Whack!
“No that was my head!”
Thump!
“Owe my face!”
“Wait wait wait I can’t see where I’m going!”
BOOM!
“ooooooh, Ate (pronounced Ah-tay) Allison are you okay?”
“Yeah Patrick, I’m fine…you just ran me into a medal pole, but I’m fine.”
“Good!”
Whack!
These were the sounds of an epic pillow fight battle that took place in a dark basement with 15 teenage boys.
Over half of these boys have been in gangs, and they have the tattoos- ink they got on the streets, which is way more hardcore than some silly tattoo parlor- and fighting skills to prove it.
The thing is, they are now the gentlest, most tenderhearted boys with the most incredible smiles and joy filled laughs. You would never know the hard life they had lived fighting on the streets before pillow fighting with 6 American girls.
Just to catch you up, my team and I spent all of April working in the Philippines with an organization called Children’s Garden, known as CG from here on out in this blog. CG houses former street boys between the ages of 12-18. The organization gives them more than just a shelter off the streets though. They give these boys food, an education, classes that teach basic skills, a chance to learn the truth about God’s love, grace, and redemption, a family with the staff and other boys …they give these boys a home.
And we got to be a part of that home, that family for 1 entire, glorious month. And after just 1 month, I know that we are forever a part of that family.
The boys at CG weren’t just some ministry for the month; they are brothers now. I have 16- I’m including my 1 punk brother back home. Love you, Grayson- younger brothers now! I’m not kidding! I tear up and smile all at the same time when I think about how much I love them and miss them and hate that I am away from them!
We got to know so much about the boys at CG. We heard about addictions to drugs that started at the age of 8. We heard about abuse so bad that it led one of the boys to contemplate murdering the person who was harming him until God’s love stepped in. We saw the home of one of the boy’s family- 2 parents and 12 siblings all living in a room that was smaller than my closet growing up. We heard about the gang activity, the fighting, the way some of them stole from houses to survive, the way one would pray to God for food and when he did would receive rice that day. We heard about family members lost, hopes, dreams, fears, and passions. And we shared the same with them, and somehow, only God could do this, they found strength and encouragement in what we had to share with them.
How can this happen in only one month, this kind of bond? Well, I’m not sure. I think it was God. He gave us Everything we needed for such an incredible month- I mean everything.
Just a little of what He gave us was time. Time for all the card games we played, the devotions we had together, the improbto worship time, the hours of playing ukulele and guitar, the chance to do karaoke, the few times they humored me by letting me play incredibly intense basketball games with them, and the many, many, many fights we had with each other.
Pillow Fights
Cake and Car Exhaust Fights
Tickle Fights (far more intense and injury prone than it sounds)
Water Fights
My personal favorite was when I chased Geo, one of the boys, down the road while carrying a bottle of water. We were in the middle of a cut throat water fight, and Geo had somehow managed to avoid the water assaults from me and the rest of our team. So I took it upon myself to soak him, even if it meant chasing him down the road barefoot while all the neighbors and passer-bys looked on in confusion.
Once we reached the end of the road, Geo started jogging beside a motorbike that was heading back in the same direction as CG. So, I started jogging on the other side of the motorbike. This particular motorbike carried 2 men- 1 driving and one riding. The poor men found themselves in the middle of a no mercy water fight between a proud teenage Filipino boy and a stubborn, crazy American woman. The concern on their face was completely understandable.
Geo and I both kept pace on either side of the motorbike as the 2 men looked back and forth between us with uncertain, pleading smiles- they didn’t want to get wet either. Finally, in a desperate all hands in attempt to soak Geo, I thrust my water bottle into the face of the innocent passenger and said, “Here! Take it! Splash him!…Here please!”
The poor man was not expecting this, and Geo took the man’s hesitation in that moment as his opportunity to take off. I took off after him, leaving the 2 men to ponder their strange encounter with one of the few Americans they have probably ever met.
I never did get Geo soaked, but it’s a memory I’ll never forget.
Heck, I’ll never forget any of that month.
Before leaving, one of the staff, Michael, asked me to promise something. He asked, “Please don’t forget us.”
How could I? How could I ever forget my family? This was the first time on the World Race that I didn’t feel like I was saying goodbye to another ministry. No, I felt like I was saying bye, see you later, to family. Whether or not I see them again is still do be determined, but I know that they want their sister, their Ate, to visit again, and that’s enough for now.
