An Unexpected Trip to the Coast (August 6, 2010)

Clara, Ronnie, Dad, Orlindo, Estellita, Momma, Dovan, Claudia and Jessica

I was awakened at 6 am this morning by my phone ringing. (Actually I’d been pretty much awake since about 4, but lying in bed daydreaming and/or praying.) I was surprised to see the call was from Dick. Ronnie’s dad had just called him, and he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted, but thought it was urgent for him to have called at this early hour. Would I call and find out what he needed?

Ronnie’s family has become especially dear to me over the last two years, so of course I was willing to call. I found out that Ronnie’s grandma, who had been battling cancer for a number of years, had died during the night. The family had no money to bury her. Would we help?

Well, within the hour Dick and I were headed to Santa Lucia, on our way to Ronnie’s. I got to see a bit more of the damage done to the countryside by tropical storm Agatha—including a road that was mostly washed out, but still in use. While I can’t say I was particularly scared crossing this area, I was grateful that even though it was not raining, Dick hugged the shoulder opposite the cave in.

We made good time and arrived to find many family members at Ronnie’s aunt’s house, where grandma had died. We first went farther down the road to Ronnie’s house to visit. Though the family knew that Grandma was dying, they all were taking it pretty hard. Ronnie seemed especially subdued today.

We talked about what had been going on in their lives, discovering that two of the children who had not been doing very well in school had improved significantly. Amid the grief, we were able to brighten their day a bit by discussing an outing we hope to take with the kids in the near future. Dick regularly rewards the kids for good grades, and this time we’d even reward increased effort and improvement.

While the children were working hard in school, we found that four of them were having their grades “docked” because their shoes had worn out, and they weren’t wearing the correct ones. This pretty much enraged me, because I know this is illegal to do, even in Guatemala. But, as with many laws on the books here, no one enforces certain aspects of a “free” education, and though the schools must comply if the parents resist, in the end the kids will pay the price by receiving different forms of ridicule from their teachers. I have met some of the absolutely best teachers in the world here in Guatemala. I have also met some who I think take pleasure in persecuting poor children. At any rate, I was able to make sure that next week the kids would have new shoes and would be receiving the grades they earned.

As we were talking, we also learned that Ronnie’s mother was expecting her eighth child. I still don’t really know how my heart is reacting to this news. In addition to the difficulty they already have feeding their seven children, Ronnie’s mother is a carrier of the gene for muscular dystrophy, which is the disease that is slowly killing Ronnie. This means, if the child is a boy, he has a 50% chance of also having MD. If a girl, she will have a 50% chance of carrying the gene for MD, and will pass it on to her children if she does. It is hard to watch Ronnie’s condition deteriorate. Dick is constantly looking for signs of MD in the two younger boys. I can hardly think about the possibility that this family might have to one day go through this devastating disease with another child. Yet, another is on the way. I believe in my head that no child is an accident, that each is a gift from God. Sometimes, though, it’s hard to get my heart to go along with what I already know.

We finally went down to pay our respects to Ronnie’s grandma. Dick had known her for years, even facilitating the building of a house for her. She was a rather difficult woman, who had suffered many disappointments in her life, and life had taken its toll on her in many ways. (Those of you from the 2008 Westside team know her. It was her house that we moved to set on a foundation.) Whatever her failings, though, it was clear to me how much her grandchildren loved her. Claudia, who is four, clung to me, telling me she really didn’t understand why she could not see her grandma any more. This broke my heart as a grandma, but I was grateful she felt close enough to me to share her confusion at all that was going on.

As we went to leave, the “hearse” (really a type of station wagon looking car with a HUGE speaker mounted on top) had arrived and was blocking the narrow road. So we would wait. And wait we did, only to discover that the coffin that had been brought was too small. The funeral home would have to return to La Gomera, a town about 30 min. away, for a larger one. Could anything else be more difficult?

The answer was yes. In turning around, the hearse got stuck in mud all the way up to the back bumper. The more the driver tried to get out, the more he spun his wheels and dug himself in deeper. Ronnie’s dad had a heavy chain, and, after a few attempts, the Land Cruiser came through once again and Dick was able to pull the hearse to solid ground.

This was a long day, and quite a drive to pay a condolence call, but I think both Dick and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I have always counted it a privilege to walk through these painful times with families in Omaha, and now I am finding myself able to do this here in Guatemala. I never quite know what to say or do, so always fall back on Jesus’ command to “love one another as I have loved you.” Isn’t that all we can really do for anyone—love them like Jesus?