special moments

please note: i know the capitalization, etc. in this post is atrocious. Please ignore it, and i shall try to be more proper in future posts. It's just a habit i've gotten into when things aren't really formal.

So yesterday was one of the most moving days i've had yet in Albania, and as so often happens over here, it centered around a child. Well not just one child, two. And once again God was awesome to me.

Some weeks ago they had asked me to lead a crafts class for the shepherding program moms. Now getting into any detail about any of this i fear might be a breach of etiquette or confidentiality, so i won't tell you where the moms were from, or how many there were, or what their names were.

What i will tell you is that i was anxious about this class. See i'd prepared this whole "how to help your children learn their shapes and colors through basic geometric crafts" lesson, not wanting to just do the craft with the women. come on, these are grown, or at least teenaged, women now. They don't want to be cutting out houses right??????????

i originally started mildly panicking when one of the social workers wasn't sure if the craft was right. "We will talk with mira. (the other social worker, and quite frankly i don't think this is a breach of either confidentiality or etiquette as there are a million miras in this country (that may be an exaggeration) and three social workers and one nurse named mira who i work with on a frequent basis.) What will you do if it isn't appropriate?" i didn't know, having no backup plan.

The panic increased upon mira's learning, through cellular means, that they were bringing their babies. This makes perfect sense when you think on it, where were they going to leave them????????? These are poor women, in a poor community, and it's not like they are likely to have a friendly last minute day-care around the corner. How, however, were they supposed to make this craft with me, while holding babies????????? Even the most inept nurturer would realize that scissors and infants don't mix. At least they should. So the women arrive, and mira suggests that we start. (Oh, to make things worse, the woman accompanying them was, i believe, a preschool educator. i am not. While thank God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, i've decent amounts of experience, and believe myself to be doing a good job (through His grace) at working as one over here, i was trained in secondary ed. i'm a little self-conscious about that as well. So hearing her profession increased my feelings of inadequacy. Which i oughtn't to have worried about, because God is always adequate.) i ask mira, "Should we still do this???????", thinking that they can't do the craft now, with the children, and not wanting to insult their intelligence. "Yes, but since they can't do it themselves we'll just show them how to make it."
We were making a house out of triangles, rectangles, and squares. i was convinced we were about to seriously insult their intelligence. "First you cut out the triangle, that's the roof, then....." Come on, that would annoy me....... so i squirmed out of it, i'm ashamed to say, suggesting that the other woman explain it and citing the ability to lose the translation my leading it would necessitate as an excuse. mira proceeded to explain herself. In the ensuing minutes, i learned, or was reminded of, a few wonderful things, besides of course being reminded that God is awesome and why do i worry about them after i pray:

1.) we are priviledged. These women appeared to have never done anything of the sort before. i of course take for granted that people have been cutting construction paper and gluing it into fun patterns since they were young enough to require safety scissors for the task. How naively and brashly American i am.

2.) Everyone enjoys acting like a child again for a bit. They should at least. These women appeared to be having so much fun. Their comraderie was inspiring, as was their willingness to laugh lovingly at mistakes and devote themselves enthusiastically to a task i might have been insulted to be assigned. They seemed to revel in the ability to act childish for a bit. As women who probably live very trying lives, and who had to grow up way too soon, i figure they deserved it. Couldn't i learn a bit from them about abandoning strictures and seeing the beauty in life and its tasks from time to time.

This all wasn't the best part of the day, however. The best part was how we solved the baby problem..... we held them, so that a few women at a time could work. The first baby i held whimpered a bit, and then with some rocking and soothing noises quieted and just looked at me. Do you know the gaze i'm referring too, that trusting perusal a child gives to someone holding him. It was like i could feel a connection, a bonding, with this child i'd never met before. he gifted me with a smile or two, (unless it was gas), and gifted me with the warm feeling that holding a baby can bring. Their trust is amazing, the trust God gave infants, who are willing to just be held, who fully believe that you will take care of them, even if they don't know who you are, so long as they feel warm and safe in your arms. We ought to trust God more in that manner. No one should ever abuse that trust. The fact that this particular child was Roma only strenthened the impact of the moment. The Roma and gypsy population are the outcasts of Albanian society. They are the ones who beg on the street, who incite anger and mistrust. Yet here i was, cuddling a Roma baby boy, a product of a crisis pregnancy (for that is what shepherding pregnancies are, in one way or another a pregnancy in crisis), and he was so amazing. How could this child grow up to be reviled by society???????? i certainly pray that he won't.

This little boy's mother then tried to persuade another mother to attempt the craft, and, taking the other woman's baby, succeeded. Her child soon started fussing in my arms, however, so she switched babies with me, explaining that the other child was sleeping so it would be easier for me. Again the cuddling of a child i'd just met. Again the feeling of what a precious gift from God this was. He slept most of the time, again the amazement at how much trust he had. Would i sleep in the arms of a stranger??????? i have enough trouble sometimes sleeping in the arms of my God. How often have i been convicted by children as to how lacking i am in my actions reactions towards my heavenly Father??????? He opened his eyes a crack once and looked at me, and i feared he might cry, knowing i wasn't his mother. yet his brief perusal appeared to have convinced him i was safe, or the idea that i might not be never occured to him, or he was just too sleepy to care, but the fringed lids lowered once more and he slept on. Once or twice i suspected he might even be considering trying to nurse, certainly he wiggled around a lot attempting to find the most confortable position my arms would offer. What an amazing gift children are. What an amazing gift that day was.

i hope God will bless you with amazing gifts.

God bless!!!!!!!!!!!!!!