Bolivia

Every Boy Needs a Woman to Give Flowers To

/ Chris / 2 Comments

I’ve learned something about the hearts of little boys (and men in general) by watching my little niños here in Bolivia.

Every boy needs a woman to give flowers to.

I’m convinced it’s as fulfilling for the boy to give flowers as it is for the woman to receive them.

Here’s why I say that…

I never thought about it, but my childhood was full of little indications that a strong, gentle woman was watching out for me. My laundry was always clean, folded, and waiting for me on my bed. My pants were mended, my stomach filled, and my collar straightened (if not by Mom, then by another woman at church in the row behind me). These were little subconscious reminders that I was cared for and secure–that I had a mother.

Here at the children’s home, we struggle between the tension of wanting the boys to learn responsibility while not wanting to rob them of that special care and attention only a woman can give.

Is having them do things such as their own laundry (paltry amounts every day), a creative way to teach them responsibility and independence or are we taking away a seemingly insignificant but important woman’s touch in their lives?

Of course, Father figures (in this case, me and Levi) should be gentle and caring. The myth leftover from the 60s of masculinity being about Schwarzenegger muscles and brute power is absolute rubbish. True masculinity is gentle and caring. Still, for heaven’s sake, I can’t be a mother to these boys nor should I try to be.

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On Being Introverted While Learning Another Language

/ Chris / 5 Comments

There’s nothing like a good time of being alone. The silence. The peace. The absence of any expectation to talk.

When I was a little boy, I used to enjoy going into small, dark spaces and sitting by myself. I loved the furnace closet. Writing that sentence now, I feel a little strange. But there’s just something about being in a place all alone knowing no one can interrupt the peace (who’s gonna look in the furnace closet?).

Yes. I’m an introvert. I know everyone is these days, but I’m a real one. I definitely need my people. I need conversations. I need people around me to stay sane. But, I very easily get lost spending time by myself. Oh my, that sounds so egotistical. Which is probably true, too.

But back to introversion: I did something kinda crazy and agreed to help some friends transition into the administration of a children’s home in Bolivia. I arrived two weeks ago and will be primarily helping the boys until late October or early November. “Tio Chris,” they call me. I’m told Kris is also a brand of mayonnaise and ketchup, so that’s hilarious.

I don’t know what I was thinking. A children’s home isn’t the best place to come for an introvert to tap into his inner-introvertedness. What I really didn’t consider, though, was the fact that I’d be functioning with a two-year old’s level of Spanish. Doesn’t make for great heart-to-hearts con el hombres. It can quickly become overwhelming for an introvert who would just as happily sit in his hammock and read Kipling.

Not only does all the wonderful activity exhaust you (because you still love people!), you get mentally exhausted from just plain talking. All the vocab and conjugations and grammar.

One of the first days, I asked one of the boys how many “beautifuls” he has. I meant “sisters.” I knew better, but in the moment got mixed up and said “hermosas” instead of “hermanas.” I guess it could’ve been worse. And it really was funny.

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