Lost

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Violence is evident all around us, no matter where we live. It happens that where I live, control is minimal, which makes Guatemala a more dangerous place to live. I have to use wisdom and be aware of what I am facing when I am out on the streets or highway. I’ve learned that there are places that aren’t safe for travel, and there are times that a person should not be out of their homes. Even during the day, I keep my darkened car windows rolled up to protect myself from someone putting a gun in the window to rob me.

Even with all of these precautions, I ended up in an unavoidable situation. My friend’s church had a special service that I wanted to attend. Her church was located on the opposite side of Guatemala City from where I lived. By the time we attended church and I dropped her off, it was 9:00 pm. Not a good time for a gringa to be out alone.

I took my usual route home and found that it had been blocked. I had to travel into an unfamiliar and opposite direction. I figured there had to be a way to get back from this one-way street. There had to be another street in the direction I wanted to go. However, one can travel for miles without any side streets off the main road. I kept going further away into unknown and darker territory. I saw a turn onto a two-lane and took it, but that didn’t take me back either. I found myself in another slum area with no streetlights. I did not know where I was! I had my cell phone, but if I called someone, I wouldn’t have a clue how to describe my location. No businesses or street signs existed anywhere. The only houses visible were not where one would stop and ask for help. Lord, you will have to direct me out of this, because I am lost. I saw a place where I could turn around in the road, and I did so, thinking it would be better to go back to where I first got lost. I took this curvy street, as I fought the panic feeling welling up inside of me. Lord, show me what I should do. I am in your hands. Finally, I saw a sign, the first one in all this time, and I recognized the name of the major street that I needed. I followed the arrow, but it didn’t seem to be going toward that street. I looked at the gas level, and it showed I had less than a quarter tank of gas. Please, Lord, if this isn’t right, show me where to turn. Then I looked up from this dimly lit street, and I saw the sweetest words—Nestlé. They glowed on the back side of the Nestlé Company building, and I finally knew my location. The front of the building sat along the street that would take me home.

I let out a deep breath, praised God for His goodness, and unclenched my teeth. I’m sure a mirror would show that I had aged five years. I thanked the Lord all the way home for guiding and directing me during such a frightful time. My trust in the Lord grew tremendously that night.

Question Answered for God’s Calling

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With my nose to the grindstone and pure determination, I dealt with the changes in our Shadow family structure as each new girl came in. Our little team of people pitched in when they could. However, the question of my calling got louder as I pondered if I should stay or return to the States. I had to sort all of this out in my fatigued state of mind while life in the orphanage continued.

Josselin* and Lorena* suffered a major disagreement, with yelling and threats. They talked to the other girls, looking for supporters for their side. The division developed into a Hatfield-McCoy type of situation, and retaliation took place behind my back. I called a family meeting. With all of the girls present and wearing questioning looks, I drew a pretend line along the floor.

“Any of you who want to be part of this family and to serve in the love of the Lord, please come to my side. Those of you who don’t want to be part of this family, move to the other side.” I knew that they would come to my side of the line, but I also knew that they had to see this for themselves. It became a choice for them to make. The expected happened with lowered heads and tears. Suddenly, nobody could remember what caused the disagreement. Lorena looked at Josselin and gave a little grin. Others picked upon this action, and the girls broke out into giggles. We formed a circle, held hands, and prayed. The girls went to one another asking for forgiveness. It felt good to have unity again, even though it ended up being short-lived.

Two girls went into trances on a regular basis. It took a lot of talking and praying to get them to look me in the eye and for them to repeat the words, “I am a child of God.” Whatever had a hold on them broke when someone spoke these words aloud. These trances happened at school and at home, sometimes several times a week, requiring constant attention.

The difficulties in the Home took their toll upon me physically and mentally. One particular day, I stood on the second-floor landing, looking down into the living room at some of the girls playing. My body cried out for some sleep. Discouraged and exhausted, I wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere and block everything out. I felt like the love and counsel I poured out was rewarded with lies and complaints. I slipped into feeling sorry for myself. In the midst of my thoughts, I heard the Lord say, “Carroll, where would each one of these children be right now if they weren’t in this orphanage?” That got my attention. My eyes scanned over several of them, and the reality hit me like a sledgehammer. In my mind’s eye, I saw two in prostitution. Another being sexually abused by the mother’s boyfriend, and another passed around like a toy among the street-gang members. Tears came to my eyes. Lord, please forgive me for my selfish attitude. You said you would give me what I need, and I think I need a heavy dose of strength and energy now.

My attitude took a turn that day. When I felt like I had come to the end of my rope, I looked at the girls around me and pictured where they might be if they were not with us. I wanted to be here with them. I hadn’t made a mistake hearing the call from the Lord.

With a larger population of girls, came time to hire a married couple to share the responsibility of the children. I took eight of the older girls and moved to an apartment below the big house. The additional help allowed me to find valuable time for rest.

*Names have been changed.

Questioning God’s Calling

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The administrative requirements of Shadow of His Wings Orphanage multiplied, along with the requirements of being the mother of this growing family. Legally, each girl was required to attend three audiences at the children’s court, which fell on my plate. There were doctor appointments, visits to the psychologist, the purchase of clothes and shoes, the preparation of menus and the weekly shopping at the Guatemalan market and supermarket, banking requirements, the purchase of school supplies, and the list went on. I lived with these kids on duty 24-7, with little time away for rest. Each day seemed to go by filled with the same pressures. I began questioning my calling.

The problems grew with the size of the family. “Mama Carroll, Josselin* wore my shoes when I told her three times that she could not use them,” whined Maritza*.

“Maria* is in the bedroom crying because Ester* hit her again.”

Lorena* decided she wanted to wear a short revealing t-shirt. She refused to take it off, and it ended up being a battle to break through her stubbornness.

Two girls were caught in bed with each other in inappropriate actions. This is a common occurrence in orphanages, and we added bed-checks to our list of night-time duties.

One girl took another girl’s underwear off the clothesline and threw them over the wall. Of course, nobody knew who did it.

Leti* decided she didn’t have to obey any of the rules and pushed her idea by eating supper in her bedroom. I marched in and declared, “Leti, you are part of this family, and you will eat with this family.” After a few minutes of glaring at each other, she picked up her plate and cup and moved to the kitchen table, to the quiet snickers of the other girls.

Constant problems weighed me down in my tired frame of mind, to the point that I began to wonder if I needed to go back to the States. Perhaps I had overlooked what God had said to me. I reached out for counseling, and the message came back the same, “Get some rest.” How does one do that with such a huge responsibility? I dug in my heels, determined to be the mother of these children and still carry out the duties for the orphanage. I just needed to put my nose to the grindstone, and with the help of others, we could make a difference in the lives of these children.

I later learned that putting one’s nose to the grindstone does not equal success.

*Names have been changed.

Lesson to Learn

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We witnessed the effects of the atrocities these children had endured before they entered the Home. At times anger rose in me because of the scars on the children left by wicked actions. Generally, I could keep my emotions under control, but then another hurting girl came to us.

An ambulance pulled up to the front gate, and a medical assistant helped an eight-year-old walk into the house, dressed in typical Mayan clothes. Her father had raped Evelyn*, and her pelvic bone had been broken. Rushed to the emergency room, this thin child had surgery to repair the damage. Oh, Lord, how can she survive such a horrible act against her nutritionally deprived body. We immediately gave her our welcome greetings and gentle hugs. What I saw surprised me. She responded with smiles, as her warm heart reached out to us. This innocent child, fresh out of the hospital and barely walking, just wanted our love.

Joanne and I looked at each other with silent communication. We left Evelyn with the lady who would show her around the home, bathe her, and get her clean clothes. We hurried down to the apartment, looked at each other, and burst out bawling as we held each other. Emotionally, we faced tough times as each child came into the orphanage, but this little one broke our hearts, knowing what she had endured.

I think her smile and friendliness made more anger rise in me. How could anybody take advantage of someone so sweet and cause so much physical and mental damage? If I were judge and jury, I would have found a machete and made sure the father never functioned in such a horrible way again. He would be missing body parts. Thankfully, those thoughts only stayed with me a short time. I quickly realized that I had another lesson to learn. I reminded myself that I functioned in the Home for the children and not for revenge in the name of justice. I needed to let go and put my attention on the healing process of the girls.

I never did find out if the father had been arrested and convicted for what he did to his daughter. The wheels of justice turn differently in Guatemala. Years ago, not many men were arrested for sexual assault, but that is slowly changing. Later, the court gave custody to Evelyn’s mother, and she took her daughter to her grandmother’s home, where she resided in a town close to the coast—a long distance from the residence of the father.

It still jerks at my heart when I picture small and thin Evelyn being taken out of that ambulance with a smile on her face, because she knew she had a refuge in Shadow of His Wings. The good news is that all will be dealt with through the justice of the Lord. I’m thankful for the time we had with Evelyn, where she experienced love and family while she healed.

*Name has been changed.