A Night to Remember

Having finished camp yesterday afternoon, I spent today catching up on household chores- laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc. My friend Rebka hennaed my hand and we just relaxed around the house. I went for a run in the evening and as the sun was setting I walked over to the SCH orphan home where my good friend, Gillian has just moved in for the month. 

Sarah’s Covenant Homes (SCH), for those of you who don’t already know, are homes that are designed especially for special needs orphans. (http://www.schindia.com) All of the children in the three homes have either mental or physical disabilities, and in many cases, both. The home I’m about to tell you about is commonly referred to as the School girls apartment because the top floor is home to about 10 middle school aged girls who, despite their disabilities, all attend school. The bottom floor, where I spent the evening, is where the younger children stay. 

Tonight, as I walk in, a herd of little tikes came running out yelling variations of ‘Koti!’, ‘Aca’ (sister, in Telugu), and ‘Tister’ (Sister in toddler). Finally one starts correcting another, correcting another, and word spreads that ‘Cort-ta-ney Sister’ had just arrived. Talk about feeling loved. I saw that all of the girls had their finger nails painted and Gillian was sitting on the floor giving the final touches to some of the ‘Aiyas’ (Telugu for ‘Nanny’). She is pretty much awesome. 

Each child at the home is incredibly different and incredibly special. For safety's sake, I won’t mention names, but diagnoses include Apert’s Syndrome, Downs, Dwarfism, blindness, Autism, deformed limbs, etc. Personalities range from joyful, loud and extroverted to cuddly, soft spoken and introverted...and all of those in between. 

I had arrived just in time for dinner. Gillian, who has moved into the home to help establish routines and create more of a familial atmosphere, has done a great job of creating fellowship ‘around the dinner table.’ All of the children sit in one room together as bowls of rice and dal are are passed around and a multitude of right hands dig in. Challenging, yes. But is it working, oh yea. 

As they finished up they moved into the front room to brush their teeth and play while dinner was being cleaned up. I imagine that some people would feel suffocated if 10 kids jumped on them at once...but personally, I can’t think of anything better. The trick, I’ve found, is accommodating them all in various positions. The human body can actually hold more kids than you might think. You can totally have your arm around three while the other hand holds back a child who is learning not to hit. Your skirt can then be made into a slide for three more children to take turns going down, and two more can actually be hanging around your shoulders. Just make sure to keep your ankles crossed, watch out for the one that bites and close your eyes when the blind one reaches up to identify you. 

P.S. The kids came up with the slide idea by themselves. I was strictly told not to uncross my legs and there was one boy monitoring whose ‘turn’ it was. He, in his three years of wisdom, was like the ride master at six flags. He made sure each child crossed their arms and laid back and then he would pull their legs until they successfully made it down my legs and hit the floor. 

Anyways, the new routine includes a sweet time of prayer and devotion- a feat some (me....) might have called impossible without seeing it with their own eyes.  As we moved back into the common room, the kids settled into various laps and positions and the aiyas started to sing. Like clockwork each child began clapping their hands along with the voices. In that moment nothing mattered..nothing made us different, not age, size, health, nationality- we were just children of God sitting together singing praises to  our God. The boy in my lap clapped my hands together and every once and awhile leaned over to help another child clap her hands. (yep, one in the same ride-master, authoritative three year old). One of the nurses shared a Psalm and then the Aiyas took turns praying. It has been my experience that when Indian women pray, they strip themselves bear before the Lord. The tears and outcry that came from this women that now kneeled before me in prayer could only be evidence of a heart that has been repeatedly poured out before the Lord. 

As I looked around the room, not all of the kids were lost in prayer. One young girl was sticking pieces of paper from a torn up magazine to her face, another boy was using his friends toe to kill an ant and another was blowing bubbles with her spit. They were, however, sitting together in fellowship, still before the Lord, being covered by the prayer of the women who have devoted their lives to their care. I’m sure I was not the only one who felt as if a blanket of peace had been placed over the home. 

In the chaos of life these moments are immeasurably valuable. It’s there, in his intimate presence, that God reminds us of who we are, why we are here and what we have to look forward to. 

Bedtime, goodbye kisses and a nice walk home made for one of my most favorite evenings in India.