Parent/Child Mission Trip "Bubbles Should Be A Language"

Today, I talked to a 30 year-old man who I thought was much younger, drawing with chalks the color of plum skin and dandelions, deep blues and bright reds, soft mint and harsh pinks. Bubbles in containers so big it doubled as a lightsaber, red and blue and green and all the other colors you could see in your mind’s eye in the time it took you to read this. But it started like Haiti days do - bananas and toast (though I only ate the bananas, I get nervous in the mornings) before hopping onto the tap tap (we were also late) and heading off to Dios, an orphanage for disabled people.

You know, I prefer to call disabled people empowered. Have you ever met a person with autism who isn’t happy? Me neither. They’re empowered with happiness and joy greater than any person could know. Here we come, Riley and I sitting in the front, greeted by ten empowered kids who are waiting for us with smiles wider than I think is possible. Their eyes sparkle in the morning light, brown pools of emotion, not running towards us, but quietly waiting. I grab a lightsaber of bubbles, green, and blow a few past a lonely-looking boy who is older but due to his height is the size of a 5 year-old. He gives me a little bigger grin, grasping for the bubbles as they float past on the gentle breeze. 

I caught one on the wand, and it multiplied until four neat bubbles sat in a row. I showed them to him, and despite his initial doubts about the reality of bubbles-on-a-stick (sounds like a weird state fair food, right?), he grabbed at the wand and swung it in the increasingly strong wind. Sad I had lost my bubbles, I grabbed one more and went on my way to a boy who I discovered was almost thirty, drawing scribbles on the pavement. I came over and, with a careful motion, drew a large heart. He stared at me, then back to the heart, then to me again, before very slowly copying the shape beside him. It took a few tries until he perfected this newfound craft, but once he found the perfect one, he stared into my eyes and grinned bigger than anyone in the world. I drew a house, then a circle, then a word, each one flawlessly replicated in a shorter and shorter time, before he drew a big heart around the whole thing.

Suddenly, time stopped.

It was odd. I blew a bubble (he already had a wand with him) and he caught it like I had. He blew it back to me, smiling, and I caught it. This game went back and forth until he asked me to wheel him to the restroom, and after that no one saw him leave past the laundry ladies to the house, sitting in the kitchen holding his bubble wand, no one except me, briefly walking past for just long enough to communicate with our eyes,

I love you too.

Now, much more happened today, but I found an important lesson in this. You see, you can be like the Grasper, desperately reaching for goals you know won’t make you happy, or you can be the Catcher, who finds a way to be happy by simply making a goal small enough to hold without popping. You can run to an achievement, trying to be richer or smarter or have a better reputation at work, or you can deal with what you have and be able to catch and maintain it. It’s not too hard to wrap your mind around. 

Despite the very, very short blog post today, check out Valmar’s post tomorrow.

Miss you all,

Rachel