An ah-ha moment on Continental Airlines

In case you skipped last month's entry, suffice to say that I began my year in Pinalito a little out of sorts. Tired from self-imposed CHAOS at home, where I consistently forgot to take time for myself, I returned to the mountain in hope of a short rest. No luck there. Pinalito swung into action with catch-up work. Six weeks away had weakened the basic programs of Faith in Action. Children were dirtier than I had ever seen them, and their undernourishment accelerated by the lack of food, vitamins and clinic medicine. (This photo is Maria, age seven. She is suffering from "wet malnourishment" in which her body does not have enough protein. She is severely under-weight, pictured here in size 2 clothing.)

Before we could recover the scaffold, however, the mission house and apartments filled with the wonderful Cashiers, NC mission team, and our attentions turned to construction and program revamping. We welcomed Koos Hagg, a wonderful servant from Louisville, as well as Michael and Rocky Beene, the heads of FIA, who returned to the mountain after eight months on furlough… and thus we started the grind of team building. After last year’s Pinalito experience in which I was my own boss—chasing my own ideas and responsible for my own errors, the initial change on the mountain made me want to pout in the corner!

In addition, I received a phone call from my Dad on March 6th, asking me to please fly home for my grandmother’s funeral. Desperate to see my family, I wandered around the Guatemala airport in an unsettled daze until I finally managed to schedule an early-morning Continental flight. The airline clerks at the counter were surely glad to see me out of the country!

On the plane, I picked up the Bible and started to read Luke. Although I’ve never been one to get really absorbed in the Bible, I didn’t put the book down until I landed seven hours later at Louisville’s Standiford Field. That day, instead of seeing the words as rules or inspiring "one-liners," I fell into a conversation with the red print on the pages. I was stressed over many issues... I just didn’t think that I had the stuff to leave my boat and follow God.
A) I like to be in control, even if it’s on an isolated mountain.
B) I know I’m supposed to love all of these poor people around me, but they sure can drive me crazy sometimes.
C) I’d rather be accepted as “normal” in the world, not flagged as a fanatic, but the more I work as a missionary, the more I want to know this Jesus character.

So I kept reading. The details were puzzling me; religious advice was colliding in my head as I read parable after parable. The crowds in Galilee must have felt the same way, because finally, in Luke 18:26, an onlooker asks Jesus, "Who, then, can be saved?" as if he was at his wit's end! Woe to the rich man and woe to the lawyer… the rules can add up, the arguments get overwhelming! But Jesus, the teacher, answers, "The things that are impossible with man are possible with God." Jesus never said yes or no to the crowds, you know, but He prods us on. Eventually, my heart understands the storyline. God is real. His love is profound. I can trust this much. Jesus explains it pretty well, after all.

When I arrived at home in Louisville, I had ditched my bad attitude and my pout—the last of my knots was unlocked by my brothers’ teasing and some Alabama sweet tea. I was joyful at my grandmother’s funeral. I spoke at the church service—Linden United Methodist, where I was baptized—and told my grandmother’s friends and family that God is real, and His love is profound. I don’t know much more than this, but I feel good about my sweet grandmother, and my role in the mission field to boot. The final hymn, the "Hymn of Promise," sealed the deal. In our end is our beginning…in our time, infinity. God’s word is not a vehicle for self-help or self-righteousness. It is selfless—explaining that when we die to ourselves, we will live in Him instead.

So, today is March 27. I’ve just had a great week in Pinalito with an old friend, Michelle Coleman, whom I met six years ago at Camp Merrie-Woode. Michelle was a wonderful addition to the mission field this week— she is always positive and curious, posing questions that constantly affirm my love for this work! She came at another exciting upswing in mountain life, for last Wednesday afternoon, Melanie and I received a Nissan pick-up truck for use in the mission field! Three days later, the internet-technician visited Pinalito again, this time to install antennae and receivers in both my apartment and the community center classroom! We are wired!

Immediately, life has become easier and more efficient on the mountain. I received an email from UNICEF with information on hygiene and food supplements for undernourished children, and I was instantly able to schedule a meeting in their Guatemala City office. I printed out lesson plans and curriculums for the upcoming after-school program, and have scheduled interviews with the selected students. Dr. Mark Jackson has changed clinic-life by helping me with dermatology via email and digital pictures. Old frustrations with infections and pox are less burdensome now; there are potential cures! On top of all of this, I was able to make hotel confirmations for Michelle from Pinalito, and then DRIVE down the mountain instead of hiking!

Interestingly enough, in this week of huge blessings, Michelle reminded me that this is the season of Lent. (I couldn’t fathom why anyone would turn down peanut M&Ms or Zacapa ice cream for dessert, but then I remembered…) Without the purple stoles of Sunday church and Mom’s hot-cross buns, I had forgotten the tradition of making a sacrifice during this season. Of course, my usual sacrifices don’t really work here on the mountain; my chocolate is already rationed for desperate moments, I don’t have a TV, nor can I indulge in the newest clothes trends. But Lent isn’t necessarily about chocolate and TV time, is it? It’s more about dying to yourself—ignoring your own desires and emotions, like Jesus did when Pilot approached him. He figured, ‘Hey… it’s for a greater purpose, why not die on a cross?’ That’s pretty good motivation to stay on the mission field, too.

And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work. 2 Corinthians 9:8

Ten-Four Over and Out!

THANKS FOR THE WALKIE TALKIES, DAD! We are high-tech now! Faith in Action villages of Pinalito and Matasano can now speak across the valley... we are redefining fellowship!

Last Saturday, the internet fix-it man finally came to Pinalito! We are reconnected, and are brainstorming solar options so that we can be online without tugging the generator cord! All we need is a "deep cycle" battery and inverter!

Also, we recently discovered a cellular signal in the mountains! What a blessing to be able to call Mom from my front porch! I never would have imagined...

Back in Guatemala-- but this time, on my knees

Dear Friends,
Two months have passed without a blog entry; I am embarrassed at my lack of communication. Please don't think I have abandoned Pinalito, or the story that is developing through my life here. I am on the mountain again—safe and settled—but still without internet after three weeks. I have come down to Zacapa by myself this weekend to write, sleep, pray, and take a break from my full-speed missionary life. Everything seems so exhausting these days, I have to admit. I am tired after a three-minute conversation in Spanish, confused by directions, and constantly losing things during break-neck days of travel. I am empty without my family—and feeling self-consciously unloved by the village, who always ask for money, candy and work, but never ask "Hi, how are you?"
So it's hard to sit down and write today. You all realize that the "stories" that fill my blog are not fiction. The characters are real—suffering from sickness, malnutrition or alcoholism. The mountain setting really is without roads, an economy, proper food or sanitation. Still, when writing each blog, I am always looking for a plot with a happy ending. When I cannot find one, my notebook is just muddled with thoughts and frustrations.
To get started, I'll give you an example-- Guatemalan embezzlement. In order to shop in the markets and groceries of Zacapa, I must have "quetzals," or Guatemalan cash. Just like in the U.S., I immediately hit the ATM when my wallet gets light. I have a Visa debit card and pin number, and usually the cash is doled out miraculously! But this winter, Guatemala is plagued with embezzlement charges. Government elections are coming up, and the corrupt politicians are renowned for smuggling truckloads of quetzals across the border. My Visa card, therefore, is worthless. There are no bills to dole out; the bank tellers shrug their shoulders and try to suggest restaurants, hotels, and larger chain stores that accept credit cards.
Obviously, this obstacle resonates far wider than my own empty pocket. As embezzlement continues, banks start to go out of business, and entire Guatemalan savings accounts are lost in the shuffle. For a country that is just learning how to save and plan ahead, banking disasters like this are detrimental. Investments fall apart, college savings are lost, the hopes for a block house, or indoor plumbing, are shot. The impoverished return to a lifestyle of gloom and doom—sure that God has turned His back on them. What can I say to reassure them He has not?"
Speaking of the Guatemalan government, Melanie, Jaime and I took our next-door neighbor, Juana, to the hospital two weeks ago. (On my second day back in Pinalito!) Juana was determined to have her tubes tied after the birth of her child—her ninth!) and she asked us to drive her to Zacapa for the delivery and operation to follow. By the time we arrived at the ER, Juana's contractions were 2 minutes apart. The technicians swept her into the delivery room, and baby Juan Ronaldo was born less than an hour later. But the operation was never completed, and Juana will have to return to Zacapa another time to have her tubes tied. I just hope she doesn't get pregnant again before she gets the courage to enter the Zacapa hospital again. The place is unsanitary and hot, the toilets are mere holes in the ground, and the technology is outdated-- Juana's surgery could put her out of commission for months. Whereas Zacapa is thriving with new parks and buildings, the hospital reveals the country's extreme poverty.
Also in my notebook, there are pages on Jilmer, the malnourished 4-year-old for whom we have been caring. He has gained weight, thank God. At 26 pounds, he now appears to be a chubby 18-month-old boy. He parrots almost everything we say—English or Spanish, and loves the attention as we laugh at his antics. I'm glad that Jilmer is "fat and happy," but I was hoping for quicker progress. I hoped that chicken soup and vitamins would work miracles, and that Jilmer would be walking and potty trained by February. How unrealistic of me! Instead, he suffers the frustrations of a four-year-old who cannot play with his peers. Because of his malnourishment, he has a deformed cornea in his left eye, and will probably need surgery in the upcoming months. He misses his family; it breaks my heart when he cries "Mami" from his crib at night. We are providing the food and medications, but I am starting to question what more we can do for our little "Lazarus." Now, the topic of discussion is how Jilmer will readapt to village living and the unsanitary conditions of his mom and dad's block house.

So I confess to a lot of hand-wringing this month. I didn't return to Pinalito this year with the same bubbling optimism that pushed me throughout last fall. My inadequacy, be it my stunted garden or my inability to provide for Jilmers' needs, has humbled me tremendously. Without God, we humans can do very little. Sure, we can invent computers and create immunizations, but we can't get to Heaven, we can't perform miracles, and we cannot run full-speed without looking to God to fill us up. I am spiritually tired, and as I sit in Zacapa this morning, I know that it is time to pray. I've never been so aware of my own weakness that I have fallen to my knees. But as Michael Beene, my friend and leader in Faith in Action once prayed, "The way to success is down, not up." I'll keep you all posted on how it goes. In prayer....

(Santos helping me with my garden.... the beets turned out great, too bad I really loathe the taste of beets! And my carrots... well, let's just say I am still a rookie!)