CHAPTER FIVE
PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTION

We continued looking for ministries that could help Caty meet her mental needs. A missionary friend operated an orphanage for physically disabled children. Since Caty’s problems ranged from the physical to the mental shut-down, we arranged for her to live there, hoping to receive specialized treatment.

Within days, we heard of Caty lapsing into wetting her pants and acting out in ways we hadn’t seen in our Home. Their psychologist confirmed what we already knew. Caty had been traumatized, and it affected her mind.

In two weeks, we received another call from the director saying that she had taken Caty to the psychiatric institute in Guatemala City. The place I dreaded the most. The director said that their program did not work, and Caty didn’t fit into the category of mentally delayed.
I flipped out. We wanted Caty to come back to Shadow. This psychologically damaged child needed to be in a place of love and security. An environment to stimulate her brain. A psychiatric ward did not provide that opportunity.

Joanne and I frantically discussed what we needed to do to get her back while shooting up prayers like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I shuddered about the fear this girl would experience in such a place—alone and rejected. Lord, protect her, fill her with peace, and let her have favor with those around her. This would be no small feat because we no longer had legal custody. It belonged to the institution, and they would decide if we could get her back. But our God is a miracle-working God, and I found a sense of peace in my heart.

A week later, the Lord opened a door, and through all of the legal procedures, we got custody of Caty. Joanne and I went to the mental institution and met with the director. She seemed impressed that we wanted Caty in our Home. She observed Caty and reported that she didn’t belong in this type of environment. Her cognitive abilities excelled above the other residents. Caty needed to come home.

As we waited for the completion of the paperwork, I wondered how our little gal would react when she saw us. Would she be excited? We had entered the building through the dining/kitchen area, and Caty stood by a table. She looked up and then turned her back to us. Did Caty feel angry for all she had endured? Did she think we abandoned her? Within our hearing, one of the workers commented to another that she was glad Caty would leave with us because she didn’t belong with this population.

The director’s office opened to a hall that separated her from the metal cell structures on the other side. I watched as men and women sat listlessly on the concrete floor. In contrast, others moved slowly around, speaking gibberish and making loud sounds. I knew the cells served to protect the people within but lacked any semblance of a home. I saw only adults, so I assumed Caty joined them. How could she ever come out of her shell with significantly mentally challenged people surrounding her?

With the legalities completed, I went to Caty, got a half hug, took her hand, and told her we were going home. She turned, flipped the other hand in a half-wave to the workers, and said, “Adios.” Off we went as she matched my steps to the car. Perhaps in her secret place, nothing had happened since she left our Home several weeks before this. I believe the Lord spared her the trauma because of prayer.