Day 9: Spiritual Needs

“Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.”

- Mother Teresa

When I originally read this quote several years ago, I simply glanced over it and called it a nice sentiment. However, now that I know and understand the mission of her order, the full meaning and weight of the statement is clear to me. For the last week, I have volunteered at Mother Teresa’s Home for the Dying and Destitute here in Lima (she opened many more of them around the world). Everyone who lives at this hospice has been abandoned. Just as Mother Teresa said, they are unwanted, unloved, uncared for, and forgotten - until of course, they cross the threshold into the Home. I cannot help but feel that Mother Teresa had these Homes in mind when she made this statement.

As I have written about before, everyone who lives in the town of La Victoria where the Home is located is plagued by absolute poverty. They have almost no money or resources to care for themselves and their families. They have no opportunities for advancement. Consequently, the inhabitants of La Victoria have lost all hope. They do not try to make life better because, after all, where would they start? And yet, through it all, there is something worse than that according to Mother Teresa. Food, water, clothing, and shelter are necessities in the physical world. They maintain the positive functioning of our bodies. However, some day, all of us will leave our physical bodies in the form of a mortal death. What Mother Teresa was worried about was our souls, the mental and spiritual aspects of our lives. According to the Catholic faith, a soul is eternal, even after the physical body dies. Therefore, it is of utmost importance to nurture our souls, make sure they are taken care of. If this does not occur, we lose our sense of direction, in a way. If nobody wants us, loves us, or cares for us, then why live this life? Imagine how I would feel if I were abandoned completely. Imagine how you would feel if you were abandoned completely. It’s a dull, throbbing pain that leaves behind a sense of emptiness. You feel like you don’t belong.

That is what everyone at Mother Teresa’s Home felt before they lived there. Their lives were filled with a hopelessness that was far worse and more pressing than physical poverty (which, of course, is also extremely difficult). Mother Teresa’s Order of nuns does whatever they can to fulfill the spiritual needs of both the children and the adults who reside at the Home. At the same time, they attempt to provide basic physical needs in the forms of food, clothing, and healthcare (in the forms of physical and occupational therapists, and a part-time infirmary physician). It is clearly evident, just by simple observation, that the nuns pour their entire hearts into the work that they do for the residents. That is their reason for existence, without a doubt. I can speak most about their interactions with the children on the second floor of the Home, because I have worked there the most so far. The nuns look at the children with a fondness in their eyes that I have only witnessed in one specific instance before - the love of a mother for her baby when he or she is first born. A look into the innocent eyes of a baby in the maternity ward (by a mother) or the glance of a nun into the face of one of the disabled children is all it takes. At that moment, all you can observe is unconditional love. From that moment, you know that the mother (or in this case, the nun) will do whatever it takes to make sure that that child is taken care of.

Another quote by Mother Teresa is as follows: “Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.” In many instances, a simple smile is all that it takes to brighten the days of the children at the Home, even if they are not always able to respond. It is a gesture that shows you care, that you have a vested interest in the well-being of that person.

On Friday, Mother Maria asked me if I would help to bathe and dress the children again. The volunteers who normally do that job were not in that day. I was the only person in the building who had done that before, even if only once. Mother Maria told me that I had experience, so she could use my help again. This is just one testament as to how much help the nuns need at the Home. All volunteers are graciously welcomed, because there is always work to do. This also reminds me of a rather sobering fact. The nuns could do so much more for these children only if they had more resources in terms of volunteer manpower. In effect, their work is being held back. Now, I realize that international volunteering is not for everyone. It certainly requires a specific mindset geared towards the betterment of the world community, as well as a large amount of mental preparation. But I urge everyone to consider it. It is a life-changing experience.

When I was clothing one child the other day, he looked directly at me and smiled. It was only a simple gesture, but a powerful one at that. I feel it was his way of saying thank you. If Mother Teresa was right, then that smile was an act of love. In some way, perhaps the child knew that I was helping him and wanted to acknowledge that fact. I couldn’t help but smile back. For those of you who know me well, I have not been a huge fan of children in the past. But I must admit that I have come to care for these children very deeply in the past week. I always look forward to the next day when I get to them again. I do not even want to think of how I will react when I have to leave them in three weeks to go back home.

Already, I feel like I have gotten so much more out of this experience that I have contributed. I am discovering a sense of compassion for children that I never knew I had. Maybe it just takes an experience like this to realize that. I can only hope that my volunteer work will benefit the people that I work with, even in a small way.

On Sunday, I went to Mass at Iglesia de Santo Domingo in Downtown Lima. I was clearly the only American in the church, so I was definitely conspicuous. At the end of Mass, a Peruvian man approached me and started a conversation with me in Spanish. I surprised myself because I was able to understand him and reply, even if in simple sentences. He seemed very interested me and wanted to know a little bit about me. I guess there aren’t a ton of tourists in Lima. He asked me where I was from, how long I was going to be here, and what I was doing while I was here. When I told him I was working with disabled children in La Victoria, he held out his hand to shake mine and said, “Thank you and welcome to Peru. We need people like you here in Lima.” Maybe I actually will make a difference...