Today the team and I went to the special needs home, Puntiti. Having worked with special needs for years I was worried about how these people might be treated, not by choice but from lack of ability to meet their needs. I expected the absolute worst, which I was pleasantly surprised to see wasn't the case. But it was still really hard to see. The buildings weren't safe for people with these disabilities; I could see injuries waiting to happen any moment all around me. The rooms were over crowded with the amount of children and adults in them, and there clearly wasn't enough staff available to take care of each one. Most sat off by themselves, some lined up facing a wall or a window. It was hard to see that. But still like I expected they were over joyed to have visitors and get to interact with someone. They are still probably the happiest people I know, I have always seen God's love and glory in them; sometimes I envy them. But still you could see that they weren't getting personal attention because there just wasn't enough staff available. Their joy at seeing us was almost just as painful as seeing them afraid of us, because they weren't being loved on. It hurt even more when our guide told us that some of these people had been abandoned and the state had taken them in and that's why they were there. How could someone abandon someone capable of so much love? How could God let this happen? I couldn't help but picture my friends with the same disabilities there or on the street abandoned and labeled worthless. Having said that, I tried to love on each one as much as I could in the short amount of time I had, I was always that last one out of a room. Still I was relieved when we went outside to do a painting project for them.
While painting was super fun, I noticed a boy in a wheelchair by himself in the walkway next to us. He was just watching Ross paint, so I felt lead to talk to him, God's work I'm sure. So I did, I asked him if he wanted to paint something, but he couldn't talk and wouldn't let me push his wheelchair so I settled with just being there with him and talking to him. Soon I figured out how to make him laugh and smile, he had such an amazing smile, so I started to play some games with him. We played hide + seek and he just loved it; soon we were strolling around outside, playing and looking at things together. It almost felt like how I'd always pictured God with me. I've always imagined him just being with me, being a child with me or crying with me or being bored with me. But he was always there next to me. As strange as it is to say it, I felt like I was being exactly what God has been for me, for this boy. I loved it, I was so surprised by how far our bond grew. I missed the rest of painting, honestly I don't know how long we were together but I don't really care. God was just so present.
I'm almost mad at the situation now, because it had to end, but Im sure it was for a reason even if I don't know. Leaving was the hardest thing of the day. He didn't understand, and when I would step away he would reach his one good arm and wrap it around my leg and drag me back to him. Eventually I started to walk away, he thought it was a game and laughed coming after me, but I think he figured it out at some point and became confused. He followed me out even when he couldn't see me, my heart broke at the sight of him looking at me confused as to why I was leaving him. It felt cruel to leave him and cruel that I had to go as well. I know that God is working through this and that there is a plan of wonder in his mind but the human I am, I wonder where the justice is? I want to push away compassion and love and be content in painting the walls but I can't. There was so much more there that I can't understand.
Sydney Manion
Class of 2015