Hope for the Desperate

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The day after the advisory board meeting, I reflected on my first year in Guatemala. I taught sixth-grade missionary children in a suburb of Guatemala City. I felt like I contributed to the ministry by working with the students and by being involved in the Guatemalan community. (You can read about these mission projects in the previous posts, seven through fourteen.) I felt content with my position as a teacher and had no doubt about need. Teachers are in great demand on every mission field. I played a small part in filling that need, but I still felt the tug of the Lord moving me onto something else.
My eyes had been opened to the state of third-world children living in poverty. I heard of little girls being used and abused in ways that broke my heart. Some were targets of an alcoholic or drug-induced family member, who physically lashed out in frustration and anger. The child sometimes carried the marks for weeks, and sometimes the scars remained for life. Gangs took advantage of the yearning these kids had for a family and a sense of belonging. Once you are a member of a gang you must comply with the orders of the leaders. Nobody is allowed to leave the gang—alive. Sexually, girls here are an open market. It is common practice for stepfathers or boyfriends of mothers to take advantage in the home. Many girls are forced into child prostitution without an age limit for such activity. If pregnancy occurs, then the girl is cast aside like a piece of dirty garbage. I asked myself, What can I do to help these children. I knew I could pray, but I wanted action. I saw a social structure where men took liberties with young girls for their own selfish pleasures, and no accountability existed. These norms were strong in this culture, and my heart ached for the little girls who had to bear the consequences of these ungodly ideas and wicked passions. They needed someone to take them away and put them in a safe place with security, love, food, and hope. They needed to know that before the creation of the world, God had a plan for their lives. They needed to hear that they were not some fluke accident but created for a good purpose. Could God be leading me in this proposal? My mind filled with a multitude of questions, but I felt in my heart an openness to move in such a direction according to God’s plan. It was a God-thing. Who else could take a single teacher from Montana and a woman from Alaska and have them meet in Guatemala. Both having the same strong desire to make a difference in the lives of hurting children and form an orphanage?

My eyes opened to the fact that if I were willing, I could do more. Hadn’t I been praying for that opportunity? Would I trust the Lord in this huge venture? Would I say yes and accept this as part of the plan God had written down in HIs book before the creation of the world? Hadn’t God proven to me, from past experiences, that He would give me what I needed to fulfill a calling He’d given me? Humbled before Him, I said yes to all of the above questions. I needed to refocus on the Lord and get my thoughts off of myself. I walked in hope and trust with the Lord and knew His love drew others to Him. I could only imagine what changes would take place in the lives of abandoned hurting children if they lived in this truth. I know what it did for me. Okay, Lord, count me in. 

Joanne and I met that evening, seeking the Lord for direction. “Father, is it your plan for us to start this orphanage? When would we do this if it is your desire?” We waited for answers.

“The dream!” I exclaimed. “I had a dream several years ago before leaving Montana and coming to Guatemala. I now understand what the dream meant.”

The Birthing Continued

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Scan 5.1Pastor Carlos reached over, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You couldn’t get the girl out of the village, but I could. Then I would put her in the orphanage you are going to start.”

I swallowed hard as my mind flashed to a time several months before this. How could I explain the pieces the Lord has shown me when they are not even clear to me? I thought back to the day I received an email from a missionary friend. Dannie said that if I could find some children on the streets, she would come down to Guatemala, and we could start an orphanage. She and her companion-in-ministry served in the medical field, and with my teaching experience, we could help needy and abandoned children. However, after the first wave of excitement passed over me, I pushed the whole idea to the back burner of my mind. Now it came rushing forward. How could this pastor even have an inkling that I had given this idea some thought?

Looking around the table, I saw that all eyes had turned to me. My throat felt like sandpaper as I slowly said, “Would you believe I have a name for an orphanage?” Their shocked expressions provoked me into explaining the email from my missionary friend months ago. I told them that I had felt a slight tremor of excitement while reading the email and thought, “That’s a nice Mother Teresa idea and something I would be interested in someday.” Then I told how these words popped into my mind: “shadow of his wings.”

After the initial excitement, the president and I decided to seek God’s plan with prayer and fasting for this monstrosity of an idea. The board assured us of their prayers, and we departed, while I tried to glimpse into the mysterious future.

I went home and pondered all that had happened. My thoughts focused on how this could be a good “someday” project. The impact of all of this scared the wits out of me. “Who am I to be involved in building an orphanage?” I cried out to the Lord. I laid before Him all the reasons why someone else would succeed with something like this. I didn’t even know Spanish, other than words like taco, burrito, or adios. Me? No way! Being a loving and patient God, He spoke to me and said that many of the things I had gone through in the past were preparation for this time. I needed to listen to Him, and He would guide me around the stumbling stones. He continued, “I am behind you, at your right side, at your left side, leading you, lifting you up, and you are under the shadow of my wings.” Did I hear correctly? Shocked, I heard the same name that came to my mind months before when I received Dannie’s email.

I looked up at the bulletin board that hung above my desk. I focused upon the photo of the children I had been involved with in ministry. The two elderly sisters stood behind the four girls, and the pain I felt for those little abandoned kids washed over me again. The impact of all this imbedded into the very core of my being, and I wept.

The Birthing

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I looked forward to this board meeting, because we were going to my favorite restaurant. I possessed a little skip in my step (I was too old to have a big one), when we entered one of the most popular places in Guatemala. The smell from the roasters assailed my nostrils, and my stomach gurgled in anticipation of this tasty pollo (chicken). There would be no eating of beans and tortillas this night. While we waited for the rest of the board members, my friends and I chatted, as I gradually pulled myself away from food thoughts.

For months, I had been asking the Lord why I felt like there was more He wanted me to do in Guatemala. I hadn’t received any answers, but something resonated in my heart—something besides teaching missionary children. I just hadn’t been able to put it into words yet. I shared my feelings with my friends. “I know I’m doing what the Lord wants me to do, but I sense that there is a change coming.” I had no clue how quickly those words would come back to me.

The last member of the board, Pastor Juan,* came in, and the board meeting started. As an advisory board, we needed to make some decisions as to what widow or orphan needed assistance, and then act upon that need. A gentleman in Missouri sent money to ACSI (Associated Christian School International) for this purpose. The director of ACSI gave my friend, Joanne, the responsibility to oversee this project. Believing in doing things properly and with accountability, my friend formed an advisory board. She asked me to be a representative, because I had been widowed and worked with children as a mother and a teacher.

During the meeting, Joanne addressed the group, asking, “Does anyone have concerns or suggestions for someone who needs help?” I did have someone on my heart. My sixth-grade students from Christian Academy of Guatemala told me about twelve-year-old Arelie. I spoke up and shared the story of this young diabetic orphan girl. She lived with her sister and husband, who sold any donated medicine and used the money for their personal use. Arelie was dying.

“What could we do as a board to help her?” Joanne asked, looking at me expectantly.

“I would like to offer her sister and husband some money, if they would give me custody of her. Then we find her a home,” I responded. The words hung in the air as my friend translated them into Spanish for the others. Pastor Juan reached over, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You couldn’t get the girl out of the village, but I could. Then I would put her in the orphanage you are going to start.” His prophetic words spilled forth like cold water thrown on me. An orphanage? Lord, what are you telling me? Pastor Juan added that I had shown a heart for children, and I should be the one to start the orphanage.

With wide eyes and her mouth open, my friend responded, “Carroll, that’s a great idea! Have you ever thought about such a thing?”

*Name has been changed.

Open Door for Life

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Death seems to be a more acceptable part of life in Guatemala. Perhaps it is because of the high rate of violence, accidents, and sickness. Widowed at a young age, I knew about the pain of death, but over the years, I experienced infrequent times of this type of grief. The Lord allowed me to see death from a different perspective.

Miriam* worked for Shadow several months before she left us and entered into a marriage. The girls welcomed her husband as a part of our family. The couple lived in a mountain village many miles from us. As time went by, we heard about the birth of Josselin*. When I met this precious little one, I couldn’t keep my hands off of her soft black hair.

Because of the cold mountain air, Josselin developed pneumonia. She ended up in a Guatemala City hospital, with congestion and coughing. The parents hoped the medical people could remove the fluid out of her tiny lungs and help her to breathe.

I had finished with an early appointment and decided to go to the hospital and see the parents and the baby. When I walked into the room, I caught the end of the explanation for the need of surgery. Miriam and Jose* looked at me with hopeful and expectant expressions. It confused me, but I waited to hear the doctor for more information and why my presence would make a difference. I had intended to see if Josselin had responded to the antibiotic given the night before. Lord, I don’t know what is going on, but I ask that you show me the reason I am here.

The doctor continued to say that the only hope for the baby’s survival was to have an operation on the lungs and drain the fluid from them. He spoke in Spanish, so I did the usual struggling trying to make sense out of everything. I asked him questions to confirm what I thought he said. He did admit to the danger of the surgery for one so young, and that there would months of therapy and medication afterwards.

Then it became clear. The couple wanted me to make the decision about whether or not to go through with the surgery. They assumed that I understood about the process. The doctor used medical terms that they did not understand, and the cost of the surgery overwhelmed them. These typical mountain villagers had a little plot of land raising corn and vegetables for their existence. Lord we need to help them.

I called my friend in the States for advice. I couldn’t get an answer, and all eyes looked at me for a decision. Finally, I told Miriam and Jose that it had to be their decision. They were the parents, but we at the Project would help them in anyway we could. With his eyes looking downward, Jose said that they wanted to take Josselin home to die. The doctor looked my way and told me to try to change their minds. “This little fighter needs the surgery.”

I replied, “They are the parents and they are the ones who need to decide what is best for them.”

With the decision made, I told them I would take them to the our friend’s house and make plans for their return to the village. This plan included complications, but God made a way through all of it. I needed to find transportation for the three-hour trip. A chicken bus wouldn’t serve the purpose this time. While I started making calls for assistance, the disappointed doctor removed the breathing apparatus and tubes and prepared the baby for travel.

We were fighting against time, because city law said that if the baby died in the hospital, there would be a mandatory autopsy and then enormous funeral expenses. The parents would not be able to take Josselin to their village for burial. She would have to remain in the city cemetery. The doctor helped with this by giving the couple a death certificate, so they could register this in their village when that time came. With the baby bundled in a soft blanket, we rushed out of the hospital.

Josselin didn’t make a sound all the way to the house. Is she breathing? Did the doctor give her something to sleep? Oh Lord help this brave and hurting couple. I fought the tears and prayed for strength for all of us.

Our friend prepared a meal for the couple to eat before they began the long journey home. I took the little one in my arms, anxious to know her physical condition. I gently moved the blanket back and felt her warm forehead, but when my hand moved down her spindly arm, I noticed how cool it felt. Concerned, I checked for a pulse and couldn’t feel it. Oh Lord, has she gone home with you? My hand moved to her face and head, and I realized she was cooling down quickly. She left us to go to her Heavenly home. This little one would not have to suffer ever again.

Miriam and Jose were busy talking and eating like at any other normal meal, so I continued to hold the tiny lifeless body. Choked with emotion, I rocked her from side to side. I didn’t know how to tell them the news. My friend looked at me, and I shook my head no. Miriam saw me do this, and they took the update without any signs of emotion. I think they grieved at the hospital during their days and nights of vigilance, already accepting her death. I held back my tears until I later. Now, I needed to find them a way to get the baby to their village. It took calling four contacts before I found a missionary couple who wanted to provide this service for the parents.

Miriam and Jose let their beloved baby go knowing that her new heavenly home was a much better place. They did not want her to suffer with surgery, therapy, and all that would come after. They looked to the Great Healer for their darling daughter and rejoiced that she was with the Lord Jesus. They did not question God’s unconditional love, but trusted in His plan for their precious Josselin. I greatly admired them in their trust and faith, and I determined in my heart that I would be like that. They knew that one day they would be reunited with her, and what a joyous day that will be.

We all can have that hope in Jesus our Lord. His resurrection provided us with the way for our eternal life with Him, if we choose to live our life with Him in this world. Death does not have a hold on us. Instead, it is an open door for a life of love such as we’ve never experienced before.

*Names have been changed.