Mi Casa es Su Casa

The top three ways God has shown His love to me in the past two weeks:

3. We’ve been drinking fresh limeade (my fav) EVERY DAY!

2. My girls seem to have finally adjusted to being in my care & authority and have been the closest to angelic that I’ve ever seen them.

AND

1. My very best friend in the world came to visit me IN MEXICO!

Claire’s visit was much needed by me and very much enjoyed by the girls. One day as she approached me, various children of mine clinging to and dangling from her limbs, she remarked, “I feel like I’ve become their new favorite playground.” Haha, totally. Also, words of affirmation is a very strong love language of my nenas, and they liked to say things like “Claire is our best Mom” and “Claire is the prettiest one here!” and even.. “now that Claire’s here nobody wants Brita to take care of us anymore.” I just have to say that the last one was intended to hurt me.. payback for a few red stars. It happens. = )

My best good friend (said with a Forest Gump accent, of course) brought me (in addition to laughter, new flip-flops, advice, someone to pray with, REESES, so much joy, that priceless feeling of knowing and being known = ), and a skirt from her South Africa adventure called a ‘schway-schway’ ) a newsletter from a Catholic Worker, filled with many beautiful writings by some of her beautiful friends in Chi-town. One of those writings was a reflection on hospitality, which has been stuck with me since. In it the author described how a very pregnant woman had shown up at their door several months before, having somehow heard that she would find shelter at that address, but without realizing the shelter their home offers to those in need is simply a spare room in their home, free of any charge, free of any red tape, purely.. hospitality. Hospitality inspired by the teachings of Christ, modeled by Dorothy Day, and now lived out by a group of people striving to be their true authentic selves and “trust in the common thread of humanity.” I’ve been in that home; I’ve sat in it’s soft couch in it’s cozy living room, and it’s easy for me to imagine the gratitude and wonder that would be filling that woman’s face as she received a warm cup of tea and the love of some radical Christians.

Or are they so radical? My favorite part of the writing questions what would happen if we allowed hospitality to transform us all, “what if everyone I knew had an extra room?” What if.. everyone that does have an extra room were to open it up to someone else who needs it?  What if we tried “to not let fear dictate our reality”?

When I applied these questions to the lives of my little girls I realized that my presence here would not be necessary. Six months ago I would not have been okay with that, but my time in Tijuana joined with the past few months here have taught me truly how much better it is for children to be in a family rather than an institution, and have also helped me to cleanse away my selfish motivations for doing this work. What is left is my desire to please God, and I’ve learned that in order to best do that I need to be doing what is “in the best interest of the child.” (words pounded into my mind by my Social Worker teachers in Tijuana.. = ) Ik eindelijk begrijpen, mooi een)

Maria sits at my feet, playing Disney Princess bingo alone because she would rather sit with me and sing softly to herself than be surrounded by thirty other girls. Understandable. It isn’t safe for her to be in her own home but what if she could be with a family right now? What if the woman she called Mami had enough time to read books with her everyday, and could teach her to make flan and then sit with her to eat it and process through her day. What if she could learn by example of what a healthy marriage and a loving father are like? There are plenty of families that could provide that for her in this city. What if that were a legal option?

In the States, it IS. What if every Christian family answered Christ’s call to take care of the widow and the orphan in their distress? What if every foster home were a place of safety and joy, healing and restoration? Those children-OUR children-HIS CHILDREN-would be so blessed. And what if it didn’t stop there? What if we as well came alongside their true families to bring about complete restoration? Maybe that’s too much to imagine. But maybe it’s not.

My girls are asleep now, six of them in one little room, in their underwear because it’s so hot and on the floor because for some reason they don’t like to sleep in beds. I wish I could give them so much more. I wish I were married, much more for their sake than my own. They need a dad. I wish I knew how to better make each of them feel unique without making all of them feel jealous. I wish I could, I wish I could, I wish I could…

What if we understood that all of us can have a part in opening our hearts and minds and houses to those in need. What if each of my girls, and each and every orphan, could be blessed with their own Catholic Worker, or an equally hospitable home? But that’s the thing, isn’t it. They could be.

“6 I’ll tell you what it really means to worship the LORD. Remove the chains of prisoners who are chained unjustly. Free those who are abused! 7 Share your food with everyone who is hungry; share your home with the poor and homeless. Give clothes to those in need; and (NIV) not to turn away from your own flesh and blood.”

Isaiah 58:6-7 (CEV)

..and then there were six.

As much as I enjoyed referring to myself as “Octomom” and “YO mas OCHO” (Me plus eight) the name doesn’t really fit anymore! Within the past two weeks three of my girls left my care and a new one wormed her way in. Angela was more than ready to move downstairs with the señoritas, Emily was more than ready to go home and live with her padres, and my sweet beautiful Anahi now lives downstairs as well. Fatima is the newest addition, a doll-faced, squishy little thing who just turned four. This extremely changes our room dynamics as the girls who left are ages nine, eight, and seven. Fortunately.. Mina, Yessenia, Maria, Jesica Rubi, and Rosa Isela are enjoying being big sisters. Minus that day they tied Fatima up in her cubby. (Just Kidding!)

When I arrived here I had eight little girls, and then Jesica Rubi showed up in our room one night and we became ten. But a few days later Lizbeth moved downstairs and again there were eight. Until a few weeks after that when Lupita left to live with her family and I cried like a baby as soon as she was gone because I missed her so much. Maria arrived two days later, filling Lupita’s empty cubby, as well as my desire to again be Octomom. Not long after, one morning while the girls were in school and I was being a hermit in my still, calm, peaceful, niña-free room, two girls whom I adored but did not directly care for went home to live with their Mama without saying goodbye! I still miss them, and I still miss Lupita. Their departures carried more beauty than sorrow because they were able to go home to their families, but for me the feeling was still bittersweet: sweet for their sake and bitter for my own selfish desire to continue sharing space with them.

Even as I watched Lupita pack her clothes and then cried after she left I knew I was being ridiculous for feeling sad for myself, and what flooded my memory were all the people who shot me down when I expressed my hope to one day be a foster mom, saying, “That’s would be way too hard for you, to give them up.” And it is really hard. It was hard when Anahi moved into her new room and told me she didn’t want to leave me. I cried like a baby that day too. But it’s beautiful what I’m learning: not only to open my arms in welcome to the new ones that come to me, but to let go of those who have served their time here. Neither of those things are easy! Opening my arms in welcome is hard when I’m handed a girl who drives me insane, and letting go is hard after I’ve allowed love to grow between us. But.. I would just like to say, “Yes, I can do it. It’s hard, but it’s not too hard.” So take that.

My six little ones are currently sleeping sweetly around me and I am secretly rather happy that our number has decreased. Oh how I miss Anahi but eight is too many for one person. I don’t understand how those Duggars do it. I now have much more time to devote to each individual, and I know that these girls who remain are better off because of it. I also haven’t felt overwhelmed for a while. Praise the LORD. But, we still need your prayers. I need so much energy, and creativity, and patience, and joy. And my girls need healing, and peace, and open, malleable hearts and minds.
Mina, Rosa Isela, Yessenia, Maria, [Sara], Fatima, [Anahi & Katia], & Jesica Rubi

Love love love,

Brittany Ann

Papi Dios,

One of the best things about my girls is that they love to pray! They’re prayers are beautiful, and sometimes they even make me laugh. Here are a few of my favorites from last week:

“LORD, help Brittany to not yell at the girls. And when she feels bad that she can go to the doctor. Bless Claire, and protect her. Thank you for this pretty house, because when I came here I didn’t know it. Thank you for Brittany’s bed because it’s pretty, thank you for the fans that Julio put in our room, thank you for our cubbies, and thank you that Brittany bathes us all the time so that we’re squeaky clean. Bless all the little girls, that they can go home with their families. In Jesus name, Amen.” -Maria

“Please take care of all the children who don’t have anything to eat.” -Angela

“Bless the little boys that Sara takes care of. Thank you for giving us one more day with Brittany.” -Yessenia

“Take care of my Mama, and Brittany. Bless Brittany, and Claire. And bless Yessenia, and Rosa, and Brittany, and Claire. Bless Yessenia, and bless Rosa. And bless Brittany, and Claire, and Yessenia, and Rosa, and Brittany, and Claire…” -Jesica Rubi

“Help me to obey Brittany, so that I won’t have any more red stars, and so that Brittany never has to take me to Obed. Take care of Claire, protect her, sanctify her, multiply her. In Jesus name, Amen.” -Rosa Isela

&there before me

May 25th 2011

The clock reads 2:19 in the wee hours of the morning. For a brief moment I found myself confused about why my body feels so awake, but then I remembered that I did this to myself when I decided that it would be a good idea to drink triple the amount of coffee that my girls drank with supper. My reasoning, I am certain, had very much to do with the fact that the last time coffee was served with dinner I forgot about the awake factor until two hours later when despite my best efforts to convince the girls to sleep, they were literally bouncing off the walls. Tonight I out-energized them, for a change. = )

Cartwheels which result in handstands against the bedroom walls are the new favorite past-time of my eight little Monkeyshines (as my Gramma would say) and I have to admit I am rather jealous of their zeal and flexibility. Sometimes I hear myself saying things like “I remember when I was a little girl and used to braid my hair like this…” and all of the sudden all I can do is marvel at the fact that I am an adult, and feel nostalgic for the summers I used to pass completely outdoors, being a little girl with an imagination that turned trees into safe-houses and myself into a runaway slave girl. I so wish for the freedom of being a little girl again, and sometimes I wonder if that’s exactly how I will be in Heaven.

I think of Heaven with frequency. I wonder what the face of God looks like when He hears the way words come out of my mouth when I am frustrated, I wonder how Jesus would teach my girls to obey me, I wonder if the Holy Spirit is answering my prayers for guidance or if this is me: flying solo. Sometimes that’s completely how I feel, if I’m honest. But I know that Jesus is with me. But I long for so much more of Him. I long to lay prostrate before Him in the throne room and cry out “Holy, Holy, Holy” with the others, blinded by the brilliance of His Light. I long for that intimacy with the One I’ve given my whole heart and soul and life to, and I often wonder when the day will come when I enter His courts.

The end times are spoken of frequently in many of the Christian circles in which I wander, and it has been this way my entire life. As a little girl I used to beg and plead with Jesus not to come back until I was a Mom. I’ve always known that was a trifle prayer, because better is one day in His courts than a thousand elsewhere… but I’ve never felt contentment with the thought of never satiating this blazing desire in my heart to be a Mother. And I think that is who He made me to be, because look at me: here I am living my dream job as a Mami to 8+ little girls. It feels perfectly and Divinely appointed.

Not so many days ago it occurred to me that if these are indeed the end of times as we know them to be, my being here at this orphanage could very well be His way of answering my selfish cry for children. I gasped aloud at that realization, and I began to really ponder the possibility of these truly being my last years. I usually don’t think about that because I adore this life too much to want to let it go, even for a life that will be so much better. But I started to think about this the other day, and you know what I discovered?

It’s okay with me if this is it. It’s okay with me if I disappear in my sleep, raptured away, or whatever it is that is going to happen. Haha.

I think this is because of two reasons, the first: as my sister once told me, “You know how to live.” I’ve lived. I’ve chased my dreams. But more important is the second reason: I’ve fallen in love with the LORD. With His Word, with Him in the flesh: Jesus, with His Spirit whose temple is my body. One day I was kneeling before Him, singing to Him “You are so Holy, Holy, Holy..” and what He said to me in reply shook me: “You are so holy.” I wept, crying out “You did not just say that to me, You did not just say that to me, You did not just say that to me..” But He did. I have become a woman after God’s own heart. I am my Beloved’s and He is mine.

And whenever that day comes when I enter His throne room, whether I am a Mama to my own babies or not… I’m ready.