When people ask me “how can you do this work - volunteering to work with sick kids”, I simply say „how could i not?”
Kids are little, shiny, colorful porcelain fragments that makes a great mosaic. And from each and everyone of them i am learning something, every single day.
I’ve learned that life is not an afterthought, that it is ok to be scared, and definitely fine to admit you are weak.
They taught me that some things are hard to explain: like who is secretly painting the carrots Orange, how can the colour Red penetrate an imaginary wall made entirely of Brown, or exactly what elves are responsible with hanging the rainbow up in the sky (fyi - its the smallest of them).
I’ve come to understand that one’s best assets are the eyes, the palms, the ears, the mouth and nose, because they stand for senses, and this is how we take in what the World has to offer. That we are beautiful because we „feel”.
I’ve learned that it does not matter how much you lost, but rather how much you got left.
They helped me realize how easy it is to draw a ruffled horse, a free-form cube or to dance in a wheelchair.
They showed me how wrong it is to refuse a chid’s gift, that Santa has a complete different storage for wishes that involved being with family, and that it is perfectly fine not to be able to answer a question.
I’’ve learned the simplest of the routines:
1. Wake up
2. Kick ass
I’ve learned that no matter how you embellish a Christmas cookie, it will turn up just fine, that you should never give advice unless said advice are your future self, and that no matter how tough a situation is you will get tougher.
I’ve realized that mayonnaise will never stick unless 12 happy kids will sneeze onto it, that sometimes saving money so you can take your plush mouse to the zoo so he can see monkeys is the most important thing in life, and the toughest of jawbreaker candy is just like jello in a kids mouth.
They taught me how many buffalos can fit in a car (just so you know, no more than 7) and they showed me how to focus in order to see the buffalos in the forest around Fundeni Hospital.
They make it easy for me to understand that i am a part of their happiness, they showed me how crucial details are, and that the only limits we should allow are that of our own imagination.
They helped me understand that i can accept the unacceptable, that i can be angry or sad, and no matter what i will eventually have to let go.
But what i cherish most form all the lessons they teached me is the fact that they made me see how beautifully imperfect life is.
I wish i could name all the tiles that spark in my mosaic, but that will take too long. I will, however, name two of them.
One is Ionela.
She is 19.
Another one is Anca.
She would have been 16.