Mama Kristin
Every Saturday we take Mallory and Cristian to Hanna’s Hope to play with the children, and so that Kristin can make her “rounds” to check on things. This past Saturday, I left Mal and Cristian in Casa 5 (where the oldest kids stay) and tagged along with her so that I could see all the other children, which I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do.
Watching Kristin walk from room to room, child to child, calling their lit up faces each by name, and hearing them respond, “Mama! Mama!” moved me. I was reminded of why we’re here. In addition to her most practical sense of life, and her ability to get the things done that need it most, Kristin brings a spirit of love and compassion to these houses and these kids. They are all of them beautiful, and were so happy to see us last Saturday. They called me “Papa” too, and I counted it a privilege. Though they don’t realize it, they are rendering a service of love to me many times more than I could to them. One is easily changed sitting on the floor mixing it up with a bunch of toddlers who act as if you’ve just brought in chocolate cake and presents, when in reality, all you have are your open arms, your broken Spanish, and eyes to tell them they are unduly precious.
It is overwhelming to be in a room full of kids starved for familial love. I am reminded of my own journey, and how blessed I have been to be loved by my own family, and my wife’s family too, and by so many friends along the way. Being away from “home” creates a space for reflecting on those things that sustain us most. And without those familiar things and people that surround your life and provide a sense of belonging, even comfort, anymore present, you can't help but think of their importance. You can’t help but miss them. I keep thinking of the poet Thomas McGrath’s lines from his Letters to Tomasito,
How could I have come so far?
(And always on such dark trails!)
I must have traveled by the light
Shining from the faces of those I have loved.
That light shining on those faces is what I think we need as much as we need anything. To wear a face of light for these kids at Hanna’s Hope is a strange and wonderful thing, a blessing. You’ve got to see it to believe it, like they say. Even a tired face, a face full of its own life with its own problems, like my own, can light up the humblest room.
Watching Kristin walk from room to room, child to child, calling their lit up faces each by name, and hearing them respond, “Mama! Mama!” moved me. I was reminded of why we’re here. In addition to her most practical sense of life, and her ability to get the things done that need it most, Kristin brings a spirit of love and compassion to these houses and these kids. They are all of them beautiful, and were so happy to see us last Saturday. They called me “Papa” too, and I counted it a privilege. Though they don’t realize it, they are rendering a service of love to me many times more than I could to them. One is easily changed sitting on the floor mixing it up with a bunch of toddlers who act as if you’ve just brought in chocolate cake and presents, when in reality, all you have are your open arms, your broken Spanish, and eyes to tell them they are unduly precious.
It is overwhelming to be in a room full of kids starved for familial love. I am reminded of my own journey, and how blessed I have been to be loved by my own family, and my wife’s family too, and by so many friends along the way. Being away from “home” creates a space for reflecting on those things that sustain us most. And without those familiar things and people that surround your life and provide a sense of belonging, even comfort, anymore present, you can't help but think of their importance. You can’t help but miss them. I keep thinking of the poet Thomas McGrath’s lines from his Letters to Tomasito,
How could I have come so far?
(And always on such dark trails!)
I must have traveled by the light
Shining from the faces of those I have loved.
That light shining on those faces is what I think we need as much as we need anything. To wear a face of light for these kids at Hanna’s Hope is a strange and wonderful thing, a blessing. You’ve got to see it to believe it, like they say. Even a tired face, a face full of its own life with its own problems, like my own, can light up the humblest room.
posted by Daniel Todd at 6:18 AM
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