I have wept for love of them...

I, the Lord of sea and sky, I have heard my people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin,
My hand will save...
I who made the stars of night, I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?
Here I am, Lord. Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night. I will go, Lord, if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

You all may recognize this hymn—it’s from Isaiah 6:8. Before I left for my first Guatemala trip this February, I taped these verses to my car door in order to motivate myself beyond my post-college comfort zone of a rock-climbers life in small town North Carolina. It worked.

This is a picture of me putting on a puppet show last Tuesday... note my characteristicly goofy expression!) For months, I have been happy to hum and repeat this part of the song…in the car, in the shower… I confuse the words and start again! This song can really motivate the idealistic missionary! HERE I AM LORD!! Whoohoo! Send me to the corners of the earth! I can put up with the rats (yes, I had one IN MY ROOM this week) and remote living—JUST GO AHEAD AND SEND ME!

Eight short weeks into mission work, however, the balance between idealism, realism and cynicism has become a tightrope walk. Don’t worry—I am still happily humming “Here I am Lord...” but the other day, I remembered the next verses of this hymn.

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my peoples pain.
I have wept for love of them.
They turn away.

Why are these words now so poignant? Here’s an example from the week:
Mariano, the sick man that I have pictured in an earlier blog, has been looking worse. His feet and face have swollen—a textbook sign of severe malnourishment, and he speaks of death. Last week, when I was in a rush to refill his medicine in the late afternoon, I asked a young boy to run up to Mariano’s house to deliver a package of antibiotics, rice and vitamins. The little boy smiled, told me his name, and said “Sure Sarita!” He was happy to take it. Supposedly, he lived nearby. I was relieved to forgo the long hike as the sun went down.
Come to find out a few days later, Mariano didn’t receive my package. The boy had stolen the rice and the vitamins and the crucial antibiotics. I was surprised to find out that an eight-year old would lie about his name—How’s that for a Guatemalan Oliver Twist? I felt lazy, naïve, and betrayed by the village. How could someone do such a…
BECAUSE THESE PEOPLE ARE INCREDIBLY DESPERATE! In the U.S., we have little temptation to steal… my only run-in with this commandment happened at age 5, and involved a pink golf tee and a furious mom. I have never felt so desperate as to smuggle candy from the gas station, or new clothes from the Gap, but that I’ve never been on the other side of suffering, either. The lure of stealing is so much ENTICING for the people of Pinalito… where the two tomatoes growing in my garden are the only vegetables a family may eat in a month…or the dishtowel in my laundry would be so nice for the new baby, who already has a terrible rash from sitting in wet bedding. When the bananas are so easily chopped down under the mask of night, and the corn and beans locked away for the widows are only a smashed window away…
I’ve had my frustrated moments, I’ll admit— I even threw my hat across the room upon discovering the stolen tomatoes! But really… the tomatoes were not mine. I was just a caretaker. I don’t need the vitamins as badly as these villagers. Their skin is flaking for lack of Vitamin E. They suffer from terrible night blindness, supposedly for lack of Vitamin A. I hate that the people steal, but I cannot be angry at them.

I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak my word to them,
Whom shall I send?

Last Tuesday, I was given the opportunity to shadow a group of Guatemalan doctors as they worked in a nearby village. For hours, I scribbled medical terms and dosage furiously in my notebook, and laughed on cue as the doctors (most of whom spoke English, and had studied in the U.S.) repeated the same joke with their stethoscopes in hand—something about the monkeys inside the children’s chests. I learned how to examine the people… how to feel their swollen glands and bellies, how to check their eyes for anemia. I saw what their skin looks like when they are malnourished, and how their mouths develop sores from lack of vegetables. And so I have remembered compassion, and learned how to better help Mariano.


I, the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame.
I will set a feast for them.
My hand will save.
Finest bread I will provide
Till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give my life to them
Whom shall I send?

So yes, thank you for reading my slightly "sappy" entry, and once again, THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT. It has been my dream to come here… Dr. Strunk was quite right, and so gracious to tell my story. I have stood with my hands in the air shouting “SEND ME, LORD! “ And now I feel famous—but undeservedly so! These grand “adventures” are those of a curious girl hoping to “step into other people’s shoes”… all of the good stuff is God.