While
standing in the middle the kitchen of an orphanage in the Philippines I
experienced a hard truth. I would not say that I learned a hard truth per say. This was not something that I could
have gained through reading about it in a book, listening to a lecture or
having conversation about it over coffee, I was participating and interacting.
I spent four weeks of February on the
island called Malabalay living on an orphanage compound just outside of the
capital, Malabalay City.
The orphanage house where all of the children stayed.
We had about 30 people with our
organization working at the orphanage which housed about 30 kids ages 1-13.
There were several other projects and activities we were involved with, but our
main focus for the month was caring for the kids 24 hours a day. We would work
in groups of 3 or 4 people in 8-10 hour shifts every other day or so. There was
a baby section of the house with 3 babies and a handful of toddlers. There were
a lot of crying and poopy diapers in this section but the kids were so precious.
Mowing down on some grub.
There was an ‘older boys’ and an ‘older
girls’ section upstairs in the house. We would wake these kids up, get them
ready for the day and send them off to school during the week. When they
returned home we would play (some of them would whip me in chess), have them do
their chores, do a small devotion and tuck them in. On weekends the compound would host AWANA
camps for the community. Basically hundreds of kids would be shuttled to the
compound to play, sing songs, learn about God, eat some lunch and have fun with
friends. These days could be hectic with so many random kids running around but
it was enjoyable to see the kids have so much fun.
Tara holding it down on the dance floor during the signature AWANA song. Face
to face, shoulder to shoulder…
One of the first nights of the month
I was on ‘older kids duty’. All of the kids piled into the kitchen and they
were rowdy. Kids were screaming and throwing food. Multiple times I un-successfully
attempted to get the situation under control. I would assume that anyone who
has ever cared for small children for a substantial period of time has at least
one point in time where they have found themselves at a boiling point. There I
was telling a child for the 37th time to stop poking their sister
with their dinner fork and to eat their vegetables. The reply I receive is a tongue
stuck out at me. A moment later another kid ran by and spilled spaghetti sauce
all over my legs. Boiling point reached.
I couldn’t understand why these kids would not listen to me.
Countless thoughts went through my mind as to how I could get the situation
under control.
‘How much duct tape do I have? Do I have
enough to tie up 30 kids?’
While I
was seeing red my gaze turned to a piece of paper attached to the wall next to
the fridge. The paper was written in sloppy block letters with crayon and it read:
“WELCOME KANSAS TEAM”.
All
anger dissipated from my body. My hand fell to my sides and my clinched hands
slowly unwound. My heart sank as a sobering wave of reality engulfed me. Thoughts poured into my head…
‘Welcome Kansas team… I wonder how many ‘teams’
have come. One? Two? Twenty? Why the hell should these kids listen to me… I am
just part of another ‘team’ that will be gone in a month. I have done nothing
to earn their respect. I wonder how many times different American have told
them to behave… Why are Americans from half way across the world caring for
these kids anyways? These kids need a steady figure in their lives. Random
Americans dropping by every now and again is not healthy…They need their
parents. Where are the parents? Don’t they know their kids need them? Why do we
live in a world where something like this can happen? Something isn’t right…
At this point my knees are getting weak and my stomach is in
knots. I walk outside and slump into a ball onto the bottom step. Every fiber
in my being feels numb and I do not know what to do. In my broken state one
phrase continues to echo and rattle my fragile heart.
Something isn’t right…
Something isn’t right… Something isn’t right. This isn’t how it is supposed to
be.
I was
comforted by the Lord’s presence. He began to console me. I didn’t hear a voice
thunder from the sky but I felt a soft voice speak within me saying that I am
right, that this isn’t how it is supposed to be. This isn’t right. Kids should ideally have their parents to raise them in a healthy loving environment,
but that doesn’t always happen. Why? We have to take a step out of the limited
perspective of man and his small understanding to look at the grand scheme of
it all. Sin was integrated into our
humanity back in the Garden of Eden. Long story short, sin has evolved and
become so incorporated into society that orphan children are now a norm.
As
un-ideal as the situation is, God still gets glory out of the situation. These
kids are beset with an unfortunate state early in life, but so many doors of
opportunity are revealed because of it. These kids are blessed with amazing
care from a loving full time staff that treats them all like their own kids.
They all have a roof over their heads and a warm bed to sleep in. They get new
clothes, shoes, school supplies, and toys donated regularly. They are raised
knowing that God loves them very much, my prayer is that they never deviate
from Him their whole life. Nothing is more important than knowing who created
us. Best of all, they have each other. Tons of brothers and sisters that they
can do life with and have fun doing it.
No, I
wasn’t respected by the kids that day in the kitchen, but I earned their
respect by the time we left. I loved them all as a big brother and told them
that they are loved regularly. Those kids stole my heart and it was rough
saying goodbye.
Life
doesn’t always make sense while we are only viewing the world from our limited
perspectives. In the end, we always have the choice to get caught up in a pessimistic
mindset and let situations drag us down or to rise above the situation and make
the most of it. I’d like to think that we made the most out of the situation in
that orphanage on Malabalay Island.
