The yearly spectacle

The past couple of weeks have been extremely interesting and activity-packed times at CSC. Emotional, too. Six of our kids left for adoption in the week before Christmas; they had all been with us for more than four years. Saying goodbye is never easy, but doing so right before Christmas is even tougher, at least for me. So many of my great memories of them are from Christmas pageants, recitals and parties. I can remember when they received their first gifts, or sang solos or played their instruments publicly for the first time.

But the reality of life at CSC is that, even as we wipe tears out of our eyes as kids are leaving, we greet new ones who are being admitted to the Shelter. Since the beginning of December seven kids have come to live with us, and the whole series of "firsts" begins again.

It is really hard to capture in words what Christmas is like here at CSC. It is, in some ways, a crazy time, with lots of activities, fun, laughter, music and surprises. It is a time for the staff to pour themselves into planning, arranging, creating, purchasing, wrapping, decorating, baking, encouraging.... giving. Although we do a lot of those things throughout the year, the intensity goes up five notches for Christmas. And although we all breathe a sigh of relief on Christmas night when the pageant is over and the last manger animal is led out of the Teen Home yard, we know good and well that next year we'll enjoy all the same activities and work. Because next year, and every year, there will be new kids at CSC who have never experienced Christmas before.

For the CSC kids who have left the shelter and are with their adoptive families, or are now parents themselves, trying to establish their own family tradions, we hope that their memories of Christmas as CSC will be precious ones - times when they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were treasured by us and where they developed special feelings about this wonderful time of the year.

If you are thinking that Christmas is a somber and sacred time at CSC, you are right, and very wrong. There is some of that. But, on the other hand, one of the veteran staff members sang a rousing version of "Walking in my Winter Underwear" this year!

Cool Update

I've got some good news as an update on my last two posts. We have taken the sibling group in at CSC. Well, four of the five, anyway. We now have Joevani (16), Sheila May (9), Jeson (4) and James (1) living at CSC. The other sibiling, Genevie, might also join them, although she is quite emotionally distraught and isn't too sure what she wants.

Joevani is still being isolated, as he has t.b., and he will probably live in our Teen Home when he comes out. The three younger kids are doing great, and Sheila May has already started school. There are lots of adjustments ahead, but I am so happy we have these kids and that they are on the road to physical and emotional healing.

Basura

The family of kids that I mentioned in my last entry are among the poorest of the poor in our world today. The oldest boy, faced with the responsibility of providing for his four younger siblings, tried everything he could think of to get food for the family. One thing he did was go to the garbage dump in search of anything that he could sell for money.

I was telling the kids at CSC about this family, and when I got to the garbage part of the story, one of our boys nodded knowingly. Victor knows exactly what that group of kids is going through. He worked the basura (garbage) dump before coming to live at CSC. He knows the game. He knows the desperate poverty that causes young boys to dig through basura and the risks of injury and sickness. He knows the competitive nature of the business and the rough people that can be found at the dumps.

Victor will be leaving for adoption very soon. As I think about where he came from and where he will be going, I have to shake my head and whisper a prayer of thanksgiving. Part of me wants Victor, and the boy that we are helping in LapuLapu, to some day be able to forget those sad chapters of their lives. I want them to be shielded from painful or fearful memories. I don't want them to have permanent emotional scars. Another part of me wants them to remember. I don't want them to forget that God rescued them and the many things that they have to be thankful for. Maybe what I want is for their memories to be redeemed - to be purged of the pain but remain as reminders of God's grace.