This job makes us laugh. And I mean seriously, laugh. I live with one man, and five boys each the size of a man. That equals me and six man sized creatures. Kind of like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs ... except I have seven dwarfs, and my dwarfs are actually giants.
In our cottage, we sing a lot of songs, we dig for gold, and I even talk to the little animal creatures outside. The songs are rap, country and screamo... Though there would be a lot of screaming if they found out I was calling it that. I find loose coins all over the house, every golden penny gets added to a jar. And outside, I find new creatures every day. This weeks creatures included roaches of variable sizes, biting anoles, and the famous annually appearing black racer snake.
Austin and I do a lot of laughing in this cottage. We laugh, when the man sized boy creatures throw tantrums like two year olds. And laugh at their facial expressions in response to finding out that we not only have a facebook account, but we also know the lyrics to Ed Sheeran's newest song. We laugh when we trick them into doing chores and when they catch us singing to each other as we do dishes. We laugh when they laugh. It's contagious really.
What is also contagious in a different way, is the weight that they carry. It surrounds them them like a cloud, a morning fog that never lifts; anything that settles in the valley is also clouded by the fog. The more that we learn their stories, the pieces that they share, the parts that they don't, the fog falls on us, as we settle in their valley. Those are the times where no amount of laughter can lift the fog. And it can be depressing.
Austin and I just ended 15 days on. Sitting at our favorite Farm to Table restaurant in Deland, we talked about the week. We started out by laughing, sharing favorite moments of things that made us smile. But inevitably, this turned quickly into stories that had been shared with us. Moments when the man sized boy creatures let us peek in their hearts. And it just hurts. And no amount of laughter can clean that slate.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Stay
We met our six giant "man-child" boys in the afternoon. We had a meeting where we got to know each other and get on the same page. When asked if they had anything to share, one brave young man spoke for the rest; "Don't leave." He looked at us earnestly, pleading in his eyes, he left the statement sitting on the table in mid air.
"We drove 3023 miles, just to come live with you. We left everything and everyone we know to be here. We are not leaving."
My words felt so empty. Unconvincing. The silence that followed seemed to echo off the high walls. What could I say to convince them that we were here to stay? What could we do to convince ourselves?
The words were so simple, straight forward. Yet they were complex and vague. These "man-child" boys are like toddlers, crying after a mother who goes to Starbucks without them. They, like the toddler, lack an understanding of time and promises. The mom on the way out the door always says "Honey, I will be right back." But the child wails on, "No mommy, take me with YOU." And these boys, these almost men, they look at us with eyes that say "take me with you."
Coming to Florida, when people asked how they could pray, we asked that you pray that we would be the couple that would "Stay." We have heard the rumors about how many staff have come and gone with this specific group of boys. They are losing all trust and hope. We want so badly to be the people who stay. I want to grab hold of their face and promise them with all my might that I will never leave ... but I cant on a good conscience do that. I get angry about the people in their life who have let them down, who have not fulfilled promises. I get angry at the adults who have left them, who have given them up, or given them back.
We were off shift for the last two weeks. It is always a little nerve wracking coming back, we don't know what unfolded during our absence and we have to muster up all the courage we have. I wonder if any of them will be happy to see me. The school bus brakes release, I hear running feet, "Mr. AUSTIN! Ms. HEATHER!" I am so glad you are here!! I am so glad you came back!"
We smile. "Yes" we say, "We were visiting family. We are back. We are not leaving. We are here to stay."
"We drove 3023 miles, just to come live with you. We left everything and everyone we know to be here. We are not leaving."
My words felt so empty. Unconvincing. The silence that followed seemed to echo off the high walls. What could I say to convince them that we were here to stay? What could we do to convince ourselves?
The words were so simple, straight forward. Yet they were complex and vague. These "man-child" boys are like toddlers, crying after a mother who goes to Starbucks without them. They, like the toddler, lack an understanding of time and promises. The mom on the way out the door always says "Honey, I will be right back." But the child wails on, "No mommy, take me with YOU." And these boys, these almost men, they look at us with eyes that say "take me with you."
Coming to Florida, when people asked how they could pray, we asked that you pray that we would be the couple that would "Stay." We have heard the rumors about how many staff have come and gone with this specific group of boys. They are losing all trust and hope. We want so badly to be the people who stay. I want to grab hold of their face and promise them with all my might that I will never leave ... but I cant on a good conscience do that. I get angry about the people in their life who have let them down, who have not fulfilled promises. I get angry at the adults who have left them, who have given them up, or given them back.
We were off shift for the last two weeks. It is always a little nerve wracking coming back, we don't know what unfolded during our absence and we have to muster up all the courage we have. I wonder if any of them will be happy to see me. The school bus brakes release, I hear running feet, "Mr. AUSTIN! Ms. HEATHER!" I am so glad you are here!! I am so glad you came back!"
We smile. "Yes" we say, "We were visiting family. We are back. We are not leaving. We are here to stay."
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