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!)