Did you ever have a day where it feels like God shouts “Hey you! Listen up! Today I’m gonna teach you something!” ? Today felt like one of those days. Like most of my days here, it has been a mix of joy and beauty, and also pain and suffering. Sometimes if I don’t really have work to do I go and talk to the residents. Or more accurately I let them talk and I nod a lot, (since I often times don’t understand what they’re saying). I try my best to understand, but often times it’s really hard. But I feel like filling the silence that composes their days has to be good for them, so I try and lend an ear. There’s one man, named Mario, who every time he passes by the pharmacy he smiles at me and says a pleasant greeting, asking how my day is going. But I never had talked to him in length. Today I didn’t have much work to do, so I made rounds to try and start up some conversation. He was sitting alone outside with a vacant bench directly next to him. I asked him how he was, and he responded with a smile, “I am just as God wants me to be”. I smiled and asked him if I could sit with him a while, he told me I could sit as long as I like. So I sat, and started some small talk. I said it was a nice day, and I was glad the rain hadn’t started yet. He just smiled and nodded. I asked him what he likes to do here at the home. He responded: “Watching. Hearing. Being silent”. I said, “so does it annoy you that I’m talking so much” he smiled and nodded his head yes. So I stopped talking. And then I sat there for probably a good 25 mins or so in silence-watching and hearing. And I sat there wondering what he thinks about during all the time he’s silent. And I wanted to know why he didn’t like to talk. And I wanted to know about his life and his family. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask him. But that time wasn’t for doing what I wanted- it was time for watching, hearing, and being silent. It’s amazing the things that you hear when you stop to listen- you hear the wind blowing through the leaves, you hear the birds hopping on the dirt road offering an occasional tweet, you hear fruit falling from the trees (and then you hear Guillermo coming outside to go see if it was a prized avocado that just fell). You hear the chatter of the other residents, you hear the busseling workers inside preparing lunch. The things you see when you open your eyes; you see all the shades of green that compose this little oasis off the road, you see the sun rays shining through the trees creating a play of light and shadow on the dirt path. You see movement- movement of the birds, of the dog, of the residents, of the wind, and of the rain as it begins to pitter patter down. And being silent, that means putting your mouth to sleep so that your brain can wake up. I have a feeling I might spend a lot more time being silent with Mario.
Unfortunately, the day transitioned from peaceful to painful real quick. I don’t think I’ve told you about the resident Vicki yet. Everyday Vicki comes and sits in one of the rocking chairs at the door. She’s waiting for her family to come. Every half hour or so she asks Zoila to call her sister, or her niece, or her daughter, and Zoila tells her they’re coming, and so Vicki waits. But Vicki’s family never comes to see her- because they abandoned her here- and chances are, they’re never coming back. But she waits for them- every day she waits for them, with the conviction that they are coming for her. I don’t know why, but today was a particularly bad day for Vicki. I have a lot of trouble understanding her when she tries to speak to me, but today her tears spoke loud enough and clearly enough for me to understand. She came over and sat right next to where I was standing and tears poured down her face and she started saying “mi hija, mi sobrina, mama” (my daughter, my niece, mom). She wouldn’t stop crying. She held her hand out and whether it was what she trying to suggest or not, I grabbed it and I didn’t let go. And she cried and cried, and I held her hand and grasped her shoulder and I told her everything was going to be okay. And I think she believed me- because she calmed down and stopped crying. I’m glad that I could at least temporarily bring her peace- but I don’t feel overly calm. Because even if she believes in this moment that everything will be okay, I don’t. I know that every single day Vicki is going to wait for someone, but they’re not going to come. And she isn’t the only one with this type of story. I want to heal Vicki’s heart, and the hearts of the other residents, not just bring a temporary smile. But that’s all I can do for her.
I decided to retire back to my hiding place in the pharmacy where I have an “office” (aka my laptop on a rolling little table) set up to do some work. I thought if I stayed tucked away, that I could maybe avoid having any more emotional encounters for the day. Hah. Think again! People come in to the home all day. Some are visitors, some are people who deliver meals or snacks, some are people seeking work, or asking questions to the administrator, some come to make a purchase at the pharmacy, and sometimes the board members come just to check in. So I end up not paying much attention all the time when people show up. Today a woman came with her friend and baby and she went to talk to the administrator. I continued working. The administrator rushed off to help move a new resident into the home. The women were supposed to leave (I guess- I didn’t realize it at the time) but they waited out in the waiting area for about 20 minutes ( I figured that the administrator had told them to wait and would be coming back). Suddenly they just came into the pharmacy behind the counter and everything (which startled me) and the woman came right up to me. (I feel like my Spanish isn’t as good as it should be- I struggle to understand a lot- but for some reason it feels like when it’s emotional things, I understand it all. It’s like my heart is translating instead of my brain- and it works) She looked me in the eyes and said, “please, please help me. I need work. I really need work.” I looked at the baby she had with her, and my heart just sank. I asked if she had talked to the administrator (even though I know there are no jobs open here). She told me she brought her papers and application here a few weeks ago, and the administrator lost her recommendation, and wouldn’t offer her an answer about if she could work or not. I didn’t know what to do or say. She looked at me again, and said “please help me. I need help. I need work. I have to support my family, and I’m trying to find work. I’ll do any kind of work. But I need your help. Please help me.” I tried to explain that I don’t actually work here- that I’m only here a short time, and I don’t have the ability to get her a job. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I smiled and I said I’m sorry. And she smiled back at me and thanked me and said goodbye. I waved and looked at her baby and said goodbye to the baby and waved to him.
And now I’m sitting here wondering what I’m supposed to do. I wonder if I had given her money if that would’ve helped. I wonder if I should’ve taken her phone number so that in case I somehow manage to find something she could do then I could contact her. I want to change the lives of everyone who is suffering here. I want to give jobs to the unemployed, and I want to give a place to live to the homeless. I want to give families to the orphans and the abandoned elderly. I want to give hope back to everyone who has lost it. I want to give Zoila all the money she needs to put her kids through school, and to live a comfortable life. I want to give Rachelle paid vacation so she can spend time with her kids. I want to give Alma some hard workers so that she can stop doing everything for everyone. I want to give everyone fair wages, and good living conditions. But right now all I can give is love. I wish that that felt like enough. I’m just going to keep my head up, and have faith that God will help the people who I can’t help.
Prayers for Nicaragua would be more than welcome!!
<3 Rachel
