I take a deep breath as I walk down the creaky stairs and push open the door. You can do this, I tell myself. You can do this. I never wanted to be a teacher. The thought of pursuing a profession in education had never even crossed my mind, but one day, without a second thought, I said yes to spending ten months teaching English as a Second Language to adult immigrants in the Bronx. I was sitting in the parking garage of the Macy’s in my hometown when she called me. “Rebecca, this is Sr. Jean Marshall at St. Rita’s. I need another teacher for the ESL classes, and I was wondering if you would be able to do it.” I took no more than a few seconds to think about my answer, but as I hung up with her and drove out of the parking garage, I was overcome with a great sense of fear and apprehensiveness. Oh, God. I thought to myself. I need to learn how to be a teacher.

I push open the door and walk into Room 2 at St. Rita’s Immigration Center, where my morning class of advanced students are trickling in and taking their seats, waiting for me to begin. “Good morning, Teacher!” many of them say to me as they take out their notebooks. Teacher. It was that word again, that title. Teacher. Little did I know that for the next ten months, this one word would be all encompassing—it would be my name, my title—it would be who I was. Although I was not prepared to be a teacher, I had a room full of eager students who knew of me as their teacher, and who fully expected that I would be their teacher. After acquainting myself with my students, I decide that each morning I will wake up, and dress myself in the lessons and approaches of my past teachers, in an effort to build a character I never thought I would need to know how to be.

Funny that I think about it now, but I did not become a teacher simply by believing I could be one, or knowing that I had to become one. I did not become a teacher because I sought the advice of my own teachers, or because I did countless hours of preparation for my classes. I became a teacher, because I had students. I became a teacher, because without any questions or reservations, my students came in each day, seeking the knowledge that I held within me. I became a teacher not because I was asked to, or because I had an obligation to, but I became a teacher, because on the first morning that I walked into Room 2, I had students who believed I was a teacher. So each morning, I shed my cloak of insecurities and fear, and hung it up in my closet for the year. When I walked down those creaky stairs in the morning, I was no longer an apprehensive teacher want-to-be; I was a teacher, in every possible sense of the word. Whether they are aware of it or not, I became a teacher, because my students helped me to become one. They asked me questions, they told me what they wanted to learn, they expressed sincere and genuine gratitude for the time I spent with them each day, and above all, they had faith that I was the teacher they needed, and they showed me patience as I found my footing as their teacher.

If you had asked me in September what I did, I would have told you that I was a volunteer. Vague though it may be, that was what I believed defined who I was and who I was going to be for the next ten months. Had you asked me the same question in March or April, I would have given you a different answer—I am a teacher. I wasn’t born a teacher, I didn’t study to be a teacher, but for this year, that is exactly what I was. I was a teacher, and I now believe that part of me always will be. I am by no means one of the greatest teachers the world has seen, nor am I one of the greatest teachers my students have ever had, but right now, I am able to breathe a little more easily, because as I begin to pack up my suitcases to leave the Bronx, I can say to myself, I could do it, and I did it.

Becca Provost

Bronx, NY 2010-2011

Since my first day working at my service I have been welcomed with open arms and have received a tremendous amount of support from the faculty and staff. My greatest joy at my service site is being able to see the smiles on the faces of my preschool children every day, and knowing that my presence there brightens up their day.I remember returning to work after being sick for a day and as I walked into the room I was greeted with so many hugs and happy faces looking at me. They have a way of making you feel so special and loved!

When I found out my placement back in August I was hesitant to accept the position, but as the months have gone by I have realized that I love the atmosphere in the classroom and have enjoyed every minute with these children. They get joy out of the littlest things that we wouldn’t even think twice about. A classroom full of very excited 3, 4, and 5 year olds bursting with energy requires a great deal of patience. There are days when I can’t wait to sit in silence after work, but I also can’t wait to share with my roommates all of the stories and funny things that the kids say I find myself laughing most of the day at what they say and how they interact with each other.

In our preschool classroom full of bright colors, toys, and adorable children I get to forget about the real world and the struggles that we face and I get to direct all of my attention to these innocent children who have a strong desire to learn. The sound of excitement as they proudly recite the alphabet or see what number they can count to fills the air on a daily basis. The look of success on their faces when they write their names, numbers, and letters is priceless. They always want my full attention when they are telling a story and in their opinion it is the best story in the world and I better think it is too! Many of my students live in our neighborhood so I usually see them around and they are just amazed that I don’t live at the school; they are very proud to tell me the next day that they saw me.

The community we live in has been so generous from day one. I feel very blessed to have had such a great experience at my work site and will treasure the relationships that I have formed with the other teachers I work with and the friends I have made. Looking back at these months and knowing that I only have a short time left I am overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. It is difficult to put into words exactly how I feel but I know that becoming a part of the Augustinian Volunteer program was one of the best decisions that I have made and I have learned so much about myself and others. I will very proudly watch my preschool children sing on the altar on their graduation day and I will continue to think of them every day after my volunteer year is over. Life is a lot simpler when you see it through the eyes of a preschooler. Don’t forget to smile, always!

Mary Catherine Stevens

Chicago, IL 2010-2011

It was just past eleven o’clock P.M. on our last night of our final Kairos retreat up on the mountain in Julian, California.   My small group had just finished our last activity for the night, and I decided to sneak down to the outdoor basketball court to shoot some hoops.  We had a majority of the basketball team on this retreat, and after some intense games during recreational time earlier that day, I was thirsty to work on my game.  So after placing my flashlight in the paint under the hoop, I began to shoot at the faintly lit goal.  Within five minutes, all thirty-seven of our guys had made their way to the court, found out how to turn on the court lights, and had split up into teams.  I was a little worried about what the other faculty members would say, and more importantly my supervisor, if it was discovered that I kept all of the students up past the mandated curfew.  Well, that question was answered rather quickly when one of the other teachers made his way down to the court.  Caught red handed with a basketball in my hands, I just calmly said, “I got it all under control.”  We then proceeded to play.  Our late night tournament, which felt like a basketball sequel to Field of Dreams, went on for a solid 45 minutes before one of the directors of the camp decided to shut us down.  Allegedly, “quiet time” goes into effect at 11:00 P.M.  So at a little past midnight, the director softly and sternly reminded us with the question, “Guys, so what time is quiet time?”  

Although our epic game under the stars was broken up way too early, it will forever be a memorable night.  That night, I learned that if you turn on a light, they will come.  I also learned that just like baseball, there is something spiritual about basketball as well.  More importantly, however, that particular night sums up my whole experience at St. Augustine High School this year.  Beyond all the day to day office work in the Campus Ministry office, I have spent my year bonding with so many of the guys at school.  Since I’m not a teacher, the guys just call me “John” or “Little John” and for awhile I was “Joaquin” which is a whole another story.  I think that, and the fact that I can still pass for a high school student helped me to have a unique level of openness with the guys.  Whether it was through playing basketball games on Kairos, talking prom and high school sports during lunch, or giving girl advice via text, I was fortunate to build so many great relationships this year.   

Through these relationships, I have been truly inspired by several of these teenaged guys.  One student I am very close with was severely sick with Bell’s Palsy at the beginning of the year.  After weeks of being paralyzed in the hospital, with an initially unknown prognosis, his faith and determination helped bring him around.  Two months later, he was leading the basketball team to one of its most successful seasons to date, making for the recovery story of the century.  He taught me to have faith in the toughest of times in life.  

Another student who I’ve been privileged to know is the best musician I have ever met.  As a gifted pianist, and perhaps the next Ben Folds,  he plays at every school mass and headlines every talent show.  While I particularly love his Coldplay and other covers from various artists, the high point this year was hearing him play and sing a song at the talent show that he had written for one of our students who passed away earlier this year.  This guy taught me the value of the gifts we have and the ability to share them with other people.   I am planning on starting piano lessons this summer.

I could go on and on about different students at Saints.  They have had a huge impact on my life.  They are the greatest joy of my service site.  I’m going to keep tabs on all of my seniors next year as they start college.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to talk any of them into going to my Alma Mater, Kansas State.  Nonetheless, it's going to be hard to say goodbye next month.  I'm sure a year from now, I'll be out shooting a basketball on a random night, forever looking back at my time at Saints.

Johnny Tompkins

San Diego, CA 2010-2011

If you had asked me last August, to speak about different challenges or struggles I had faced throughout my life, I most likely would have listed off a variety of instances. I’m sure I would have gone on and on about the ups and downs of my adolescence, in a dramatic way, making anyone who would listen, feel like it was a miraculous thing that I was still standing on my own two feet. You see, before my AV year, I truly did believe that I had experienced a number of challenging situations. I honestly felt like I had overcome a wide range of obstacles and I was proud of how I handled these situations. Then, I got to St. Margaret’s of Scotland School on the South Side of Chicago--that is when the word “challenge” was truly defined for me. 

Trained in elementary education, I was confident that my placement as the computer teacher for grades 1-8 was the perfect fit. I was excited to have my own classroom, and although I didn’t know much about computer technology, I was eager to learn.

I will never forget my first day of “teaching”; I walked into my classroom at St. Margaret’s to find my desk covered in technology. An assortment of laptops, power cords, mouses, projectors, and printers greeted me ever so warmly in one large tangled mess. My heart sank, my spirit with it, as my principal told me to sort through everything and set up the computer lab. With a smile on his face, my principal then left me to fulfill my task--he had faith in me, but unfortunately, for the first time in quite a while, I had very little faith in myself. How was it, that as a simple volunteer, I suddenly held the fate of St. Margaret’s computer lab in the palm of my hand? I was terrified. It didn’t matter though, this was my job for the next ten months and I had to figure out a way to be successful. So, with that, I dug my hands into the great mess and had at it. By the end of what will most likely, forever be remembered, as one of the longest days of my life, I did indeed have a pretty little makeshift computer lab to call my own. I was extremely proud.

Day one was not the only day at St. Margaret’s which challenged me. I struggled with teaching typing to young children on computer keyboards which were missing keys. I was forced to get extremely creative when 5 minutes before welcoming in a class of students, who I intended to have complete an online assignment, the Internet decided not to work. I managed to entertain and teach children who I could not provide with their own computer due to a lack of resources. For the first time in my life, as a white woman, working in a predominantly black school, I learned the meaning of feeling different. I mastered the art of managing a computer lab without a working printer. I learned to reach out to my staff members when I needed help, embrace the simplicity of a low-income school, and rely on my roommates and my personal faith for the support I needed after long, hard days.

My AV year at St. Margaret of Scotland School has taught me that I am capable of achieving anything I set my mind to. The word “challenge” may also come with heartache, tears and discouragement, but ultimately, it leads to smiles, success and pure happiness. I wouldn’t trade this year for anything. The look on the faces of my students, as I walk in to pick them up for class, confirms for me that every tear, every bad day, every “challenge” at my worksite was completely worth it. I am now a changed person and a better teacher. I will forever hold a special place in my heart for the Augustinian Volunteer program, the South Side of Chicago, and St. Margaret’s of Scotland School; broken laptops and computer keyboards with missing keys will forever bring a large grin to my face and a tear of joy to my eye.

Molly Wiseman

Chicago, IL 2010-2011

As a nurse at St. Vincent de Paul Village, a transitional shelter for homeless persons in San Diego, I am stuck each day by the challenge to deliver care with such limited resources. The Village clinic delivers incredible care, and continues to be the only clinic in San Diego that offers free care and medications to the homeless.  However, the combination of the lack of resources of the patients and limited funding in the clinic itself makes creativity in delivering healthcare a necessity. 

Healthcare for vulnerable populations proves to be unsuccessful if it is only one-sided.  A patient cannot demand what he wants and I cannot tell a patient what to do. If we want to work toward better health and wellness then we must work together to figure out a realistic plan of care. This is especially pertinent when resources, spanning from knowledge to lifestyle to actual finances, are brought into the scenario. It would be simple to tell a diabetic patient struggling with blood glucose levels to pair protein with carbohydrates at meals to help minimize spikes in blood sugar, but a patient whose education was secondary to supporting himself and his family may not know what a source of protein or carbohydrate is. He may not be able to access a meal each day. It would be simple to instruct a patient with a wound to wash it with warm water twice a day and keep it clean, but a patient whose bed is compiled of tattered blankets to soften the sidewalk may not be able to attain cleanliness. He may not be able to access warm water. Simple resources quickly transform from basic to lavish, and working through that toward feasible solutions requires a collaborative approach.

There are clients who have successfully moved from the Village into low-income housing, and although they no longer suffer the limitations of the homeless, they are still confined by their minimal incomes. Two clients in particular wish to improve their nutrition and alter their body weights, but their funds limit their efforts.  One client hopes to gain weight but suffers from psychosomatic reactions to food. Her anxiety is subdued by organic items, which she views as her solution, but it is one she cannot afford.  The second client longs to lose weight, but fresh produce and lean protein are much more expensive than the packs of doughnuts he can buy using “I O Us” at the liquor store. It is challenging to set attainable goals when merely developing basic grocery lists is too idealistic. Without finances we must instead access other resources in the community, such as food banks, soup kitchens, and other opportunities to obtain healthy food at an affordable cost. We must work together within these limitations to problem solve and advocate for health.

The Village clinic relies on federal grants and private donations to pay for supplies, medications, the staff, etc. Unfortunately, donations are not sustainable, and with the economic challenges facing the general population, let alone the underserved, the little old ladies with their check books who support the movement for social justice, are no longer as able to sign off on the dotted line. We are minimally staffed and all wear an assortment of hats to accommodate the patient load that moves through the clinic each day. Unlike bustling hospitals, if a patient needs a breathing treatment, we cannot call the respiratory therapist, but we ourselves can go grab some tubing and assemble the nebulizer. If a patient needs a dressing change, we cannot call the wound team, but we can go gather packing supplies. We may not have a sling, or pillow, or eye patch to give a patient in need, but we know what we can use to make one. We exercise flexibility and innovation to confront this challenge each day and with this acquired resourcefulness and focus on collaboration with patients, we truly make it work. At the end of the day, the delivery of care always outweighs whatever obstacle we faced along the way.         

Laura Arntsen

San Diego, CA 2010-2011

The difficulty, I think, in describing my Augustinian volunteer service experience in the Bronx is that my emotions are almost always contradictory to each other, a jumbled mess swirling around inside my brain all the time.  

In one day, or even one hour, heck sometimes in one moment, I often feel equally inspired and helpless, equally frustrated and joyful, equally privileged and disadvantaged. There are moments when I feel completely out of place and other moments when I know that I am exactly where I belong.

I’m most certain of the fact that I am exactly where I am meant to be when I’m in my classroom, teaching ESL to adult immigrants who made their way to the Bronx from all parts of the world. In a classroom where it would appear that there is so much that is different and that is foreign, I couldn’t feel more at home. Both of my two daily classes are comprised of a mix of people who are young, middle-aged, and elderly. There are people who are native speakers of Spanish, Albanian, Vietnamese, Albanian, French, Chinese, and Cambodian. Some are single, others married, some divorced, and others say “it’s complicated.” Many have children, some have grandchildren, and others still define themselves as children.

But the lovely thing about these classes is that all the uniqueness that defines us and makes us so different from one another, is exactly what brings us together as one beautiful whole. In being different from one another, we come together simply as who we are, and it is from this point that we build bonds of a common humanity and a united effort towards a common goal. Our goal of course is to learn English, but throughout the year I have also realized that we are working towards other less obvious goals as well. We are helping build a confidence in each student to live with dignity and self assurance in a country where they often feel isolated and separated from what is familiar and comfortable.

Have we accomplished our goals this year? I wish I could invite all of you to step into our classroom and decide for yourself. If you walked into the classroom the students would likely introduce themselves and tell you where they are from and then ask you a dozen or more questions about yourself to get to know you, to get to know you really well. “Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have children? Are you married? Why not? Do you have a boyfriend? Why not? Do you like to play sports? What food do you like?” My classes are beginner level, the first level that we offer at St. Rita’s, and some of these students could not even tell you their name when they first walked through the door.

Hard work and a lot of support from each other is what has made them so successful in learning the foundations of the English language and using it in daily life. I have been most blown away by the support that they give each other, and it is that support that has helped us in reaching our other goal of building confidence. It may surprise you, but some of the strongest relationships that have been built are across nationalities and languages.

In my morning class you will likely see the young Cambodian girl leaning over and asking the Mexican mother for help. You will see the older Vietnamese woman presenting her answers in front of the class, and she is doing it despite her shyness and hesitance because she is being encouraged by the rest of the class. Before returning to her seat she will receive a high five from her best friend in the class, a younger Dominican guy who she always sits next to.

In my afternoon class you will find the eccentric middle-aged Dominican lady telling a story about her childhood boyfriend, using more hand gestures and facial expressions and random sound effects than she actually uses English words, but still the main details of the story are grasped by everyone and the entire classes is laughing so hard they are nearly crying. Later you will see the excitement on the faces of all of the Albanian and Spanish-speaking students when they realize that yet another word is the same in both of their languages. And you will also see the way the entire class responds with love, support and empathy when one woman talks about the loss of her husband, or another talks about her sick sister miles across the Atlantic, or another talks about deeply missing family members that they have not been able to return to Mexico to see in over 15 years, a sacrifice they make by living in America.

Everyone here at St. Rita’s has contributed to making this a space of shared joys and shared struggle, reminiscent of how I would describe family relationships and exactly how I would describe some of my best friendships. We are from different backgrounds and we have different experiences to share, but yet we are more than “teacher” or “student” when we are here in our class. Sometimes we are “sister,” “hermano,” “granddaughter,” “friend,” “amigita,” “cousin,” “daughter,” or any other expression for friend or family.

There are many times when I feel challenged and frustrated, helpless and even hopeless about certain things, but I am experiencing those emotions with people who I consider to be as close as family and friends. My co-workers, my neighbors, and especially my students and my community members are all a part of my family and support here who have made me feel as though this place and this moment is my home. Exactly where I belong.

Laura Collins

Bronx, NY 2010-2011

As an Augustinian Volunteer serving in Lawrence I was thrilled to discover that I would be serving in a school setting. During my college years, I would constantly ask the inevitable question “what career path do I want to pursue?” Very often the answer that came back to me was becoming a teacher. Needless to say I felt that this year of service would be a good barometer to determine whether I would enjoy a career in the education field. I have spent the last six months serving at St. Augustine School in Andover, Massachusetts. While my other community members have slipped into a daily routine, I can honestly say that this has not been the case for me. This is by no means a complaint but in fact one of the greatest joys of my service site.

St. Augustine School ranges from preschool to eighth grade. In many ways the school is very reminiscent to the Catholic grade school I attended in the 90s (except much cooler teachers). I remember my first day at my service site when I was finally told what my job would entail. I would be working in the school’s math lab helping struggling students. I was a bit shocked considering I was a history/political science major and had not taken a math class since freshman year in college. Consequently, I spent the first few days brushing up on the algebraic equations that I learned ten years ago. Some time during the first week, the assistant principal stopped me in the hall and said, “by the way, from time to time you be filling in for teachers that are out.” I nodded and said I would be happy to help in any way. I did not think much about this conversation due to the fact that I had been told that my job would strictly entail math.

By mid-September it became evident that my year of service would involve much more than math. My site supervisor quickly realized that I would be more useful to the school as the “in house” substitute teacher. Everyday when I walk into St. Augustine I can truly say I do not know what is in store for me. There are roughly 30 faculty members that work at St. Augustine so there is always a chance that someone will be out. During my time at St. Augustine, I have been a substitute for every grade level and all the integrated arts—computer, library, music, art, and gym. It is not uncommon for me to be in two or three completely different places in the span of one school day. In a given day, I could be filling in for the music teacher, teaching algebra, and helping four year olds with their shapes. When I talk with my community members after a long day of work, the question always comes, “so where were you today?” Although I still work in the math lab a large part of my time is spent filling in for teachers.

In any event, I consider the diversity I experience from day to day as the greatest joy of my service site. Although the job may sometimes feel overwhelming I love working at St. Augustine. I have also watched each teacher and staff member at St. A’s live their Catholic faith each and every day in the way they interact with the students and with each other.  I feel that all of these people have been an inspiration to me as I live and work in this community. Some of the teachers joke with me saying that I will have a heck of a resume when I leave St. A’s in June. With all the kidding aside they are exactly right. This year has taught me that serving God’s people comes in a variety of different forms, whether it be moderating a stock market club, teaching American History, or even playing Santa at Christmas.  When I leave Lawrence in June, I will surely take all of these experiences with me back to New Jersey.  All those that I have met will share a special place in my heart. I guess the teachers at St. A’s were right - I will have a “heck of a resume,” but better yet, these experiences are more than I could have hoped for and definitely more than one could put on any resume.

Dan Nicholas

Lawrence, MA 2010-2011 

Faith.  This small word is a three dimensional figure that was given to me by a family friend before I came to orientation for this AV year.  It now sits on my nightstand beside my bed on top of my journal so every morning and every night I see it.  Coming into this year of service, I knew that my faith life and spirituality were present but I never knew how much it could grow during my year of service.  Over the past five months, my spirituality is something that I am very proud of and live each day by with a deeper level than ever before.  One of the ways that my faith life is grown is through prayer.  Every morning as I sit down at my desk to start my job, I pray a prayer that was left for me by past volunteers. Each day I do this I am reminded of why I am here and who I am serving: God, my community, my clients, and myself.  Faith has become a defining factor of who I am and how I live my life as an Augustinian Volunteer. 

Working at a Catholic organization and being part of a Catholic based volunteer program has been both a challenge and a blessing for me.  Merrimack College taught me the ways of Augustine and reminded us to live our lives for other people and for God.  Community was a word that you couldn’t go a day without hearing and my life now is no different.  The community of Catholic Charities is extremely diverse, welcoming, and spiritual.  My coworkers have taught me what it means to be faithful and how to live a life that is devoted to praising God and everyone around us. 

Ms. Tyson, the Case Manager that sits in the cubicle behind me, always says that she is blessed to hear clients on the phone which always made me smile but until a couple weeks ago, I was never able to fully understand it and live by it.  Ms. Parker is another Case Manager that sits near me and is always listening to Inspirational 1390 radio as she works and helps clients.  Both of these coworkers have showed me how powerful faith can be and how it can be a part of our everyday life through the smallest of words and actions. 

One of my favorite memories of this year was when I went to a home visit before Christmas to visit a client and her daughter and give them Christmas presents for the family.  As I walked into the door with a big black bag filled with Christmas goodies, I was greeted by two little boys who ran up to me, stopped because they didn’t recognize me, but then walked right at my feet into the living room.  Throughout the whole conversation the boys were watching me and “showing off” by jumping around the room.  After my client told them to stop, they sat on the couch patiently waiting for our conversation to be over.  Right before I was about to leave the house, the little boy asked, “What’s in the bag?” I said, “Presents for you, from Santa.”  With huge eyes, he asked, “You know Santa??” My client then said, “Yes she does.  He was at her work and gave her the gifts to bring to us.”  Then the little boy ran over and gave me a big hug saying, “Thank you! Thank you!”  The other little boy came over and did the same thing while Mom just sat there and smiled.  As I was walking towards the door to leave, the boys waved and hugged me goodbye as if I was the lost family member they never knew.  I then told my client Merry Christmas, she gave me a hug and said thank you for the gifts and then said, “Ms. Moretti, I hope you have a blessed holiday and a blessed day.”  At first I was overwhelmed with emotion that I didn’t know what to say but after a few seconds I found myself saying, “You too.  I hope you have a blessed day.”  For the first time in my life, I truly felt blessed to be alive, healthy, and where I am today.  Each day is a challenge and a blessing but I know that my faith is stronger than it has ever been and I know that is because God is with me at all times.

I honestly never thought that one year of service was going to change me so much but it has.  I am truly blessed to say that faith is a part of who I am today and will continue to be for the rest of my life.  My year as an AV has been full of ups and downs already but I know that one thing is consistently inspiring me each day: my faith.  I want to share with you a quote I found as I was browsing the internet on Martin Luther King Jr’s Birthday that I think is quite fitting.  He said, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”  Life is not about planning out your every move and knowing everything that is going to happen.  Life is about taking a chance and having faith in yourself, God, and others to know that you will continue to be blessed by every miracle God has given you.  This is what I have learned about my faith this year and I hope all of you will take a chance to remember how blessed you are and know that faith will always be your guiding grace.

Janine Moretti

Chicago, IL 2010-2011

South Africa 2012

Each night that I commute from work at the orphanage in Mexico to our house in San Diego, Brother Fernando and I drive up a steep hill on the outskirts of Tijuana shortly before we reach the border. Without fail, every night that we go up that hill, I look out the window to my right and observe the city of Tijuana, Mexico that sprawls out before us. It’s dark on our way home, and the opacity of that darkness masks the Third World poverty that we witness on our drive down through the city each morning. Rather than seeing the graffitied buildings, flimsy shacks, and addicts injecting themselves with drugs that greet us in the daylight, my gaze is instead met with an endless net of thousands of lights that pierces the dark valley below us. As I observe this sight, my mind inevitably wanders as I reflect upon and process my day, and it is in these moments that I realize how much I have grown through my time spent south of the border, despite my struggles and shortcomings.

You see, my Spanish language abilities remain embarrassingly inadequate, I was on crutches and unable to hold or play with children for my first two months at the orphanage, and even after three months of classes, most of my preschoolers still can’t count to ten or correctly identify the primary colors. But I have come to realize that in the end, such things are not truly the determinants of success in my service this year. For as I see those city lights each night and my mind drifts back to the hours that I spent in the baby room and with the older children when they returned from school, I ask myself whether I had a good day or a bad day. And though I may not remember this every minute of every day, the real answer to that question lies not in whether or not I maintained order and calm in the preschool classroom or successfully coaxed ten-month-old Maritza into drinking her entire bottle. Rather, the answer can be found in the manner in which I tried to do those things. When all is said and done, it matters not how well I can (or can’t) do something, but whether my actions are characterized by patience and driven by love.

Thus, I have gradually discovered that my bad days are not determined by the kids’ behavior, but rather by my own response to their actions. If I lose my temper, give up trying, or forget- even for a moment- that each of the forty-eight children at Hogar Infantil is precious and made in the image of God, then it probably hasn’t been a very good day… and that is my own fault. Because the most important thing that I have learned so far this year is how to love, and that is a lesson that I have been taught by the kids that, in many ways, I now consider to be my own. The truth is, many of the most meaningful relationships in my life right now are those that I have with children under the age of four; and if you had told me when I came into this experience that such would be the case, I never would have believed you. Yet looking back, I can see that nothing makes me laugh harder than remembering the image of three-year-old Alvaro shaking his hips in front of the TV to “The Wiggles,” nothing makes me act as silly as I do when I am trying to get Alessandra and Maritza (two of the youngest babies at the orphanage) to smile and giggle, there’s nothing as reassuring as when eighteen-month-old Josue buries his curly little head in my shoulder, and nothing warms my heart as much as does a smile from any of the dozen-odd infants and toddlers who call the orphanage “home.”

There was a moment about a month ago when I was with some of the five, six, and seven year old boys, looked around me, and realized that at that moment, there was literally no other place in the world that I would rather be, and no other people with whom I would rather be surrounded. I have known these children for only about four months, yet by letting me into their lives and trusting me, they have taught me to love in a manner that I never before would have thought possible. Every time that I see those night lights of Tijuana, I am reminded of how much more my Mexican children have given me than I could ever give them. They have filled my heart with love, and every moment that I spend with them, I try to pour that love back out through the thought, intentions, and compassion behind my actions. It may be that I will never convince three-year-old Dany to share a toy or two-year-old Emanuel to sit quietly in his seat with a puzzle. But as long as they know and feel the love that I have for them each day, I will have been successful in my job this year.

Ali Flukes

San Diego 2010-2011