Multiple Victories

Despite having unidentified Chilean floor-cleaner splashed all over my body by the six-year-old at Entre Todas, today was amazing. First of all, I made killer gluten-free pancakes from scratch this morning, so the day was bound to go well. Secondly, when I first arrived at Entre Todas, I sat with one of the girls who has seemed extremely depressed lately and tried to engage her in conversation. She’s fifteen and normally a quiet girl but lately has been more withdrawn than usual and I’ve noticed spots on her wrists where it appears she cuts herself. At first she just answered my questions with one-word answers and I could have left it at that, but I kept going, wondering which question would be the one that would make her tell me to shut up. But all of a sudden I think she realized I actually cared about what we were talking about and she smiled and started speaking in full sentences. A minor victory!

We had a special Christmas lunch, then the girls who would be leaving for the holidays packed up their bags and said goodbye. Chris and I were sitting on one of the couches on the patio around this time when the newest girl wandered over. She’s a sweetheart, probably about fourteen. She was carrying a stuffed animal and looked a little teary, so I asked her if she was feeling sad. She nodded so I lifted my arm and invited her to sit between Chris and I. She collapsed into my arms and started sobbing, burying her face in my neck and squeezing me with intense desperation. For a long time we just sat there, not saying anything, me stroking her hair while she cried. I was struck by this incredible feeling of doing the most important thing I could possibly be doing. This is the first time this girl will spend Christmas away from her family and no one around her is acknowledging how hard that is. The girls normally have walls up and never allow anyone to see them in moments of weakness, so I felt absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude that this girl could come to me in her vulnerable state. I also felt smacked in the face by the reality of her situation. I’ve said over and over that I’m glad to be spending Christmas with the girls who can’t go home to their families but it hadn’t actually hit me until I found myself as the sole provider of support for a crying child. I can’t stress enough how happy I was to be that person in that moment.

To close the day, Chris and I took one of the girls for a walk around the neighborhood and to a nearby playground. She was the girl I took to the psychologist my first week but on this walk she acted much more comfortable and relaxed. We shared lively banter and conversation—for an eleven-year-old she has a great sense of humor. We even ended up having a sing-a-long to one of the songs the girls all love. The song is called “Niño de tus ojos,” meaning “Child of Your Eyes,” (they sing some seriously religious songs) but the girls love changing the lyrics to “Niño de tus piojos,” which means “Child of Your Lice.” The three of us laughed and laughed as we walked and sang this song and I felt absolutely content.