This morning I stood against the side of the "Trolley bus", bracing myself so as not to fall with the jolting and jostling of the city streets. I grasped my backpack with both hands, fully aware of both my whiteness and my aloneness, but also feeling strangely at home in this completely foreign world. I became engrossed in the scene that passed by me - each street corner occupied by fruit vendors who called out to anyone in their close vicinity, groups of children running to catch the bus, cement wall after cement wall marked by the unspoken and broken reality of a hurting people, their paint screaming a message of hopelessness... All the while I contemplated my entire immersion experience here in the South. I found myself at a loss in trying to explain how this dirty, broken, impoverished world had completely captured my heart. Although the South is still Quito, it really is a different world - the economy, the people, the way of living, the spiritual atmosphere... But it has been here amidst all of that, that I have felt so fully alive, the most alive I have felt since living here in Ecuador. 
This morning I walked in through front door of the church, Genesis 7, and greeted Laura as always with a "Buenos días Laurita! Como le fue?" She looked up from scrubbing one of her massive pots, sleeves rolled up, hair in the way, but a lovely smile on her face. "Buenos días Ely!" I gave her a kiss on the cheek and moved over to the counter where I set down my things. I then handed her the bag of arroz (rice) that had been donated from my church in the North. "Muchas gracias Ely!" As soon as she had wiped her hands off, we left the church to visit the neighborhood tienda (store) in order to buy some meat and vegetables for today's meal. I have been using donations from the church to help buy food each day for the kids. For a meal that feeds 100 children I have spent between 15$ and 30$ per day. Although that seems so little in feeding 100 kids, many times the church cannot afford even this and end up feeding the kids with whatever they have on hand at the time, which could be only rice or noodles. Only recently have we been able to inform our church about their situation and a few have started helping with donations. But there is still so much opportunity to help in so many different ways!
As soon as Laura had sifted through the vegetables, looking for what seemed fresh to her, and we had paid the owner, we headed back to the church. While we were gone, the two widows that help every day with the cooking had arrived. Both elderly and living in impoverished situations of their own, they come to help in the morning and eat the meal afterwards. Both bring so much joy and laughter to the center! Today we all sat around a table peeling vegetables, all happily chatting about family, food, stories, every day life, etc... Every once and a while, I would chime into the conversation, but for the most part I remained quietly listening to the rapid, tennis-like interaction, picking up my interpretation of what was being said.
So the question we have all been waiting for - Am I fluent at Spanish? Claro que si! Well not quite... Within a group context, I still feel as lost as before. But I am continually amazed at how I have been able to have one-on-one conversations with individuals on about pretty much every topic you can think of - everything from my life back in the states, to why God allows bad things to happen - all in Spanish! More than anything, I feel like I have positioned myself in such a way that I am pursuing this growing passion in my heart. This is something that I am realizing I will have to fight for, but it's so worth it!
Back to my story... The kids started showing up at 12:30, while the soup was still boiling on the stove and the smell of spices and meat floated out of the kitchen. "Hola Ely!" A handful of kids ran into my arms, giggling as they gave me huge hugs with their little arms and kisses on the cheek. I greeted each of them as they came in, asking them how their day was, poking the more mischievous ones, making faces with the little ones and complimenting the older girls on their hair or outfits.
Once they had all arrived and had packed their little bodies into the small room, Laura had me lead the kids in their favorite song, accompanied with lots of crazy hand motions. Then I lead them in a simple prayer with my limited Spanish, them repeating after me. Afterwards, they all lined up to receive their meal for the day, the older ones helping the younger ones. I stood behind the counter and handed them a little yellow cup of juice and and a big bowl of rice, vegetables and meat. After quickly clearing their plates, they systematically lined up to wash their plates. I have enjoyed using this time to play with some of the younger ones or chat with some of the older ones in between cleaning up.
Today as I talked with one of the girls who is 13, just about life and school, I noticed a pretty necklace that she was wearing. It was a two piece heart. I had just commented on how pretty it was, when she took off her necklace and handed me the second half of the heart that made up this friendship charm. I honestly did not know what to say. In my hands I held a little tiny piece of a heart, inscribed with words of friendship, and I knew that this girl had just done something so much bigger than just offer me a trinket. This gift of hers pretty much sums up what all of the children have done - they have left pieces of their hearts with me and I find myself with hundreds of pieces of hearts now piled up inside of mine. I am overwhelmed with a love for these kids who have so little. They truly are hungry for so much more than the food we feed them every day. They are hungry for love. Many of them live in broken families. Some are forced to work every day to help their families make 6$ for the day. There is one family of 5 kids whose mother is a known prostitution in the community. There have been girls who have been taken from the community and never seen again. Most of them are fortunate enough to go to school in the mornings, but in reality, they don't have hope for a future. Their lives will probably end up like their parents lives. How can my heart not belong to these children? How can I not answer the cry that is screaming out to me? They need someone to commit their heart to fully love them. I know I can only do so much, but I have left my "immersion trip" with such a strong desire to do as much as I can do. I am not sure what this will look like, but I am willing to fight for it whatever it may be!
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