Stuck in the Middle with You

 

It is a big picture because it has made me think a lot.

This past Sunday, Peanut and I went with our church to visit another church outside of Barranquilla to celebrate their anniversary. We went on a big school bus singing songs and enjoying the wind in our hair. We wound up sitting by ourselves, but there were several empty seats and my long legs have trouble fitting, so we spread out a little. We all piled off to join the worship service that was ready to start, and Peanut and I settled ourselves on the floor so she could move around and not climb over everyone.

At 9th (our home church), Peanut gets special attention. All the kids are loved and cooed over, but everyone remembers Peanut's name, she made it on a new church banner, and she just does get something extra. Still, she is a known quantity. She is not new.

At Pital, she was new. She sat with my quietly keeping an eye on what was going on for a while. It is her way. We do not call her "the Observadora" for nothing. Still, after getting a handle on things, she inevitably makes her move. There are probably 30 kids or more at Pital, and they sit in kid-sized plastic chairs in the very front of the sanctuary, and Peanut decided she was going to go hang with them for a little while. There was not a place to sit (and she can't really climb up into a chair on her own so well yet), so she just stood in the aisle. From my spot in the back I saw hands begin to stretch out from chairs on all sides to touch her skin or her hair. At one point she had 5 sets of hands on her somewhere. She took it all in stride - walking back toward me when it was a little too much, but returning again to give it another go.

After the service we went to a church member's home to eat a big stew and share some fellowship time before heading back to Barranquilla. While the food was finishing we all sat together talking and playing ice-breaker games. Peanut hung out in my lap for a bit (watching), then made her move again. I took the picture above just to capture my sweet bean in the midst of so many kids, but after taking it I couldn't help but catch my breath. She is in the middle of everyone, but she isn't a part of anything. 

You may think it is a lot to put on one picture, but it was more the catalyst that put lots of pieces together for me than a commentary on this single moment. It is representative of a lot of Peanut's life, and of our lives, quite frankly. The thing is, we chose this adventure - Peanut, not so much. Right now it doesn't really matter. Peanut is little and she simply feels special I think, so the extra long looks, the patting of her skin, the remarks about her hair or her eyes don't make her self-conscious or worry her like they do me sometimes. I know that when people get to know her, they will love Peanut for the person she is because that is just how it works. Still, some day she will come to me with slightly sad and truly confused eyes and ask me why it is that people treat her differently (even if sometimes it is that they treat her "better"), and why can't she just be like everyone else.

None of this is to discount her privilege in this place, nor our own, but it is to say that same privilege can extract someone from community rather than bond them into it. And so somehow she is in the middle and on the margins at the same time. It is a funny place to be. It might be okay to visit, but I am thinking hard about how or whether she can live there.