Love and Be Loved

I am not one to complain about adverse weather conditions. I mean, the boisterousness of my beard alone thwarts the efforts of most inclement storms and blizzards, but sometimes excitement can turn to trepidation with little more than a change in the weather. A few weekends ago I was wrestling with feelings of agitation, and despite my selfish tendencies I experienced one of the most amazing days in China. Our destination was an orphanage that was located on the outskirts of Beijing. It housed kids that were neglected and/or abandoned by their parents.

The night before our trip, I had more-than-willingly stayed up late to talk on Skype. It doesn't matter who it was, but suffice it to say that I love her and it wasn't my mother. When I woke up the rain started falling. I was thinking about my perfect rain jacket that was uselessly decorating a coat rack back at my apartment. Classic fail. My next string of thoughts was obsessed with the consequences of my negligence. I would quite possibly be miserable for the rest of the day. Thankfully, only parts of me would become absolutely soaked. I was trying to look at the bright side of things despite the lack of sunshine.

To get to our destination we had to utilize the following modes of transportation (listed in order of experience):  taxi, walk, subway, train, walk, (get lost), back on train, walk, bus, and walk. Walking was done in the rain, so was waiting for the taxi and bus. Here’s the thing though, I am not necessarily complaining about the rain in general because normally I love it. In fact, I have A LOT of fond memories in the rain. However on this particular day at that particular temperature, it was highly undesirable.

Halfway through our three-hour excursion out of the city I started laughing. The scene was ridiculous. I was a part of a 14 person group that was traveling with bags of clothes, bins of desserts, and bunches of candy (alliteration is sometimes more important to me than making complete sense). I figured in that situation the only helpful response was to laugh. Therefore, I discussed my mini-epiphany with a few of my peers and we totally lost it.

At that moment, after standing in the pouring rain for half an hour wearing nothing more than a soaked hoodie, holey shoes, and my favorite worn out corduroys, and while carrying a 40lb bag of clothes, my body felt miserable but my spirits felt amazing. In that moment, I was making a choice. To be joyful or sorrowful.  Little did I know that this string of unfortunate instances would make my time at the orphanage so much sweeter. I find stark contrasts of life fascinating because they reveal a lot about the human experience. For instance, it takes a very broken person to admit that they need to be fixed, even though they were in desperate need all along.

When our drenched group of teachers finally arrived, we were immediately greeted with 10 children with beaming faces. After our presence was made known to the entire orphanage, the group of 10 became to 60+. Their faces betrayed their overwhelming excitement, but most of them were acting very coy. They lived with a few Americans so they were not amazed by our skin color, but our group's size may have been a little bit much at first. Once they realized why we were there, they all started going crazy. Some of the kid’s crazy came out in conversation, while others ran around like wild childs.

For a few hours we played games with them and shared some delicious snacks. With each fleeting minute, the children became more and more fond of our group. It was quickly becoming evident that there wasn’t a single person under that rough that wanted us to leave. It was raining harder outside, the roads were even more flooded, and the children were amazing. Every single one of our teachers lost their hearts to one of the kids there. I cannot think of many other times where my company felt so desired.

They just wanted to be held, talked to, smiled at, and loved. What a privilege to give them those things. A single one of those moments made the round-trip more than just bearable. It was desirable. It was in those moments that my heart confessed that ANY difficulty would have been justified by the chance to love just one of these kids. We became their heroes, and quickly we realized that we did not deserve such adoration from those precious children. Not even for a second. And yet…there we were.

My favorite thing to do during our stay was to grab one of the boys flying around the room and just launch him in air. At first he would gasp and would have a look of bewilderment on his face. A look that told me that this particular experience was unique but not initially fun or desirable. That look would devolve into fear, the kind of fear that is birthed from a humans first near death experience. Finally, the moment would be redeemed by a look of pure joy once they realized I was going to catch them. So good.

Leaving them was miserable. We said our heartache goodbyes and slowly we made our way into the rain. The contrast between the warm atmosphere filled with the giggling, happy children and the harsh raining conditions outdoors was staggering. As our group was leaving I kept running back (like a child) and popping my head around the corner to make some face back all of them. The children kept screaming with joy and could hear the pure thrill in their voices. I did not deserve to have my heart warmed like that, but it was exactly what I needed to make it home with my sanity. One of the helpers there said I could stay the night if I wanted to spend more time with the orphans, and very reluctantly had to decline her kind offer.

The way back would have been much worse than the way there if we had been coming from any other place. Although it took much longer for me to get home and the rain was coming down much harder, the memories I had with those children eclipsed any inkling of frustrations. Since then I have been constantly thinking about them. My entire being longs to be back there with them. I was intrigued by their ability to say farewell while holding a smile, but not surprised. They have had to say goodbye to more people than I could possibly imagine, and in some ways this small act of “abandonment” was familiar to them. There was not a sense of bitterness, just familiarity.

To see such joy overflowing from those whom life has been so very cruel to was inspiring. I need these kinds of reality checks because I am far too comfortable putting up my blinders and focusing on my own life.