July 31, 2006

Words of affirmation and love and indubitable belief in the Creator and his son were always spoken into my life, from both of my parents. Particularly my mother taught me to live by their lives example. The words my mother spoke were consistent with her actions; her life hardly ever was contradictory to the life she claimed. My mother is and was a prime example of what it was to live a life for Christ. Every morning my mother woke up, before anyone else in the house, to meditate and study the Bible. She often taught Bible studies at the Church, and somehow found it in her to see everything in light of the word of God. Right and wrong were nearly always black and white in her sight, as she had grown up in a legalistic Baptist Church. Somehow despite legalism, I learned to study, research and find out for myself what I believed and why. It was the very idea that my mother knew what she believed and where and how to defend her beliefs that taught me to not believe everything I heard.

My parents led by example, I have such vivid memories of the generosity and compassion that flowed from my parents hearts. As a family, we would end up in Queen Creek; we lived in Arizona, many Sunday afternoons at a Migrant workers camp. At the camp, a group of families from our church would meet to serve them a small feast. Every year around Christmas as a family, we would buy thick and cozy blankets and sweatshirts and put them in the trunk of our car. We would drive to downtown Phoenix and hand them out to the people living on the streets. I remember very clearly one Saturday morning that my dad and I woke up around five in the morning to go help out at the food bank together. After working for the morning packing food, we drove through a McDonalds for breakfast. There was a man sitting by the speaker-box, a homeless man, he asked my dad for food or money to buy food, and without a question in his eyes, my dad reached in his wallet and handed him good chunk of money. While I am sure my dad does not remember this moment, it made an everlasting impression on my heart. My dad did not question whether or not he would use the money for drugs or alcohol, he simply gave what he could to the man who was hungry, he fed him. Growing up I was never allowed to say that I was ‘starving,’ if it ever slipped I was quickly hushed with the realization that I had no idea what it was to starve. Children around the world are starving and have not eaten in days or even weeks. These incidents along with many others I learned what it was to have give and have compassion for those truly suffering. If all I have to give is my time and myself, that is worth giving and I learned this from my parents. How better to love somebody than to learn about and know them.

My mother always instilled in me the value of independence. Growing up I was repeatedly told and taught to stand on my own two feet. I was always told that I never needed anyone to complete me other than Christ, not a boyfriend or friend. I had the ability, the mind and the will, to educate, support and provide for myself. Not anyone could complete me or support me but myself and Jesus Christ, a daily theme in my house.

The values and qualities that guide me through this journey have undoubtedly derived from the example and teachings of my parents. My parent’s hearts taught me to feel compassion and love the poor. It is from their guide that I have been given the spiritual gift of mercy. To give and give generously with anything I had. My constant struggle is dealing with the Latin American, legalistic Nazarene Church; it is my love for my mother and her journey of escaping of legalism that has given me patience to tread on. My mother always instilled in me self-dependence and reliance, and a strong belief system. From this, I developed the courage to venture off on my own, to go, to continue to tread on, and to strive to learn and just be with people.

Upon embarking on my journey, I did not have many expectations of where I would find guides and mentors. I only knew that when the time came, God would provide. For some reason, I had the idea that I needed to be apart of a Church. Almost like a dream or vision that God gave me. It was where I would find a safe haven of brothers and sisters in Christ, where I would be able to let my guard down and be accepted without having to prove myself. What was different about this was that my plans had included nothing to do with a Church. I was to be working with a non-religious organization, at Lake Atitlán. However, my plans included this illusion of the need to find a home and place in the local Church. It was in the Church that I knew I had to go to find something, while I did not know what it was that I needed to find.

When I arrived in Guatemala, my insecurities about my previous plans began to unravel. It was then that I began to urgently pray for God to ravel up a new plan, the one he already had prepared. As I expressed my concern to the Pastors of the Nazarene Church in Machaquilá, where my group had been working for the first month, they quickly began to assure me that Lake Atitlán is not where God wanted to use me. We sat and prayed for where God would have me, and they proceeded to assure me that they would continue to pray that God would lead me and help me find my place in Guatemala. Suddenly Hermana Elsy began to throw out all these different ideas. She excitedly expressed great interest in being apart of my journey and immediately decided she would take the role of my mother as I was away from my family. She told me “You can of course live with us and work at our Compassion Project.” Nevertheless, she decided that this was not the best idea, as she recognized that this Project was not well organized and needed a lot of help. She decided that one of the larger, more experienced organizations would be where I could learn the most. She began to throw out all these ideas, “You could of course live with my parents, who have a huge house near Rio Dulce, and work at the orphanage Casa Guatemala. This orphanage hosts street children from all over Guatemala and you would be able to work and live in the dorms it provides or with my parents. There is even a well-known NGO working with Keq’chi’s in Rio Dulce named Ak’Tenamit. Where you could both live and work.” She then offered to look into all of the options, and told me to continue to pray for God’s guidance.

I returned to Antigua with my team and continued to pray. When the team left, I stayed there for a week, began my work and started settling in on what God had for me. After that week, I decided to make my way up to Machaquilá to see the Pastors. I called them to confirm my plans, and Elsy immediately was ready to come and pick me up in the City, a seven-hour ride from the town. I insisted that I would be fine making the trip on my own; it just did not make sense for her to come all the way there only to return. I then, alone, made the trip up to the small town of 4,000. When I arrived there was a complete trip planned to Rio Dulce, a room awaiting me at Elsy’s parents house, and plans to visit the projects. This unexpected help came to me by the grace of God. While none of the organizations worked out and there were huge lacks in communication due to language barriers, Elsy wanted what was best for me. She then invited me to live with her family in Machaquilá and work at the Compassion International Project. This unforeseen help came as quite a pleasant surprise, and while at times it is difficult to live at a church, I know this is where I am supposed to be. Ironically, my prior intuitions about my need to be apart of the Church in Guatemala, had been proven to be helpful visions.