Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world and I love the younger girls we are playing with here. There are only six of them and they are like a little family helping one another. We’ve had water balloon fights, went bobbing for coke bottles (yes, coke bottles) had a watermelon contest-who can eat their piece the fastest, while spitting the seeds into a cup and then who can spit the seeds the fastest. Everyday with the older and younger girls we do exercise, mainly yoga but I implemented some kickboxing with the younger ones and they had such a good time with it that I might try it with the older girls tonight. Jesus loves those older girls too.

God give me the strength and patience to love the older girls unconditionally like you do. They are so harsh and mean with each other. There’s one girl that’s overweight and they call her a cow and tell her she’s going to die and other harsh words that hurt my heart to hear. Every time Mariam and I talk to them about it and tell them that they are hurting her feelings and not encouraging her, they say-we’re joking around, she knows we’re kidding. Bull-crap people. There’s no way the girl is gonna lose weight if you keep calling her a fat ass. She’ll just gain more because food is probably her comfort, and when she’s hurting that’s what she turns to. They don’t get it here. There’s a woman who helps run the house called Aziz who we’re having trouble with cause she puts all this crap in the girls minds. She’s the one who tells the obese girl that she is going to die because she doesn’t listen. Idiot. Mariam fights with her a lot. God bless Mariam’s Arabic. I’m really being humbled here, not getting to talk but always listening. I realize how much I like to give my opinion in America and dominate conversations because of it. Not here. I find myself understanding what everyone is saying, but if I try to put in my two cents, I disrupt the flow of the conversation because my Arabic sentences don’t make sense. Especially in deep conversations, or spiritual ones. I don’t know any spiritual words in Arabic. Wait, I take that back. Farah is joy.