In my last post I turned 40.

The actual turning was a riot, but rather anticlimactic in a
way.

Books and conversations are peppered with the comments,
“Since turning 40 she had noticed….” “It was at 40 that she decided…” “One
morning she woke up and she was 40”.

For me, turning 40 only meant that I could have cake for
breakfast three days in a row.

So I did.

Other than that little bonus, I was ready for 40.

And my fantastic husband threw me a wonderful party,
attended by some amazing friends. Everyone (except for one….ANGELA!) dressed up
in 70’s, 80’s and 90’s costume. Charles upped the ante by arriving as THE MASK.
I was Wonder Woman. My sister and boyfriend were the Flintstones. And the music
was all 80’s baby.

 Turning 40 was the best.

 And it has only gotten better.

One of the biggest reasons for this is my recent trip to the
Philippines. As my birthday passed and one set of visitors (Pam, her boyfriend
and my sweet niece Alex) gave way to another (my parents), my sense of
excitement over our upcoming trip to the Philippines grew.

We were going to help lead an ICM Kids Camp. All of us.

I do not want to overemphasize my role. I was a counsellor,
a team leader. But to be part of something so important to kids had a huge
impact on me. To be able to share it with my parents, to know they were willing
to spend part of their holiday making a difference in the lives of others, made
me EXTRAORDINARILY proud.

 We packed, taking every outgrown shirt and pair of shoes
with us. Bought several new pairs of crocs for kids we would never meet.

And set off, all eight of us.

The kids are pretty good fliers, and we arrived to Manila no
problem.

Getting to Dumaguete was no problem either. We were there.
And it was beautiful. The resort was fine, and we had a purpose.

We met the rest of the team members. Practised our theme
song of the week. Were assigned teams. Heard about the daily routine.

That first day, we toured a local orphanage and school very
similar to the kindergarten we sponsor in the next province, outside of
Bacolod. The orphanage was wonderful, the kids are so healthy and happy. The
fact that so many are siblings did my heart good. Their parents may be gone,
but the children can still stay together.

The second day, we piled into the vans and headed off the
kids camp, with the intention of setting up once we got there. That plan very
quickly went awry, because upon arrival, we saw the kids were over an hour
early. One hundred kids, sitting on the grass, waiting for us quietly.

Love and tears started in me, and for the next four days
never really went away.

The kids camp was overwhelming at times. The kids were so
well behaved. The formula was quite simple, but the kids were so thrilled.
Watching their faces during snack and lunch time. How carefully they painted,
coloured and enjoyed the various crafting activities, their joy at playing “the
parachute” with the other kids, the beanbag running games, the satisfaction on
their faces when we ran a good race.

How the second day when they recognised me they ran to me.

How by the third day some of them were volunteering to be in
skits.

How none of them wanted camp to end.

How Sela became friends with one little girl, and another
little girl, Dhelia, befriended Carys. Watching them sharing events without any
common language.

How hot it was at times.

How I wondered so many times how these children could be so
happy, despite the hardships they face on a daily basis.

How my kids claimed it was an amazing vacation, despite the
work, heat and the waits that come with being with a group of people.

They’re right. It was an amazing time. One of the best
vacations in my life.

I am still a deeply flawed person. A regular human. But I’m
still changing. This didn’t happen when I turned 40…this happened when my kids
got old enough that we could participate in outreach activities.

But 40 is good too…the cake was, and the
phone calls and emails were too. The people were. Thank you everyone for being part of my life. It's just getting happier and better.