Base

Yes, my blog slacking has reached a new low. However, since I'm now quarantined for exposure to scarlet fever, I have nothing to get in the way of remedying my sloth. So, a new blog post...

The most common phrase I hear on a daily basis is, "¿Emily, me puedes columpiar por favor?" This means, "Emily can you please swing me?" The little girl who I spend my mornings with has figured out that I'm always cold and that if she (in a less than subtle attempt to appear selfless) suggests that we go outside to warm up in the sun, this will quickly lead to swinging. Everyday we go outside under the guise of sitting in the warm sun and relaxing, and after approximately 36.8 seconds, when she decides I'm sufficiently heated, she asks me to push her on the swings. Everyday I try to convince her that we should sit, or better yet lie down, in the sun and relax...and everyday my awesome suggestion is rejected. I guess 4 year olds don't value nap time like adults do. So we swing.

The other day I was pushing my little buddy on the swings for quite awhile. At first she was carrying on her usual monologue about how she was convinced there would be a rainbow if we looked at the sky for long enough. I never look up because it hurts my eyes too much, but she's always telling me that she sees rainbows. After awhile, however, she got quiet. She laid her head back on the swing and let it hang there so that when the swing reached its peak she would feel like she was upside-down. She was completely relaxed, with a little smile on her face, and we continued this way for awhile. As I watched her I started to think about how rare moments like this might have been in her life before coming here. I don't know her story, but I know there have to be good reasons why she is here. I doubt that in her prior life she spent much time columpiando in relaxation.

In the past few days I have been witnessing moments of peace like this at Casa Bernabé. Another such moment happened the other day on the soccer field. Actually, it's less of a moment and more of an ongoing series of moments that I have been noticing. As I hear more about the children's stories and why they came to live at Casa Bernabé, I have more reasons to be thankful for the progress they are making here. I recently heard more details about how one of the boys in my house was when he first arrived here. He used to try to scratch and bite and spit on anyone who got close to him. He was terrified, especially of men. This only leads me to assume that he must have been abused in some way by the men in his life prior to coming here. It helps explain some of the things he does and why he acts out for no obvious reason. Since learning this I have been watching him more carefully and have been more understanding of his moods, which fluctuate often. I have particularly been paying attention to his interactions with men, specifically Jairo, the house dad in Casa Samuel. The children love him. Everyday when he comes home from work they all run to hug him. I was wondering if this little boy would do the same. The other day it was sunny so Veronica and I took the kids to the field to play soccer. I was sitting on the hill with a couple of the little girls watching the rest of them play. Then, Jairo came down the hill, returning from work. The game stopped and all the kids ran, screaming, to hug him. Led by this little boy. He wrapped his arms around Jairo's leg and screamed, "¡Papi, has regresado!" (Papi, you're back!)

A couple days later there was another sunny morning. I arrived at the house to find only a few kids there with Veronica. She told me Jairo had taken most of them up to the court to play soccer, so I headed up with my camera to capture a few moments of their favorite activity. As I watched them, particularly the one boy, I saw again how much they love their Papi. He was playing midfield and feeding sweet assists to the little boys so they could score. As the little boy that I was watching ran toward the goal, Jairo kicked him the ball and shouted, "Go, go, it's yours, go score!" Due to his lack of coordination, no goal was scored, however in his delight he ran over and hugged Jairo's leg. "You passed it right to me!" he said. The smile on his face was undeniable.

It's moments like this that have been capturing my attention in the past week. Moments of smiles, moments of deep breaths, moments of respite. When I was little and I played "hide and seek" or "tag" with my friends, I was always the chicken. I never wanted to leave "base" where I knew I was safe and couldn't be caught. I stayed at the base, or at least never ventured very far from it. As I watch these kids I realize that most of them have never had anywhere that they could call "base." In the races that they've been running and the real-life games of hide and seek that they've been playing, there is no base...until now. Moments like these have made me see that Casa Bernabé is base for these children. It's a place where they have wonderful parents like Veronica and Jairo to redeem their perception of adults. It's a place where physical touch can be a healing thing. It's a place of safety where they can finally breathe. They can sit in a swing, hang their heads back, close their eyes, and bask in the sunlight. They can run and hug a man's legs without worrying that he will kick them. They can go through a morning and the biggest thing to worry about can be whether or not they scored off the sweet pass that Papi fed them. This is peace. This is base.