Going to the Missionaries of the Poor on Thursday was one of my highlights of the trip. It was awesome praying with the bothers there and helping them clean and make beds. However, the best part was being able to hang out with a little boy who was blind and in a wheelchair. He was so joyful! And every time I would spin him around in his wheelchair or tickle his neck he would lean back and burst out in laughter. It was so fun and inspiring to see his joy! It was also a very humbling experience feeding the children there.
I had a very difficult experience when we went to an orphanage for disabled children. When we were given a tour, we were led to a room where two little boys with cerebral palsy were lying in a bed together. One of the little boys was moaning and didn’t notice it at first, but at a closer glance I realized that they were covered in flies. I walked over and brushed the flies off and later returned to sit on the bed with them. I didn’t hold either of them because I was scared to hurt them because they both looked so frail. I just sat there and stroked their arms and brushed away the flies. Neither of them said a word, but one looked at me and smiled. It wasn’t the full healthy smile that I’d been so accustomed to seeing on the kids in Haiti, it was more of an attempt at a smile like he was trying it out for the first time. In that moment I was unbelievably frustrated and I wanted to do all I could to make these kids comfortable and happy. I wanted to be able to feed them and give them all the love they deserved but all I was capable of doing at that moment was stroking their arms. The little boy smiled at me a second time, a more self-assured smile and I realized that where I can’t, God can. In that moment I didn’t have the power to fix the brokenness in front of me, but I could show love and trust in God to help where I can’t.
On one of our last days we went to the Missionaries of the Poor where there is home for the mentally and physically disabled. The home had mostly children, but the brothers explained that when people are there, they are there for life. One of the things we did there was help feed the children lunch. A woman gave me a big bowl of some kind of rice porridge and motioned to a boy lying in a crib nearby. One of the brothers came by and told me that the boy’s name was Mario. I wasn’t quite sure how to feed Mario at first. He looked like he was maybe six or seven, and didn’t seem to really be able to use his arms and legs. Eventually he opened his mouth wide enough for me to just put the spoon in and see what he did with the food. He ate it, and I gave him more. For probably half an hour I stood there with a big bowl of porridge, watching Mario slowly chew each spoonful. I talked to him even though he couldn’t understand me or communicate back. But I kept talking and waiting for him to finish each mouthful, smiling at him and wiping up when food fell out. I couldn’t get over how happy he was. I know I was the one giving him physical food, but he was the one with the real gifts. He gave me an understanding of vulnerability that I’ve never known before, the purest example of faith, and best of all a look into the face of Christ hidden in his crippled bones.
The Orphanage of the Missionaries of Charity was the first of many events that cracked my harden shell and left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. Every detail within the orphanage stirred up feelings with a new degree of intensity that in that moment I was unsure how to comprehend them. The moment I looked into the eyes of the first child, I felt my body clench up. It pained me to see a child no more than two years old already carrying such a heaviness of sadness in their eyes. At that moment, I finally understood what it meant when people said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Immediately I wanted to hold the child, and hoped that within my arms he could feel all the love I had for him. I noticed that many of the children showed no desire to be held when I stuck my arms out. They felt distant and withdrawn, however when I did pick them up, they clung onto to me like their life depended on it. I can only guess how many times they have been picked up to be put down by people who end up leaving them. The turmoil I felt caused by this simple small room of children gave me light as to how important it is to always show love and how wasteful it was to ever show anything but it. These children show me how to never be ungrateful for the love I receive from my family, friends and even strangers. It doesn’t matter if you know the person or not; the importance lies in acknowledging the other person as human and as a child of God that deserves love regardless of any other titles he or she holds. Love, at least to me, is what holds the most value in this world.
Aside from all of the silliness that ensued within the group thought the week one of the most profound moments for me was while playing with some of the toddlers at the orphanage and how incredibly kind and giving they were with everything they had from toys to the snacks that they were given. My heart instantly broke when in the midst of playing with some of the little boys I looked over to see a girl, no older than 3 or 4 years old, rocking and consoling a little boy who was upset. The magnitude of this moment extended far beyond her kind gesture but the fact that in having nothing she was still able to give of herself to comfort someone else.
