Where's the thesaurus? I need to look up another word for "change."

June 22^nd, 2013

The early morning wake-ups are the same. Groggy and tired, I shut off my alarm. Ambling in the dark down the path to the main house is like stepping into the past. So much has changed at Open Arms: new kids, the deserted main house kitchen, tatas (male childcare workers), and yet, it took no time at all to feel as though I’d come home.

It’s hard to explain. I’ve erased this paragraph about fifteen times now. Change, it seems, is the theme of this trip, but I know I will contradict myself in the next few entries; after all, consistency is what we’re aiming for here.

What a strange phenomenon it is to be here, two (plus) years after my first departure. Everyone assumes how weird it must feel to see the kids two years older. Yes, they are taller. Yes, they are beautifully and wonderfully, brighter and more self-assured. They have so many more stories and so many more experiences to talk about. And, of course, there’s all that baggage they pick up along the way too. But oddly, it’s not them that I notice the most change in. I arrived to Open Arms seeing the world from what feels like a different set of eyes than I did before.

I didn’t know it was possible, but I think I love them more. I find myself watching them play, or talking amongst themselves, or doing work, and I am blown away by the incredible young people that they are.

A few years ago, I swiped a quote off of a friend’s Facebook wall (thanks, Charlie) that I scribbled down on a scrap of paper. It has followed me around for some time now, but currently it hangs beside my bed in the white house at Open Arms:

I did not know then, as I know now, this quality of in-loveness when we see individuals as God sees them, in all their beauty; and all the earth seems transformed. Suddenly, all around me the world has lightened, the fog has lifted, and the air has cleared, and one understands what we are capable of becoming and how many ways we are indeed the image of God.

There have been a handful of times when I can find no more perfect words than these to describe my experience, but now they seem more fitting that ever before.

These children are often difficult, frustrating, irrational, and sometimes just plain mean, but I suppose the long and short of it is that we all are; something which I was kindly reminded of when one of the children asked me if I had ever sinned. Ultimately, you know it’s love when, despite it all, you still find them so beautiful.

I have changed so much in this two years, and while I do want to address this more, I am quite tired and quite in need of some sleep.

Rest assured, I have worn four different pairs of sweatpants (to which the children kindly ask: “Why are you wearing pajamas?” each morning), and just polished off an entire Cadbury bar (Turkish Delight!) in the last three minutes, so I guess not too much has changed.