The house, the stars, the desert– what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible! (The Little Prince)

Upon arriving in Bangkok I went out and bought a new book: Ox Travels. It is a collection of “remarkable meetings” or encounters, put together by some of the world’s best and upcoming travel writers, to raise money for Oxfam. Reading Michael Palin’s introduction I was struck by how he articulates what is at the heart of good writing: “the personal illuminates the general”. Palin notes, “I’ve relied on human encounters to bring to life the places I’ve visited.” Mercy is Mercy because of the people here and the relationships I’ve developed, so this is my attempt at explaining what Mercy means to me.

Tonight during homework help, Ann asked me to listen to her play a song on the piano. Rather, she didn’t just ask me, she quietly pulled me aside from the group and whispered, “I want to show you the song I am learning on the piano.”

I was honored. Living at Mercy can sometimes feel like a zoo, with over 200 children in six Mercy homes, the kids don’t usually get quality alone time with an adult. They constantly look to Ben and I for positive reinforcement, showing us their high test scores or art class sketches they’re proud of. I’ve found nothing encourages them to try harder than reminding them of how proud we are. It seems pretty obvious, but for those few hours after school every day, we are home and we are family.

Every minute of every day I am reminded of how fortunate I am to have supportive parents who constantly encourage me and remind me of how proud they are; my mom and dad have shown me through their actions what it is to not only be a great parent, but a compassionate person.

I promised Ann I would come find her once I finished homework with the other kids; it was good to feel the warm, smooth concrete of Mercy under my feet, as I climbed the steps to Mercy 3. Ann was teaching the younger girls at Mercy 3 English, in the few free moments she has between homework, dinner and bed. The courtyards palm trees looked stronger and appeared taller tonight against the cotton candy clouds.

We walked into the makeshift chapel, which is a small tiled room on the 3rd floor of Mercy where Father Joe says mass on Saturdays. I pulled up a chair as Ann uncovered the worn black piano. She sat confidently and posed, as if she had been doing this for years, and opened her dark, floppy notebook.

“I’m learning the song from The Little Mermaid,” she said, calculating where to rest her fingers.

She played slowly and precisely, carefully reading the notes she had written on her paper. “I just started learning this yesterday.”

The room was still illuminated by the natural light of pre-sunset flooding in large glass windows in the back. It was just Ann and I and the piano. I felt overcome with emotions; I felt proud in a way I had never felt before. I felt privileged that she had wanted to share this with me and that she trusts me enough to show me what she cares about and is working on. Not only does Ann excel in her schoolwork, but she is currently in piano, swimming and tae kwon do lessons as well. This girl, along with all the kids I work with, is incredible.

There is this one story I remember my Dad telling me a few years back. Every time I think about it I smile. It goes a little something like this:

“I remember the day your mother told me she was pregnant with Leanne. I was terrified, I just thought there was no way I could love anything as much as I loved you. And then Leanne came into this world and I learned something, your heart just grows in ways you never imagined possible. All my love just multiplied.”

I thought back to all of the kids I’ve worked with in the past and how much I loved them all. But here it’s different. There is a reason these kids are here and for many, their parents are no longer a part of their lives. All my love continues to grow. I miss them when I’m not with them and I am genuinely happy every minute I am. I want to tell them how amazing their test scores are, I want to help them study and make sure they understand all of their homework. I love hearing about their days, their new crushes at school and what they’re learning.

I know how much I appreciate my parent’s emails, telling me how proud they are of me. And now I get it. That’s what these kids are for me. Their total trust is a precious gift. I would do anything for these kids.

I know it was important to Ann to have me come listen to her play and I hope she knows just how much it means to me that she asked.

Today, I am writing this post in honor of my amazing mother. Happy Birthday!! I love you so much and I can’t wait to hug and kiss you in just two weeks.

And I can’t wait for you to meet these remarkable kids.

My most beautiful mother, I LOVE YOU! Thank you for showing me the world.

ABA