“Jessica,” my little 4-year-old neighbor called from
his house, “Elisa and I are sad.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we’re alone.” I sighed heavily before getting up, grabbing
my broken jump rope and torn deflated soccer ball and heading next door to
cheer up Jojo and his 7-year-old sister Elisa. I wasn't sighing because they had called to me; those kids drive me nuts
sometimes but I love them dearly. I was
sighing because this was just another reminder of the broken system we are
trying to live and work with.
Elisa and Jojo are alone for at least four hours,
sometimes more, six days a week. Six
months ago I might have judged the parents, condemning them for allowing their
young children to be home alone so much.
The kids were bored but mostly they were lonely, just begging for
someone to look up to, someone to love them.
But when you spend enough time somewhere you become aware of what is
really going on around you. I learned
that my little friends are alone so much because their parents are working, or
going to school to have more opportunities.
They say ignorance is bliss, but is it? Too many people just look on the surface of
things and don’t bother to learn what’s really going on. Is it a blissful feeling to think Elisa’s
parents are neglectful or don’t care about her?
I can tell you the truth is fiercely the opposite. They are two of the most loving parents I
have ever seen. To me, watching them
interact in the time they have together is bliss. And to stay ignorant would be to miss out on
those beautiful moments, because I would be too blind to see them.
The way I see it, the only way we can experience the
truest joys in this world is when we allow ourselves to experience the greatest
hurts as well. We can’t have one without
the other, not in this broken world. I
believe that because I believe God is most obviously seen working in the
deepest despairing places in the world; not that he works more in desperate
places but that he is allowed to work
in those places. And when we see God
work we can finally see bliss at its finest, truest form. I would rather be a Christ-follower who is
blissfully aware of the world around me, the good and the bad, so that I can
know how to live and work in it effectively.
To the unaware, the solution to the problem above may
look simple—put the kids in day-care, have one parent stay home with them, give
them to a neighbor or family member to look after. But to the blissfully aware it’s more
complicated. There is no day-care, and
if there is the family can’t afford it.
To put the kids in day-care would mean more money needed, and that would
mean working longer hours (if they could even achieve that-there are not enough
work hours to go around here), which would mean more time in day-care, which
would mean more money, etc. Their
neighbors and family members are all working too, or they have their own
children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, to take care of. Should a parent stay home and sacrifice that
paycheck or that education, or should they leave the kids alone for a few hours
for a slight chance at being able to provide for them better in the
future? It’s complicated, and there is
no easy solution. There is a saying here
that people use all the time: “No es fácil”—It’s
not easy. It’s one of the most accurate
sayings about life I have ever heard.
Do I regret it?
Coming to be a part of their lives, and becoming aware of their
hardships and struggles? Not for a
moment. In fact, I thank God I am
finally beginning to understand life here, because the more I know the more God
can use me to help. The more I look the
more He will show me. The more I listen
the more He will tell me. And that, my
friends, is bliss. Painful, yes, but
beautiful.
If I had one wish on this topic of being painfully
and blissfully aware, it would be that the young ones around me wouldn't be so quite painfully aware of the world
around them. I praise God that I as a 22-year-old am aware of what's going on around me, but I cry out to Him in anguish that the 3- and 4-year-olds I love so much are aware of the same things I am. The culture here can be rough sometimes, and hurtful and inappropriate things are not swept under the rug as much as in the U.S. The other day I was sitting outside my house while Elisa was doing my hair. Three men passed by and we greeted each other like everyone does when you're sitting outside. When they were out of earshot Elisa said this to me in a low grave voice:
"The man in the black shirt was looking at you badly." I turned around to face her.
"Why do you think he was looking at me badly?" I asked her, curious of what she thought. She didn't answer my question directly, I think because she was ashamed to talk about it,
"He was looking at you badly. When you were looking the other way, he was looking at you badly." It truly broke my heart that a 7-year-old girl could tell me when a man was looking at me inappropriately. A 7-year-old shouldn't even be aware that men (and women) have a look that expresses a thought like that.
Me and my beautician/hair stylist Elisa
That's not the only instance when I have been shocked and broken-hearted at the things these children have learned and experienced. I have heard 3-year-olds cussing like a sailor as if it is nothing. I have watched 5-year-old girls dancing so unbelievably vulgarly, and the 8-year-olds that are teaching them. I have listened and seen as 9-year-old boys blow kisses and say such crude and offensive things to me that I am too shocked to respond. One of the greatest tragedies of this world is our lack of innocence, and in poverty it is hard to shield the young ones for very long from the evil and offensive things around them.
I am painfully aware of the hardships and hurts the people, especially the children, around me have experienced. But I am eternally grateful to God for allowing me to experience the pain, as well as the bliss, that comes with serving Him and lifting up His broken people. No es fácil, it's not easy, but thank God He can take this world and redeem it to make every second, the pain and the bliss, worthwhile.
