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ㅑ 애ㅜㅅ ㅏㅜㅐㅈ 좀ㅅ ㅑ 므 ㅈ걋샤ㅜㅎ.


is it sad that i was so excited that there is a mork and mindy board game? and that i memorized the words?
i think this picture pretty much sums up my feelings toward the mork and mindy board game.

so i am in an internet cafe and im not really sure what im doing because the computer writes only korean…. but hey ill take what i can get.

and its neat because if i press a button this happens….ㅗ디ㅣㅐ ㅑ 므 ㅓㄷㄴㄴ ㅑ ㅣㅐㅍㄷ ㅛㅐㅕ.

less than two weeks and i leave 😦 im not ready. im not ready for a lot of reasons but these are the ones that come to the top of my head:

a) no more white rice and chicken meals at jollibee’s/mcDonalds
b) no more 60 brothers and sisters to annoy
c) no more “CR’s” ,”slippers,” “dippers”, 1 dollar pirated dvds, 2 dollar shoes
d) no more 4 am early mornings to at least one or more of the following: crying, screaming, laughing, bells ringing, roosters crowing, bus horn, strange mating noises of alley cats
e) no more hot dogs for breakfast
f) because i have no idea where to go from here.

i know i wont be the same, but i just hope i remember everything i have been taught.

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some fun facts.

(there is no escaping them, even in the philippines)

i learned that here the bus drivers are trained, if a person walks in front of their vehicle, to speed up and to hit the person in such a way as to make sure the person doesn’t survive.

why you might ask?

so the bus company only has to pay one lump sum hospital bill as opposed to a never-ending hospital bill of a person on life-support.

note to self.

p.s. If anyone ever approaches you to offer you “Rugby”, they are most likely not asking you to join in their rugby game, but want you to buy a colorful balloon filled with fine white powder that is most likely not sugar.

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strength.



yesterday i went to my first local matching, where the purpose is to match kids up for adoption with perspective families.

there were over twenty kids up for adoption and only five families. but by the end of the day only two children were matched with two families, the rest of the families were vetoed because they lacked in some way.

Of the 20 kids presented in the local matching, My Father’s House had one child, who unfortunately was not matched with a family. She is considered an “older” child, at only five years old, bc most families wish to adopt a child that is below one years old. i also learned that, as far back as they can recall, no one has ever adopted a child born from rape, prostitution or incest.

i was in awe of the process of the matching. i cant imagine carrying the weight of those decisions on my shoulders.
there was a committee made up of four people: two doctors, one attorney, and a professor. and twenty social workers representing the children from their organizations that were up for adoption.


i was amazed at how quickly families or children were put aside because they lacked this or that form or there was no signature here, or no picture there.
It is frusturating to think that there are so many kids who are looking for homes but yet the process to adopt in the Phillipines is so complicated. Even many filipino families have turned to adopting babies from China because the process is shorter and less expensive.

I know that the committee has the families and the children in their best interest,
but i cant imagine being responsible for putting family together or to think that the rest of their lives will be different because of a decision made one day in a small, hot room in the middle of Manila by four people whom they have never met.

I sat looking at these people responsible for choosing the families and wondered what they felt. what were they thinking when they put one child with a specific family? Did it bother them or had they done it so much that it barely registered. Did they the weight of their decisions catch up with them at the end of the day? Did they ever wonder if they made the right choice?

it doesnt surprise me that almost all of the social work organizations and adoption agencies in the philippines are Christian, because i dont know how they could do it without His help.

My supervisor confided in me on the ride home from the meeting that she was worried that she wasnt a good social worker anymore because sometimes she felt numb to some children’s situations (although i have never met a more compassionate and loving social worker than her). i see now how in order to survive in the social work field in the philippines, where you are surrounded by so much hurt and oppression,

you must find a supernatural strength outside yourself.

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but to return. (11/08/05)


Let us stop for a moment,
let us behold what we have made.
let it blaze against the yew trees.
one life.
there. it is over. gone out…
But to return. let us again pretend that life is a solid substance,
shaped like a globe,
which we can turn about in our fingers.
let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical story.

– Virginia Woolf

for the people who did know you and would have known you

thank you.
for taking me at my worst.
for picking me up,
washing me off, and setting me back on my feet.
& for still seeing me for who i was
and who i would be.

even i, who was not close to the blaze
could feel the warmth of your fire.

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the blaze of you who live wholly.

i am drawn here…
not to see you or you or you,
but to light my fire
at the general blaze of you,
who live wholly,
indivisibly & without caring in the moment.
to light my fire.
V. Woolf The Waves

woah, and again another week is gone.

but eventful for sure, i cant put my finger on the exact moment when i started to feel like part of the family,
maybe it was after our adventure to Enchanted Kingdom (the Filipino version of an outdated Disneyland)
with the teenagers who forced me to ride on the Rio Grande and walk around for five hours with wet clothes, or when we road the “Space Shuttle” and i thought for sure i was going to throw up, pass out or pee in my pants at any given moment.

but they thought it was hilarious.

today has been a long day.

since its monday, i GET to wake up at 4 am to cook breakfast with Nanay Susan.
Today we had to cook 60 pancakes, 60 fried chicken nuggets and 60 slices of fried ham (for breakfast). nanay put me in charge of pancakes, but i have to confess i got my cooking skills from my mom, (sorry mom) so i am not a gourmet cook to say the least, and my cooking skills can be summed up in three items:

1) macoroni and cheese the box kind
2) hot dogs
3) macoroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs. (dont knock it till you try it).

we had to have the pancakes done by 6 am, and by 5:45 i had a grand total of five done.
well nine if you count the unedible ones.

nanay susan took over the pancakes, and i got to fry the ham and the oil kept popping up and hitting me in the face. i actually started to cry i was so frusturated. or maybe it was just the heat of the grease hitting my face that made my eyes water.

when we finished, i went upstairs to lay down for a half an hour before work, and i couldnt sleep b.c. i smelled like fried ham, but i couldnt take a shower because i locked myself out of my bathroom saturday night. and this was all before 7 am.

and again Henri Nouwen comes to my rescue.

“Quite often we will discover that we are
asked to follow our Lord to places we would rather not go, “
(the kitchen, rio del grande and fried ham for me)
but when we have learned to see him in the small displacements
of our daily lives,
the greater call will not seem so great after all.
We then will find the courage to follow him and be amazed by our freedom to do so.”

i miss you.

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hooray.

Finally! I figured out this picture thing, I wanted to post these with my last blog but the computer and i have been fighting. i think i won, at least for now.

dressed up for the United Nations Day at their school…I think they represent Mexico?!
love my bunso!
the smiling eyes.
brown skin/blonde barbies?

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im so tired. im so wired.



i have officially been here one month today.. i dont know where the time has gone.


there are moments when i feel suspended in time,
that that minute will never end, or the hour will never pass and ill be stuck in this jeepnie or tricycle for the rest of my life

but then i blink my eyes and its sunday again and i wish i could live the previous week one more time.

but also,


the newness of me has worn off.

there are times here that i feel useless, inadequate and burdensome. there are times when i do feel alone and unneeded.

i have grown close with one of the older girls who is to be adopted soon, she has been severely abused in the past by her male relatives. she writes me notes on a daily basis and slips them under my door sometime during the night, so that when i wake up they are there. sometimes there are two or three notes. each note is filled with so much sadness and hurt that i don’t know if i can respond.

her desire to be loved is so strong that it scares me and makes me back away. in my head im thinking: what if i let her down? what if i cannot provide the friendship she expects from me? what if i dont have the ‘right’ words to comfort her?

she has since stopped talking to me, or looking me in the eye when i ask her how she is, and just generally ignoring me. i might as well be blend in with the wall when i go into her room to say hi.
but still every morning i wake up and there is a note on my bedroom floor and every day i respond…

the other night when i was wondering what i should do about this situation, i picked up a book i’ve been reading and stumbled upon this passage:

“we have forgotten that it is often in
‘useless’ unpretentious, humble presence to each other that we feel consolation and comfort.
simply being with someone is difficult
b.c. it asks of us that we share in other’s vulnerability,
enter with him or her into the experience of weakness and powerlessness,
become part of uncertainty and give up control and self-determination.
and still whenever this happens,
new strength and new hope is born.”
– henri j. nouwen, Compassion

i am realizing that i am an idealist by nature but a realist by profession.

i now no longer dream of ending poverty or changing the lives of every person i meet. i cant provide water for needy communities,
heck i have a hard time waking up in the morning and trying to smile. let alone fix anything.

but i think the passage taken from Compassion reminds me that some people just need someone there and that is something that i CAN do. i cant guarantee i have the answers that this girl is looking. but i can write notes and play uno and listen to filipino music and eat junk food and talk about boys and God and that is going to have to do.

in other news, i woke up at 4:00 am to fry 60 beef patties for breakfast…

ive taken two showers and i still smell like beef grease 14 hours later. yum.




thats all for now from the cheeeeese meisterrrrr.

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tom and jerry.


i have company in the form of one mouse.

i saw it skitter across my floor when i turned the light on in my room the other night, i thought maybe it was just …u know…visiting…. or so i tried to tell myself, but i couldnt go to sleep that night until i made myself invision my mouse friend safe and secure in his nicely decorated home inside my walls, complete with a match box bed and a mouse size oven. reading his mouse sized version of Hemmingway or knitting and then i could sleep (but only with the lights on).

the next day i threw away all of my cheese.

and i mentioned my visitation in passing to the staff and lo and be hold mouse traps appeared in front of my door, i felt safe for the first week, when every time i opened my door and there was no stuck mouse, but….once when i opened my door in the morning..there were not one..but two little mouses stuck in the mouse trap. still breathing. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

somehow i feel its my fault they had to die, and today some people came to fumigate My Father’s House
but at least tonight i can sleep with the lights off.

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lunch


this was lunch. its not so bad if you don’t make eye contact with it.
breakfast was a mix of salty oatmeal and “towel” which is cow intestines.

in other news, i have been spending alot of time with two of our trouble makers, john-lloyd and ana-rose, a brother/sister tagteam.

they are new to My Father’s House and were sent from another orphanage who could no longer deal with them. they run around all day long, climbing on things, throwing things, and no one can get them to do much of anything. they spend their time running circles around the staff. they are trouble trouble trouble.

when john-lloyd is mad he throws himself to the ground screaming and hurls his shoes at his latest victim, or rocks, or loose cement, basically just anything he can find to throw.

one day i told him he was in a bad mood and now everyone calls him
“john-lloyd bad mood.” when he gets angry.

but whenever he hears it he gets this sly smile and replies “im good mood john-lloyd,” and stands up.
yesterday he actually let someone else BORROW the basketball (Gasp) and didn’t throw his shoe at them.
today i got a hug.
And Ana rose said “please” when she wanted the volleyball.

they are those kind of kids that you have to try hard not to laugh when you tell them not do something i’ve never seen two more tough kids, they’ve been through so much in their short lifetimes, but slowly they are learning that they are loved here, no matter how many times i get hit with a flipflop.
saturday night ana-rose was not wanting to go to sleep so i went in and laid on the floor with her (where she likes to sleep), i closed my eyes and laid very still for a couple of minutes. slowly she took my arm and wrapped it around her neck and fell asleep.

this quote from Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen makes me think of Ana-Rose and John Lloyd:

“Our world is full of people who question whether it would have been better had they not been born. when we do not feel loved by those who gave us life, we often suffer our whole life long..In the midst of this extremely painful reality, we have to dare to reclaim the truth that we are God’s chosen ones, even when our world does not choose us.”

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week of firsts.



my first tyhpoon.

first major blackout. (never knew how much i depend on some things like light until its gone)

first week without a shower. (ive never ever ever been so happy in my life to take a shower)

first witness to an adoption.

first (attempt) to eat a Philippine delicacy – pelut (egg with chicken fetus inside) um…..?

first ride in a jeepnie and a motorized tri-cycle.

first attempt at my life by mentally impaired man on the street. (for being American).

and still….im at peace.

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love?



after reading over the cases i will be handling i realized that love here is not taken lightly.
Love here requires acceptance for faults, understanding, patience, and a lot of forgiveness.

” Our world is full of people who question wether it would’ve been better had they not been born. When we do not feel loved by those who gave us life, we often suffer our whole life long…in the midst of this extremely painful reality, we have to dare to reclaim the truth that we are God’s chosen Ones, even when Our world does not choose us.”
– Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved (pg. 57).

some of these kids have been to hell and back before their 6th birthday and they give away their love so willingly
but they do not say they “love” pizza, or “love” music, love is reserved for their growing families.

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Magandang Omaga!


Well…I made it, i am finally here.

After a 14 hour flight, i arrived in Manila at 4 am and was picked up by Deanna , Raymond and Edna who all work at the orphanage. By about 6 am we had arrived at My Father’s House in Las Pinas City in Metro Manila…

the kids were already up and had been since 4:30 am (which i am slowly realizing is the normal wake up time around here)
theytook me on a tour of the facilities which accomdates 61 children and includes a girl’s dorm (where i live) a boy’s dorm and a toddler’s room, as well as an office, two class rooms, a basketball hoop, a swimming pool and one scary life size clown.

they let me rest for a while and i sat in my bed trying to relax but my heart was beating one million times a minute, so i just sat absorbing the different scents of the home which will, comfortingly enough, become familiar to me:

Children singing, laughing, yelling, crying, dancing, running up and down the stairs were all mixed in with the smells of freshly cooked rice, onions and laundry detergent.

Outside it was already hot and humid and i was sweating before 7 am, later in the morning they took me to a welcoming party,

where they had made me a full armor of God, created from colorful construction paper of course, complete with white bath slippers with pink cardboard hearts stapled to them.

They recited scripture verses in English, sang songs and danced and danced and danced. they love dancing i think they would have continued all day dancing if they could. the littlest children are so loving and bashful, some came and hugged me, while others just came very close to me waiting for me to hug them and then they didn’t want to let go.

“Hello At-ay Jessica” (Big Sister Jessica)they kept saying already chattering non stop to me in Tagalog, touching my “yellow” hair and white skin, and pointing at my noise ring. (my tattoos were thankfully covered) What are your Special talents At-ay Jess? and when I told them I didn’t know they looked at me seriously and said, “well, everyone has special talents, they just need to be revealed.” i laughed to my self at that thinking that someone has been speaking postively into their lives and it showed.

Anthony, who is the youngest at barely three years old, and the newest to the house always wants to be held. His eyes are swollen and he has bumps, bruises and scares all over his tiny little body. later i learned him and his two sisters were products of incest. their father is also their grandfather.

the older kids, especially the teenage girls were much more reserved and looked questiongly at me. i dont blame them. the lives they have lived by the time they turn 13 are more than anything i could comprehend. i am just a privileged American girl who has the ability to return to my preciously prepared save haven in the States in just a couple of months.

After a while i rode with raymond and des to drop some of the teenagers at dance practice at their schools across town, and they pointed out to me the brightly colored jeepnies, which are their extravagantly decorated van taxis, and their tri-cycles, which are motorized bikes with a flimsy side car attachment. after we dropped off the kids and headed back to My Father’s House, i sat in the back of the car looking out the window at the people selling homemade potholders,live native chickens and perfumed roses.

…they put on a Filipino Christmas Cd, and I sat listening to them hum along to “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,” and i smiled at myself as wiped the mounting pile of sweat from my forehead and back.

somehow, i felt right at home.

it had already been the longest day i ever had, and it wasnt even noon.