Gifts in Small Packages
There is no set limit on how long any particular child can stay at the Casas Hogares. Most girls live within the homes for approximately two years; however, many have been there for much longer. One girl, now a woman, has been at Casa Hogar for over 18 years. She is 27. Learning disabilities have prohibited her from assimilating into a world outside of the refuge, and by all accounts, she will live out her days at Santa Julia. It is her home, her safe house, her family.
Some of the girls have gone on to be adopted; others have been reunited with family. Many face uncertain futures. The one constant in their lives is the sense of security and home they have found at Sollano and Santa Julia; that they are loved and cared for – as all children should be. They don’t ask for much and yet they are our greatest hope for the future.
“What they don’t want,” says Loving-Rowland “is to be forgotten or ignored. Yet at the same time, they don’t want to be judged or over-analyzed. They don’t want to be treated as specimens under a microscope.”
The girls of Casa Hogar want nothing more than to be treated like normal children; a chance at a normal life. They want to be like everyone else; to step out into the world having blossomed into healthy, educated young women and with every opportunity possible to live happy, productive lives.
Into the Sun
Back on my terrace, again I look out onto the children’s playground. I watch them hanging upside down on jungle gyms, swinging, yelling “hola!” to anyone and everyone who walks by. Beneath a hopeful sun I dream of a perfect world where if only for a short while, every child will be accompanied to a park by their family. They will be watched with careful and loving eyes as they scramble and swing, jump and slide, laughing as they adjust twisted balloons on their small heads, wisps of dried cotton candy staining pink and blue the corners of their smiling mouths. Carefree and blissfully naïve.
And for tonight, I like to think that as the girls of the Casas Hogares are tucked into their beds, a loving Madre just may whisper into each small ear, “Buenos noches y suenes con los angelitos.”
Good night and sweet dreams, and may you dream of little angels.
Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons of life do not last. The Spring rains will come again.
Sarah Ban Breathnach
* Excerpted from the Casa Hogar brochure. For more information you may visit, www.santajulia.org, or contact Robin Loving-Rowland at robin@robinloving.com
