I’m the first to admit I live intensely, with strong
opinions and serious convictions. And yet on Day 6 a different kind of heightened
intensity crept over me that inspired vivid, profound responses. Several times unbidden tears pooled in my
eyes, presumably overflow from wells I didn’t know existed.
The day began with Matins in the chapel, the orphanage’s tiny
mini-cathedral made of concrete block and decorated inside with ornate icons
traditional to Christian Orthodox churches everywhere. During the homily (sermon) Father Nick stepped
into the middle of the chapel and became very animated - his Spanish was forceful,
his eyes big and his gestures wide, which no doubt helped hold the boys’
interest. His son very effectively
translated his words into English at the end of each spoken phrase. My take
away was simple but profound: forgive all, even in the most difficult situations,
and be generous with whatever you consider most precious.
The orphan boys are aware we’re currently visiting, even
though it is taking some time to meet them each one-on-one. It’s interesting to me that as the days pass,
they feel comfortable approaching me despite the language barrier, usually to
offer a genuine hug. There is something
about this that breaks down a quality in me I hadn’t even recognized before –
perhaps something close to hesitancy mixed with resistance and
self-protection. The effect is…freeing. The example of these homeless boys is touching
me uniquely, releasing a sort of self-absorbed plaque that had formed to patch fear-based
abrasions.
After lunch we hopped in the Jeep and headed to the nearby
local community to see where some of the orphanage employees live. Roads were rutted as usual, as well as steep
- some angled enough to make me wonder if we might roll the car! I seemed transplanted - Fritz jr. intuitively
knew what I was experiencing, and asked if I felt like Alice in Wonderland at the
bottom of the rabbit hole. He wasn’t far
off! In this world real people just like
me lived contentedly in conditions I found beyond challenging – and in some
cases, deplorable.
We stopped to visit the orphanage’s night watchman named
Chuy (pronounced Chewy). As a young man
he moved north from somewhere in southern Mexico seeking a better life, and he
found it here. Chuy’s current 20x20’
home was built in a single day three years ago by a crew of Protestants from
the States. It came complete with a tiny
bathroom (no running water, however) and three other rooms, plus bars on the
windows for security.
Chuy and his family have adopted Fritz jr. into their
family, and honored him as the godparent for their three children. Theirs is a obviously a special
relationship. I could feel the depth of
warm heart connection even as an outsider.
Christina, Chuy’s wife, augments the family income by making
piñatas for a company in the States. She
is expected to produce 52 each week with over a hundred different patterns in
all, and is paid in dollars rather than pesos – a definite perk. I was
fascinated, so she offered to demonstrate her skill and fashioned a
tissue-covered, tambourine-like piñata as we watched.
A bushy tree grew right outside their house bearing small pit-type fruits several times a year. A few were
beginning to ripen, so we had a taste – they were delicious, something close in
flavor and texture to a Michigan peach, although more the size of a lime. When we left, Chuy graciously told us "his house is our house whenever we want to come back."
In the evening, we attended an annual Forgiveness Service
that kicks off the Lenten season. It
began with traditional liturgy, although at one point the chanting switched
from major to minor musical chords, suggesting a more somber mood. The vestments also changed in mid-liturgy
from red to purple, again pinpointing Lent.
At the end of the service those attending circled the
interior of the chapel in two rotating rows.
One-by-one they progressed from person-to-person, prostrating to the
floor while asking for forgiveness and granting it in turn. If there had been harbored tensions during
the past year, this was a time for them to begin to heal. I was spellbound, having never experienced
this kind of group participation focused on forgiveness.
The day closed with a feast – roast turkey, macaroni salad,
and green tossed salad – which will be the last meat eaten until Pascha
(Easter).
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