How do you come to the Casa de Milagros? Well, if you are one of the residents here, your parents may have died in a car crash and you were brought here. Or your mother had six other children and threatened to drown you if you weren't taken in. You may also have witnessed your father murder your mother and were placed here for your own protection. Or, sadly, your father passed away and your mother gave you up rather than have you subjected to sexual abuse by her new boyfriend.
About thirty children live at the casa ranging in age from three to twenty-one. All have unique stories. All have suffered some untold form of abuse. All are survivors and all are amazing human beings with much to offer the world. But more importantly, once they cross this threshold, they are promised food and shelter and an education for as long as they care to study. They are not turned away at eighteen but rather encouraged to attend college and pursue their dreams. Hopefully, once accomplished, they will feel a need to give something back to society or stay on to be role models for the younger children. The Casa is their home and the heart of their family.
I sat in the courtyard for about an hour before Ted and the rest of the gang showed up. Even though the grounds and the buildings were in need of some TLC, there was nothing cold or sterile about the place (like the Chinese orphanage my daughter lived in.) The four house dogs all came by to check me out and a white rat (one of the kid's cage-free pets) scurried in and out of the hall, failing to scare me. Some of the kids stopped by and said hello before running off in one direction or an other. Used to people volunteering for a day, or week, or two, they simply referred to me as, "Amiga." No need to learn my name as I would be gone soon enough.
Kata, the woman who manages the yoga retreat, brought me up to the Library to share some of the games I had brought for the kids. The girls jovially swarmed me to see what I was offering. I was relieved to see that they had never played Blokus and I quickly set about teaching them how to play the game.
The next couple of hours flew by as groups of children took turns playing. It was quite gratifying. I had also brought a block puzzle and the toddler of the orphanage, Baby S., completely obsessed over it. Insisting on doing all six puzzles and having me watch her do as she did it. She was a cutie.
Before I left, my friends joked and warned me not to bring a child home. I thought about that as I hung out with them. It's not that the idea didn't cross my mind, it's just that the kids that stood before me had a rich life (in spite fo the fact that they don't have electronics and actually have to walk two miles to school everyday.) In the community where they live, these kids are the lucky ones.
They get fed. They go to a private school. They are not beaten and they don't have to work to support their families. They actually have as much a shot at real a childhood as you can hope for, which is more than you can say for the majority of the children in the Sacred Valley.
So, no, I didn't come home with a child. I came home with thirty, solidly lodged in my heart and who I will try to support as best I can.
Is grateful
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