I'm just not comfortable. . .

Through recent events, God has helped me articulate the fact that my life is not comfortable.  It is rich and full and joyful, but not really comfortable.  In fact, when I am comfortable, I have learned to see it as a gift from God--a small respite because He is renewing me and recharging me to once more step out of my comfort-zone, often out of my talents and capabilities, and follow where He leads.

Reflecting on a recent experience made me realize this.  Dick had taken me and my young friend Mary Ann on a short road trip.  I don't get to do many of these anymore, and I do enjoy it (though I have to admit traveling here can wear me out).

A lot of food. . .and my van cannot make it
into the village where the widows live, so Dick
kindly takes us.

We were going to take the food sponsored by a friend in the States to some widows who live in Tecpan, about 2 hours from Antigua.  I love visiting these women, and had not been out there since before my trip to the US.

On the way Dick wanted to drop off food at the home of another family for whom he has a sponsor.  After doing that we passed by the home of Maria, a young woman with a disability who lived on our way to our next stop. Dick wanted to stop in.

Maria has been being cared for by an elderly grandmother.  Grandma had also cared for Maria's two older siblings who had the same condition and died from in.  We know Maria will die from this one day, but the last time I had seen her she was happy  and chatty, sitting in her wheelchair outside of  her simple adobe house.

As I approached the house, I heard someone wailing.  Not whimpering, but the kind of crying associated with the death of a loved one here.  I wanted to turn and run, afraid that we were walking in on the wake of either Maria or her grandmother.

I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE stepping into that grief, whatever it was.  Only by the grace of the Holy Spirit could I move forward.

What I found inside was worse than death.  Maria was lying on a hard, cotton mattress on the dirt floor of her home, screaming as if in terrible pain.  Once again, I wanted to turn and run with every fiber of my being.  I AM NOT COMFORTABLE  confronting so much suffering.  I am not a nurse or a doctor, and I AM NOT COMFORTABLE filling in for one, even though none are available in this area.  I AM NOT COMFORTABLE looking debilitating illness in the face as it swallows a person whole on their way to death.

I didn't know what to do.  How could Dick or I possibly help in this apparently hopeless situation?  I knew certainty, though, that God had led us here, though we had not intention of seeing Maria when we left home.  So, if He brought us here, He wanted us here.  I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE here, but I had to TRUST that He would lead me in what to do next.

So I knelt down on the floor beside her bed (I WAS NOT COMFORTABLE doing this since increasing I have trouble getting up from the floor--gotta love getting older.)  And I prayed and prayed, and she screamed and screamed.  As I was praying God did not give me any revelation, nor did He miraculously stop her suffering as I would have liked Him to do.

No, the prompting I got was much simpler: put her in her wheelchair.  I have no idea why she was not in her chair.  Her family who had come in with our arrival were all there, and capable of putting her in the chair, but they insisted that she did not like it.  We persisted, and as soon as she was in the chair, her wailing ceased.

We learned that Grandma herself is not doing well and cannot get out of bed.  This requires Maria's siblings to come and care for her.  While what they said would indicate that they cared for her well, what we encountered said otherwise.  No one had been with Grandma and Maria when we came, and you had to wonder if anyone would be there after we left.

The family told me that Maria could not eat, but she was clutching an apple.  I asked if she was hungry and her face lit up.  So Dick set off to look for a pharmacy that might have Ensure, and to get something like ibuprofen to relieve her joint pain.  (The family sad that she was not able to sleep at night because of the pain.)

While they were gone I took the apple, cut it open and began showing her sister how to scrape it with a spoon to get something resembling baby food.  As I was feeding this to Maria, it became obvious she could chew soft food and swallow it easily.  I began giving here bigger and bigger pieces which she chewed an swallowed without difficulty.

When Dick returned with a banana, she was able to hold it ant eat it herself.  She ate as someone would who had not been fed in a while.  Maria can no longer speak, so we have to infer things from her behavior.  I was feeling very uncomfortable distrusting the family until Mary Ann, the young Guatemalan woman who was with us, also voiced her concerns about the truthfulness of the family. 

Dick had bought Ensure, and Maria gulped down half a glass of it.  She was indeed hungry.  This was one need we could meet.  Dick now has a sponsor and will be bringing in Encaparina (a common drink loaded with nutrition) and fruit and other nutrition food that does not require a lot of preparation.  We made it very clear this would was just for Maria and her grandmother, and Dick will be following up on that.

We also decided that Maria needed something softer than that dirty, hard cotton mattress to lay on, and since there was no one to take her to the bathroom at night, diapers to help her stay more comfortable in the night. We will be providing her with diapers and if anyone feels led to sponsor her diapers for one month, they will run about $40 a month and you can make a donation at Reason to Hope, Inc.  Even a donation for a one month supply will help us a lot.  Just email me at patd@reasontohope.org to let me know your donation is for Maria.

I had an egg crate mattress and a large piece of memory foam a friend had given me (everyone wonders why I save this stuff for which I have no immediate use!) and Dick took that back to her a few days after our visit.  This seems to have made her much more comfortable lying down.

This whole situation made me UNCOMFORTABLE and continues to do so.  We have no real way of knowing how well the family is caring for her.  I left determined to contact the social worker for the area and ask her to check on Maria and her grandmother.

However, I failed to get Maria's full name, and there are no addresses here to send out a social worker.  The social work system here is complicated and I'm still trying to located one for this area.

If anyone in Guatemala knows where the nearest Social Workers would be located, please let me know.

I AM NOT COMFORTABLE involving the government in this situation, but know Dick and I cannot follow up often enough ourselves due to the distance.  I AM NOT COMFORTABLE realizing that the only way a social worker will find Maria is if we take him or her in there ourselves.  I AM NOT COMFORTABLE facing the reaction of the family when we do so, though I will present it as an attempt to help all of them care for Maria.  I AM NOT COMFORTABLE with this whole situation.

And my comfort is NOT important.  I have a decision to make.  Will I follow my feelings, or will I follow the Holy Spirit's lead.  We are not called to be comfortable but to be Jesus to those around us.

Please pray with me that I will be faithful to be Jesus in this situation, no matter how uncomfortable I might be. (Maybe this is what Jesus meant when He talked about dying to self.)