But I'm not going to talk about today, today. I can do that tomorrow. Today I'll talk about yesterday and later today I'll talk about today, because today's too new for me to blog about today, Wednesday.
Ahem.
Yesterday we nearly completed the cafe' colored house, decorated with white trim and a full roof. All that's left is the drywall, and finishing touches on the paint-job. While the house being completed is a nice addition, what I'm really excited for, what gets me up in the morning, is the children.
Andrea and Enrique now know three different secret handshakes that I've taught them, Andrea even says the words in English (Bump, twist, lock!) along with me while we do it. Enrique knows the word 'Pass!' whenever we play football, and Andrea knows her colors and ages and her dog names. They're both very patient with me whenever I mumble things in Spanish, although Andrea is sometimes quick to sigh and run off to fetch a translator. Inadvertently, I have taught them patience.
But it's not what they're learning that has me excited. It's what I'm learning.
I know all their family's names; Hugo, Karina, Hugo Jr., Enrique and Andrea. I know that their dogs are Chato, Quate, Bombeis, and Nigre. I know that the giant hole in the middle of their site is for working on cars. I know their ages, their facial expressions, and that they really like painting their hands and sticking their hand prints all over us White folk. I know that they'll always ask me if I'm coming back tomorrow. I know that they are in awe when I explain that I'm from Canada and insist that it's 'Benito'. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'd stay here for a month, hanging out with them, if I could.
It's a humbling experience, building a house for a family that has nothing and yet is so happy. They climb through a little hole in their RV every night because their trailer door is blocked, and yet insist that they're fine, and that they have a great life. To realize that your so priveledged and yet not nearly as happy as this little family in the dusty South makes you want to chase happiness like a rabid dog chases a rabbit, clamping down on it and shaking the love and adoration from it's fading body until you can call it your own.
But I'm not a rabid dog. I'm a christian. And instead of chasing down rabbits, I'll pursue God, because He brought me here. He allowed me to have these feelings despite the fact that I almost - almost - didn't get on that plane to start the journey - physical and spiritual - to Ensenada, Mexico.
Before I left yesterday, I got two things. One was this picture:
From left to right: Jon, Hugo, Me, Karina, Hugo Jr. The bottom row: Enrique and Andrea.
The other was a handprint, from each child, on my cherished Wolfman hat.
Sorry, Mom. But that hat will never be washed.
-Chicago Ted
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