Day 3: Mother Teresa and Miraflores

As soon as I entered Mother Teresa's Home today, I immediately went to find Omar. I had such an eye-opening, yet amazing, experience helping to perform therapy on the disabled teenagers yesterday, and I was ready to jump right in again. However, as soon as I walked up the flight of stairs to the second floor, I was stopped dead in my tracks by something straight out of my past. My mind immediately backtracked to my childhood elementary school, and more notably, its principal. Sister Ann was a tough nun, who didn't give anyone an ounce of slack. I vividly remember not feeling well one day at school, when I was in the first grade. Mrs. Paterak, my saint of a teacher, told me to go to the office to call my mom. When I walked into the principal's office, with the crucifix hanging on the wall, Sister Ann was right before me. She told me that I could not call my mom unless I gave her a quarter first. Yeah, I know. It sounds merciless. That's tough for a six year old.

I thought about that experience this morning when I reached the second floor, because my way was blocked by none other than a nun. My heart stopped for a split second. My immediate thoughts were, "What did I do? Please don't yell at me!" Luckily, my fear was for naught. She was a sweet old nun, directly in the fashion of Mother Teresa. In her broken English, she begged me to help bathing and clothing some of the boys before going to help with physical therapy. Of course, I would never say no to a nun. That would save me a seat with the wrong Big Guy when this life is over. Regardless, I am happy to help the workers at the Home with whatever they need. That's what I am there for.

And it became another one of those situations where my prior mental preparations were useless. As soon as I entered the large bathroom and changing area, which was unbearably cold because the whole compound is exposed to the outside, a man named Soyer (the man who bathed the boys) slung a wet, shivering teenager into my arms. The weight of the boy didn't unsettle me. The surprise of the moment did. Out of nowhere, I had a soaking wet boy in my arms, crumpled into the fetal position, shivering from the cold. The boy, who I will call M., has cerebral palsy. His arms and legs were thinner than any human limbs I have ever seen before. He looked at me, right into my eyes. He could not speak, but his eyes begged me to place him on the table and dry him. He was freezing. I placed him onto the changing table, grabbed a dry towel, and dried M. off more vigorously than I would normally have. He just looked so cold. And I realized that it was up to me to change that.

And then I had to dress him. This isn't something that any person would generally think of in a normal day, but it is extremely difficult to dress a disabled child who is almost eternally locked into the fetal position. But I had to learn on the spot, and quickly at that, because there were more kids coming.

Six or seven kids later, I was done. It took a total of about two hours, which is probably a long time (but I really can't compare it to anything else). The experience once again showed me how dependent the people at the Home are on those that care for them. Even the most menial, everyday tasks cannot be accomplished without help. But it feels good, as if I am getting something positive done here.

After the washing and clothing extravaganza, Sister came looking for me. This time, my heart didn't skip a beat. She didn't have to say much. First, she thanked me, but I said, "De nada. Con mucho gusto." That is, after all, what I am here for. But then she lowered her head as if embarrassed, gave me a half smile and asked, "Manana, otra vez?" ("Tomorrow, again?")

"Si Madre, manana." I guess I have a date...

(Just as an aside, I went on my first Lima excursion today. I visited a tourist hotspot called Miraflores, which is a beautiful part of town. There are two pictures attached. The first is some scenery from Miraflores. The second is of some school children and I in the town where I live (Surco)).