Can You Please Stay?
By Jaime B. Volunteer in Uruguay
Before I started my mission, I did not have to interact with kids very much; and I used to say I didn’t really like them. I would often imagine the rowdy kids that are loud, mess up what had been just cleaned, yell, want everything on demand, cry, fight, and so on.
This past month, however, I was invited to participate in a retreat for the kids/teenagers of our neighborhood. A little after we arrived at the retreat house, we went to the beach with them. At one point, Sean, a ten-year old boy, took his friend’s phone and buried it in the sand. I saw him from a distance and told him not to do that, because the phone could get all sandy and break. A few moments later, everyone gathered for a picture. I saw Sean walking off into the distance, so I went after him, knowing he was upset at me. I caught up to him and asked him to go back for the picture. No response. He just kept walking off. I asked him if he was mad at me. No response. After a couple of more tries without success, I just kept walking alongside him in silence. I then told him, “You know you won’t get rid of me until you start going back, right?” Again, no response, but I imagine it clicked for him that it was better to start walking back than having to deal with me more, so after a moment he stopped and started walking back. We walked back together, in silence, since I could tell he was still mad. At one point he said, “Jaime, are you going to stay?” He was asking if I would spend the night with them, because the plan was that I came back home that same day, since I had something important the next day. I asked him if he really wanted me to stay, and he said “Yes, stay.” He didn’t say please with words, but with his voice tone almost begged I would stay. His question knocked me off. How could he ask that? Why? It made no sense to me. After being upset at me, this kid just asked me to stay.
This day with these kids had a profound impact on me. First, because I noticed my weakness, my losing hope in them. And then, Sean’s desire for my presence had me not only regain hope in them, but I also thirst for them, and desire to allow them to be my teachers, like Sean was.