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When I moved to Guatemala, I did it for the babies, the preschoolers, the kids, the adolescence, the teens. Basically, anyone younger than myself. Things have shifted a little bit just within the past few months.

The last Sunday of the month, I am starting to join a youth group in serving at a retirement home. Yes. A home filled with (most) over 70 years, with wheel chairs and walkers taking up half of the wide walkways, some hooked up to oxygen machines, and others waiting to grab an appointment with the onsite therapist or nurse.

A group of maybe 10 of us enter in the front gates to an open roof square, with most of the wheelchairs line up against the walls, while others are slowly walking around, soaking in the sun or following the visiting birds. We all walk our own path, taking time to have one on one conversations with those who live there, inviting them to come join us for service. Soon enough, we’ll create a train of wheelchairs, assisting in bringing everyone into the cafeteria for worship and a message.

They may weak, sick, in pain, or a mix of the three, but they can still worship! The cafeteria is filled with about 100-150 people ready to clap, sing along, and joyfully join us in praise. One of the pastors on our team will provide a 20 or so minute lesson for them, complete with stories, scripture and prayer for those who request it. There may only be a few hands lifted in the air for those who want prayer, but it is a powerful time for our team and the residents. Everyone can feel God’s presence.

We end the service with a glass of fruit punch and a snack before delivering the wheelchairs and their owner to their original spots. We take the time to clean and pack up before we make our last rounds of visiting. Sometimes, we have fun playing checkers and laughing out on the courtyard. Other times, we get to have real conversations with them, sharing scripture and inviting Jesus into their hearts and lives. With some memory problems, even if these conversations are with the same words and with the same people almost overtime we go, they are still receptive and open to learning.

At 75+ years old, they want to learn. They want to share stories. They want to be noticed and cared for. They’re just like kids in some ways, seeking attention, wisdom, and a listening ear. No matter how old they are, they still have the opportunity to grow or start a relationship with Jesus that will change their eternity, no matter how many years they may have left. It is eye opening to see these seniors for who they are, and to be able to give something back to them, as they have given so much for their children, grandchildren, maybe great-grandchildren, and their country. It is an honor to be a part of this team, giving our time and hearts to loving on and serving those who society sometimes overlook.

Since being back in Guatemala from my most recent states trip, my schedule has changed a bit. For the mornings, I am in the office working alongside kids, answer emails, translating letters to/from sponsors, and running around getting work done around the orphanage that needs to be done for the day. In the afternoons, I get into a rhythm of going out in ministry with We Help Children working with kids, teens, and leaders outside the orphanage walls. Occasionally, it ranges from hospital visits, schools, and other children’s homes. A couple times, it’s revolved around a new adventure to check out other ministry possibilities. Most of the time it is held within the tin shack villages.

These villages aren’t what we think of as US villages, with bikes lining the sidewalks, neighbors out chatting and a cozy coffee cafe on the corner. These are filled with families (usually with multiple children) living off of maybe $5-10 daily. For some families, that estimate is high! They eat what they can afford, their water (if they have access in their house) is flowing out through a pipe onto the dirt road outside, and stray dogs, covered with flies, fleas, and scars, are making themselves comfortable on their doorsteps. Teens ride around on their bikes with loose chains, torn-apart seats, or broken spokes. Some kids have the availability to go to school, while their parents never learned to sign their names. Toddlers run up to their mothers to get a quick sip of milk between activities, while throwing their trash in the streets on the way there.

Our team is different almost every time we go. Sometimes we have 8 people, with two cars all sharing seats so everyone can fit. Other times, it’s two of us working with a single leader of the community. But, there is always a group. We are together, working as a team to make a small impact for the community. No one goes alone.

I am usually with the Guatemalan leader of We Help Children ministry. We will sit down with one of the ladies of the community week after week to start building a relationship, gaining trust, and having a contact person if anything was to come up. We take the hour we are given and begin training these women on how to lead and guide their community. We teach them about families, scripture reading, prayer, finances, their testimony, and the list goes on. These women in who we train will be the head over that community and can help us to minister to their village. We, in turn, continue to support them by bringing donations, helping lead events, and be a source of prayer for them and their village. Our weekly visits turn to monthly as they get further with their training and can begin to help themselves with ministry, teaching, and growing. We do not hope that the Guatemalan village will be dependent on American leadership, guidance, and finances, but we want to show them what it takes to build their village and lean on their own leadership. Guatemalans building up Guatemalans. What’s that saying about teaching a man to fish?!

The other members of our team are doing ministry with the kids, while the parents are learning. By the time we leave for the village, the car is usually packed to the top with balls, puppet, bubbles, parachutes, cones, art supplies, speakers, and candy. They don’t so much follow a set list of activities to do for the day, but get a feeling for what would be best for the kids. Some respond well to the parachute, while others want to color. The bible lesson for the afternoon ranges from a felt board with a kids’ bible reading where the kids get involved by adding things to the board as they are mentioned, to puppets asking the kids questions and explain new ideas to them. Most of these kids have never heard any mention of Jesus, so it’s a high honor to be able to share it with them for the first time.

If time allows for it, I will lead an English class for some of the parents there. Knowing English will provide them with more job opportunities, such as working in a call center, driving a taxi, or in some type of tourism (hotel, restaurant, shop). They are eager when it comes to these classes. I’ve even got excitement from a few of the older kids while joining the class too, getting to work alongside their mother. I think we have a little too much fun with accents and pronunciation!

When the day is over, we all have stories to share that touch our hearts. Maybe it’s a tearful mother of 4 receiving a bag of rice for her kids. A 9 year old accepting Jesus into his heart for the first time. An older sister holding her toddler brother’s hand throughout the activity. Or a testimony of healing shared by a grandmother. Each and every time, we start and end the outreach in prayer, thankful for the opportunity to be light to these communities, and thankful for an afternoon of success and safety. It’s definitely a learning process. We’ve failed at some points, we’ve taken risks, we’re continually looking for areas of growth or improvement. And we do it all to win hearts, make a difference, and change the life of that one. We do it together, as a team, each within our own roles, gifts, and abilities.

January 21- March 5 I spent in Dallas. Some of it was driving around (~3,000 miles), visiting family and friends within a day’s drive away. Another (almost) two weeks of it was spent in bed, without the ability to do anything, other than the occasional painful walk to and from the bathroom or kitchen, along with many hours of Netflix binging and puppy cuddles. It may sound great, but it was hard for me.

What did I take away from the 6-week period?  

1. Living life as a missionary, I am always on the go, from translating an email, to helping with group therapy sessions, village outreaches, organizing donations, visiting families in need, participating in chapel services, washing soccer uniforms, and the infinite other necessities that may come my way on a daily basis, along with keeping up with my own sponsors and their support for me. I’m not familiar with having a down period, a chance to rest. Making a trip, having surgery, and being forced to stop and rest made me uncomfortable. I felt out-of-place. I almost wished I could be doing something for someone else, while sitting in my post-surgery discomfort. I’ve often classified myself more as a human-doing, rather than a human being. I don’t have to do so much to prove who God called me to be.
   
2. I have a great group of people I get to lean on in times of need. From family to friends, church members, previous missionary friends, college classmates, school faculty, I was fully surrounded by prayers and love like I had never felt before. It gave me a chance to reconnect with some I had lost touch with and truly helped me to see how so many go above and beyond to share their support with me. When I both got home from surgery and received the good news, I had about 15-20 people to text, call, or email that I was well, and I’m pretty sure I forgot about some, sorry!
   
3. The day of the surgery, February 7, I got to the hospital about 6:30 in the morning for my 7:00 scan. My wristband was put on right when the door opened at the front desk. When I was all through with scans, injections, surgery, and fully waking up, around 2:30, I was put into a wheelchair and didn’t have to walk two steps to the car my parents valeted. Throughout those 8 hours, from the front receptionist, to the nurse who did my injections and scans, the nurse who walked me back to my first room, the anesthesiologist who drugged me up, the surgeon who did the incisions and stitched me back up (along with the assistants), the nurse who was there by my side when I first opened my eyes, the assistant who gave me (my parents) discharge instructions and walked with me hand in hand to the bathroom, the lady who pushed me in the wheelchair, and the valet worker who pulled the car up, I felt like a celebrity, pampered and cared for with each and every one of my needs. That’s how I want to make each and every person feel when they cross my path…. although, I may decide against knocking anyone out with drugs or giving them the need to have stitches! (Special shout out to my dad and step-mom who housed me and put up with me and the whole process for those 6 weeks!)
4. January 14, I heard the word “melanoma” describing myself. February 15 was my first follow-up appointment post-surgery, where the doctor got the call then and there that I was negative for cancer. All that month, I was a mess of worry, doubt, fear, over thinking, and emotion. Just for a test that I couldn’t change, no matter how hard I “studied”. But, what I didn’t realize that the one who was actually taking the test was the one who created every part of me and knows what’s best for my future, the one who gave the surgeon the skills to be able to make the decisions, who provided those in pathology the tools and abilities to see the final report clearly, and watches over the communities, families, kids, and hearts I have yet to impact. Why am I to doubt if the one who controls all is also looking out for me?

It’s been a period of learning, growing, trusting, and believing. I am grateful to be wrapped up in the arms of the kids again, most of them asking how I’m feeling. It’s going back to the village and getting a huge hug from the village leader asking every week about me. It’s the house parents and psychologists who have told me they were thinking of me, praying for me, and were excited to have me back on the team. It’s the nurse and the doctor who physically make sure I am still standing, healthy, and infection free after getting back on the field only 4 days after my most recent surgery. Thank you to each of you who walked through the process with me, whether near or far.

^“2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,whenever you face trials
of many kinds,³ because you know that the testing of your faith
produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that
you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
James 1:2-4

I apologize in the long period of no blog posts, no newsletter, and minimal social media photos posted. I had a blog post written up near the end of January, but I wanted to wait to see how things played out before sharing too much. Here it is now:

1/19/21

Cancer is a butthead.

Sorry for the “language”, but that phrase sums up my feelings the best I know how to. I have cried most of the days away, hit my head on the pillow with tears in my eyes, and wake up with the streams still flowing. Just thinking, writing, or saying the word “cancer” brings tears to my eyes.

Back in October, I got a biopsy of a small marble-sized bump on my lower back. The dermatologist was surprised that it wasn’t a pus-filled bubble, but firm like a little pebble. She didn’t take much, gave me a stitch or two, and sent me back to Guatemala. It came back mid November as inconclusive, meaning a bunch of people looked at it and couldn’t tell what it was. So, I found myself looking at flights for early December to get it fully removed. A surgeon, in office, took out not only the bump, but the surrounding skin: above, below, and underneath the lump, leaving me with about two dozen stitches, maybe 3 inches long, and I was sent back to Guatemala.

Over a month later, the Monday of all Mondays, we received the results: melanoma. They don’t know if it was fully taken out during my last operation, or if it will require further treatment or surgeries. That Monday night, I maybe got a half hour of sleep, tossing, turning, praying, and worrying the entire night. 24 hours later, I was looking at flights. Not for a usual one or two week visit full of happy reunions, but a one-way back to Dallas the following week, unsure of what’s to come with tests, surgeries, exams, and possible treatment.

I’m not gonna lie, this week has been filled with a LOT of tears. A LOT of fears. A LOT of worries. A LOT of doubting. A LOT of unknown. A LOT of stress. A LOT of nerves. A LOT of pondering. A LOT of pretending to be strong around kids, communities, and fellow volunteers, while hiding my heartache. But, also a LOT of love. A LOT of care. A LOT of support. A LOT of prayers. A LOT of scripture reading. A LOT of worship music. A LOT of encouragement. A LOT of hugs (in person and through email, text, video chats, etc). A LOT of community, both nearby and distant, thinking of and praying for me while I struggle through these thoughts, feelings, and the unknown.

I don’t know what the next days, weeks, or months will hold, but I know WHO holds them. Whether the initial test comes back negative, and I’m back in Guatemala next week, or I am moving back to the states to undergo radiation, chemotherapy, hospital stays, and a bunch more for the next couple months (or years), HE HAS A PLAN. Only He knows what this experience will bring for me, for those medics who will be treating me, for the community that will be supporting me, and for the friends I meet along the way who may be facing a similar experience. I may temporarily off of the global mission field, but I still have a mission. To fight. To stay strong. To keep faith. And to be willing and able to share that faith with any who cross my path.

The Monday I got the news, I slept about a half hour. From those 30 minutes of rest, I clearly remember my dream. It was a voice of one of my pastor friends saying to me, “You inspire me, you encourage me, you’ve made a difference…” I am keeping my mindset on those words, to help inspire, encourage, and make a difference for those around me on the journey that lies ahead.

I’ve got this.

God’s got this.

My prayer warriors have got this.

My medical team’s got this.

We’ve got this.

It takes a village to raise a child. Thanks for being part of my village.

Guatemala, I will be back.

Casa Shalom, I will be back.

We Help Children, I will be back.

Volcano victims, I will be back.

Voy a regresar.

“Why am I discouraged?

Why is my heart so sad?

I will put my hope in God!

I will praise him again-

my Savior and my God!”

Psalm 42:11

—-

3/6/19

I am happy to say I am back at home, in Guatemala, with all my kiddos, friends, ministries, and communities.

February 7 was my initial surgery. I got a good portion taken out of my lower back where the original lump was, and also a few minor cuts to see if anything has spread to the other side into neighboring lymph nodes up front. It wasn’t an easy recovery, with more than a week of bed rest, weekly checkups, and a follow up minor surgery a few weeks following to fix what had not been healing correctly.

February 15, I heard the greatest “no” of my life: no cancer! If I wasn’t almost naked, half wrapped in a hospital gown with a dozen or two fresh stitches in me, I would’ve been dancing and happily crying my way through the doctor’s office.

Thank you to each of you who sent me a thought, prayer, encouraging message, or a shoulder to cry on during the past month and a half. It was greatly appreciated and felt. I thank God for the community He has placed me in full of people who deeply love and care for me! Even thought I am cancer free, I am still living with the mentality of the words from the dream, “You inspire me, you encourage me, you’ve made a difference…”. May these words continue to carry me through complete healing of my recent surgeries and emotional lows and highs.

It’s being run to by a seven year old, holding something small in their hands and looking up at them to see a new gap in their smile, being so proud they took their tooth out by themself. It’s sitting out on the porch, devotions and bible in hand, all alone, getting split second visits from a humming bird or two visiting the flowers a few feet nearby. It’s watching a young boy learning to tie his shoe, finally getting it on the third try. Its watching a girl purchase two chocolate treats, only to give one to her younger brother. It’s laughing and smiling with the preschoolers as they are running in and out of their new playhouse. It’s watching a girl’s face light up with joy when she hears that I will be joining their Christmas party. It’s being checked on by fellow staff members/volunteers when they know I’ve been feeling down. It’s the little things.

The holidays make it feel even harder to be distant from family and friends. Images, videos, and activities of building gingerbread houses, baking dozens of cookies, attending family/friend gatherings, having all the fun in the snow, and simply being present is both joyful and also bring some sadness. I love to see all of the happiness going on, but I know I need to be with the kids that can’t be with family. It’s kinda lonely being with 80+ kids during this season.

This year, like last year, we had a church come to visit to wrap and give out presents to the kids a few weeks before Christmas came. About half of them were excited to see me again this year, as we worked together wrapping 50+gifts each the previous year. It’s about being remembered and feeling wanted. It’s the little things.

As we were all helping with handing out gifts and getting pictures of all the kids unwrapping, I sat with and cared for the youngest group at Shalom, the babies. One boy who sat right behind me, about 2 years old and a man of few words, had his hand in my lap for most of the time he and his house were present. Occasionally, he’d wrap his arm around mine, while I was trying to get snapshots of the other kids and Santa. He reminded me that I am not far from family this Christmas, that the 80 that surrounding me are my brothers and sisters, my sons and daughters, my nieces and nephews. It’s the little things.

This past weekend, I got to visit a nearby community, play games, help out giving gifts and sharing the meaning of Christmas with them. I took out one of the long bubble wands and let a few of the preschool kids try to blow bubbles. Like you can imagine, they blew too hard, with nothing coming out but spit. They weren’t too happy. I blew into it and had several dozen bubbles headed their direction. The 5 kids that were with me were so excited and so amazed at what just happened. It was a race to see if they could pop them faster than I could blow them. By the end of the 15 minutes, I’m not sure who had stickier hands, the kids or myself. Their smiles and giggles brightened mine. It’s the little things.

Sunday, I got to visit a church a few towns over for the first time with a couple of team members. We didn’t just visit the church, but got involved. I read a story. A few of us played our instruments, while the others helped the kids learn new hand motions. One of us got the opportunity to pray over the service and we were personally recognized and welcomed. This church was held on an enclosed driveway of a family. Their church was tiny, with about 12 rows of only 4 chairs each. Almost every seat was filled, and yet the ladies who were in charge of the church said they didn’t have as many kids as usual. The service seemed to go well, with involvement from the kids, run mainly by 3 women. They kept the kids’ attention from start to finish, had great worship, and a short message, easy for the kids to understand and relate to. Yet, they wanted more. They reached out for our help, our guidance, our assistance, our prayers, our partnership. They are doing as much as they can, not only in the walls of their “church” but also in nearby villages. They still want as much help as they can get for these kids. Its using our talents, abilities, and donations to help others. It’s the little things.

What are those little things that usually get overlooked or forgotten about? What are those little things that we occasionally look over, as if they aren’t much? Take the time to notice them, especially during this time of year. Look for those blessings in disguise. They’re all around!

Since last May, I’ve been working. I’ve spent hundreds of hours picking colors, tightening the ring, and weaving my needle and thread in and out of a sack towel to embroider a greater picture. It may be of a flower, a coffee cup, a palm tree, Santa Clause, or a few hearts. Each take anywhere between 3-7 hours, depending on the difficulty or detail. From May until October, I made roughly 65 towels.

The past few days, my mother had a busy weekend! Saturday, she attended a craft fair, selling 20 of the towels. Sunday was a Fall Festival, where she sold 17 more. I’ve been continually working on the towel, from recent requests that have come in since finished what could be done before the busy weekend. Between all that’s been happening in and around the orphanage, along with making towels in my “spare time”, I’ve been non-stop since I returned to Guatemala last weekend.

With all the sales, current orders, and donations given, I made just over $1,500! A huge thank you goes out to each and everyone who has purchased a towel, has donated to my mission work, or assisted me in this process, including my mother, who has put her time and energy not only in two days of sales, but in washing, ironing, stamping, re-ironing, and packaging them up for the buyers. She has a few extras that weren’t sold (see photos below), if anyone missed out and would like to purchase! I can also take orders if you’re interested, it will just take me a few months to get the materials, complete them, and send them off!

With every stitch, I pictured being just a little bit closer to the final product. They’re in no way perfect. Some of the thread started to thin as I was working, other shades of color are off slightly, and in some places, I just couldn’t get the curve I wanted with a few straight stitches, no matter how many times I tried. Sometimes, it was freeing, relaxing, and enjoying. Other days, I wished I hadn’t signed up for all this work, rushing to get them done as quick as possible, only to get frustrated at myself when I misplaced my thread, needle, or scissors.

With every stitch, I thought about myself. Each person, animal, and plant around me. I was thinking of all the hard work I had to do without giving thought to the one who created all the living things around me, how much effort He went through, how many different species He wanted to make, how long it took Him to make each one, and the stitches that held each of them together, each being uniquely different from the next. Some may appear flawed, beaten up, or strange in human eyes, but they are all perfect. And at what cost? The life of His Son.

Each stitch on the towels is a stitch made in thought of furthering His work and impacting the lives of those He took the time to stitch together Thank to each of you who allowed me to take part in His plans.

These were not sold, email (harperseverance@gmail.com) or message me if you’re interested.  Of the reindeer, Dancer, Donner, Comet and Prancer are available!
$20 per towel, (+ shipping if needed!)

Happy Independence Day! Today, we celebrate the independence of Guatemala, September 15. 197 years of freedom for this beautiful country.  This day is quite like the most of us know as the fourth of July, but it starts a few days before the actual day, with much greater force.

Wednesday, September 12, the school bus full of kids, a van full of preschoolers and toddlers, and a car used for rest/water, were all taken to the neighboring city by lead of the police and firemen. While the torch was being lit at the main building, I was waiting in the resting car. My car. In the driver’s seat.

Yes, at the end of last month, I bought a car. A BIG thank you to everyone who has been financially supporting me, whether one-time or monthly donation, to allow me this vehicle! This gives me the freedom and independence to run the errands that need to be run, help out with Casa Shalom outings, and provide transportation for the ministry my team and I do in the villages and homes outside the orphanage. Now, I don’t have to message an Uber to refill my cellphone minutes and can run to grab materials for the kids if and when the needs arise. I can also provide transportation when the children, staff, and volunteers decide to run 6 miles to celebrate their independence. I have my independence.

Antorcha (the torch) is the name of the event this past Wednesday. It is celebrated in each region of Guatemala by thousands of Guatemalans proclaiming their freedom. A torch is lit in the city/ town nearby, and the group makes their way back to their homes by foot, running as a celebration. Homes and businesses on the routes will splash the runners with water, cheering and encouraging them.

I got to watch about 80 runners ahead of me, from Casa Shalom staff to volunteers, teens, kids, and family members. I was chosen to drive directly behind the runners, providing them with water and/or rest when they needed it most. With two other girls in my car, we were the “equipo de las bolsas de agua,” the water bag team.

We filled almost 200 plastic bags with water, tied a knot at the top, and gathered them in a laundry basket for the athletes. We also were provided with a megaphone, allowing us to encourage the runner who was falling a bit behind the rest of the pack. We had a speaker connected to a phone that we could play music through, playing the Guatemalan anthem as they entered the gates of Shalom in celebration after their 6 mile run.

I was going maybe 3-5 miles an hour, with my foot on the brake for at least an hour. Some were waiting to get back on the bus for a short break. Others (boys) were stopping facing the bushes to “empty themselves.” A few stopped just to tighten their laces or their pony tails. But the group was committed to staying together. We stopped every ten or fifteen minutes, for the slower runners/walkers to close the gap, to let some of the traffic by, and to allow everyone to catch a breath, grab a baggie of water, or cross the intersection safely.

During these breaks, kids would swarm around the four sides of my car, with all windows (and the sun roof) open. They were craving water, a shady place to rest, or even a short ride, hanging off the side of an open window. I was the driver, leading the way and keeping the athletes safe from the traffic. My passenger was the encourager, with the megaphone and music in hand. The backseat rider was caring over the weak and providing the water. We were a team of three.

Sounds like another team of three, right?! God directs and leads the way, watching to make sure we are cared for and safe. The Holy Spirit is living inside of us, encouraging and helping us in our journey. Jesus is right there with us, taking up our burdens along the way, filling us with the Living Water. It was encouraging to me to see these kids, teens, staff, and volunteers craving water and how refreshed they looked afterwards, as they continue to run. May I feel refreshed as I am filled with Him, just as the runners feel when hydrated.

He gives us the independence, the free will, to live our lives the way we chose. As the burdens, mountains, pains, and weaknesses come, whether figurative or literal, He is there to take up our weight, give us rest, fill us with the Living Water, and encourage us to continue forward. May I be reminded of this independence day each and every time I am independent with my new wheels or even every day decisions.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28

“On the last and greatest day of the festival, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink.’” John 7:37

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope,” Romans 15:13

Wednesday, August 22, 1:50-2:50. It was an incredible hour to be involved in. We drove to a nearby village, about ten minutes away from the orphanage. 5 of us in a jeep, two young women, one Guatemalan and one American (me!). 3 young men, 2 Guatemalans and an American. It is a village of 15 or so families, all working together for  the good of another. Off of the main road, we took about 3 tight streets to an open field of grass and cows. Through the field, I spotted a line of dirt, about a foot wide, that wound its way through the forest, up a steep hill. Yep, that was our path. About a quarter of a mile up, down, and flat on the path, we arrived to see a few wooden shacks. The two Guatemalan men got involved with maybe 20 kids who were in the village at the time. Us two ladies were seated outside of the central wooden shack (see picture above), tin roof shaking with the wind overhead, in a meeting with the main leaders, elders, and pastors of the area to assemble a team of helpers in the community. This was our first day there. It was mainly to start relationships with them and to see where we would be able to assist them. It was also my first day taking part outside of the orphanage with the ministry I will be starting to volunteer with, We Help Children. I was mostly there to learn, observe, listen, and be a part of the new relationship that was developing between this community and We Help Children ministry. Subjects of the meeting that were brought up included providing a center to help families, a new regulation of foods shared between families in need, and future plans of us getting involved, signing an act (that one of the leaders was handwriting on lined paper during the meeting, to be finished later on in the week), and training those families who’ve been relocated to this community due to the recent volcano disaster.

I almost felt as if I didn’t belong. The ideas that came from both the We Help Children’s leaders and the community elders brought me to thinking, pondering, and striving to seek for larger, greater things. The two pastors that were in attendance each shared a small sermon with us about the things God has provided to us. He doesn’t focus on the sin we do, but on the itty bitty good that we do in spite of it. He doesn’t condemn us, He rewards us with His blessings for continuing His work in the variety of ways we are capable, no matter how small. Working together to achieve more for each other, we closed with the verse, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.” Psalm 133.

A few more ideas came up before we all closed out in prayer together. I thought it was going to be one of the Guatemalan women leading the 10 of us in prayer, until I heard one of pastors drop to her knees, stretch her arms out across the dusted path, and began almost shouting in prayer to God, thanking Him for being with us, blessing us, and continuing to provide for their community and our ministry together. I wasn’t too sure what to do, other than feel like I was somewhat lacking in my faith not being covered in dirt after the prayer was over. Scuffed up knees, soil down to her elbows, she reached in for a hug before we departed. I didn’t say much during this meeting but was intently following along with each comment that was shared. She noticed that. She saw a light in me that needed to be shared with those I meet, the I am beautiful, and wanted to remind me of that. I was with 4 others who were in a rush to get somewhere else on time, so I felt rushed myself. I didn’t take the time I should’ve with her to truly share how thankful I was to be able to join the group for the hour. She noticed we were rushing out, yet she took her time to speak life and blessings over me. I have survived my first outing with We Help Children, and I sure hope it isn’t my last.