My Jeanette & Passion

 “MARLA MUMMYYYYYYYY” Bang, crash, “oof,” and “HIIIIII!” are how it starts. Daily. Usually multiple times a day. 

When I arrived in August, Jeanette quickly worked her way into being one of my most affectionate children. She would demand my attention with the above sounds when she heard my voice or the jingling of my keys at the doorway of her apartment. She would grope her way to find the one or three inches of free space on my lap, so that she could sit there and slowly nudge the other 1-2 kids off my knees.  It didn’t take me long to realize that Jeanette is the definition of a cuddle bug.

Having Jeanette around brings a lot of laughter to my day.  She is blind, and she is fearless—and this makes for a very entertaining combination. If I am reading a book, she runs her fingers all over the pages as though she could feel the 2d pictures. Usually, this means I can’t see any of the words, and I never get to finish the story! When we have reading time, she prefers the flat, normal picture books—specifically “the monkey book”—instead of the textured books I purchased for her and her blind sisters.  

After getting over her initial fear of having her feet off the ground, Jeanette will now ride her bicycle (with training wheels) around the roof for hours at a time. (Now, I love teaching my children to ride bikes, but sometimes moms have to get other things done, too!) While I sit in the corner and mend the holes in all the school uniforms, Jeanette rides quite literally through the laundry on the line, and quickly rebounds from when she hits the concrete pillars in the middle of the “track.”  I can’t help but just laugh as I shout out “Left! Go left! Ah! Stop!” as she moves straight and narrowly misses my toes—thanks to me jumping out of my seat!

Jeanette is attentive.  She wants to experience absolutely everything—we go on walks, and I describe the world around her. Phoebe asks questions to get more information, but Jeanette just tucks her head down, soaking in every tidbit, every sensation, every word.  She wants to help me fold laundry and doesn’t realize that her fingers fumbling over the shelves makes it impossible to find whatever I was looking for. She works hard in school and is working on learning to write simply through the sense of touch.

Jeanette is maturing. I still get the big welcome after a calamity or two of her tripping over LEGOs or dolls or siblings when I come to the door, but she has matured so much.  In October, I asked another foster mom what to do with Jeanette—because her fearlessness and desire to be a part of everything led to her constantly crashing into me. I had so many bruises on my face and neck and feet! I loved this daughter of mine, but goodness—I hurt back then!  But now, Jeanette is a different child. Her hair has grown out and she can wear pigtails—she no longer looks like an institutionalized kid.  She can sit and read a book or play with a puzzle quietly. She can withstand my presence in a room without turning me into a jungle gym. We are still working on her being able to stand near me or hug me without stepping on my bare feet with her clunky school shoes, but she has grown so much, and I am so blessed to have been a part of watching her grow.

Although I’m glad to be a part of helping her mature, learn to navigate the world, and learn to be loved, nothing quite beats the sincerity of Jeanette’s heart. She smiles when she’s happy and shrieks with glee when she’s excited.

 And if someone tattles on her, Jeanette sits silently with her neck fully bent forward. If I ask her what happened or why she did something, the tears just flow before the third word exits my mouth. In the first time-out I ever gave her in August, she tried to beat down the door, flailed all over the floor, and screamed for the entire 5 minutes. Now, she apologizes, understanding that what she did was wrong, gives me a big tearful hug, and sits silently on the ground or bed until I let her know timeout is done. I have never caught her making the same mistake twice.

Sometimes I wish I could be like Jeanette. I know there are times I flail and scream internally when I’m told I am being disobedient or not honoring God.  I wish I had Jeanette’s ability to understand, to accept the consequences, and to refrain from repeating my mistakes again.

But, like with Jeanette, such things do not just “happen.” It is a process, and it takes time. 

One of my unique things about Jeanette and her blind sisters is their love for music and worship.  I am about to blow their minds this weekend, as the Passion conference is coming to India, and I'm taking Jeanette and 4 of her sisters to Hyderabad for it.  

I have never been to a Passion conference in America, as I tended to work 50-60 hours a week over winter breaks rather than travel, but I hear they are amazing.  My girls have been to church only in Ongole, worshiping with probably no more than 100-150 other people at once. I know that worshiping with 6000 other people is going to blow their minds. I imagine the smiles on their faces when the music starts, and I get goosebumps.  

Renting a mini van for the entire weekend is 16500 Rs. ($270.39)

Tickets are 3000 Rs. ( $49.16)

And then we'll have 4 meals out for 6-7 of us. ($tbd)

If you have ever been to Passion, if you have a love for music, or if you would like to indirectly impact these girls spiritually, please consider donating any amount ($2, $15, $900, whatever) at http://tinyurl.com/MarlasDaughters

We also still need $565 to purchase the rest of the furniture for our home. You can donate at the same link if you have an interest in helping our apartments become more like "homes." (And, yes, I'm going to keep asking until we reach the $1000 goal)