Written 3/15/2010
There’s a moment where your alarm goes off (bright and early
at 5:30AM) where you lay in bed and
wonder if your hearing has gone bad.
Why?
Because after the roosters have woken you up multiple times
in the night with sounds not so different from a crying toddler, you can’t tell
whether your toddlers are screaming bloody murder, or the chickens are.
You don’t want to leave the mattress, because as soon as you
do, you know you’ll have to differentiate between the two.
And when it’s still thirty minutes before the kids are
allowed to get out of bed, you don’t want to put yourself through thirty
minutes of knowing it’s them and not the chickens.
Because following through on the nursery staff’s advice to
not let them out before and knowing they’re still crying breaks your heart,
Even though personal experience before the Race has taught
you they’re right.
So you sit up, and look out the window every once in awhile
as the sun rises.
You think – a Philippines
sunrise isn’t all that spectacular when you’re in the city.
You glance over at your shoes.
You pull your backpack over, grab your hairbrush, and
quickly run it through your hair.
Then you stuff everything you don’t need for the next hour
and eight minutes until your relief arrives into that backpack, pick yourself
up off the mattress, put your shoes and watch back on…
And take a deep breath.
Because that 5 minutes till six according to your watch is
10 minutes till on the clock on the wall.
10 minutes is doable, you tell yourself as you stash your
backpack in a safe place.
10 minutes is not going to break your resolve.
But you stare out the window and you wonder.
Because you know you’re about the closest thing to a mom
these kids have, after the staff.
And you ask yourself, on the spot at six o’clock – what
in the world were you thinking, God, to put ME here in the nursery?
But when you know you’re going to see faces like this as
soon as you go in, you know this is where you’re supposed to be.