December 17, 2010

Dick has been on the road much of the last few weeks, so we each have had to do our own journaling.  We did spend one Sunday together, though, and I'm taking advantage of the fact that he has posted much more promptly than I have this week, and I'm borrowing his entry. 

Dick wrote:

It is with tears in my eyes that I write the following. I just received word that Alex passed away early this morning. Alex had never been a healthy child and for the past few months he seemed to be hanging on by only a thread and we all know that it would only be a matter of time before he would not be with us anymore, but all of us who knew him will miss him all the same. In nearly ten years that I knew him he never uttered a word but much like Jo Jo who died a few months ago I considered him a close friend. Alex could light up a dimly lit room with his angelic smile and Alex stole the harts of almost everyone that ever met him. I consider it a privilege to have been able to call him my friend. (I learned much from the times I spent holding Alex.  He ministered to my heart in a way I can't explain, but I know I am a different person because I knew him.  I, too, consider it a privilege to call him friend.  And I long for the day I can see him running to greet me in heaven!--Pat)

Last Sunday (Dec. 12) Pat and I decided to drive up to a restaurant that I had never been to, that is located on a hill that over looks Antigua. When we got up there we discovered that there was a car show going on up there. Now those of you that know me know that I have nothing against cars and certainly have nothing against food but some how I felt very out of place. After just spending the week near Huehuetenango visiting with children that were hurting and staving I had a hard time looking at cars that many people were investing so much of their money and time on. I could not help but wonder what a difference all those people could make if they spent even half as much time helping some hurting child as they did polishing their cars. I looked over at Pat and said do you really want to be here? I think that she was reading my mind because she asked,

"Would you rather go to Hermano Pedro and see the kids?"

Fifteen minutes later we were both where our harts were and it was one of the best Sundays that we could ever imagine. You may ask how an afternoon holding hurting and dying children can be a good one. I am not sure that I can explain but the following Journal entry that Pat recently posted may help. Here Dick managed to "appropriate" my journal entry from December 10, about Alex and Fidel.  Pretty slick the way he managed to do that, even though he and I were in different parts of the country!

He's right, though. (Please don't tell him I admitted that!) This was one of the best afternoons I've had here!