There is a light and it never goes out

I can feel my spirit stretching and uncurling itself. I learn so much from being here and from everything I see when I am humble...I miss so much when I'm not! It's crazy painful how my heart keeps hardening and softening over and over again--I feel that when I am engaged in some kind of service that strikes a pure chord in me it's a little easier to keep it soft because my children just make me melt. Being here, I am considerably less cynical than I tend to be in Provo and I'm thankful for this time I have had in my youth to serve and to have adventures. I don't feel anymore that I missed some essential crossroads and derailed myself--I used to have ugly knots in my heart about my wrinkled fate slash face, and my heart was very rocky, but now I feel peace and power knowing God has always known exactly what would happen in my life, and He sees the path before me winding back home to Him. What more could I ask for?

This week Carlita and I wrangled my schedule a little bit so I could divide my time between TRACA and the Casa JUCONI where 24 (former) street kids live. I had a *secretheart* always to get in there and get to know those boys,(kind of like my west wing again, the Forbidden Room) and I didn't even have to ask for it, Carla told me they needed a volunteer who had good Spanish and she suggested that I go there on the days that TRACA works in the office. I'm realizing there is more than enough to keep me busy at JUCONI! Mondays I go on family visits with TRACA, Tuesdays and Wednesdays I will be with the lost boys in Casa JUCONI, Thursdays I have the grupo de adolescentes (and in the mornings I work on putting together a recovery program for addiction), and Fridays I will go to the Casa JUCONI in the mornings to do art projects and activities, and in the afternoons I go to sports day with the TRACA kids. I honestly can't think of anything better than this!!!1

The other day I expressed a worry to Carla that I don't know the culture well enough to make good decisions about what to do when I'm in charge of the group, and she told me that I'm actually doing better than some native employees they have had. She said, "Tienes mucha empatia, ganes muy facilmente a las personas, aun los que no confian en cualquier persona." (That I have a lot of empathy and I win the people over very easily, even those who don't trust others very easily.) That was so good for me to hear! It's fun being here and feeling welcome. In Romania it felt like everyone hated on us my matter what we did.

This is already too long (again) but I just wanted to write about the Casa JUCONI--right now it houses 24 boys who have lived on the streets at some time. They all have that in common although their reasons for being there vary. Some were living in overcrowded orphanages and were invited to come live at JUCONI. Two brothers were abandoned by their mother. Their grandmother took them in but was too poor to feed them, so they started working and sleeping in the street. Several of the boys ran away from home because they were being beaten by their parents. Most of them have noticeable scars on their skin. One boy listed 3 or 4 different shelters and homes he has stayed in, each time for a year or more, but doesn't remember his family well. He was placed in an orphanage at the age of 4. Some boys entered Casa JUCONI as young as 7, and the boys there now range from 8-16. When they get older they can go to the casa de jovenes (also run by JUCONI) until they are in a position to live on their own. Many of them go to school in the afternoon; others have never been before and do not know how to read or write. All of them have been through so much ugliness; many have been sexually abused and all of them without exception come from families where addictions and violence are present.

One of my assignments as a volunteer there is to work with 3 boys who are very behind academically. I have an 11 and a 12 year old that I will be teaching to read, and a 15 year old who just started reading last year. Nayeli (one of the educators) went over all the lesson plans with me and I was amazed at how many dynamic and creative ways they had devised to make the principles accessible and interesting for the boys. I know all the vocabulary now to teach about decimal placement and simple math. :)

I love getting to know the boys and making friends with them. Some of them are very outgoing and love to sit with me and ask me all kinds of questions about myself, the U.S, music. I like making them laugh. It took me awhile to figure out who "Ill-erry Doof" was, also "I-rawn Mai-den." One of their favorite things to do is to ask me how to say certain words in English, especially their names. "How do you say Paco? How do you say Luis? How do you say Marcos?" One little boy was very excited to find out that his name translated to "Jesus Arthur" in English and he kept running around to the other boys and shouting, "HELLO, MY NAME IS JESUS ARTHUR! NICE TO MEET YOU!" It sounded profane to me but it was funny. They wanted to know what all the English curse words they've seen in American movies mean. They wanted to learn how to insult each other: "How do you say, 'you are'? Okay, how do you say 'ugly'?" I won a lot of respect the morning we played basketball (I know what you're thinking!), where I held my own mostly because I'm taller than all except a few of them. I was like Kevin Garnett ballin' it up, ha! It was so fun playing with them, they are all amazingly good but they foul it up like you wouldn't believe, scratching each other and pulling hair. Haha. I laid the beat down and it got a little better.

The youngest boys break my heart, they are so sweet and eager to please and reminded me of my little brother Chris. One of them, Angel Jose, is too shy to say much but always tries to sit by me. He has a hideous jagged scar right over his left eyebrow. I asked him what happened just to see what he would say: "Maestra...es que...I have a lot of family problems." He loves to show me the small treasures he owns; his Yugioh cards and the pogs he saves that come free with a bag of chips. He is eight years old and has been living at JUCONI for a year now. On Wednesday he had a family visit and he wanted me to help him choose what he should wear out of his three outfits. We decided on a shirt that had his name on it: ANGEL. He was getting so jittery and excited as he washed his face and combed his hair; by the time the social worker arrived to take him to see his family he was practically dancing with glee. "Will you be here when I get back, Maestra? Are you coming every day?"

I asked the directora how often the boys are able to go back and live at home again, and she said unfortunately that rarely happens. The boys invited to come live at the house are the most extreme cases. She told me that only one boy in the last 2 years has been able to successfully transition back home. In some cases the boys thrive on the environment at JUCONI and going back home to less than nurturing circumstances is even more traumatic for them. Other times, the family has worked hard and progressed, but the boy is not willing to make changes himself, and ends up running away to the street again.

I look at their bunk beds stacked up in the rooms, the little lockers that they use for closets, and it hurts to think about how most of them won't ever go home, that they don't have mothers. But at JUCONI they do have people who care about them, they have opportunities, they have advocates. So much effort goes into soothing their hurt, helping them grow. I'm glad they are here and more glad that I have this brief time with them.