White Swan

I just got back from a week in White Swan on the Yakama Indian Reservation. I can't really put it all into words. I'm not the same person anymore. These are a few of my journals from each evening: I hope you get a taste of the love I feel for these precious children. 

 

7/29/13

Sky and Cheyenne. His shirt was blue like the sky. His nose was covered in dried blood since no one bothered to clean his face until Kids Club. The fingers that pointed to his desire were the ones that clung around my hand. His smile appeared first when we caught the same bubble on both of our wands. Then the missing teeth of a four-year-old showed themselves among the silver crowns in his mouth. He sat on my knee.

She didn't want to speak. I asked her age; no reply. She handed me her capri-sun juice to open and followed my guidance about where to hold it so as not to spill it. The small squishy fruit snacks laid on the floor as her head leaned trustingly back on my chest. She clapped quietly after everyone was already finished clapping. Her arms outstretched, she looked up at me for love and attention.

 

7/31/13

Rachel. Her eyes are quiet, but reveal joy and a need for love. She caught 20 bubbles in a "bubble trampoline" and tried again until another child came to play. She wanted to sit in my lap and rest her head on my chest after her juice was opened and scarfed. She spoke words of request. The little sweet girl asked politely for a piggyback ride. Her modeled clay and coloring page demonstrated artistic talent, and the words of affirmation filled her - so much, a smile appeared eventually. Then I carried her to the bus where she hopped on without another word. Darling girl with curls lining her forehead, I hope you come back tomorrow like you said. 

 

8/1/13

Marida goes by Rida. Her hair is parted into two pigtails and I have numerous pictures of her with a smile on her face. Her jaw hangs open when she smiles. I love the pointing finger that gives me direction on where to go while she sits on my back, her head resting on my shoulder. Dainty arms wrap around my neck as I whisper that I love her. A mumbled voice, muffled in my shirt, says, "I love you more," back. As my heart breaks, I blink back tears before setting her down for her swing ride that we've been waiting in line for. The moment her turn is over, she looks smiling up at me with her arms stretched wide to be carried. My lips kiss her head before the wind encircles our hair. Little darling Rida pushes stray hairs out of her face. Today was good. God is good. But tomorrow is going to be hard. Really hard. To leave.

8/2/13

I don't want to leave! I'm so attached to these children. Rida and Azie stole my heart. The outfits they had worn two days in a row hugged me constantly and their sister smiles broke my heart. I couldn't finish my sentences about how much I loved Rida and how I promised that I would see her next summer. I gave each a bracelet and walked them home - the smiles didn't cease, even when I walked away for the last time this week.