Walencia, Part II

From December 29, 2018

On Friday morning, I was up at 3:50am to make coffee, walk Giles, and send the Journal. Around 4:20am, Walencia was back in my office. I tried to get her to go back to the cot, but was unsuccessful. I let her lay down on my couch and she feel asleep. I realized what was happening. Sometime Thursday afternoon, she learned I was going to Florida and see became very sad. I found her crying, tears rolling down her face.

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One Child

From December 22, 2018

On paper, it looks fairly simple: take a child to an appointment to a hospital specializing in infectious diseases and skin conditions. Yet in realty, such a simple task can illustrate the complexity of caring for 70 vulnerable children, 24 of whom are toddlers. On Thursday, the top item on our agenda was to take Naica to the hospital that is treating her nagging and severe skin problem which keeps covering her face with ugly eruptions. The first challenge is the location of the hospital. It is near downtown.

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Sr. Walencia?

From December 28, 2018

On Wednesday, Walencia gestured that she wanted some juice. She followed me up the back stairs to the second-floor apartment. Giles jumped all over us when we entered the wicker chair room. I gave Walencia a small cartoon of juice from atop the refrigerator. I had expected to go back downstairs, but she just smiled and followed me to my office. I gave her a cookie. She sat down on the couch, looking as if she had no intention of leaving.

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From December 27, 2018

I arrived at the MC sisters at 6:20am. One of the sisters told me Mass would start at 7:00am. I decided to just sit in a corner and be still. My mind was still preoccupied with Fr. Rick. Christmas Day was quiet, except for the nose of the boys pulling toy cars and trucks around and other kids playing with musical toys. It was non-stop playing all day.

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Almost Midnight Mass

From December 25, 2018

On Christmas Eve night, it took some time to settle the kids down after all the excitement of Santa’s arrival, the gift opening, and the celebration of Baby’s birthday, I was tired and I began to question the wisdom of going to midnight Mass at the Missionaries of Charity. Even the dirt roads in our neighborhood were busy with people gathering together with loud music for a long night of partying and drinking. At one point, I heard the sound of gunfire that seemed close to us. It turned out to be kids with fireworks.

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