful things here too. At this point, it'd be dishonest of me to idealize the homeless kids or the work here. It's messy and it's hard. But it's also hopeful, and I personally believe that God is still doing beautiful things even here. This Sunday (tomorrow!) is Mother's Day here, and this past week we celebrated with some of the moms who live on the streets. We went to the Plaza General San Martin by the station, sat in the sun and drank mate, made cards with the kids, sculpted with play-doh (even in their 20s, these mommas love playing with kid toys). We'd also brought equipment for pedicures, and all throughout the event, Margi would take the women's feet one by one and wash them. It was really powerful, seeing her look each woman in the eye as she rubbed and rubbed their tired feet, seeing their genuine surprise, their genuine gratitude. Yes, they need jobs, beds, concrete changes in their family situations. But I'm learning that they also need their dignity restored. Which is why washing their feet is more than a waste of water, it's changing the world. (Jesus-style).

For you praying folks...

Exactly 2 Saturdays ago, the guitar I'd been taking to the train station was stolen from me :( The kids at the train station keep asking for it; it's crazy how it really was used to bring light to that train station, and by now it's for sure been sold for drugs somewhere. So I would like to try and find a new one; pray for music during these last 2 months, that despite the setbacks music can be used not just to encourage people there, but to enable them to think differently, hope more, express themselves in a new way.

Classes at the villa are going well. Its a little crazy, because sometimes kids don't show up and then they do, so it's rough. But keep praying for creative ways for me to teach them, not just English, but to encourage them and build them up in a way most of them don't really receive at home.

Keep praying for health, safety, and FOCUS as we approach these last two months.

You guys rock. Thanks for reading.

4 comments:

  1. Mm, I really felt you on the nitty-gritty changes that need to happen -- dignity being foremost. I hope you keep seeing connections and sameness -- and hope! -- underneath all the hustle-bustle of people.

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  2. That story about you holding the baby, and the lady having doctors for parents and a private school education...that would make for an amazing song - about how you two are so much alike. But I'm sure you've already realized this.

    Having your guitar stolen is a crime in so many ways! I'll be praying for a new one :)

    Praying for you and love you, Tina!

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  3. i'm excited for all the new songs with these experiences in 'em!

    and her voice...

    :-P

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