Dick and I joined Joel Van Dyke (who works with grassroots leadership development in the faith community in Guatemala City) to take a wheelchair to a little boy living in the garbage dump in Guatemala City. That's right, not near the dump but IN it. This would be my first visit to this area of the city, and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I wasn't afraid, except maybe afraid that once again my heart would break at the suffering I would see.
We soon were at Ector's house, and were warmly greeted by his mom. When she saw we had brought a new wheelchair for her little boy, I thought her face would break she was smiling so hard. She quickly ran to get Ector from his grandmother's house (just two doors down) where he had been visiting.
Ector came in his old, crumbly wheelchair, so excited he almost fell out of the chair (the seatbelt had long ago been broken). When asked if he'd like a new chair, he just about stood up in his chair! He was one exultant ten year old!
As Dick took his measurements to properly fit the chair, you could see not only Ector, but all his family and the neighbors who had gathered, began to relax in the presence of the strange gringos.
In what has become common place to me now, kids crowded around Dick as he worked on the chair. He took great pains to encourage them not only to watch, but to help him tighten bolts and hold wrenches. Surely he could have done this much more easily and efficiently by himself, but he delighted in their involvement with him. Again, I felt I saw Jesus, with the little children coming to him. Except here, in the dump, the adults were wise enough not to try to send them away. They were welcomed. And there was joy in the welcome.
We needed to take a few pictures to document the giving of the chair, and Mom quickly gave us permission to do so. After I had taken some of Ector in his chair, other children also wanted their pictures taken. They beamed with happiness seeing their faces in the pictures I showed them. Carmen, then, wanted to take pictures herself, and took my camera around taking pictures of anything and everything she could find. She proudly came and showed my all that she had taken--beaming with joy. (Thank you, Dick, for teaching me to do this with the kids.) Again, joy in the present moment.
When the chair was ready, Ector could hardly wait to get into it. The other kids could hardly wait to push him around. Mom couldn't thank us enough. There was rejoicing, here, in the dump, in Guatemala City.
As we talked with Mom, and interacted with Ector, we could see just how much this mom loved and cared for her son. She had made sure he receives physical therapy once a week from Fundabien, a foundation which works with the disabled here in Guatemala. She talked with me about how Ector liked to color, and how she was teaching him to hold crayons. She explained how she had taught him, though he can only speak a few words, to answer yes and no questions using his index finger. She seems to see not his disability but his potential, and rejoices in each new thing he learns. She talked with enthusiasm over her gratitude at having her own home (a small cement block stall which appeard to be open to the dirt hill in the back).
Is there still need here? A tremendous amount. But today I witnessed first-hand the truth that joy is not found in our circumstances, but in our attitude. And the joyful attitude of the people I met today humbled me once again. If joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God, I was definitely in His presence with my brothers and sisters in the dump today.
(One need we uncovered today was that Ector, though highly intelligent and eager to learn is not allowed to attend school with his brother and sister because of his disability. We would love to be able to find a tutor to work with him in his home, but first we need a sponsor. If you or your small group would be interested in sponsoring him ($35/mo or $420/yr) please email me and I'll help you arrange this.)
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