A prayer for the children

Just after writing about our neighbours here, our landlord asked them to leave because the boys were naughty. They left before I even knew they were leaving. I will always wonder what will become of those two boys. I think of the times I turned them away from playing or got impatient with their fighting. Could we have done more? Shown more love in the time we had with them? My prayer is that they will find a place where they are tolerated, and ultimately, their true refuge.

What is it about children anyway, that does tug at the heart strings? Why are we so endeared to them more than any other sub-group of humanity, particularly when they are in need? I have a theory..
With children, what we do now to them, with them and for them can be so influential. We have responsibility and opportunity.
Regardless of one's view on original sin, babies begin life untainted. True, child-like innocence is theirs. As yet uncorrupted, their trust is pure. And then life begins.
As parents and carers, we have an unparelleled treasure. A life to guard. A spirit of another human being to nurture and protect. Made in the image of God and with His handwriting already on their hearts, the task is next to overwhelming. I am not up to it.
I often think of the times I have yelled at my children, smacked them in anger, or perhaps missed sharing something special with them, even dismissing it because it was more important to them than to me. More than once I have wondered at me having the 'power' in the relationship when that power is able to corrupt, and when they have so much to teach me.  When childhood has such a bearing on all of life, even in shaping a psyche the guilt of influencing that to the detriment of my own children is sometimes suffocating. For me anyway, and I expect many mums, because my love for my children is consuming, so therefore is the guilt when that love fails.

I need Your power each minute to keep me from impatience, anger, pride, self-righteousness, inattentiveness.

I need Your Spirit to teach me to slow down and enjoy the moments of life.

I need you to somehow remove the unbearable guilt of failur, knowing that I can, have and will damage the most precious of souls. Oh Lord, how to let You be bigger than me??? How to let your goodness and plans for our children outweigh any harm we can bestow upon them. Children in my house and children playing across your earth. How to let your grace be sufficient - not just in the weaknesses I have, but in the weaknesses I cause. That our children may thrive because of you and despite of me.





The Spare Oom

"What will our children do in the morning? Will they wake with their hearts wanting to play, the way wings should? What will our children do in the morning if they do not see us fly?"

Jalaludin Rumi (1207-1273)

I never meant to care about the children here. Pictures on television and glossy brochures distributed by NGOs annoyed me with their heart-string-tugging clichedness. Little kids with pot bellies covered in flies staring listlessly. Or sometimes having a great time playing around the water pump. There was enough people to care about that, right? I had to find something different. (Those of you familiar with the enneagram will recognise some 4ness emerging here.)

But as I spend more time sitting on our front step watching our kids play with kids whose day includes playing around a water pump, through no fault of my own, I'm starting to care. It's apparent the lack of supervison and stimulation can really affect these kids. Actually, it's not all bad. The other day, some of them got a plastic bag, filled it with leaves and called it a football. Cool, Games still include nothing but imagination and a bunch of friends. Our kids won't know what an x-box, game cube, nintendo DS or playstation is for a very long time.

Recently a family moved into a little thatch room next to ours. Functionally, they consist of mum and two boys aged 6 and 2 (Dad works a lot). Their room is about 4 x 6 metres and is their bedroom, dining room, kitchen, laundry and living room. They are from another state so immediately face a language barrier. The boys, particularly when Mum is cooking in that small space, have nowhere else to go except wander between our house and our front step. It's pretty boring. And with such an expanse of waste water canal right in front of you, why wouldn't you throw things in? Aunty's cup and plate, and the toys from the white kids next door make great splashes! But now, the boys are in trouble. Not only from Mum, but from every Aunty within earshot. And this becomes the most interaction from adults for most of the day. Everyone says their piece and goes back to work. Mum goes back to cooking, now feeling condemned because not even a language barrier can hide the fact that all the women are talking about how naughty her boys are and that they should go back to where they came from. 



We rent two rooms here. One is our bedroom and dining room. The other is a playspace and 'school room' for our 2 and 3 year old. With a waste water canal and 2 railway tracks the prominent feature of our community, this space has been a blessing for us. There are number and alphabet posters hanging on the wall, and stars and moons made from cereal boxes and alfoil hanging from the ceiling.

Lately, it has also become a playspace for the other children in our community, who being kids, naturally gravitate there! It can be noisy, calm, creative and chaotic and (usually) we love it! It's nice to be able to provide a safe place for the kids to be allowed to play as well as provide a rest for the mums, who work so hard just to do everyday tasks of living in a slum. It's becoming one of the many little communities within our community and we are grateful for the privilege.

And we're back....

It's time to revive Ye Old Blogge. It's been awhile since my last post. It's a little ironic - it's been probably the most crazy time of my life, yet, what to write? Not for want of things to say, it just seemed as if putting the events of the last couple of months down on *ahem* paper would not do justice to the emotions involved. So I will not attempt, except for the brief summary below;

A) We moved into a slum whose main feature is waste water canal about a metre from our front door, and is sandwiched between two railway tracks.


B) A 21 year old from our community was subsequently killed on said railway tracks behind our house. The experience of grief with a Hindu community was both a privilege and a really hard time.

C) Our landlady turned into a dragon. Living at home was a little difficult. Looking for a new house so soon was an added stress. Since changing her mind about the whole dragon thing, things have been much more peaceful.


D) A health scare with our two year old. Hospital trips eat up time. Mental capacity diminished greatly. Thanks God for a happy ending.


And that's all I have to say about that. In other news, relationships with the neighbours are going well. Their names are Narkel, Sada, Naru and Cini. Unfortunately one of them fell of the roof yesterday (I'm not sure which one) and now will not come out from the safety of a narrow gap between two walls. Here they are in happier times...