Today was a difficult day to describe. It’s not so much that I saw so many things I’d never seen before, though there were many new experiences. It was more that I never saw so MANY people living in such difficult circumstances and facing such significant challenges. I also have not gotten to know them as personally as I would some of them on this trip. I believe this day has impacted my heart as much as my first trip to Central America almost ten years ago.
As we gathered this morning in the hotel restaurant, we were joined by a young man who teaches at a school in the area north of La Libertad. He would be our guide today, and a critical piece of our ministry. Not many gringos go into this area, and those who do are usually met by distrust. Today I learned first hand the truth of the statement, “If you are a friend of my friend, then you are my friend.” Even with the support of the teacher, we were still met by a number of people with fear and concern about why these white folks were really here.
The time we spent on the road gave me a chance to get to know a bit about this young man who has taught the primary room in a school “near” La Libertad for ten years. He hardly looked old enough to be teaching now, but explained he was actually 28.
I put the word “near” in quotes, because I’ve also learned on this trip what a relative term that is. In this case, “near” meant an hour and a half drive on what Dick described as some of the worst roads he’s seen in Guatemala. Steep hills and curves and “switchbacks” seemed to be constant on this narrow, dirt road through the mountains. The “road” was peppered with small monuments. When I asked the teacher what these were, he explained that these were memorials to people who had driven off the road and fallen down the mountain and died. I had to ask!
Since our guide had ridden a “chicken bus” into Huehue to meet us, I asked him how he got from his home in La Libertad, up into this remote area each day. I was expecting him to say by horse or motor scooter. I was astounded when he explained that he WALKS to get to and from school. He reassured me, however, that it really wasn’t that bad. He spends every other night sleeping in the school, going home only on alternate days! I remembered all the times, when I was teaching, that I had grumbled at having to return to school at night for a meeting—and I’m sure I was paid much better than he. My new friend doesn’t seem to mind this, though, as he says he loves teaching and obviously loves the children. 
Arriving at the school, we were greeted by a group of about 20 people, many of whom needed wheelchairs. One by one, Dick patiently and compassionately measured each and found out something of their background. Finding out their medical condition, though, was impossible. It seems almost no one had ever seen a real doctor, and those who had knew only that they had been given medicine which had run out long ago. A number of these were children. The best way to give a “face” to them is to try to introduce you to each of these wonderful people:
First is Noe Abidail Gomez Martinez and his parents. I don’t remember his age, but I do remember his mom carrying him in a sling on her back as if he were a baby. This was their only way of travel, but it was causing his back to become curved and compromised his ability to breathe properly. As “luck” would have it (Dick calls these “GODINCIDENCES” and I’m going to take the liberty of borrowing his term) Dick had “just happened” to bring an extra wheelchair. This chair also “just happened” to be the right type and size for little Noe, and after Dick and Fernando made a few adjustments, his mom no longer will need to carry him everywhere she goes.
As Dick was measuring Noe, I walked over to a lady with a “baby” on her back. I hesitantly asked if it would be okay for me to hold the “baby.” Mom gently placed her in my arms. This was my introduction to Lisvi Escalante Perez, and her mother Francisca. Lisvi, however, is not a baby, but a marvelous little girl of SIX who could not have weighed over fifteen pounds. I thought I was familiar with starvation, but as I held this precious little one in my arms, my heart sank to my feet, and tears welled in my eyes. Lisvi will forever “haunt” me. This was not some abstract, starving child in an ad, but a flesh and blood little girl God had permitted me to hold.
I waited for Dick to finish with Noe, and walked over to him with Lisvi. I desperately needed him to tell me that my inexperienced assessment of her condition was wrong. The immediate look in his eyes told me I was not. As he tenderly took her to measure her for a wheelchair, he carefully invited Francisca, her husband and Lisvi to accompany us back to Antigua in a few days. He explained the malnutrition ward at Hermano Pedro, assuring mom that it was their decision whether or not Lisvi would be admitted. Watching Dick protectively cuddle this frail child, I couldn’t help but think of our Heavenly Father holding and loving us. Once again I experienced “Jesus with skin on” through the ministry of my friend. This was a “holy ground” moment for me.
With a look of fear in her eyes, Francisca explained that she would have to speak with her husband about the trip to Antigua. She did not know his cell number, but we could contact her through the teacher. We also gave her Roland’s cell number. I walked away downhearted. There was so much more I wanted to say, but knew I needed to be silent. This was one of many times on the trip my flesh struggled to let God be God. I stood alone, muttering the prayer, “Lord, I want to serve you, but it hurts too much!” We would have to await papa’s decision. 
We next met Samuel Lopez Gomez, a timid and shy little boy who sprang to life when Dick handed him this tape measure. We’re not exactly sure why, but Samuel needs a wheelchair. We do know, however, that Samuel enjoyed playing with our “kid magnet,” Fernando.
Another very quiet and shy child was Irenia Samayoa Perez. She clung to her mother and hesitated to speak, no matter how much we coaxed. I finally asked her if she would help me play a trick on Dick, and she reluctantly agreed after much coaxing from her mother. I then taught her the nickname the children at Hermano Pedro (and I’m told others throughout Guatemala) call Dick—“Dick-a-loco.” Out of respect for my elders, I will withhold comment on the accuracy of this nickname. We practiced this a few times, and then called Dick over. When she called him this name, Dick, of course, produced an appropriately dramatic response. Both Irenia and her mother roared with laughter. Seeing their enjoyment made it worth the slap in the head I received for expanding the use of this term of endearment to yet another Guatemalan village!
Adults were also in need of wheelchairs. Eufemia Lucas Morales walks only with difficulty after breaking her ankle and having numerous surgeries. She wants nothing more than to be able to take care of her home and her family without pain. She also was promised a wheelchair.
We also saw another woman, whose husband had brought her in on horseback. Her feet were so twisted she could not bear any weight on them. Her fear was so evident that Dick asked me to talk with her first, thinking perhaps she would be more comfortable with a woman measuring her. For one of the first times this day, I actually felt like I was accomplishing something; being more than a tourist. I don't think I ever did see her smile, however. The tenderness her husband showed in caring for her was touching in this country where so many men are at best harsh with their wives.
Our last “customer” for a wheelchair here was Manolia Lopez Perez. This beautiful young woman of 22 is unable to walk because of swelling of her legs and sores on her feet. Once again, we were limited in knowing how to best help her, as we really didn’t know what was wrong with her. We pray that one day soon Dick and Rolando will be able to return to this area with a physician who can at least assess these cases and give some direction for the best course of treatment and care.
As we were about to leave, I was approached by a young mother with a 3 month old. The baby was not growing, and seemed to be spitting up most of what he was eating. Mom also described, with great distress how he would cry almost continuously. She had heard that we had offered to take Lisvi to the malnutrition ward, and wondered if we could take her little one also. While this infant obviously needed medical attention, it broke my heart and brought tears to my eyes to explain to her that her son was not yet sick enough to be treated in the clinic. The mother in me was crying out at the injustice of a small child having to get weaker to receive help, but I realize there are more needs than can be met. I did pray with her and the baby, but left with James 2: 15-16 ringing in my ears:
“Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food.
If one of you says to him, 'Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,'
but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?”
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