Somewhere Out There

There was this homeless guy living outside our house. He slept against the wall to our yard, near where we park our car on the side street. His name is Arman, and he appeared there one night and stayed for several weeks. Sometimes he would be there during the day, but usually he just showed up in the late afternoon and would sleep there.

I talked to Arman one evening and learned that he had come to Cebu from another island. He was beat up by two men at the pier area and had to be taken to the hospital. After that, since he didn't have any money, he had to stay in the city, looking for food and sleeping wherever he could find a spot. Eventually he found a spot along our wall.

Arman was a nice guy. He would greet me when I pulled up in the car. Once I saw him cleaning the dust off my car with a rag. He never asked for anything. He just took advantage of a spot that was reasonably safe and had some protection from a tree. Arman was pretty much out of options and resigned to being homeless in a city far from his home.

Sometimes I would think about him out there when I was lying in my nice safe bedroom with my loving family near. We were both looking up from our beds, mine with a comfortable foam mattress, his cardboard, probably covered with insects. We shared the same sky above us, but not much else. Luckily it didn't rain much when he was living there, but when it would I'd always think about him and what he was doing to stay dry. I'm not sure if Arman prayed out there, but if he did we were almost certainly praying to the same God. What very different things we were probably praying for. From the comfort of my house it was easy for me to pray for the CSC kids, for relatives and people in need, for family members and for God's perfect plan for my life. I wonder what Arman was praying for out there on his flattened box? What did he think of when he thought about God. How did he imagine the plan for his life?

When you stop to think of it, a safe and comfortable place to live is the basis for much of the freedom we enjoy in our lives. We are free to work, to interact with friends, to take risks, to make decisions about where we'll eat and what we will do with the free time that we have, because we know that, at the end of the day, we will go home to a comfortable, safe place to sleep. Arman had to filter every decision he made through his homelessness. He could walk around but he had to stay fairly near to the place where he slept to make sure nobody else didn't take it. When he met people he had to be careful he didn't get too close, because he hadn't changed clothes in days and probably didn't smell all that well. When he saw families together he had to remember that he was isolated from family and might never see them again. If he had hopes he had to filter them through the reality that things probably weren't going to change for him. He didn't have an address or a phone number. I would greet him hello at the side of our wall, sometimes giving him something to eat or drink. Then I'd head inside and he'd crawl onto his cardboard bed. Maybe he would allow himself to think about what life was like in that big house inside the wall that he was curled up next to.

Arman is now back in Mindanao. We were able to help him get a boat ticket to go home. He seemed excited to travel, but he was certainly going home to poverty and need. But at least he would be near his siblings and his mom. And at least they would know that he is alive. I can't stop thinking about him and the very different situations that define our two lives. What did I ever do to deserve the comforts that I enjoy every day? Do I realize how fortunate I am and do I spend much time thinking about the homeless people around me and the filters that they live with every day? Do I imagine how difficult it is to be homeless? Do I think about the fact that the stars and heavens that I look up at are the same ones guys like Arman who are looking up at from their matts, wondering what God is like looking down on them.

Off Load!

There are lots of indignities in the life of a big person in Asia. I've experienced many during my 31 years living here in Cebu: Smashing my head into overhead lights, wires, beams, decorations; having to bend over like a geriatric scoliosis victim when walking into houses or getting into vehicles; attracting a crowd when entering a store; having kids cry when they are surprised by my size, or having to answer the question "pila'y hite nimo?" (how tall are you?) many times a day. And lots more. If I wrote many more this would seem like a pity party, which it isn't. Being tall in the Philippines is something that I've had 31 years to get used to. If I'd have let all of these indignities bother me I wouldn't have lasted long. I've even learned to laugh at them, to celebrate the carnival of life. Like the other day. Well almost.


I was in Manila for the day and was getting ready for my return flight to Cebu. I was flying on the "other airline," the competition for Philippine Airlines, taking advantage of a cheaper fare. "No frills" would be an understatement. We had to take a bus out to the plane parked on the tarmac. The bus stopped in front of this small prop jet and we piled out. I was certain that the bus driver had made a mistake, delivering us to the plane for Tuguergarao, Laoag or maybe even Cauayan, but not Cebu. But the stewardess standing at the rear of the plane insisted it was the plane for Cebu. I had never seen a prop jet like this one on the Manila-Cebu route. To say the least, I was a bit disconcerted. There was only one entrance to the aircraft, at the rear left of the plane. The steps were narrow and swayed when I walked up to the door of the plane. I noticed that there were only a couple inches of headroom above the flight attendant's head, so I knew I was in for trouble. Bowing my head was not enough; I had to bow and bend at the knees while I walked down the aisle to my seat in row 10. There were two seats on each side of the aisle. When I sat down I realized that my usual contortions would not be enough to get my legs behind the seat in front of me. My only option would be to put my legs almost entirely in the aisle. It was stifling hot in the plane, with no air moving at all. Even sitting down, there was only about two or three inches of head room. People were crowding in, filling up every overhead bin and stuffing items under the seats. It was getting hotter and stuffier by the minute. For a person who is claustrophobic anyway, it was not pretty for me. I realized that I was not going to be able to cram in there, wait for some air to get moving, and scrunch down enough so that I didn't feel like the world was squeezing in on me. I tried to make my way to the rear of the plane, but people were continuing to come in, or were standing in the aisle waiting for me to get out of their way. I was starting to get a bit panicky. What if they closed the door and I was trapped inside? Maybe the people could see by my face that I was in some distress, because they moved aside and let me pass. The flight attendant asked if I was okay. I said that I was not. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't get into my seat and I needed to deplane. There were still people on the narrow stairs trying to become the next sardines to enter the tin. I told the gal that I needed to get off pronto. Luckily she understood the Cebunao language and started calling out, "Make way for the off-load. Off-load coming down." I had forfeited my name, even my seat number which is usually used to identify people on a plane ("10B is requesting a large shoehorn to get into his seat!") I was "the off-load."

Off-loads make airlines very nervous, for good reason. Even though I told them I didn 't have any luggage, they needed to check that for themselves. They needed to change the flight manifest, removing my name. Why had I off-loaded, they wanted to know? Was I sick, angry, mentally unstable? Not only that, but I was stranded, way out on the tarmac, far from the terminal. Soon I had a group of six airline ground personnel surrounding me, asking questions.

Question: If someone in the first row would change with me could I make it on the flight?
Me: No. Even if I had the plane to myself I couldn't make it.

Question: Could I get you a glass of water.
Me: Even with something stronger I can't go back on that plane!

Question: Mr. Off-load, can I call you Load? Didn't you know it was going to be a smaller plane?
Me: No. I'm 6'7" tall, and I'm claustropobic. Nobody said the aircraft was a glorified model airplane being used as a sauna. Would I have agreed to take that kind of flight?

One of the guys told me that there were two later flights to Cebu, all on larger aircraft - the usual planes used for their Manila-Cebu flights. But both were full. So he had a plan to go and see if any passengers for the next flight were already there, so he could find one who was willing to take "my" flight and I could change with him/her. The people on "my" flight were going to have to wait while the oversized missionary off-load was accomodated by ground personnel. The guy got on his walkie talkie and said, "Off load, flight 577. Please send transportation." While waiting for the bus the group of guys gave me quite a bit of space, not entirely convinced that I was mentally sound and wouldn't run amuk on the tarmac. Five minutes later the bus arrived. The driver opened the door and asked, "You the down load?" (I'd gone from an off load to a download in a matter of minutes. I felt like a big, awkward tera byte standing there.) Yes, that would be me. He smirked. What kind of person/loser can't handle being on a small plane for an hour or so?, I know he was thinking. When we got to the terminal the guy who opened the door pointed me in the direction of the gate desk. "Good news, Off-load," they told me. "Someone has agreed to take your flight. You'll be on the next flight, loading in two hours."

As I headed for the waiting lounge I could feel their eyes burning into me. I'm more or less used to that, but this was something different. Never before had I felt so out of place, bulky - gawky, if you please. Here comes the off-load!

Ambi!

Sometimes I see things that become symbols in my mind. For other people it might not make a lot of sense, or might involve a "stretch." But these symbols are very meaningful to me and sometimes help me better understand the ministry of CSC.

Like Jovan, for instance. He is the little malnourished boy that we took in a couple years ago. He was so close to death. He didn't have the energy to hold up his head, even at 11 months. Today he is a healthy, happy and robust three year old who runs around the playground and the play room and blesses our lives on a daily basis.

If the moon is out an night he loves to have me take him out for a look. He reaches up to the moon and says "ambi," or "give me." He wants to be able to reach up and touch the moon. He'll also grab for clouds, stars or kites flying high in the sky. It is amazing to look at his arms, which weren't much thicker than pencils when he first came here, reaching for the sky.

I think about how CSC has given so much to Jovan and his siblings. We were able to give him the gift of life itself, rescuing him from what would have been certain death to malnutrition if we hadn't come into his life. And we've given him the chance to experience and enjoy life without the concerns of food, medicine and shelter. We've opened up the world for him. Hopefully, through adoption, we'll be able to give him a family and all that will mean for him in his life.

We have given Jovan the chance and the confidence to grab for the moon! Whereas he was living in a situation where his next meal or even a few ounces of milk were not guaranteed, and he and his siblings didn't have the luxury of even thinking about tomorrow, he can now grab for the stars. What a great thought that is for all of us here.

Sweet

I am typing this from the living room of my daughter and son in law. I just got done holding my new grandson for awhile. He is just a few days old and he is absolutely adorable. I will have the privilege of spending a few days with him here in the U.S. as well as being with my parents and the rest of my family. These are precious days that we don't get very often. Our work keeps us away from our loved ones so we learn to make the most of the time that we have.

I have held a lot of babies in my time - hundreds, in fact. Some of them have been abandoned, others malnourished or sickly. Some didn't even have enough energy to suck or cry. Some didn't make it, though many surprised us by the way they came back from near death with proper care and nutrition. It is a blessed life that we have had, and we have been aware of that with all the great things that have been happening at CSC in recent days. But nothing quite makes one take stock of the blessings of life like a grandchild. No face is so cute, no cry so endearing.

I will glory in each chance I have to hold him and to tell him how great he is. We are very thankful that we will be able to spend more time with him and the rest of our family starting in August when we'll be in the States for a year. But for now, it will just be for a few days while I'm in MN. Then I'll be heading back to Cebu and other babies and kids that need holding.

I have been thinking about holding and hugging a lot lately, as we prepare for our banquet, with the theme, "Love Abounds at CSC." We have been taking pictures of hugs that happen at CSC. I didn't realize how many there are until I started trying to document them. Tons. And there are many symbolic hugs, as well, from those who can't actually be in Cebu but hug our kids through their gifts and prayers. But there's nothing like actually putting your arms around a child and giving them a squeeze and a pat on the back or head. Life is full of both types of hugs.

Talk About Mixed Emotions....

The other day one of our boys, Nino, had his 16th birthday. Birthday parties at CSC are always a lot of fun, and his was no exception. There were a lot of smiles that night, and Nino was happy for the attention, the gifts and the recognition. But it was a sad night for him, too. Nino is part of a sibling group of nine that has been with us for almost three years. Recently there have been changes in immigration policies by the United States that ages kids like Nino out of adoption when they turn 16. Formerly, children up to 18 years old could be included if they had younger siblings who were less than 16. This change took us all by surprise and meant that Nino's dream of having a family some day would not be realized. So, his 16th birthday had a lot of significance for him, for his family and for CSC. That's why there was sadness mixed with the joy.

There is some hope for Nino and others his age who face being excluded for US adoption when they hit 16. Minnesota Senator Amy Klobachar has sponsored a bill that would return the age to 18 for teenagers in Nino's situation.

S.1376 Title: A bill to restore immunization and sibling age exemptions for children adopted by United States citizens under the Hague Convention on Intercountry Adoption to allow their admission to the United States.

You can read more about this bill and follow its progress here. Just write in the bill number (S. 1376), click Bill Number and hit search and it will take you to the bill. This bill would offer a lot of hope to Nino and others in his situation.

A Great Year for Jake

It is fun to look back on the past year and count my blessings. I also enjoy looking at the lives of other people who had especially good years. Like Jacob. 2009 was a great year for Jacob! Here are just a few of the blessings that came his way:

- Jacob has had great health this year. In 2007-08 he spent quite a bit of time in the hospital and had to undergo surgery. This year he was very healthy and has responded well to new medications.

- His smile has returned! Good health and lots of other blessings have contributed towards a happier, more smiley Jacob. We hear his laugh and see the sparkle in his eyes and thank God for all that He has done for Jake.

- Jacob was chosen to be the best man in the wedding of one of his former therapists, Bong. It was a great day for Jacob and all of us who love him. He was very honored to stand up (in his vertical stander) for his buddy and smiled for most of the day.

- Jake has a nice, big room in the new Duterte Home. All through 2009 he watched his new house being built and finally, in December, he got to move in. That was a great day for him and for the whole CSC family! Jake has a big room and easy access to the whole house and to the medical building. His bathroom is big and there is a good bathing facility. The doorways are extra wide to accomodate his wheelchair.

- He has a new roommate! Joemar and Jacob share a bedroom in the Duterte Home and have become very close buddies. Joemar has a television set so they enjoy watching movies. Since Joemar's favorite is Mr. Bean, Jake has had the chance to see all of his programs in recent weeks.

- Jake had the honor of delivering the welcome address at the Children of Hope School Talents Galore program for Christmas. With the aid of his Dynavox computer, he welcomed all the visitors and staff to the evening.

Jacob is just one resident of CSC, and there were many others who had banner years. Some were adopted during 2009, while others made great strides in school or in music. But nobody had a better year than Jacob! Thanks for helping make this possible with your gifts and prayers.