Our visit to the orphanage on Tuesday was both heart breaking and inspiring; beautiful children who have created one giant family out of necessity, tradition, love, vigilance, grace… the result of which is a beautiful life-filled dance of joyous laughter.
As our service project to the orphanage we painted some of the classrooms in a school which services the children there. Roberto, Shannon, April, Misty and I painted in the room nearest the staircase. Midday we ate our lunch in the cafeteria with the Hogar Infantil Shalom family. After we had finished eating, the room cleared out almost entirely. A few of the children stayed behind to handle the post-lunch cleaning duties. The young boy who was wiping down the row of tables I had been sitting at caught my attention because I noticed that he was not looking at any of the tables as he wiped them. Each stroke with the washcloth was measured against the next by feel and muscle memory. This little boy is blind.
I was fascinated by the idea of a child who was so disabled having responsibilities to his community. I stayed for a bit just to see how he was able to find his way around. As he worked he would, at times, come upon a dish or cup which had not been cleared from the tables. Sweeping his hand ahead of his own progress as he cleaned he would find the obstruction, trace its shape with the heal of his hand to identify it, and decide if it should be cleared or left alone.
When he stood up to walk back to the front of the room he walked into me. I had been keeping out of the way, but his activity pattern was unfamiliar. Our impact stopped him instantly and he looked up, smiling. “Hola,” I said. “Hola.” “Que passa?” “Bien.” Later that day, once the painting had been completed, our team got to put on a performance for the children and also to spend some time playing with them. I sought the young boy in the red Spider-Man t-shirt and sat next to him. “Como te llamas?” I asked. “Me llamo Vladimir,” he replied. “Mucho gusto,” I said. “Mucho gusto.”
I observed Vladimir on the playground with the other boys. As one of a trio on the tire swing he swung with ounce of energy he could muster. Part of the game involved the boys all jumping off at the same time while the swing was still pitching wildly. Vladimir ended up landing on the cement, falling on his side, laughing wildly the entire time. He got up quickly and ran back to find his friends. I found myself wondering “does Vladimir mean “beautiful spirit” in Spanish?” I sat next to Vladimir whenever I could, and before long he knew me. He would reach out and feel the fabric of my dress shirt on my arm and a smile would brighten his sightless eyes. I am so very envious of the courage of this dauntless young man. What miracle created him? How much must God love me to have crossed my path with his?
Life is a wonderful discovery. God has blessed me with the finest teachers.
albaniacalling 