Whatever...
Youth of our times say to one another in a dismissive fashion, "Whatever!" It is an effort to communicate "if you think I am going to do that... If you believe that about ...that... Whatever"
For those of us enslaved by love, it is an expression not of disdain but surrender, hardly flippant, but sometimes breathless with suspense and passion.
The decision to embark on a journey to return to the orphanage in Burtilinovka for the severely disabled was concluded with that sentiment. "Whatever! Our time is in your hands Lord, we are ready, and we are willing no matter the outcome."
I donned a toned down version of a clown, just in case we were flagged down by the police or military. We loaded the car with gifts of games, diapers, chocolates and tea for the workers and "set our faces like flint" in the general direction of the town far far far away.
I was operating on two hours sleep, roused for a round of all night prayer. Robert had about five but two Red Bull made up the difference. As for the rest - Nastia slept soundly in the back seat, Ann took care of details, while Vicki and Lori dozed intermittently between potholes.
Not only did we set out like 21st Abram's from Ur (not knowing where) we had no idea if we would be allowed in the gate once we arrived.
Give it up for Google. Robert (aka. Bond James Bond) checked the satellite imagery of the town and thought he recognized a familiar configuration of buildings. The first time we pulled off the highway and Robert said he needed to "check the map," I thought he had just come up with a clever way to take a roadside break to visit the tree line. When he actually pulled out the map I started laughing uncontrollably (see reference above on sleep deprivation). The auto occupants curiously asked me what was so funny. I explained my confusion and added, "You are the first man I have ever seen actually admit to being lost."
After close to 3 hours of stops and starts, swerves and near misses we reached the town. Ten years later, none of us was confident we could recognize the road to the orphanage. Everything looked unfamiliar in a familiar sort of way. We pulled into a gas station and Nastia asked where the home for the handicap children was. The attendant knew exactly. We felt a flutter of angel wings.
Down the road, past a regular orphanage, and numerous grazing animals, we saw the gate to a place emblazoned on our hearts. The heavy iron door was cracked open and made us hasten to see this as a sign our journey was to be met with success. Robert drove passed and we talked of who should speak, if the clown should get out first, what we would say, would we take the gifts out of the car, and a thousand other details. On the third circle I suggested we just stop the car and pray.
A lamb grazing in the grass listened in. The Shepherd heard as well.
We poured out our hearts, we relinquished our ideas. We laid down our hopes and cried, "Daddy."
We turned the car back around and let our interpreter out at the gate to speak to the guard. She walked back out with a grin and told us we needed to park the car but the guard said it was fine to take our things inside.
Once again, the breathless passion of "whatever" overtook us. We stepped behind the green guarded entrance that took us back in time, and into a sadly very familiar world.
We spoke in hushed tones so as not to draw any attention to ourselves before we were able to reach a person of authority. Of course a covert clown is a bit of an oxymoron, but we felt as if we could just get far enough, act innocently enough...
Whatever
Vicki noticed the house where our team had stayed ten years ago. The grass was high and the newly refurbished (at the time) house was not so new anymore. The buildings looked empty and abandoned but we knew their walls contained babies, children, and young adults cut off from the world because their physical condition was identified as hopeless.
The smell of dogwoods filled the air. And then we saw him.
Sitting at a picnic table, rocking back and forth was a young man and two others who appeared to be family members. There was silence. No exchange of greetings between us or them, no conversation with those seated. Only the steady and consistent rocking, and the sweet fragrance of spring.
Then several boys appeared out of the buildings, running and riding a bike on their way to somewhere. Nastia asked where they were going, "off to lunch" they replied and directed us to the office.
It was quiet, and empty but our hearts were still filled with hope. A nurse was sitting in the front office and welcomed us. When she saw me, she laughed and said, "Yes, yes we remember your visit. You are Americans of course come this way." By this time we were almost running.
We came to the office where three other "nurses" sat and once again, they smiled and greeted us warmly expressing their memories of when we had been before. Nastia was explaining why we came. Robert shared we just wanted to encourage the workers and thank them for their service. Things were still hope filled. They explained the children were napping until 4 (it was half past 1) and we should come back when they had a chance to call the director. We asked to use the facilities.
By the time we all took a "turn," hope took a turn too. A women who appeared to be the senior staff member hastily said, "later, later" to everything Robert was saying, and everything the other nurses said as well. I stood out in the hallway noting her agitation and trying my best to "smile" her down. It wasn't working. It went from an open warm invitation for us to stay in a larger room the 2 1/2 hours to, "get out."
She escorted us down the dogwood lined road we had just walked filled with hope. She went inside the guard house and began to shout at the man who allowed such access to a cherished memory. As we loaded the car, the gate slammed shut.
"Whatever!"
I experienced today, sometimes "whatever," looks like
Staying up all night praying to do the right and wise thing
Dressing in ridiculous clothes and a wild pink wig
Buying gifts unsure if anyone would receive them
Enjoying the company of the like-minded and laughing until we cried
Praising the Creator for the promise of spring
Seeing His handiwork in the broken and in the blossoms
Asking for directions
Asking for forgiveness
Praying for mercy
These were done "for the least of these..."
These were done to the King!
Last night six slaves tearfully said to our Master, "Whatever."
Whatever
Whenever
Wherever
Still smiling in His service
