About 6 months ago one of the boys fell down and was crying. He is about 5 years old. He drops by the Breakfast Program now and then - more often when the teams from North America visit. His name is Carlos and he is famous with the North Americans but in reality, we don't see him too often.
He was crying that day after the fall, so I picked him up. Another time I noticed he was crying and picked him up again, without knowing what happened. Each time he hugged me tightly until I put him down and I remember being surprised that he didn't want to be put down sooner so he could go play with the other kids.
It happened at least once more - Carlos was crying so I picked him up and held him. Finally I caught on to the fact that Carlos was coming to the Breakfast Program and crying so that he could be held. This morning Carlos was there. He came up and silently tugged on my pant leg like a toddler. I bent down and hugged him but didn't let go and I could feel that he wanted me to pick him up. So I picked him up and held him.
He rested his head on my shoulder and put his arms tight around my neck. I told him I love his hugs. We stood like that, with me rotating now and then so he could watch what the other kids were up to, for at least a half hour. I kept waiting for him to get squirmy and want to get down. I asked a few times if he wanted to go play with the kids and felt his head shake "no" on my shoulder. So I kept holding him.
A few adults asked if I was tired, if I needed a chair. I explained he was too long to sit down with and then for Carlos' sake I said, "I never get tired hugging Carlos."
Don Juan walked over and ruffled Carlos' hair, checking him for lice. He had apparently read my mind. I had decided about 20 minutes earlier that if I got lice again, it would be well worth it. Don Juan said Carlos was clean. An added plus.
Finally I really did get tired, and I kept seeing all of these amazing pictures that I wanted to take of the kids while they were playing. So I asked Carlos if he wanted to walk with me to get the camera. He shook his head "yes". We walked hand-in-hand to the car and got the camera. Then I sat down and he climbed into my lap.
I was thinking recently about how the kids have learned to smile for the camera. Even one year old Isabela grins when I have the camera aimed at her. They used to make peace signs or bunny ears when they saw a camera two years ago. And some of them had a dull look in their eyes, even just a year ago. But I hardly ever see that dull look any more.
Today I was looking over all of the photos. Carlos and I were in some of them. Carlos' eyes were dead. In all of the photos the look on his face was flat, like he didn't realize he was in a place where 50 other kids were playing and having fun.
I wish that Carlos would come to the Buen Provecho more often because I have seen that look disappear from other kids' faces. Sometimes new kids come with that dead-eyed look for the first couple of weeks, but the it goes away once they feel comfortable.
I am going to pray that Carlos comes to the church more often and that we are able show him the love he so desperately needs.
 |
 |
| All smiles. Except one. |
