A time to laugh, a time to cry (unless you're me), a long time to mow, and a time to destroy orphans at video games.

I hate mowing. Oh my goodness. My vision of what my own little personal hell looks like has expanded to include mowing endless fields of crab-grass in the rain with a lawnmower that must have me confused with someone who destroyed its family in a previous life and is now exacting revenge. I'm totally innocent. Regardless, that's what I'm doing for the majority of my mornings now. Being completely honest, I really have a hard time maintaining a good attitude when I'm using that awful machine. Not because I could be with the kids (I'm with them for 5-7 hours a day anyway), but because I've only had sort of miserable mowing experiences and haven't yet discovered the joy of lawn care (which I know is there and I know I need to find and I promise I'm praying really hard about it).

On the plus side, my experiences have a sort of depressingly funny side to them. For instance, I had failed at the chore for about two hours when my boss came out and was telling me what I was doing wrong. As I stood there feeling my ego throw an indignant fit, I was completely unaware that I was right on top of an ant nest. Brief reminder: ants bite here. So for the next 30 minutes I was hating the fact that I had nerves below my knees and wallowing in bitter hatred of photosynthesis when my boss came out to correct me (again). My ego's sobbing drowned out the sound of common sense sweetly reminding me that just because I was standing over a *different* ant mound now did not guarantee different results. These ants crawled down my socks. After that, mowing simply became a pretense for me to look for a machete with which to amputate my legs (thankfully, ant bites do not last very long). The next day I had to mow everything that I'd missed the first day. It was raining, my wrist still hurt and I could hear the sound of children's laughter off in the distance. I think they were doing it on purpose to taunt me. I was mowing uphill, wondering why lawnmowers weren't made out of balsa wood when my feet decided it was their day off and I collapsed in a heap right on top of my wrist. I got up, pushed, and slipped again. Then I started laughing. What else could I do? Gravity and the evil lawnmower had defeated me. So far, I've spent six hours doing what my boss assures me he can do in less than two. Tomorrow I'm mowing the soccer field and I expect I'll do a little bit better. I also expect a forest yeti will run out and trip me just because it can.

Obviously that's all very dramatic but it has a moral, of course. The whole time I'm mowing I can't stop thinking, "I hate this but I need to have joy, I hate this but I need to have joy." Then I start thinking about how people all over the world do so much harder work for so much longer. Then I start thinking about how cool it would be if I could control water. Then I realize I'm daydreaming and start thinking about what to do when I don't yet find joy in my work. I need to do it, of course, and I need to do it to the best of my abilities. I have to humbly admit that I am simply bad at yard work and need to learn. But I don't think I need to pretend that I'm enjoying myself so long as I am not complaining, because pretending everything is fine would severely get in the way of me asking you all to please, please, please pray that I find joy in completing my morning chores (feeding the pigs, cleaning their stalls, cleaning the sewage treatment area, mowing, harvesting vegetables etc). I hope and expect that I'll eventually find enjoyment in what I do, but even if I don't it will all be fine if I simply have the joy Christ demands of me.

That being said, the rest of my day is always wonderful. I love hanging out with my team, I love playing football (I refuse to call it soccer!), and getting to know these kids has been one of the greatest things ever. As they climb all over me, challenge me to fight them or demand that I try and find their belly-button (Busca mi ombrigo!) I just can't help but think that I am beyond fortunate. Oh, and in case you were wondering about the last part of my title...it's true, the kids were totally unprepared for the maelstrom of technical prowess that I unleashed as I entirely dismantled them in Mario and Sonic Winter Olympics for the Wii. It's not called being overly-competitive if you're simply too good to lose.

Also, continued prayer for all the sick people here. Alison and Ashley are currently laying in bed trying to get over that virus.

We miss you all very much,

-Mateo

Winter in Guatemala

Winter has hit Guatemala and although we know Aslan has not abandoned us, it seems that this tropical land is turning to frost. The beautiful rain has kept us locked inside for 3 days, the temps have dropped, and although its fun pretending like it is fall in Chicago, the down sides of winter here have hit us as well.
Prayer requests-
The stomach flu is going around the orphanage. Specifically among the gringos. This nasty virus will hit some of our team for 48 hours before it passes. And we are living communally. Not the best for prevention, so we go to God.
The kids are stir crazy and are susceptible to not only going crazy but the flu as well.
Everyone is seemingly catching colds.
Overall, this is not what we expected when we traveled south:D But alas, pray that we can enjoy the cold days, the hot coffee, and that we will be equip to nurse one another back to health.
Praise- there are nurses on the other team that is here right now! They know their stuff.
Blessing!

Understanding love, Fun love, Sad love, Tough Love

It's recently occurred to me that I have become a blog slacker. I haven't blogged in over a week. But that's not to say that nothing worth writing about has happened. In the last week I have become English teacher, buddy, game referee, nurse, maid, hairdresser, and disciplinarian. I have given and experienced many different kinds of love. I can't write about everything that's happened in the last week, but here are some of the highlights.

Understanding love

Last Tuesday I started teaching English at the school here at Casa Bernabé. They didn't choose me because I have remotely enough experience, the right kind of degree, or any special talent for teaching. They picked me because I speak Spanish and English, simple as that. So, armed with only a few Dr. Seuss books, a copy of the last test that they all failed, and my own intimidation, I headed down to the school to teach 6 classes--Special Ed, Kindergarten/Pre-Kinder, Preparatoria, 1st grade, 2nd grade, & 3rd grade. At first I tried to teach them all the write the numbers 1-20 in English, but that was a greater challenge than many of them were ready for. With the younger kids I tried singing the ABCs song (yes...I somehow found myself in Guatemala singing acapella by myself to a room full of children...if you know me you know this is very close to my nightmare!), teaching them their colors, and working on hello/goodbye/thank you/you're welcome. These lessons had various levels of effectiveness--some went well, others ended in me having to take disciplinary actions or getting a book thrown at me. But, in the end, I found that the most effective part of each one of the six classes I taught last week was the part when I sat down and told them about my own experience. I sat in a chair in the front of the classroom and explained to them why I knew that they could learn English. Basically, I told them, they could do it because I had. I explained that Spanish is not my first language, as they can probably tell from my poor use of grammar. I had to study for years to be able to talk to them right now. Then I explained that in all my years of studying, the thing that made me improve the most was talking to Spanish speakers and practicing. I told them that they have a rare and special opportunity in living at Casa Bernabé. They have groups of Americans here every week who would love to practice English with them. No, they said, we speak badly and they will make fun of our bad English. But then I asked them, do you judge me when I make mistakes in Spanish? No, of course not, they said. Then, I asked them, why do you think the other Americans and I will judge you? We won't. We are here to love you, not to judge you. I told them that from now on, in my English classes, nothing will happen if they make a mistake speaking. I will correct them, they will say it right, and we will move on. If I make a Spanish mistake, they are welcome to correct me. We will all learn and no one will judge. Despite all the lesson plans I brought and all the things I tried to teach them, that small five minute conversation in each class was the one that brought the most smiles to their faces and made them relax and listen to me.

Fun love

This past Saturday Alejandro, a 17 year old high school student from the area, came to visit the kids in Casa Lamar and Casa Samuel. He told me he used to come here all the time but his senior year has kept him too busy to come often. He was leaving Sunday for a long trip to the US to tour colleges, but he wanted to visit one last time before leaving. All the kids talked about all morning was Alejandro's impending visit. Why? Because Alejandro had promised to bring piñatas. All kids love piñatas. So just before lunch, we took all the kids down to the school and Alejandro hung up a huge piñata shaped like one of the Incredibles. We took a bat, lined them up by size, and let them hack away. Six year olds are stronger than you might think! In the end, we had to limit them to one swing each because the first few destroyed the neck in a matter of seconds. When it finally burst, joyful mayhem ensued. See pictures below for details:)

the piñata

The birthday boy got the final swing

and this is what 17 kids fighting over candy looks like

Other moments of fun love include: a Casa Samuel June birthday party (if you fill 19 children up with cake, nachos, and sugary apple juice, chaos will erupt!), watching Brazil's 3-0 win over Chile with a room full of excited Brazil fans in Casa Ester (complete with Cressia screaming and kissing the screen), and watching Spain's win over Portugal today with a group of teenage girls who are all in love with David Villa and squealed when he scored...¡viva España!

Here is Cressia with the new door decoration the team gave her

Sad love

Sunday was visit day. Once a month families are allowed to come visit their children at Casa Bernabé. I went to the house early Sunday morning to help Nora get them all ready and clean the house. She asked me to do all the girls' hair, which was interesting. Six year olds can be shockingly picky about how their pigtails turn out! Also, letting them know on girl #2's hair that you know how to french braid is a bad and time consuming idea. Thankfully a more Spanish-savvy person was on hand to translate the church service so I got to sit with the kids. I had one of the boys in my lap the whole time due to a lack of chairs with all the visitors there. As they all walked in, the kids craned their necks to see who had come to visit. Some were waiting for family members. Others who knew they had no one to come visit them, were waiting excitedly to spot the family members of their friends and be the first to tell them. "Hey, I see your grandma!" "Look, there's your uncle!" Their selfless excitement was heartbreaking. But the saddest thing of all was watching the little brother and sister that I love. All day Saturday they kept reminding me that their mother was coming on Sunday. "She always comes on visit day," they told me. I ironed their clothes, braided her hair, and made sure they looked extra nice and well-cared-for. They sat in church bouncing in their chairs, waiting for their mother to walk up the stairs with her visitor sticker on. But the service started and she had not appeared. That's when the little boy tapped my arm. "Emily," he said, "you should just know, my mama ALWAYS gets here late. She's always late, but she's coming." But she never came. Not before church, not during church, and not after church. Instead of spending the afternoon with their mother, the disappointed kids spent it with Mateo, me, and a group of very enthusiastic Argentina fans in Casa Nuevo Pacto, watching Argentina defeat Mexico. And, because they are darling children, they still managed to put on a smile, eat a hot dog, and cheer on the team, but I watched them sadly, knowing there was something they would much rather be doing.

Since Morgan and Beth were visiting, we took an updated team picture after church

Tough love

I thought I came to Guatemala to do basically two things: use my Spanish in a ministry setting and love on some needy children. Instead, I spend the better part of my time using the language I learned to speak forcefully to a group of crazy kids and discipline them. I went from a 22 year old with no children who has pretty much never babysat to a drill sergeant who barks orders in Spanish. Last night there was another staff meeting. These meetings are necessary for the staff to run Casa Bernabé, and also for them to have some adult time together, away from the kids. But they are really hard for us because we become the fill-in house parents all evening. I don't know what things are like when Verónica and Jairo are home, but when they leave, absolute, utter mayhem breaks out. The first time this happened I was by myself. You can read about that night in an older post. This time, there were five of us. Five adult females, and we could not control 19 hyper kids who were determined that bed was the last place they planned to go. As the evening progressed and the kids became more and more unruly, we got more and more frustrated. Although the other women were helping a lot, as the most fluent Spanish speaker and the one who knows the house rules, I was doing all the talking. I have gotten very good at telling children to go to bed, to stay in bed, to stop talking, stop fighting, stop hitting, be kind, be quiet, and that if they don't do these things, punishment will soon follow. But words aren't always effective. I can make all the threats of punishment that I want, but if I don't actually follow through, nothing happens. That's the hard part. I came here to hug and cuddle children, not to yell at them, be kicked by them, and forcefully hold them in time out, facing the living room wall. Every time I discipline them and I see that I have made them cry, I feel terrible. I feel like I'm abusing them, not helping them. At one point last night I stopped and looked at the situation. I was hitting a shoe against the door to get their attention in the chaos, and I said to myself, "What am I doing? I'm yelling at a bunch of traumatized orphans!" But thankfully, one of the lovely women with me last night was an actual mother. Most of us here are in our 20s and don't have children. But Jackie, a member of the current group from Ohio, is an actual mother. I don't know if you get special fairy dust sprinkled on you the day you give birth, but I do know that Jackie had a power over the children that none of us had. She doesn't speak a word of Spanish, but she gave them "the Mom look," and magically, they stayed in time out. Our threats became reality as she coached us through punishing them. She told me when to leave one of the girls standing in the hallway, what to say to warn her of the next consequences should she continue to disobey, and when to force her to sit down and be quiet. She assured me that I was not hurting them, but actually helping them. With her instruction I was able to follow through on all the promised consequences and make three of them sit in the living room until their parents arrived to deal with them. This allowed the other children some peace from their tormenting so that they could have a chance at sleeping. At the end of the night I was exhausted, but I didn't feel the desperate sense of failure that I felt the first time I had to put the kids to bed on my own. However, I was sure that when I went there this morning they would all be mad at me for punishing them and ignore me. But this morning I walked into Casa Samuel to the usual happy smiles and chorus of "¡Hola Emily! ¡Buenos días!" Jackie was right. Children are different, and even punishing them can be a form of love. So, even though I came here to cuddle them, hug them, and make them feel loved, and I often feel like I'm doing the exact opposite, it turns out I've been loving them all along. Tough love may not be fun, but someone has got to do it!

Momma Love

This is what John, the little boy I babysit for, says when he misses his mom. I want my momma love.

Being here is making me experience this momma love even though I don’t have any kids to call my own. (And I won’t be taking any home- no worries, not yet at least) Because caring for these kids requires a lot of forgiving, a lot of consistent discipline, patience, and endurance in dealing with bodily functions. Caring for these kids requires momma love. Aka agape.

Last Sunday, for example, I gave all the girls their bath (shower) and the water was cold. I had already done my hair for church and was going to change quickly before the service started after the kids were ready. My plan played out a bit differently when one girl wouldn’t give me the shower hose and decided to spray all the girls herself and another jumped out of the shower and attacked my leg while another screamed and the first one started crying. My leg was soaked and my hair was clearly not going to make it either. What was I to do - yell at little naked screaming girls for being cold? Yes! Just kidding. No- with God’s grace I started singing songs about how great water is and counting to three excitedly each time I sprayed them so they knew the cold wouldn’t last too long. In that moment I did not feel like trying to cheer up these little girls who seemed like my enemies. But God did a miracle right then- he handed out some momma love to me. Because momma love is not easily angered.

I was the one with the towel afterward who got to wrap them up and hug them as they got out. And it didn’t matter that my coffee had worn off.

God knows something about momma love. Momma love (comparable to agape in my use of it here) is constantly tested but constantly rejoices in victories.

So yesterday, when Andrea and I were at the park, one boy got diarrhea that got all over him. I took him back to bathe him. My stomach had been uneasy and more so he was mad at me for bringing him back to the house to clean him up. He wanted to keep playing. But after he was bathed and re-diapered I let him pick out his own socks and shoes.
Black socks and Sponge Bob crocks. I grabbed his hand to go back up the hill and he kissed it. Happy as can be he bounced up the hill and every time we walked past someone I made sure they saw his awesome feet. What can I say, at that moment he was my cute kid to show off. Momma love is patient and kind.

Later I came back and another little boy was at the house and I was supposed to bring him up to the park with the others. He gave me the evil eye and I told him sternly that he was coming up with us right now. And he yelled no and dropped to the pavement. When kids these age don’t want to go somewhere and an adult starts to grab their arm they very strategically make their body go limp so it is impossible to drag them along. I looked down at him and he had tears all down his face. Normally I would not allow for this blatant disrespect of lying down on the pavement because one doesn’t want to walk, but God reminded me that he is fragile.
So I bent down, and humbled myself and instead of demanding that he respect me, I told him I wasn’t mad and that I needed him to come sit with me. I held him for awhile and he finally told me he didn’t feel good. After some time of him sitting on my lap curled in my arms, he started to feel better and suddenly he jumped down and started playing cars with the boys, occasionally looking back at me and smiling. Momma love always protects, always trusts, always perseveres.

Momma love, aka agape, is a miraculous thing. Thank you God for giving all of us a taste of it this summer.

My kids are so dang cute. AND IF YOU WANT TO SPONSOR ONE, GO TO:

http://www.foce.org/sponsorship.html (and pick one from CASA LAMAR! My house! Ok, the other houses work too)

1 Corinthians 13

Love

¹If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. ²If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. ³If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

⁴Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

⁸Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. ¹¹When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. ¹²Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

¹³And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Pictures from the city!

Here are some pictures from the house in the city!

The view from our rooftop! Hello, Guatemala City!
What we wake up to every day. Harol, Cristian, and Samuel... hiding under my blanket. Somehow it is now okay for them to just walk into our room now. We haven't decided if that's good or bad...
Harol, Cristian, Vivi, and Sara.... being absolutely adorable on the swings. We love our job.
Beth has developed a special skill- defying gravity. sorry about that.... tilt your head to the side. Beth with Cristian(the little one) and Sebastian
Me.... getting attacked. You know, the usual.
Hello again!

Beth and I are having a WONDERFUL time in the city- better than we could have ever hoped for. Life is certainly interesting and looks quite different than our friends' days here at Casa Bernabe, but we wouldn't have it any other way. The kids are incredible. Living in a house with them has created such an amazing relationship, and we're already realizing how completely heartbreaking it will be to leave. Going out into the city- which happens a few times everyday- proves more and more interesting as the days go on. For example, a few days ago I was walking the kids home from school with one of the women from the house, and 2 people passed me. When they passed they stared at me, but let's be honest- everyone stares at me. I'm a foot taller than anyone here and Beth and I are the only white people in miles(we haven't seen any others yet). A few seconds after they passed me I heard them shouting, "Mira! Mira!"(Look! Look!) and coming towards me. When they caught up they started speaking very quickly in Spanish. When it was clear I was entirely overwhelmed, Amanda(my wonderful Guatemalan friend) stepped in. Eventually they left and we continued to the house. I later asked Amanda what they were talking about. Apparently, I was mistaken for a famous pro basketball player. I should have just gone with it.

When we go to the park all kinds of kids run up to us and start practicing the English they learned at school. Last time we went a kid walked up to Beth and said, "Good morning!"...... it was 6pm. We even did a kid's English homework for him last week- it was absolutely ridiculous. 12 pages of horrible grammar- apparently subject-verb agreement doesn't matter anymore.

We're at Casa Bernabe for the weekend, which is a much needed break after 3 weeks! It's been fun hearing English spoken, eating Oreos and Peanut Butter(what we have dreamt about for 2 weeks) and seeing our beautiful team again!

Facts:

1. A drunk man sleeps directly outside of our house everyday. The kids are frightened of him, which I assume is for good reason.

2. Fransisco(the house dad) parks his car in the living room every night. Beth went downstairs one night to discover the furniture moved and a car in its place.

3. Whoever thought that having roosters as pets in the city should be arrested.

4. There WAS, in fact, an earthquake last week. I'm not crazy.

5. Beans are delicious. Annnnnd Atol and pan dolce are the best combo ever.

6. Laughing children make the cutest sounds.

7. Guatemalans get sunburned. WHAT?!?!

Love,

Beth and Morgan

A Comic Routine

At this very moment we are laughing. Hard. Not about anything particularly special, but nonetheless it's pretty funny. It is a blessed reality that we possess laughter in abundance here. We all arrive at every meal with something comical that one of the kids did or a hilarious way that we embarrassed ourselves or something... there's quite an incredible supply of stories, and I wish we could share them all with you guys but unfortunately that's just totally impossible.

I realized today that I've never blogged about what my typical day looks like, so I guess I'll do that now. I wake up between 5:30-6:30 to *something*, usually music, sometimes dishwashing, sometimes my roommate joyfully punching me awake (I needed it). I roll out of bed fully dressed in yesterday's clothes because I was too tired to take them off and besides my bed is like 20 feet away from my suitcase and it's totally not worth it. My absolutely delightful roommate Eduardo usually begins a conversation in spanish. I usually just stare at him until the gerbil that powers my brain stops being such a lazy bum and I'm finally able to produce some form of vocal noise. At least twice a morning my spanish fails me utterly, but he's incredibly gracious and helps me out. I say "Hasta luego" and book it up the 108 steps to the main building for breakfast at 7. Did you know they don't refrigerate milk here? It's weird.

My mornings are pretty inconsistent. Some days I'm in the garden, some days I'm watching mildly frightening Discovery Kids programming and some days I'm reading my books and taking naps. I return for lunch at 1, eat, try to manipulate my team members into doing my dishes for me and then head out to Casa Nueva Esperanza (9-12 year old boys) at 2. I usually arrive just in time for all the kids to decide they would rather be playing soccer than doing homework and so we head back down to either the field or the main plaza to play for the next however many hours until dinner. The other possible way the afternoon goes is I show up at 2 and then watch X-Men cartoons with them for approximately forever (I've now seen around 45 episodes). By this time the psychologist shows up to interact with the children and I have to deal with another round of "let's try to hook Mateo up with the woman in the room". So far we are onto the fifth potential mate as I have frustrated their previous attempts to marry me off. By the way, preteen Guatemalan dating advice looks something like this, "Flex for her! Flex for her! Show her your muscles! Pull up your shirt! What is wrong with you!?" I've told them most women won't fall for that. They don't understand. They've tried other tactics such as talking to the women behind my back, drawing fake heart tattoos on my arm with my future wife's name in the center or simply telling the woman that she is now my "novia" (girlfriend). If only it were so easy.

After dinner the kids all change into their pajamas...which as of yesterday is one of my favorite things ever. They got new pajamas, which are fantastically too big, but they have to wear them anyway, so if you chase them their pants will eventually fall down and they'll either trip or freeze because they'll realize they no longer have pants on and there are often some women in the house. This will probably get me thrown in jail, but little Guatemalan boys running around in their underwear makes me happy. I start rounding up the ones who don't have chores and begin throwing/wrestling/kung-fu-ing them into bed which then sets off a random series of impromptu hide and seek matches. One child won't go to bed unless I defeat him in both thumb-wrestling and arm-wrestling and another one demands a brief tickle fight. Obviously I always win (but I'm totally not competitive about it......). As the last kids make it to bed I usually find myself sitting in the older kids' room just talking and playing and answering questions about random things. I tuck them in (for serious!), give them each a hug and leave at 8 pm.

I don't do much more than that, for which I am very glad. I'm starting to help out more with chores around the kitchen so I get to talk with the house mom. I enjoy our "conversations" immensely and I have never enjoyed pairing socks and folding underwear so much (did you hear that mom, did you hear that?!?!). I hope that as my spanish improves I'll be able to learn a lot more from the staff here.

I go to bed between 9:30 and 10 and daydream and listen to music and pray until I finally fall asleep a few hours later. Then I wake up between 5:30-6:30 to *something*, usually music, sometimes dishwashing, sometimes my roommate joyfully punching me awake (I needed it). I roll out of bed fully dressed in yesterday's clothes... and I couldn't be happier.

-Mateo

Tribute to "The Indiana Team"

Yesterday our good friends from Crossroads Community in Indiana left us to go back to the states. They were amazing partners and we would like to take a moment and pay a tribute.

(to the tune of the really long song that we sang on Sunday.... me gozare, me gozare, me gozare... la la la la la la la. JK)

You waited at the airport, threw our 50 lb bags on top of a bus
Let the ladies eat first at each meal without makin a fuss
Two by two you sent workers down to get spit up on
And two by two they returned only a little scarred, mon
To Casa Lamar, Casa Angelitos, y Casa Samuel
You played lots games with little Manuel (s)
Kent hit it off with each of the babies
And Casey hid from them like they had rabies
Lindsey's steady hand made Promesa grand
And we all know she's not from the Avatar land
We worked well together in all sorts of weather
And although we don't miss your dishes
We send you the best of wishes

Thanks for a great two weeks- you all were great with these kids and we can see the footprints yall left here! God bless!- ROH team

Surprise!

Today is my day off so I decided to recap my eventful weekend, emphasis on FULL.

Saturday was a very good day. Maybe the best day I have had here so far. One of boys' sponsor parents, Nate and Rachael, are here visiting from Indiana with Nate's sister Christy and her husband Chris. The four of them have been around Casa Bernabé the past few days hanging out with the kids and taking them out to lunch. Saturday they planned a special outing for all the niños in Casa Samuel. We loaded the kids up in the van, drove them to the mall, and then in the parking lot we told them that they were going to see Toy Story 3, which elicited much excitement. For some of them, it was their first time at a movie theater. Another interesting first for many of them turned out to be escalators. Each adult had two children whose hands we were holding, and when I got mine to the escalator they just backed up and stared dubiously at it. I realized they did not know how to successfully board an escalator so I convinced them to jump on the count of three. They were only mildly terrorized. They also did not realize that after you get off the escalator you have to keep walking to avoid getting run over by the person behind you...oh the new skills you learn at the mall!

The movie was very good...I'll admit I got misty eyed at one point when Andy left his toys to go to college. I was starting to get a guilt complex that my toys might feel very neglected since I'm home so rarely, until Lauren convinced me that there are better things to be feeling guilty about. After the movie we took everyone to Pizza Hut and then McDonalds for ice cream. Thank you globalization.

After we arrived back at Casa Bernabé the kidlets went down for their siesta (the best invention ever) and I spent the rest of the afternoon with Nate, Rachael, Chris, and Christy, translating their time with Veronica and Jairo, the house parents in Casa Samuel. Because of our confidentiality agreements, we can't ask many personal questions about the children and their stories, but I got to learn a lot through being the translator. I heard Veronica and Jairo's whole story, and all about their work with the kids so far. Then Nate and Rachael explained that Rachael's parents want to start sponsoring one of the sweet little girls in Casa Samuel. She has no family except a brother who is a year older than her. Every day she shows me pictures of her brother. In all the pictures is an American couple who she calls her brother's family. But they are not really his family. From what I have been able to gather, they tried to adopt both kids awhile back and the adoption fell through. She was moved to Casa Bernabé and he stayed at another orphanage. She has no one to visit her and no one to support her, so she is the child in the house who I would have most wanted to find a sponsor for. When we told her they wanted to sponsor her she stood there looking at Nate and Rachael. We asked if she understood and she nodded, then went to hug Rachael. It was the longest hug ever, and when she lifted her face there were tears running down her cheeks. I asked her if she was crying because she was happy and she nodded. Finally she will have someone to support and love her.

The day ended with another trip to Hiper País for Cressia, Mateo, Alison, Ashley, and me. One lesson we learned today is that Matt and I should never be allowed to shop together...we encourage one another's compulsiveness, and as a result we ended up with a cart full of exotic fruits whose names we can't actually remember. We also decided to submit to our cravings and buy all the foods we've been missing: orange juice, fruit, whole grain bread (for happy colons:), tea, Nutella, chicken from McDonalds, and in Matt's case, chow mein from your friendly neighborhood Lai Lai Express. Despite its plethora of obvious drawbacks, globalization truly was our friend on Saturday. Its only failure came in our discovery that earplugs are not sold anywhere in the country of Guatemala. Not cool.

Here are the pictures from Saturday's outing...

This is all the kids in the movie theater parking lot when we told them where they're going

At the food court McDonalds waiting for helado!

Everyone at the end of the day

Sunday was Surprise Day for me at Casa Bernabé. From the moment I woke up, nothing was as I planned. I was supposed to teach 3 year old Sunday school with Andrea, so my morning plan was to come up with a lesson on obedience, this month's theme. I chose Noah, went to find Tonilynn to get the children's Bible and coloring pages, and found out that she had lost the Bible and that the room with the copier was locked. Surprise! So Sarah and I drew 9 pictures of the ark. We finished just in time for church, and I ran up with my supplies in hand. As soon as Jairo saw me he ran over to tell me that he would be giving the welcome and that I needed to translate for him. Surprise! I made him assure me that it would only be for the welcome part and I agreed. After the welcome I sat in my seat through the worship time and prepared to leave to teach Sunday school. Then Jairo came back and told me they had no one to translate the sermon. Oh no, I said...I am NOT ready to be doing that! I've never translated a sermon before, or anything else official on a stage in front of people! He searched for someone else, but against all odds every bilingual person was not in the room at that moment. So I translated my first entire church service today. Surprise! I was basically terrified, but Cressia and my team members were praying for me and it went pretty well. Afterwards I realized that it was probably good that I had no notice, no time to get nervous, and no option to say no. The day would probably never have come when I would have said, "Yes, now I know enough Spanish to be ready to translate officially," and I never would have tried. The only way to try something like that is to have no choice, to be the only option. One of my hopes in coming here was to get to use what I've been studying. The past two days have been an abundance of that. Even though I got tired of all the grammar classes, and even more so of the literature ones, the past two days have reminded me why I studied Spanish. There is really nothing as gratifying for me as the feeling of being able to make possible a conversation between two people who otherwise could not communicate. Or to make a church service understandable to a room of non Spanish speakers. This reminded me why I love languages and why I so wanted to be bilingual.

The final surprise came just this morning. I woke up and Cressia said, "They have more work for us." I have learned in the two weeks I've been here that routine is fiction and there is always something else to do. Coming here as a Spanish speaker means coming to be flexible and widely used. It turns out the nurse is leaving, the English teacher is becoming the nurse, and they need a new English teacher. I have never taught anyone anything in my life (other than 3 year old Sunday school last weekend) but I'm going to shadow her tomorrow and see if I can do it. Surprise!

The team from Kokomo, Indiana just left and we are really going to miss them. Their departure will also mean more changes as we all spread out to fill the holes they will leave.

Beauty of every kind

It seems like there is no lack of special moments here. There are always more hugs to give or receive, always new things to learn about the kids, always new glimpses of God's grace...goodness feels very real.

But then there are moments that just breathe life into you. That are more than just "special", but nourish your soul in a way that only a few things can. For me, I've had a couple of those this past week and I'd just like to briefly share them. They may seem fairly mundane, yes, but it is partly because they were so simple and honest that they impacted me so deeply.

First was my discovery that even some 12 year old boys still giggle like tiny children when you blow raspberries on their stomachs (you know, when you plant your mouth against them and blow super hard making an elephant sound). I spent a large portion of tonight chasing them around the house...until they turned the tide and realized I was just as ticklish as they were. As I was about to give one of them a hug before he went to sleep, I could tell he was gonna go for my stomach, so I said, "Ok, only one more and then you need to go to bed!" To which he replied, "Sure! One more for tonight, but tomorrow we're gonna start again!" I smiled and smashed his face against my stomach to show I wasn't afraid of whatever he was gonna do to me. That fact that something so little, so simple, so completely ridiculous could bring so much joy to a kid for a night was really encouraging to me. When faced with the daunting reality of their abused childhood, my ability to do anything seems so insignificant. And yet tonight the most effective way I could communicate the love of Christ was by making elephant noises on their stomachs...and it was enough.

Second was my time spent at the water park on Friday. I was in the pool for a little bit, but for about four hours I was just sitting in the shade with a kid who was being punished and one of my roommates, Eduardo. As we piled onto the bus I realized I had just spent those four hours just talking with Eduardo... in spanish. We have a lot in common. He wants to be a missionary to the Middle East, to some country where Christianity is banned. His passion for serving Christ clearly transcends language, and his joyful and friendly demeanor (he likes shaking hands and giving hugs) are completely infectious. I now have a peer friendship not based in english and that is centered very much on a mutual desire to serve God abroad. How incredible is God's grace! Truly there is little more wonderful than the reality of the global church.

Lastly was when we were driving back from the park. We were all so tired and half the bus was unconscious. I had a kid asleep across my lap as we began a series of switchbacks to regain the 5000 feet of altitude of our descent to the park. The whole 30 minutes it took to get up the mountain was accompanied by one of the most beautiful vistas I have ever seen in my whole life. A towering volcano shrouded in roiling, defined clouds and surrounded by smaller mountains that were reflected in a lake framed by endless greenery. So I'm sitting there, one of my favorite kids asleep in my lap and an incredible view out the window after a day of fun and relaxation in Guatemala...and I was just overwhelmed by the goodness of God. There is no way I deserved anything so wonderful, and yet there I was, so...content. This vista faded and the kid woke up and life went on, but for that moment I could do little else but revel in the love of God.

I wish I could give more detailed accounts of my time here, but in reality I'm mostly just throwing kids around and playing soccer. For all of you praying for us here, please continue to pray for strength and energy and an abundance of love for these kids. But also don't forget to thank God for the wonder and blessing of simply being in this place. Thank you for all of your support, it means so much to us.

-Mateo

I've got joy, joy, joy, joy deep down in my heart....

The Lord gives strength to his people, the Lord blesses his people with peace. Psalm 29:11 This verse has been my constant reminder of God’s faithfulness and love for all his children since I have gotten to Guatemala. Not even after 10 minutes of arriving at the baby house, I have been drooled on, peed on, changed 6 diapers (and believe me, you don't even want to know what they had for dinner the night before) and spit up on. (projectile spit up, I don't understand how such a tiny person can do this) Yet somehow these children, babies have worked their way into my heart. Despite their tantrums, their fighting and their screaming and crying when Luke climbs up beside me on the couch and asks me to read to him or Jamie attacks me with a hug the moment I walk in the door, it makes it worthwhile.

The "mohawk baby" The house moms lovingly refer to me as her "white mama" :)

The baby house as many of us have determined is difficult in many ways, one being that they cannot give you a kind word or encouragement. We are appreciated by a smile and giggle from Emma, a 4 month old baby girl whose wild mohawk like hair has seen better days, (which I amazingly enough got to lay down yesterday after her bath. yay!!!) a look of contentment on Mike’s face who is also loving called “gordito” or when the tiniest of hands slips their hand into yours and looks at you with big, brown eyes that say I trust you to get me up all 108 stairs. This some how makes it all worth it and that joy of knowing they feel loved and protected somehow softens the piercing screams throughout the day.

La piscina- Emily and I with two bebes

Satan has been intent on robbing me of that joy. The joy of loving these children who seem fine but who are really constantly yearning for a kind word and love has been forgotten at times. Realizing that these children are developmentally behind for reasons unknown will literally break your heart. When an 18 month old baby can barely walk or talk, or the sparkle in their eyes is non existent, one has to wonder what has happened to slow that crucial development down. I have to remind myself not to dwell on their past but on their future, that they are now in a loving environment where they can heal.

Mary the youngest baby in the house is 3 months old. She was brought to the orphanage straight from the hospital. It is crazy to think that within the first 2 years of life babies learn what it is like to be loved and what it is like to have a constant loving person in their life and that many of these children did not experience that during those critical years of life. That interaction within those first 2 years, whether positive or negative has an affect on their lives.

When you leave a house you risk breaking a child’s heart just by leaving for the day. They do not all understand yet that not every person in their life is going to abandon them. How could a 2 year old understand that? When they cry or get hurt, they don’t understand that someone who loves them is suppose to be there to kiss their boo boo and make it all better or to just hold them and let them cry.

When you look at these kids you do not see that, you see a child who gets 3 meals a day, has clothes and is able to go to school. We constantly have to keep reminding ourselves that these kids are broken in ways that none of us can understand, that when they cry and scream because someone took away their toy or another kid hit them, that its possibly taking them back to their past, a painful, unloved and abusive past. This has been a new challenge the Lord has revealed to me throughout the last two weeks. Joy and contentment through Christ in our work here has been a shield against exhaustion and frustration. Thank you Lord for your unfailing love and mercy and for your patience.

P.S. I don't know why half of this underlined and the other half is not and why half of it is blue and the other half isnt (and i cant fix it, argh), maybe because technology hates me:)

Lovingly known as "gordito"

sleeping children are the best kind...

We survived the water park! The house in the city was invited as well, so the team is together again(for a little bit, at least)! The park was less chaos then I expected, and the sleeping children on the way home was amazing. Beth and I are shocked to see so many white people, as these are the first ones we've seen in a week! Living in the city, people stop and stare at us when we walk on the street. Cars slow down. A woman stopped and hugged me yesterday. We must be a pretty strange site.... Last night I'm pretty sure there was an earthquake. I mean, the signs were all there: 3:45am, house shaking, the water didn't work in the morning, etc... Beth slept through it and she might think I'm crazy(what roommate wakes you up at 3:45am saying there was an earthquake?), but I'm almost positive it happened. Anyways, the pizza is ready!
yum yum yum.
Adios!
Morgan

There's no crying in baseball!

Fútbol might be the beautiful game, but I still prefer béisbol. As do the boys in Casa Samuel. Yesterday and today we played baseball after homework time (which still consists of counting repeatedly to 11 and doing addition problems that all add up to 11...which they haven't realized yet). Four of the little boys love to play baseball, and now that they know that I like it too it's all we do. I may not be qualified to correct their grammar, convince them to go to bed, or put them in time out, but I certainly intend to improve their batting stances by the end of the summer! Yesterday I taught them how to make applause noises after they cross home plate, but we are still working on hitting all the bases on the way around...they seem to think 3rd is optional at best. Each of them are so funny and they all have their own little quirks that come out when they bat. Their pictures are below their descriptions.

This sweet little boy is the least coordinated. He directly faces the pitcher while batting and holds the bat in front of his face, which doesn't improve his ability to hit the ball much. We have a lot of "otra vez" (the Spanish equivalent of do-overs). He eventually hits it and then we have to worry about reminding him to run...but on the upside it's improving my ability to roll my rr's significantly because I spend a couple hours everyday yelling ¡Corre, corre! Whether or not he hits it hard, he's always up for a celebration at home plate.

This one is a little stinker. He and another boy fight a lot and I try to make them apologize before we continue the game, but usually another boy ends up apologizing for him to expedite the process. He sticks his tongue out every time he comes to the plate and gives me a look that says, "Watch, I'm going to crush it!" He's very athletic and he knows it. He is always full of energy, loves to run, and is very competitive. He too loves a good home plate celebratory break.

But the one that I find most endearing (I know, I'm supposed to find them all equally cute...) is this little boy. He absolutely cracks me up. He's short and stocky, but very athletic, and he is a goofball. I think the reason I like him so much is that he reminds me a lot of my brother, Philip. He is outgoing, confident, and as Philip would say, has "swag." He's probably the most athletic of the boys in the house, and he never misses an opportunity to show off his skills with his special big bat. He consistently crushes the ball beyond the pitcher's reach, circles the bases in a self-assured, borderline cocky way, and then stops the game to have himself one large party at the plate. He has his own victory dance that he does every time he scores, and he always looks at me and says, "Emily, quieres sacar una foto, ¿sí?" (Emily, you want to take a picture, don't you?) He likes me a lot and seeks my approval. Today he made me sit by him while he did his homework. He had to copy the sentence "El pavo es mio papa" (The turkey is mine papa) 9 times, which may as well have been 900 times. After every letter he turned to me to see if it was good, and I had to repeatedly assure him that his writing was acceptable. He is a mess, he knows he's the cool one, but I find him entirely adorable.

And, just because they are so cute...more pictures of my favorite little siblings:)

Whose idea was this?

So tomorrow all 150 kids and the staff are going to a waterpark.

150 kids who mostly can't swim...at a waterpark...filled with water. Did I mention they can't swim?

Prayer please! Almost all of us are going to the park with our respective houses and everyone is soooo excited! But yes, prayer would be appreciated.

-Mateo

Only God knows...

It's so easy to forget that these kids have lived through hell. When I have a kid smashed into my stomach in a bear hug, when we're running around playing soccer, when I sit on their beds as they go to sleep, when we're having a silly contest to see who has the most leg hair or when we are doing so many other normal, good things throughout the day...I forget.

But last night I was reminded of it all. I carried Manuel to his bed, staring into his smiling face as we walked down the hall. I tossed him onto the top bunk and began to tuck him in but he stopped me, saying "Mira! Mira!" (Look!) and began to pull his pajamas up past his thigh. He'd done this last night but there had been a power outage so I couldn't see what he was trying to show me, so I just said "Oh wow"...but now I could see it. On his inner thigh is a lumpy, swollen, scar slightly larger than half of the palm of my hand. What could I say? I asked him if it hurt. Yes. He showed me his other thigh and it had a smaller but just as painful mark. I gave him a hug and he fell asleep.

We aren't allowed to ask questions, so I didn't. Maybe he got this injury after coming to the orphanage...but I doubt it. I'll probably never know where it came from, and that's fine. God knows, and only from Him can there be healing. Still, what was made apparent by Manuel's scars is so often concealed by the smiles and hugs, the laughter and joking. Every kid is here for a reason. A painful, abusive reason. It's far too easy to forget that.

-Matt

Good things come to those who wait. I hope.

This is one of the girls I work with. She is the oldest child in Casa Samuel. She is still in this house because she is deaf and they decided it would be too hard for her to be moved. She attends a special school for deaf children off of the Casa Bernabé campus and sometimes comes home much later than the other children because her bus has to make so many stops in traffic. She has to sleep in a different room than the other girls too because one of them was scaring her in the dark since she can't hear her coming.

She sometimes has a hard time communicating with Veronica and the other children because no one can understand what she is saying. Veronica told me that she used to know sign language but because no one here uses it she has forgotten most of it. Now she reads lips. She has enough hearing that if you make a very loud sound in her direction, sometimes she will turn around. She also knows when music is playing and always tries to dance. But she can't hear herself talk so she doesn't know that the sounds she tries to imitate come out mangled. She's very good at charades and tracing letters in the air. She also has excellent visual memory skills, as I learned today when she DESTROYED me at memory matching cards. But her most valuable virtue is her patience. She knows that everyone else can hear and she can't. Yesterday she had a little toy guitar that plays music when you push a button and she went from person to person, putting it next to their ears, pushing the button, and delightedly watching their reactions as they heard the music. Then she put it to her own ears, pushed the button, and nothing happened. She shrugged her shoulders and moved on to the next person. She is always patient in communication and doesn't get angry at people for not understanding her. She is clearly frustrated but she knows we are trying.

As I have been observing her I have noticed this patience. I asked Veronica about her and she told me more of her story, which helped explain where that patience comes from. She has been at Casa Bernabé for much longer than she originally expected. A woman in Ohio has been trying to adopt her for the past 3 years, but she is still here. Whenever she can, this woman visits her, and she even sent her a photo album of pictures of her house with her picture in all the places she would normally be. But because of tiny loopholes in the international adoption process, she is still here. Waiting. A few months ago they told her it would be two more months, but those two months have come and gone and she still lives with 18 other children who she can't hear. I think she gets through everyday of silent chaos because she is still holding onto the hope that the adoption that started 8 years ago will eventually go through and she will get to move to the beautiful house in Ohio that she sees in the pictures. I so hope that her patience will not be in vain.

oh baby baby

i havent written on this blog yet, because i actually have my own, but yesterday? yesterday was worth posting. read:

yesterday morning morning i woke up to THE SAME bus that decides to rev its engine and honk its horn on the road outside my bed. its ridiculously dumb. anyways. i dragged myself out of bed but by the time i actually got down out of my bed i knew that it was going to be a very long and hard day. my hamstrings were tighter than they had ever been. i mean, it was ri-dic-u-lous. and my back. oh man. my back was (and is) absolutely horrible. actually the upper left side of my entire body is in crazy amounts of pain. it feels like someone punched me. it feels so bruised. anyways. i pushed through taking a shower and putting on my clothes. then i proceeded to go down to the baby house. by stair 3 i was about to kill myself. and the rest of the morning went like that. lots of pain in my legs and back. ibuprofen didnt work and going up 108 stairs didnt either. go figure. anyways. around 145 i was about this close to losing it. too much pain to bear. the kids had been so bad all morning. (Antonia and Estefania had been especially horrible. Estefania decided she wanted to hit everyone today. lovely idea Estefania. ) but Juliet had just like exploded in her diaper. and i was so close to getting to go on break, but i went and changed her anyways. how bad could it be really? ive changed these diapers many a time before, this is just another.

hahaaaaaaa.

so. i go in the changing room, and take off her diaper. it stinks up the place like always (she already has a diaper rash or had an ant bite her butt cause. yeahhh) anyways. i have the diaper off and so i go to reach for the wipe, but it turns out that there was none in the container. and then the diaper which is heavy with poop slides right off the table and onto the floor. me with my quick relexes jumped back and missed getting poop all over my pants, which mind you were clean. go me. so yes. now there is poop and a poopy diaper on the floor and there is still poop on juliets butt cause i havent been able to find the wipes!! so then i quickly find old not even wet wipes and while Karin (helper in the baby house) holds juliets legs up i clean up the poop on the floor. which took much longer than i expected. back to locating wipes and holding juliets legs up. aha! wipes located. thanks karin :) so then i finish wiping off juliet (and the floor. ew.) and go to throw the wipes away. of course all but the dirtiest ones make it into the trash can. the other one falls on the floor. its back to cleaning up poop from the floor! so while i have one hand on juliet and one had holding the trash can open, i clean up more poop! (dont ask how i did that. i must have an extra limb somewhere). so this has all happened in the space of about 3 minutes. thankfully juliet decided she didnt want to scream. THANK YOU BABY. then i lather up her butt with Desiten (i know you wanted to know that!) and grab a clean diaper and scoot her under it and pull the tab up to velcro it and of course! the tab snaps off! great. i now have a broken diaper. at this point i just turned to Rosita (a house mom) and we both laughed. how could i not? it was just a comedy of errors.

so i set the baby down in the play room, tiredly said goodbye to Leanette, and climbed up the 108 stairs again. hoping i make it to the top. i barely did. went on a desperate search for aleve. found some. took it. got a warm compress for my back and was out like a light. WHILE THE BAND WAS PRACTICING AGAIN. im getting good at this. (i slept through it the day before too. mind you this is no ordinary band. this is like flutes and trumpets and horns and maracas. and they're all beginners. it sounds like. SOME ONE KILL MEEEEE.)

and that was my day. oh wait. before i fell asleep i realized that i didn't quite have the spider women reflexes as i thought i did. (apparently the buzzard thought i did though. dont ask.) anyways, i realized that i had poop on my pants. yes. on my pants. greeeeat.

and THAT was my tuesday.

God is faithful to me though! i am feeling better today and found my back brace which is tightly wound around my middle. i feel like Elizabeth from Pirates of the Carribean. thankfully there are no cliffs to fall off of if i faint.

When I think about how many kids are still stuck in a living hell, I feel a deep aching pain. Who will love these kids? What can be done...

Romans 8:38-39 is a huge comfort, reminding me that no matter their circumstances they are never outside of God's love and nothing can change that. So I just thought I'd share it.

"For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor powers, neither height nor depth, not anything in all creation can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord."

Just something small.

-Matt

18 kids and counting...an ode to the true insanity of Michelle Duggar

My last two nights could not have been any different from each other. Last night was bad. I have been trying to sugar coat it for myself and others, but let's face it...last night made me question what in the world I'm doing in the middle of Guatemala spending all my time with children. It also made me seriously contemplate the idea the reproducing might be a no go. Last night all the staff here had a dinner party to give them a break...an idea that we greatly support...in theory. We each went back to our respective houses after dinner to be the adult presence in the parents' absence. Again in theory, the kids were going to be sleeping the whole time so this should have been a piece of cake. False.

When I got there all 19 (yes, we've added one) were in bed...sleeping...allegedly. Veronica loudly said, "Emily is here to watch you and she's going to write down the names of any of you who get out of bed." I didn't realize that would involve me earning an honorary degree in notation. Seriously, the Qumran scribes didn't write this much in a night. Literally from the moment the door closed, absolute chaos ensued. They don't listen to me at all. For three straight hours they screamed, ran around the house, and beat the living daylights out of each other. At first I threatened them with "apuntando" (taking down their names) but that soon became a joke since I had written a paragraph about practically all of them. Then I resorted to raising my voice and making frequent visits to their rooms. Also a fail. At one point a mattress (yes, an entire mattress) flew out of the boys' door and hit me. Seriously, these kids are supposed to be six years old...I don't know what they are feeding them to make them capable of projecting mattresses at their babysitters. Finally, I tried outright emotional manipulation. I calmly explained that Jesus says we are supposed to love each other and hitting does not qualify as one of the 5 love languages (no, not even under Physical Touch). Then I asked them why they disobey me when I like them so much. That earned me a 4 second pause in the mayhem and then it was back to the WWF ring. The last hour consisted of me sitting dejectedly on the couch while they tried to kill each other and made fun of me as I looked perpetually out the window, praying that someone would come to my rescue. Fail.

To summarize an evening of pure terror, I give you the injury tally:

1 bloody mouth

1 swollen eye (due to a belt whipping from another boy)

1 welt on the lower back (because another boy took a board out of his bed and dropped it on this boy...seriously???)

1 upset stomach

1 very upset Emily

However, the bright spot in all of this (and in most situations I encounter here) was the sweet little girl that I spend my mornings with. In the middle of the chaos she called me into the girls' room. She got out of her bed and came over to hug me and said, "Buenas noches Emily. Que los ángeles te protegan." (Good night Emily. I pray that the angels protect you.) Then she asked me for "un beso" and I bent down and let her give me a kiss. All the other girls jumped up to hug me goodnight and then I sent them back to their beds. She is just the best.

Tonight was completely the opposite of last night. At the end of dinner the power went out. Guatemala is dark. We found our flashlights, headlamps, and Ashley's glow sticks and had ourselves a power outage party. A man from the other group bought us all ice cream and we played "fruit" (our adaptation on spoons which involves using the wooden fruit centerpieces as the spoons so we don't have to wash more dishes). We also had a glow stick photo shoot, as you'll see below. Tonight was a much needed forced time of rest and fun after a week (hard to believe we've only been here one week!) of intensity. Sometimes when I'm with the kids it's hard to remember that they haven't had normal childhoods. They seem so well cared for here that it's hard to remember that they've recently been in the street or in situations where their authority members abused them. So, tonight, I give you more pictures of them to remind everyone (mostly myself) that they are indeed precious. Also, here are some pictures of our darkness party:)

Welcome to World Cup season in Latin America!! Brazil won today, which meant that every single person here felt the need to personally congratulate Cressia on her country's achievement

Glow sticks...it says, "Qué Wow!" which basically means Wow, is a made up phrase that Lauren Harlow has formed a special attachment to, and has become one of our team's favorite catchphrases

And this is what a glow stick dance party looks like when you leave your shutter open! Goodnight!