After maintaining decorum by posting notes five nights in a row (6 if you count the day before we left), I ran into a mental block called tiredness and stalled on my up-to-the-day reporting.  What follows is my effort to recover my memories of what happened on day 6.

After breakfast and a morning devotional, each team went off to their separate projects, and the construction team headed back to Bayamón.  On our way, we stopped at a donut shop near our lodgings that we kept passing on our daily drives.  Called “Master Donuts”, we made quite an entry.

On the first evening that our whole team was together, one gal in the group, Heidi, passed out to the construction group bandanas to wear on our heads.  Of distinction, while each of the bandanas had a different pattern, they all were pink in color.

This morning as we set out, the bandanas ended up on our heads, and during the spontaneous stop at the donut joint, we must have been quite a site for the Latin locals- a bunch of gringos in jeans, shorts and tees sporting sunglasses, and pink bandanas on our heads.  The place went tangibly silent as we entered, and everyone looked up and at us as we filed to the service counter.  It was kind of trippy.  Carlos, the only Hispanic guy on our team, brought up the rear of our crew entering the shop, and he joked that the locals must have really wondered about him- the only guy in the crew with a non-pink bandana- hanging out with a bunch of gringos.  It was a funny experience in the trip.  We later joked that we were known as the Pink Bandana gang.  Monster was the highlighted drink by our crew, and we rolled in a cavalcade of Kia vans, so we also joked that we powered by Monster and Kia, the official van of the Pink Bandanas.

While the morning started out on a light note, for some reason the rest of the morning and afternoon turned into a silent trial for a few of us on the work team.  When we arrived, we paired up indiscriminately to tackle different parts of the work.  I and Carlos worked together trying to gird and then panel a portion of the center section of the building.  We worked together fine, but as we were both unfamiliar with technique for getting things done, others in the crew worked more swiftly.  We both silently plodded along with each other, but we both noted inside that we were not moving as fast as others, and as the day moved on, we felt a) like we were slowing things down and b) encroached upon because of our speed- that work was being taken away from us because we were less swift.  His feelings came later in the evening and the next morning about this, in an expression of being frustrated by the day. Silently, I was right there with him.  I came on the trip and joined this crew to learn some construction skills and to work with a team- and today I did not feel like I was part of a team.  Already hobbled by a slow learning style and some inadequacy about my abilities, bring “worked around” by others amplified a frustration that filled my day as well, as well as my sense of uselessness for being there if my efforts were going to be minimized by some unwarranted push for speed and efficiency. Carlos and I pressed on until the end of the workday together anyways.

With most of the ceiling work done, Scott and Jim Weaver moved on to installing light trays in 6 of the panel slots in the room. Chris Herman and Jim Westfall and Fran, our honorary dudette on the team, prepped the walls for painting. It was decided we had the time and resources to repaint the room in a lighter, brighter color, and so that was the new focus of the team at the end of the day.

The evening went much better, and was special indeed.

We headed as a full group to visit a Boy’s Club home about a half an hour from where we were staying. This home was in a nice neighborhood, and was surrounded by a significant property with a large sports field and a basketball court suitable for the energy of a menagerie of 6 to 12 year-old orphans and wards of the state.  Upon arrival, it was clear the boys knew we were coming, and they quickly got us outside into the play areas to throw and kick and chase balls of all sorts before the sun dropped completely.  Several of us played a short soccer game with a number of the boys before twilight won, and we headed inside.

Once we were inside, our team had a few people that had prepared a skit to portray that Christ would be with us when we fought different struggles. Carlos, my partner in the crew, donned the Christ persona which was colored a bit by Carlos’ own military appearance ad his wrestler posturing.  With the word “Christiano” on his shirt, he shouted that name repeatedly when temptations attacked him.  The boys ate it up and also took up his call, cheering as he was whacked by other swinging pillows at him.  As he overcame those assaulting him, his yells of “Christiano” mixed with those of the boys as they enjoyed joining in in his victory.  Carlos was in his element, a great representative of Christ before those kids. He was awesome.

Following the skit, one of my favorite moments of the trip happened when two people shared words with the boys through translators. One of them was Fran from our work crew, who gave her testimony.  The other was my brother, who was given the charge to share about what it means to be a man of God.  Drawing from Deuteronomy 6, Scott talked about being a father and having a son near the age of some of the boys, and how he had learned that being a man of God meant that you first see God, and the you listen to Him, and then you love Him.  And then you love your family.  It was a simple message for the boys, but sincere and full of tenderness.  It was moving to see, and of course, that was enhanced because the speaker was my brother.

After the words, we then spent time praying for the kids and then with them.  What became clear in this time was that most of the kids were not shy about hugging and being loved.  Most every boy in that house- some 15-20 or so- was warm and hungry for love and affection.  Being someone who doesn’t initiate touch very much (although it is a significant love language to me), I struggled to just grab and hug the nearest kid going here or there.  But that’s okay- in time, one or two found me.  After prayer time, moments of affection devolved into moments of play for most as Carlos broke out a thumb wrestling toy and got a first victim in the ring. In no times, he was thumb wrestling others to the cry of “Christiano!” as other boys got involved, and challenged each other or another nearby adult.  And as quickly as we got there, the evening with them came to an end- the boys needed to go to bed.  After more hugs, the sharing of drawn pictures, and a few shed tears, we got back in our vans to leave these boys, again to the cries of “Christiano!” and “I love you.”  As we drove away from that home, I am not sure any adult in one of the team vans had a dry eye. It was a moving evening.  And I didn’t eve speak Spanish and understand most of what was said.

Tired, we came back to the lodge and had our nightly debriefing, which left me feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable, in part from reflecting on my feelings of incompetency from earlier in the day, and also from reflecting on our experiences with the boys that evening, and my tangential involvement with it because of my introversion and my inability to speak Spanish. I was feeling pretty alienated from the group as well because I always struggle to know my place in groups that are gelling.  That has always been an awkwardness with me, knowing where I fit in with people.

Fortunately, after the meeting when I went into a little chapel in the center to write down some notes, one of the work crew guys, Jim Westfall, came in to check on me, and he let me talk.  He let me talk about my feelings, my inadequacies, my recent life history, my awkwardness with people, my falterings in faith, and my recent grieving over a girl, which he had experienced at a time in his life.  He shared with me then about his own experiences related to love and life and work and fighting to find his faith and his own broken heart story.  He was a friend I really needed that night.

After several hours of talking, we called it quits after we realized it was three in the morning.  He wished me good night and went off to join his wife.

It was a day of a lot of thoughts and feelings. I was proud today to see my brother speak, as I have been of him all week, getting to see him in full bloom with people. He has been exceptional on this trip, and he is beloved by our team. He is a great father and friend.

Love God. Listen to Him.  Love your family.  Love who you can.  And just keep going.

“Christiano! Christiano!” echoed in my head as I went to sleep.  In Jesus’ words, “Let the little children come to me.”  “Be my hands and my feet.”