Good-byes

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It’s hard to believe three weeks can go by so quickly.  I met so many people and heard so many stories. King’s Garden Children’s Home is a special place.  There’s a deep peace among all the noise and chaos of 50 children and 25 staff.  There’s a fierce love of fighters and survivors who have overcome unimaginable things, and still smile.  There’s a serenity in the 12 acres of wild greenery that surround the home.  There’s a calm to spotty wifi and a stifling heat that seems to slow down any activity. Things happen at a different pace. There’s more time for conversations and connections.  And the children steal a place in your heart before you even notice.

There’s little three-year old Belle* who loves to smile but also knows how to throw a punch when needed. She has a raspy voice and is a happy singer, using an old racket as a pretend guitar.  Her older brother is 10, and grins non-stop.  He rarely speaks, preferring hand gestures, but is highly intelligent.  Little Ally is almost 4.  She has an oversized laugh and makes the most expressive faces.  She has a mothering instinct and will tend to kids who are younger, even if they already tower over her petite frame.  Michael is 8.  He always wants to thumb wrestle.  Ethan will stop everything if you start singing and join in.  He loves to sing.  Adam, who is 3, just wanted to be picked up and carried all day, every day.  And my little friend Brent-who knows the name of every tree and fruit, but can’t yet read.  He loves to play outside.  He’s so happy there.

It was my last day and I had just finished the projects I was working on for the home.  Hazel and I put together several products focused on strategy, processes, communications, and an advocacy campaign.  Some of our work was immediately practical, like a visitor’s manual and a fundraising letter.  Others would probably need more people to come in and see the projects through. We were most excited about a campaign to help the Philippines encourage local adoption and foster care, pressure the government to streamline paperwork requirements, and raise awareness of neglected and abused children in the country.  But campaigns like that take sustained dedication.  We prayed that the right people would come to King’s Garden to help.

We went downstairs for our last dinner with the staff and kids.  I stopped by all the tables to say hi to the children.  I didn’t want to exasperate the house parents who were each trying to get 10-12 kids fed and off to bed by distracting them, so I quickly made my way through and then went to the kitchen to eat with the evening staff.

As I looked at the people gathered around the table, a reel of memories started replaying, almost like my mind was trying to remember each person, each interaction.  My friend who shared with me her story of a hard childhood, where she just wanted to be loved.  It gave her compassion for these kids she worked with.  A staff member who had miscarried just a few days before, and another who was expecting her third child, worried about how they were going to make ends meet.  A single parent and her journey through war zones that brought her to her job at King’s Garden.  A university student who had just started working at the home, but knew it well. He had grown up there since he was 5 years old.  He worked odd jobs to pay for school. One summer he assembled luggage for Patagonia. The work was hard.  His fingers bled as he tried to twist together the parts at the rapid speed expected.  Being back at King’s Garden doing maintenance allowed him time to study for his degree in mechanical engineering.  And another dear friend, who also grew up at the home and was now working there, who had gone through some horrific experiences,and was one of the most grounded, intelligent, loving people I had met.

The relationship between the staff and the children was special.  I had long conversations with one of the social workers about a troubled 10-year-old boy.  He was constantly in fights, struggled in school, and had no friends because he was a bully.  She agonized about what more she could do to help him.  She tried explaining to him that she had to document every time something happened, and it went into his adoption file.  She pleaded with him that his behavior was making it hard to find a family who would take him.  He didn’t say anything, but there were tears were streaming down his face as he looked at his feet.  A few hours later, he was fighting again.  But she hadn’t given up.  These kids were her life.

King’s Garden has a way of getting into your soul.  When I first reached out to the directors about coming, they warned me that I might want to make it my last stop, because it’s a hard place to leave.  Jonathan and Vanessa Capone became the directors at King’s Garden just a few months ago.  Their passion and love for the kids is breathing new life and vision into the home. Jonathan is a loving father figure that so many of these kids have never seen, and Vanessa is the happy mother to 50 who fiercely loves each and every child.  Their own four children, ages 8-14, are just as dedicated to the home as their parents. They were right.  It’s a hard place to leave.

After we finished dinner, some of the older girls gathered in the lobby to finish up a homework project. They had a laptop out, although it wasn’t connected to the internet.  Someone produced a USB with dance videos –not like MTV dance videos, though.  Just videos of 4-8 people who put together simple choreography to popular songs.  They looked more like exercise videos.  I don’t know how they became so popular, but the girls had memorized dozens of dances.  The little ones joined in, some just jumping around and others surprisingly rhythmic.  One of the older boys tried dancing.  He soon was just laughing at his efforts, but kept trying.  A few kids gathered on the stairs to be near the buzz of activity. 

Aeron, one of the staff members, started pretending to lead a work-out routine.  The girls loved it, and did their best to follow.   It quickly developed into a back-bending contest, more dance numbers, and a hushing reminder from a slightly irritated house parent trying to put the little kids to sleep.  I showed the girls the basic steps to salsa and Hazel busted out her dance team moves from high school.  When we were all hot and tired and collapsed into the lobby chairs, Alice sat down next to us.  “You’re a beautiful dancer!”

She smiled shyly.  “I can sing too!”

“Really?  Will you sing something for us?”

She sat up straight and cleared her throat.  She sang a pop song, with perfect tone and rhythm.  It was beautiful.  She sang another song, and everyone cheered.  After that, they started trickling off to bed, but Alice stayed and we chatted about her life, her home, her parents, her dreams.  She’s 14, too old to be adopted and her parents haven’t relinquished their rights anyway.  She keeps hoping they’ll come, at least for a visit.  She is smart, gifted, sweet, and shy.  I look at her face and wonder what her life will be like.  I pray she continues to find the love and support she needs to make it.

The morning was a scramble to get everything packed and ready.  Hazel and I were leaving on the 9:30 ferry across the bay to Manila.  We downed a quick breakfast and then marveled at how everything you pack seems to expand from the time you arrive to the time you leave. After shoving and stuffing and sitting on suitcases to get the zipper together, we were finally ready.  We went downstairs to join the staff for morning devotions one last time before catching a ride to the docks.  As we descended the staircase, Rona, one of the house parents, beckoned us into the dining room.  We rounded the corner to see all the kids assembled in a group, waiting for us. As soon as we walked in, they counted, “One-two-three” and started singing.  It was in Tagalog, but someone whispered it was a thank you song.  They were singing with their whole hearts, smiling. I realized I had tears streaming down my face.  When they were done, the kids rushed us, nearly knocking us over with a gigantic group hug.  I tried to hug everyone, look them in the eye, and remember each face.  They are so special, each one.  They all have their own story.  And for a small snapshot in time, I got to be part of it.

We went into devotions with the staff.   I was still so emotional.  They had become such precious friends.  Regy and his wife Christine who had been at the home since my great-aunt started it. Luz and Michelle who always made sure we were well fed.  Vanie and Divina who were the social workers, each covering 25 children.  The educators, the house parents, the maintenance workers, Rona and Aeron, who we had taken out for ice-cream a few nights before, the other office staff who worked hard to make sure the home was successful.  Such beautiful people.  After devotions, the staff prayed for us, for protection and blessing on our journey, that we would be effective and successful.  They sent us out with a grace and a spiritual covering that was deeply moving and powerful. I was so grateful for their prayers and their love.  It felt like family.

They gave us some gifts to take, a t-shirt, a mug, somesnacks, and cards that everyone had signed. Their notes were so sweet and loving. I saw the note from Alice, “…I wish you’re my mom coz I always see the love in you – thank you for always making us happy…”  Oh my, that got me right in the heart.

We had to rush to make our ferry.  We gave final hugs and loaded our stuff in the truck.  The kids were already in school, but the staff gathered and waived us off as the truck left the gate to King’s Garden Children’s Home.

Hazel and I were both still wiping tears from our eyes.  She asked, “You’re going to be saying goodbye’s like this for a whole year.  Do you think it will always be this hard?”

I thought for a minute. 

“I hope so.”

*The names of the children have been changed to protect their privacy

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