Friday… a day of rest. A day of celebration. Join with me.

I have been phenomenally lax in doing blogs for the one and only saggy reason of: slow, slow, slow internet. Like, ohhh, MY God, slow. It’s slow enough that waiting for the “reply” box to load for e-mails is enough to try your sanctification if you are not so relaxed that you are barely conscious. Languid consciousness is what I like to call it. But then everyone looks at me weird, and says, What does languid mean?

Anyway, so, the problem has been fixed TUH-DAY, as we just installed broadband wireless internet in the apartment, and I’m wagging my internet tail like an excited puppy going out on a cyber walk. I’ve already checked all my email accounts like 3 times, visited news sites and was actually able to upload the articles (!) — though not the videos; but it’s ok, you can’t build rome in a day—and to inaugurate this first session of electronic speed and virtue, I’ve embarked upon a long-abandoned journey of blogging. Yes! I have come back. And I am here to blog.

It’s difficult to wind yourself up to talk about something that is SOO HUGE, because the daunting task of it all weighs on your mind, and you think, this is going to take way too long. I’ll do it tomorrow.

So I’ve decided I shan’t put the pressure upon myself–no no, I shall merely recount a tale that has been looked back upon with fondness by mine heart, and hope that thou can experience the same. Some of ye good persons have heard it before, but I shall tell it yet again, in hopes that ye shall find a fuller tale to be brought to the firesides yonder in the West…. (Yeah…so that’s a mix of King James and pirate talk…I dunno).

In the Philippines, there are areas known as “squatter areas” that are, essentially, exactly as they sound: a bunch of people squatting on the land. They become a community of sorts, and generally are home to violence, drugs, alcohol, or any number of other things. Because they are home to families with very low incomes, the parents are both working and are not around to look after the kids. Thus, a group of street kids are formed, and they become each other’s family in a sense. They are not homeless—they have a family and they have a place to go sleep, but oftentimes they don’t, and they stay out on the street. In many cases, the two options aren’t very different from each other.

So let’s back up. Pastor Jill is the head of the organization I’m working with, and he and his wife just bought a house in an area next to a community of squatters way back in the hills. As is usual for Filipinos, Pastor Jill’s house is home to several other members, including Merivic the amazing cook and Juno the singing rock star, two people I met during my first trip in April.

Merivic and another lady in the house began a ministry with the kids in the area by doing a “feeding”, which is a double whamy of a bible study and then food feeding afterwards. It’s a group of kids that maybe numbers around 18, depending on who’s coming or what not.

I had my first experience with the group on the Saturday following my arrival, where I was invited to come and share a Bible story with the kids. None of them have heard anything from the Bible before this group was begun, and everything is entirely new to them. So I shared the story of the Good Samaritan, and from then on, if we were not travelling, we went to the feeding every Saturday.

A few weeks back, the kids all piled into the one little car and made the ride to our house on a Sunday morning, where we then all went on our way to church. It was a pretty fun day, with a pile of 18 kids + adults (equaling about 25 people) fitting into two normal-sized vehicles and going to church. This is where the intense gratitude for small Filipino stature comes in waves, and curses for your own immensity comes in droves. Anyway, so we went to church and had a great time, then stopped off and got some food for everyone and ate at our house. They were all just brimming with excitement to be, first off, riding in cars, and secondly, to be in a new house. A new house where, *gasp*,  Americans live, exclamation point.

As the meal is being concluded, sly looks and knowing glances are exchanged between adults. There is something to be done—something very important.

About two weeks before, Merivic had taken a group of the kids to the supermarket. This was their first trip ever to a supermarket, and when they arrived, there it was: a moving staircase. They were like stairs, but… the impossible of impossible… they mooooved, up, all on their own. Huge eyes glazed with amazement, first stared, then slowly longed to approach and ride upon the magical staircase. And so they did. They approached, they rode, and they conquered. And they were never the same.

Sooo, the need was obvious. Let’s blow their minds with a trip to the magical, as yet unvisited, kingdom of the Mall in a place known as the City. So we did. We piled our small (and big, depending…) butts on top of each other to squeeze into our two little cars again and drove away to the far, far kingdom of Cebu City.

Once arrived, eyes grew THREE TIMES THE SIZE (a la grinch) as they attempted to drink in all that there was to see. And to be clear, the mall in Cebu City is a very serious affair that shames most Los Angeles malls. It has 4 (5?) stories, houses grocery stores, movie theaters, blah blah blah it’s got everything. Very midwest mall, actually. So imagine it being your first trip to a store with an escalator, blasted into the world of mass marketing lights, cameras, ACTION CONSUMERISM!

It’s seriously intense. Anyway, the kids were adorable, and since they were grouped to about 3 kids per adult, they barely ever let your hand drop to your side without their hand being in it. They clung to the adults like baby quail, while trying cotton candy for the first time, walking into such “fancy” stores where everything, the young girls pointed out, was “not affordable”. They almost refused to eat the candy I bought them, as they thought it was too expensive to buy.

The day carried on with much of the same, until we finally ended it at JolliBee, the Filipino equivalent of McDonald’s. They got to get their first taste of something they had as yet only dreamed of, and went into a PLAY AREA!, and despite only having had a small hamburger and drink of their own, almost all of them had a share of it to bring home to their families.

Anyway, I dont know if this story impresses you as much as it did me living it, but somehow it was like watching a life being born… a new chapter of their lives arising, and them having such incredible joy painted on their faces, and you were able to be a part of it. Really, that’s what joy is. That’s what life is.

So thank you to all of you who support me in any way, because you helped make that day possible not only for them, but for me… So thank you. Salamat, and God Bless