Painting Poverty

What a week! First, we are blessed to have Mariya´s mom and sister here visiting which has added some fun to the gringo house. Next, in honor of the family visit, Mariya, myself and the family went to Cuenca (middle part of the sierra) for the weekend. While there, we mixed business with pleasure by taking a jaunt out to investigate a foundation for disabled children in the hopes of placing one of our precious babies, 8 year old Jamil with cerebral palsy, with them so that he might receive the therapy and attention that we can´t provide for him here. We also went to a symphony (free presentation), had a literary conversation with an American owner of a bookstore in Cuenca and meandered through seemingly endless knick-nacks and works of art. But as I was wandering through paintings, clay figures and such, I kept thinking to myself, ¨this isn´t my Ecuador.¨ It may have partially been because we were in the Sierra and they have their own traditional clothing and such. But more than that, even the Sierra doesn´t always look like that. Well, it got me thinking...

Why doesn´t anyone paint poverty? Why can I only find palm trees and toucans from the Galapagos, women in colorful shaws and felt hats sitting with baskets from the Sierra and sunsets over the beach from the coast? Where are my barrios, my houses made of cane and cement blocks, my little boys selling juices in plastic baggies, my old men mending their fishing nets before the next tide, my women poking sticks into open fires roasting corn and plantains, where is my Ecuador? All of these things are so beautiful to me that if I had any artistic talent, I would paint them in the bold colors of salsa dancing and the softer ones of the ocean outside my window. I would paint them with the humor of Norman Rockwell and the tranquility of Thomas Kinkade. But I can´t paint (unless there are numbers) so I can´t capture this beauty that I find hiding in the often times horrible reality of life. I can only hold it in my heart, to guard the memories there as I learn to love it even more, despite the abrasive smells, the mud, the chickens and dogs. Maybe no one can paint my Ecuador or maybe no one has tried.

I challenge anyone out there with artistic talent to try to capture this life around me. But capture it in a way that isn´t dreary and sad, doesn´t hide the reality of what it, but shows the joy, the life, the beauty amidst the garbage and dirt floors that I see everyday.

In the meantime, I will remain your little missionary, still learning Spanish, still learning Ecuador and still learning how to love in the way I am meant to. May you all have a great next week, hope all enjoyed the MLK weekend, many prayers to those at the March for Life in DC, and as always, more to come next week from life on the flipside...

Los Sueños de Gaby

Hello again to one and all, please forgive the extended absence from my blog, to all those concerned, I am not currently buried under lava from the currently active volcano and am in fact about 9 hours away from it. No worries, Olón is not about to be the next Pompei :)

This week has brought a return to work in force. We are currently planning for the new year and also for the summer vacations (remember, it´s backwards here since it´s the southern hemisphere) for our little ones. This is an interesting task, as we are currently short staffed but the Lord is blessing it. Just when I have had enough, having spent 7 hours in a meeting (yep, serious) or the whole day reviewing files in the office, the Lord blesses me with a reminder of why I am doing what I am doing. Let me tell you a story about los sueños de Gaby (Gaby´s dreams)...

Gaby is a 9 year old little girl who has lived on base now for almost three years with her two brothers. She is an incredibly smart and special little girl, one of those 9-going-on-35 kind of kids. Yesterday Gaby, who is usually bubbly and smiling, was having a rough day. So we went for a walk, (was taking a break from files anyway) stopped at the little store on base for some juice and crackers and went and sat on the cliff overlooking to ocean.

While there, she was telling me about how she was sad because her mom hadn´t come to take her for Christmas like she promised and she didn´t think she was going to see her mom this vacation either (probably true). We were talking about how this is a hard thing but how our faith can help us, how when we feel really small it´s okay because we have a God who´s really big, bigger than the ocean and everything, and He knows what we want in our hearts and He won´t let us down. As soon as I started to talk about the Lord, her little face lit up and she really started to pay attention. After a few minutes of quiet, she bashfully told me that she had seen ¨Papito Dios¨ (affectionate name for God) in her dreams. That sometimes in her dreams, Papito Dios comes and takes her and they visit all the families in the pueblo that don´t have a lot and that they give them things from a backpack full of toys and food that Gaby has. Papito Dios carries her in his arms and they go around the pueblo and then sometimes to the Santuario, our church. As she was telling me all this, she became a different kid, for a few moments, she became a happy kid again.

And I was reminded of something. That even though I feel frustrated sometimes because I don´t have the words to console these precious babies in the way I want and sometimes there aren´t words, that it´s okay. That the Lord indeed has a special protection for these little ones, that He is speaking to their heart when no one else can and He is consoling them. Thank you Papito Dios, for reminding me that even though I am small, that You are big and You are taking care of these niños too.

Love to you all, may you too share the sueños de Gaby...