Head Wounds and True Love

Have I mentioned lately how much I love Bali? Everything about this crazy, wacky, beautiful place just makes me smile. I'm not sure if it's things like trying to figure out how the Balinese can light a cigarette at 70 KPH on their motorcycle, or watching dudes paint a 45-degree incline hotel roof in the blazing tropical sun 40 feet above the parking lot with bare feet with no safety equipment whatsoever, or just having yet another total stranger pull up to me at a stoplight and invite me to come stay in their home...just because I'm here. It's probably the latter. The Balinese are some of the most genuinely nice people in the world. Yeah, their culture and religion pretty much give them a blatant disregard for all things safety-wise and they are surely a study in contrasts with their slow-paced lifestyle and 'island time' and their chaotic, life-or-death traffic and busy cities. But I guess that all just makes my smile bigger. What counts is that I have yet to meet a Balinese who won't smile back at you...or smile first! I have yet to be treated like an outsider. I've always been about half-crazy, so Bali's frenetic lifestyle suits me fine. The people are what counts, and as far as people go, the Balinese are right at the top of my favorites list.

As beautiful as the people are here in Bali, unfortunately many of them are very poor. Unemployment is high throughout all of Indonesia and in Bali, the Hindu caste system and views on reincarnation and karma don't help to motivate people to try to do a whole lot about poverty or creating options for the less fortunate. I often notice that people I talk to will feel a sort of empathy or sadness for the plight of the poor here, but they have a sort of 'it is what it is...I can't do anything about it' mind frame. At the same time, they are always very quick to thank us and shower us with praises when they learn about what we are doing for the poor. It's as if no one has ever taught them that they also have the ability to help others. Actually, I'm pretty sure that no one ever has. In a society dictated by caste and bound by karma, what you are in this life is a result of how you acted in a past life. You would think that this would motivate people to work hard to help others and improve their position in the next life, but it actually seems to do the opposite. People may empathise with the plight of others, but they tend to adopt a stand-offish attitude so they won't risk 'rocking the boat' and disrupting their own karma.

I often notice that when people see a westerner like me, they tend to realize that I'm probably not bound by their caste system and that I live by a little different set of rules. I think this may have something to do with why we often times are 'latched onto' by average people we meet. It's almost as if they can see the Light of Christ seeping from our pores and know that we are people who don't just care about Bali, but are willing to act to make Bali a better place. Everyone notices the poor, but not everyone is willing to do something about their plight. People here accept this fact and I think that is why they are always thanking us for what we are doing here at Rumah Bapaku.

Not that we need any encouragement...the love of 3 dozen wonderful children is all the thanks we will ever need! Last week, we took a couple of much-needed days off and headed down south to Sanur for some surfing and relaxation. We actually hadn't even noticed just how exhausted we were from our long days here with the kids. The first day we surfed in the morning, went to lunch and came back to the hotel in the late afternoon for a quick nap...and ended up waking up at 6:30 the next morning! With 3 dozen kids, catching up on sleep is definitely a necessity once in a while. We had a great couple of days and got some good surf and a bit of relaxation. I'm convinced that I never want to put on a wetsuit and surf in cold water again!

When we got back to Rumah Bapaku, the kids were having their afternoon snack. Now, I left out the part about how I wiped-out at Sanur Reef while taking off on a wave that was moving like a freight train and ended up taking the nose of my surfboard to my forehead just above my left eye. Thank God that I am fanatical about putting rubber nose-guards on all of my shortboards. If that board had hit me where it did with just bare fiberglass on the nose, I may not have a left eye or much skin left on my forehead right now. As it is, the nose-guard scooped a neat little patch of skin off of my forehead and left a pretty deep gash, but nothing serious. Sitting out in the water 2 kilometers offshore bleeding and praying for no sharks while knowing that our boat driver wouldn't be showing up for another 45 minutes was a little exciting, but I actually caught a couple of more waves while we waited and I'm still here to talk about it!

I mention all of that for a reason. Like I was saying, when we arrived back home, the kids were in the dining room having their afternoon snack. I walked in to say 'hi' without a band-aid on my forehead. Pandemonium! The little girls were aghast: 'Om Jeremy is hurt! We need to do something...Quick, get some paper towels! Om Jeremy needs hugs and kisses...and then more hugs...and band-aids...followed by concerned looks and more kisses!' The little boys, especially the Sumba boys, immediately went into defend and retaliate mode: 'Who did it, Om Jeremy? Where are they? Did you win the fight? Let's go and teach them a lesson for hurting Om Jeremy!' I don't think I've ever been doted over like that even by my own mother! Eventually, I had to run and grab my surfboard, bring it over to the dining room and show the kids exactly what happened and let them all touch the nose-guard to convince themselves that no one needed to pay for hurting Om Jeremy. Sounds hilarious, and it is - but in those chaotic moments, I knew that I was truly loved. That I am truly loved. That my blatant disregard for living a 'normal' life is so very worthwhile. That to 3 dozen children whom society had overlooked, I am part of the center of the Universe. I hope that someday there is just a little permanent scar left on my forehead to remind me daily of the true love and happiness I felt on a Friday afternoon in northern Bali.

It's nice to hear locals thank us for being here. But honestly, what they think pales in comparison to the love that I get daily from Andy, Yunsi, Joly, Nova, Anes, Alex, Budi, Dadi, Ananda, Desy, Dion, Eka, Hendri, Jonius, Erlina, Gaby, Joshua, Juni, Kristin, Meli, Andika, Mega, Dwi, Suwan, Putri, Sari, Sulis, Ayu, Teo, Novi, Tini, Tinus, and Tris. These are their names. Read them again. They may have been born as anonymous victims of poverty, but their Creator knew them all by name before they breathed their first breath…and He loved them. He knew that one day Camille and I would know their names as well. And now He’s tattooed their names right onto my heart. They love me just because I exist. I wish words could describe how much I love them back...