Beautiful Heartbreaks

Warning: This one's a little depressing.

"Yeah!" the child cheers as she knocks the spoon away for maybe the thirtieth time. "Yeah!" I sigh and gather more corn mush on the spoon. "Yeah!" Knock. Splat.

I am sitting in a plastic chair in Mother Teresa's again. I'm attempting to feed the disabled child I have been calling Celine. I call her this because she loves to sing. She also has a much better aim then I predicted. An attendant comes by and tells me that Celine will only allow herself to be fed by a person of her choosing. Clearly, I wasn't it for today. "Yeah!" yells Celine. Splat.

I'm reassigned to another child with special needs. He likes my feeding him a bit too much. He puts his feet in my face and bites the spoon with his oversized jaw. By the time we're done, the floor and my shoes have also gotten a fair share of the meal, but the kid is happy and fed.

Meanwhile, my professor friend is having no difficulties. The child she is feeding occasionally shouts at her angerly, but then gets back to the task at hand. It was an honnor to be able to show a friend of mine around this place. She told me it made her feel humble to be healthy and whole-minded. It's true. I still think that this facility is one of the saddest, but most beautiful, places I have ever volunteered.

I started volunteering at a new place this weekend, too. Abenezer state orphanage was started by a Candadian (also named Elizabeth)and is only about a mile from my home. The majority of the children who liver there were abandonned. All have legally been declared "orphans of the state". Adoptions are rare and only come from international sources.

There is one child there, Daniel, who is probably only two or three weeks old. When I pick him up I feel like I am holding the world's most delicate flower. It's like holding baby bird, he's so small and fragile. The attendent who speaks English told me that they named the boy Daniel because he was left out for the hyenas, but survived. I never wanted to let him go.

Afterwards, I was introduced to the older children. They all stood at attention waiting for me to shake their hands. "Hello, my name is ___________. It is very nice to meet you." They all did this well except for one smiley four-year-old who kept running around me yelling "Mommy! Mommy!" and laughing.

I spent a few minutes with a woman who has leporacy the other day. She was begging in the market. She seemed incredibly happy there in a sunny patch near a patato seller and another woman seeling bark for incense.

How these places can be both so beautiful and so sad is a mystery to me. I never know what will happen next, or what exactly I'm supposed to be doing, but I know it is a blessing to be able to meet the nuns, children, and just everyday people of this place. I'm glad I got to be here.