A tale of two orphanages

Yesterday I visited two orphanages for the first time. The first was in Westpoint, one of the very poorest market areas in Monrovia, literally falling piece by piece into the sea. The director contacted me through our website, and despite my hesitations I finally agreed to visit his “orphanage”.What I found was difficult to take in – it was not unlike other homes I’d seen (destitute: rocky dirt floors, leaky roof, no windows, over-crowded bedrooms stinking of urine), but it struck me deeper. Because so much of this job is teaching accountability, being skeptical, ensuring food isn’t sold and kids aren’t abused, it’s easy to become hard-hearted. So yesterday, as I was being told the story of these children coming together in crisis, of escaping to a refugee camp and eventually returning to inhabit this abandoned warehouse and half of an alleyway, I caught myself thinking, This is bad, but it’s not the worst; you’re not so hard done by… I realized that, somewhere along the line, either for self-defense or by acclimatization, my compassion has been eroded. I always love the children wherever I go, but I sometimes allow my mistrust of the directors to prevent my helping the kids.Then, later the same day, the polar opposite situation: 35 kids in a nurturing, disciplined environment under a director with initiative, drive, and genuine concern. They have built several buildings using homemade materials, and have maintained them beautifully – in all, a pristine orphanage. All they need is food. Yet I caught myself again: here’s a situation where all the attitudes we look for are in action, but it’s worked so well that I hesitate to help because, well, it’s already such a good situation: the kids are healthy, happy, and well provided for. So, because they don’t need as much help, should they be denied the help they do need? And as for Westpoint, should those kids suffer if their caregiver is a little hopeless? Of course not, on both counts. Sometimes the responsibility of sorting out where to do our most with our little gets to be too much.It was a good day. A day I needed. No numbers, no books. Just kids, alone time, driving, God. Tomorrow, the team -- resuppliers of energy, cheer, and souvenirs of home.