This month, we’ve been spending our time living and working at an orphanage for teenage girls. There’s one little miss that I’ve grown attached to.
Irene.
Man she is stubborn.
Aren’t we all.
She has consistently let me know that she “told me so” and that I have pronounced my name wrong my entire life. If my name was spelt, ‘Aaron’ then I would be saying it correctly. But in fact, it is Erin, meaning I should be introducing myself as:
Eh-reen…with a little roll on the r.
Hardworker this one. Puts me to shame. Me and many others. She also carries some kinda attitude with her when she is doing these chores. Again, puts my attitude to shame.
She has some classic beauty. I’ve caught myself a few times just staring. She’s so much prettier than she knows. That beauty is inside out.
9 times out of 10, I don’t know how to talk to her. No one can get her to do anything they ask, and she is smarter than me so … you know, what do you do. I can ask her to do something and she’ll shoot back some retort that shuts me up real quick. And in my head I’m like, “Yea… I mean, she’s right.”
I try to be all sweet and make a difference in her life by offering piano lessons to teach her how to read music. Candidly, I could only teach treble clef and would be learning the bass clef along with her. But there’s a book, so meh.
She has continuously turned that one down..lol
She can be intentionally nurturing and she enjoys making things beautiful. You’ll catch her braiding someone’s hair probably once a day. She likes music and she has enjoyed looking at pictures and videos I’ve shown her of my travels thus far.
She’s my favorite. And in just a few weeks, I’ve been pulled to care about her. In reality, in her reality, this means little. Times I see her frustrated, I want to fix it so immediately, but she avoids eye contact with me or if she looks at me, acts like she doesn’t understand what I am saying. She does.
Gosh, I just see so much in her. She is made of such great things and you just know she is going to impact this life and the next. What I do have to teach her, I want to share and I want her to feel warmth and love.
But who am I…well, I am one of probably 20 girls that has come into this house trying to act like her mother. I am just another face trying to tell her everything she needs to know. I am just another American that doesn’t really understand what it is like to lose a mother and be left with an abusive and drunk father who’s left bulging scars on their arms.
Sigh.
And again, I am so frustratingly reminded and humbled by the fact that I am not here to save anyone. They are teaching me more than I can hope to offer them. Again, I am taught that it is the little things that we can do and the lowly in spirit that are honored.
I can want to live out these huge gestures to love and save her, but that pride will just bring me to fall flat on my butt. I am not her mother. I am not her savior. I cannot be here any longer than the stupid 3.5 weeks that I am allowed with her. And guys, I just want to take her back. And I want to go back to Thailand and take all those women back.
Just come home with me and I can take care of all of this. I see where this stuff sucks, and I want to change it.
But God has different plans. He is kind and He has different plans. And through this, He is counseling me in the way of the small things. He says, “I know you can show up in the big things. I know you can rise up and survive when times get hard and tragic and when duty calls for a big comeback. But I want to grow you in the little things that make up a lifetime. The things that ultimately make up who you are. The little things that reveal one’s true character. The things often times unnoticed.”
And here is where I am just bawling over my keyboard. Because I fear the little things aren’t enough for my Irene. I lack faith in the little things. The little things take time and patience and COURAGE. I have to continue to choose to engage and love in the little things that may or may not prove I love them. But my deep, deep desire to be a good and Godly wife and mother is not going to be satisfied with showing up every now and then when times get hard.
My future kids and husband are not going to trust or believe this heart that only awakens and rises when it is disturbed by a great storm. It’s the little commitments. The little and humble day to day things. Like just letting Irene have an attitude when she is doing her chores, trusting that when she calms down, she will let me hug her and kiss her face and make weird noises.
And that just coming downstairs and showing up every day will be enough. That standing next to her will be enough. That looking her in the eyes and asking her questions will be enough. That praying for her will be enough. Kissing her goodnight will be enough. Letting her use my computer when she forgot her books at school, even with my own attitude about that one..that will be enough.
Man I CANNOT stop crying over this right now. I just love her and so many others I’ve met like her and I am learning to trust God with them. And not my own strength. Not my own services. But God. Forever.
Can I cry more than God?
Not even close…
