Baby Andy, A Gift to the Heavens

His name is Andy.  Andy was a gift to everyone he met. It was his smile. Oh, that smile. He knew how to use it and it blessed everyone around him. I still struggle when I think about my Andy. It still breaks my heart to know he’s not physically here anymore. I feel ashamed. I feel defeated. Like if I would have cared for him a little bit more or prayed harder he wouldn’t have died. Then the questions that point to God. Why? Why would YOU do that God? If you can heal him then why didn’t you? First Juan Jose and now Andy?
It’s healthy to have those questions. I believe that God likes it when we doubt because it requires us to seek Him and His answers.

Andy rode a roller coaster. He had times that he was doing so well. He was even released from the hospital multiple times. Then he’d have his low times too. It was ongoing. It was a tease for everyone’s emotions. 

I visited Andy on and off in June and the first part of July at the same time I was visiting Juan Jose at his hospital. It was mid-July when Andy’s heart stopped beating for 4 minutes. The doctor needed to inform the family of Andy’s condition. I went to the hospital and met with the doctor in his office. He explained to me that Andy had an 80% chance he was going to pass away in the next 48 hours. It crushed me. I remember thinking, “but how is that even possible? We just had one baby die, there is no way we can lose two. God wouldn’t do that to us.”  The doctor then told me it was time to wait. “Patience and prayer,” he said. I tried to focus on the 20% chance of survival instead of the 80% chance of him dying. Honestly, it’s easy to say but really tough to do.

For the next month I visited Andy almost every day. The days I couldn’t go, his amazing house mothers would. Also, we notified Andy’s mom and grandma so they could visit Andy in the hospital if they chose to. The doctor gave patient updates at 11am and then the families could see their children from 12-1 and again from 5-6. It took an hour to get to the hospital every day and an hour+ to get home depending on traffic. It made for long days. Family members stayed in the ICU waiting area to receive their info they desperately waited for. Most mothers or fathers slept there overnight so they had their blankets or sleeping bags with them always.  And we waited. And waited. When it was time we rushed to get in line so we could find out how our babies/children were doing. Andy’s mom and grandma came almost every day and often spent the night. They usually visited him during the 5pm visit time and I would be with him during the afternoon.

In this ICU there were 12 beds all lined up side by side. They were so close that you could stand between the two and touch both patients. Most were intubated for their injuries or illnesses. Monitors, tubes and IV’s coming from every child. For the first week or two Andy was in bed #2. When he woke up after his heart stopped it didn’t take long before he started charming everyone around him again. That was Andy. A ladies man. He loved flashing that smile around at everyone. Usually when I sat in the waiting room with the other families, people always talked to me about my Andy. They would say, “Your son has the most beautiful smile. When he’s a teenager it’s going to be hard to keep him away from the ladies. “ Of course they all knew he wasn’t my son and I didn’t even call him my son. But the nurses did. 

Next to Andy was a 6 year-old boy that had fallen off a three-story building. On the other side was a boy with brain cancer.  A few beds down was a child who was there because he was struck by a bus. The room was full of tragedies. With every tragedy rose two outcomes. The child either got better and was released to another wing in the hospital, or they didn’t make it. I spent my time watching mothers and fathers receive the happy news that their child was going to be transferred or watching them receive the other news that was almost unbearable. 

Since Andy was such a favorite in the ICU I was treated differently. When Andy was not on a breathing tube he laid in his bed smiling at any nurse that walked by. When visitors were allowed to enter during the allotted one-hour time frame, I sat by his bed and held his finger. The nurses always let me hold him, feed him, and often times went and got a chair for me to squeeze in between the two patient beds so I could sit. They were incredibly sweet to me and my baby Andy. He loved to be held. And I loved holding him. It was definitely a win-win. Once time was up, the nurses asked everyone to leave the room but they always told me to stay. Often times I was there for 3-4 hours just holding Andy. When he got fussy I would sing him the song that my grandma would sing me. “A Bushel and a peck.” He loved it. He would stare into my face with those big brown eyes and when he was feeling good enough he would give me a smile. 

They couldn’t have family members in the room after visiting hours because the children were so unstable that any surgeries or tests that needed to be done were often done right there. There was two times that I sat holding my Andy while a doctor was doing some kind of surgery a few beds down. It was unreal. A real “sterile” environment. One time I was sitting holding Andy with his bed on one side and a 7 year-old boy on the other. I can’t remember why he was in the hospital but they had him sedated with a breathing tube in. The sedation meds were not quite high enough and he began to wake up. I remember the fear that came over me. This little boy starts to sit up with a tube in his throat and begins to freak out. Which in turn makes me freak out! I stood up and turned around to motion at the nurse that the boy was awake. The nurse ran over and pinned him to the bed and began yelling for more sedation meds. You would think that at this time they would have asked me to leave but they didn’t. So I just kept rocking Andy and prayed for them both. 

The last time I held Andy he had a high fever. He wasn’t feeling good and I could tell. He just wanted me to hold him. I stayed for over 3 hours that day. After awhile you get exhausted.  Exhausted from praying so hard, from trying to keep your composure while in a room full of tragedy, exhausted from hearing bad news, and exhausted from holding a 20lb baby in your arms for hours.  My arms would get so tired but every time I would attempt to lay him down he would cry. I sang to him this day. He didn’t smile. But I knew he loved it. I prayed and loved on him. He was so precious. He was weaker than normal so he laid his sweaty head on my shoulder and I rubbed and tickled his naked back. He loved that. When it was time for me to go I asked the nurse to take him so that he wouldn’t cry. I knew he would eventually cry when she put him down but it was too hard for me to see it. She held him and he watched my every move as I walked to the door.  Truth is I can still picture that stare in my head.  It feels a lot like disappointment.  Goodbyes are tough.

I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see him alive.  I’d like to say I wish I would have kissed him one more time. I wish I would have told him how much he was loved once more. I would have sung to him once more. But really, all of these things would have only made me feel better and at the end of the day, I don't think it would have made much of a difference. It’s him I miss and I would have never been ready to say goodbye.

Then the day came that I had prayed and hoped would never have to come. The day Andy went to be with the Lord. I walked into the ICU waiting area and saw all the families sitting there waiting to receive updates from the doctors.  Andy’s mom was sitting at the end of the bench. She looked sad and angry. Usually she’s friendly with me and always says hello. I sat down next to her and asked how she was doing. All she said was, “Andy died.” I asked her what she said again thinking that my ignorance of Spanish had gotten the best of me. She said it again, “Andy died. This morning. He’s dead.” I heard her perfectly clear that time and I still couldn’t register it. “No. no. How? What? When?” that’s all that could come out of my mouth. The families stared at us as Andy’s mom told me that he had passed away about an hour earlier. His heart had stopped twice and they managed to revive him once. We both began to cry. She grabbed my hand and said, "Come with me. I want you to see him. He’s still in there." I followed her to the ICU door and she pounded on the locked door to ask the nurses if I could come in to see him. At this point I had no idea what was happening. We walked over to his bed where he had been for the past month. His mom pulled the baby blanket off which was used to cover his body and there laid my sweet handsome baby Andy. Lifeless. I touched his soft baby foot and it was cold. His monitors that used to annoy me from their beeping were no longer lit. I longed for that annoying beep. His ventilator turned off. He was gone and I had missed it. I wasn’t there. That’s all I could think about. How could I let him down like this? 
His mother and I stood at his bedside hugging and crying. What next?

The next 12 hours were full of pain, tears, anger, sadness, and slivers of joy.  As we waited for the nurses to prep the body so we could bring him to the morgue God continued to show me the impact Andy brought to this world. Nurse after nurse came to me in the hallway to share with me memories of Andy and words of encouragement. One nurse told me that Andy and his situation had stirred up conversations at the dinner table between her and her husband. Unable to have children her husband and her decided to bless a child through adoption. That was Andy. Another nurse asked how she could become involved with Casa Shalom to help more children. That was Andy. A few just wanted to tell me that work had been difficult for them and how it can be depressing to constantly care for ICU patients but that they looked forward to seeing Andy and his smile everyday. It was him who got them through their day and reminded them why they became a nurse. That was Andy. God made sure that Andy’s life would make an impact on ALL around him.

The nurse pushed Andy on a gurney to the morgue as we followed behind. The morgue was in the basement of the hospital. The halls were dark, old, exposed leaking pipes, and cracked floors. We passed two cafeterias on the way to the morgue. I’ll never forget how gross it made me feel to think of eating at a cafeteria a few hundred feet from the morgue.  I won’t go into the details of this Guatemalan morgue. But it’s not a place I ever want to be again. Hours and hours passed and we had to wait for the funeral service to do all the paperwork so we could take Andy out of the morgue. In Guatemala, it’s customary to bury the dead the same day as they die or the following day. They do this because they don’t embalm the bodies so it’s best to bury them in the fastest time possible.  Over 12 hours later, at 10pm that night we finally had everything ready so we could take Andy.  Andy’s mom and I went to the morgue to turn in all the papers. We then had to identify Andy’s body so they could release him. Wow. That’s something you never imagine yourself having to do. And I hope I never have to again. I credit God for giving me the strength at that moment, as I had to answer and explain to Andy’s mom what happens to a body that’s already been deceased for hours while she cried and cried in my arms. 

But then, that was only half as hard as what I was about to do and I didn’t even know it. They say ignorance is bliss. True statement. We brought sweet Andy back to the funeral home. At this time they did the things they needed to do as we waited outside on the street. This is a neat memory for me. We stood outside in silence with cars passing and the city noises all around. Andy’s grandma turned worship music on her phone. She sang and prayed despite the circumstances.  It was beautiful.

The funeral service then asked Andy’s mom for the clothes they wanted to bury him in. They asked if the family would like to dress him. They said yes.  Coming from a complete different culture I was shocked by even the question. Andy’s mom grabbed my hand and said, “You have to help. Come.” I followed them into the room where Andy laid naked on the table. Together we dressed him.  A surreal moment.  After we put on his final piece of clothing, his cute little beanie hat, his Grandma picked him up and brought him first to me and I kissed him on his head over his beanie. With tears falling down my face I whispered, “Goodbye. I love you, Andy.”  And then everyone in the room kissed him and said their goodbye.  We placed him in his beautiful white wooden casket. So peaceful. So handsome. 

The following day they had the funeral service. And like that it was over. But it wasn’t. I miss him. Still. I miss his smile. 

The day of his funeral we had to tell his two brothers that their baby Andy went to be with Jesus. They are 3 and 6. They loved him so much. The 6 year old asked me almost every day how his brother was doing in the hospital and if I would give him a kiss for him. I was not looking forward to telling them their brother is no longer in the hospital. 

But the Lord is good.  So good. He showed me what childlike faith was yet again. Andy’s 6 year-old brother was so joyful to hear that his little brother was with Jesus. He asked, “Andy is in heaven? With God? He’s no longer is sick? Yay! My baby brother is with Jesus!”  And like that. I stumble and make it so difficult. I felt like it was something I did. I made it about myself. Andy’s brother reminded me it’s not about us. Or me. It’s about God. I don’t know why Andy passed away. I don’t know why God didn’t heal him. What I do know is that he is no longer sick and he is with Jesus. So as Andy’s brother would say, “Yay! My baby Andy is with Jesus.” 

Life is short. Unpredictable. It’s ugly and beautiful.  God doesn’t always give us answers. We don’t always need them. But we always need to trust him. Trust in the Lord with ALL of your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Proverbs 3:5NIV  And I’m trusting that there is truth in that. If not, then those feelings of disappointment and defeat win.

Several days after Andy passed away I was reminded that this was not the first or last trial I have experienced or will experience in my life. But they all have one thing in common. The same faithful God was there for me then and will be with me the next time too. That's His promise to me. 

On August 20, 2014 our smiley baby Andy became the luckiest baby. He got to meet our Lord and Savior. He joined our baby Juan Jose and together they are charming the angels, no doubt.  I can only imagine how much happier heaven became the morning of August 20th, when baby Andy took his smile to the heavens. I love you, Andy. You will not be forgotten. Thank you for letting me love you.

Juan Jose, The Luckiest Baby

Juan Jose, 3lb 2oz. First week at Casa Shalom

Tough. Depressing. Exhausting. Hurtful. Rough. 

Is how this past few months have been. We lost two babies in a two month period. It was more than a struggle watching our babies suffer and fight for their life. For weeks I visited our baby Juan Jose in the ICU. Before entering I would have to sit in my car, take deep breaths and convince myself I could handle it that day. The smells, the sight of blood and needles, the crying parents begging for God’s grace, the extreme helpless situations the babies and children were all in fighting for their lives. I’ve always been queasy at the sight of blood or needles and now I found myself in a Guatemalan ICU surrounded by babies hooked up to I.V.s, blood transfusions, life support etc. Hence the reason why I prayed really hard before entering so I could be given the strength to be what Juan Jose needed me to be.  And at that moment I needed to be his person.  However that looked. At times it felt like a mom, at times an orphanage supervisor, but always his person. 

Many times I would need to leave the room because I could feel my face go white and I began sweating profusely.  It was maddening. I wanted to be in there with him, talk to him, sing to him, let him know he’s not alone. But then at the same moment I could feel the internal battle of me fighting off the feelings of dizziness and sickness.  

Hope. We all need it. We have to have it. If we can't seem to find it, we have to search for it. I searched for my hope every day this past two months. 

The doctor would tell me not so promising news and I searched to find hope. Juan Jose needed for me to have hope for him. If you lose hope you’ve already lost the battle. I didn’t want to lose this battle.  Until I did. I knew. I found myself praying, begging, for God to take Juan Jose. That may sound harsh but it’s honest and real. I could see my 6 month old, 8lb something baby boy suffering and I hated it. He was always such a fighter. From the day he was born at 1lb he starting fighting. When his mom abandoned him at the hospital he fought. When he was burdened with is illness he fought. I never knew how much strength an 8 lb baby could have. But now he was suffering more than he should ever have to suffer. I found myself crying over his weak and swollen body yelling at God. “Take him. Take him now. He is YOUR child first, then ours. Take him Lord.”  Of course I didn’t want Juan Jose to die, but I wanted him to be healthy, be peaceful. Maybe I should have been praying for God to do a miracle. I did. For weeks. Every day I prayed that God would allow Juan Jose to stay with us longer. But the day he went to be with the Lord I was no longer praying for God to let us have him longer. I begged God to take him. Knowing that he would be held by his father without IV’s, ventilators, nurses, and rounds of medicine being pumped into his small little body. He could smile and laugh again. To think about this gave me such joy. I think as Juan Jose’s person he would want me to want him to be happy, even if the very thing that was the best for him was the worse for us.

I said goodbye to Juan Jose for the last time as he laid in his beautiful silk white casket. In Guatemala, they always bury children in white caskets, as a symbol of purity.  He was dressed in a little suit and he looked so handsome. We had a service for him at the orphanage so his Casa Shalom family could say goodbye. All 100 brothers and sisters, along with his wonderful house mothers passed by and laid hands on his casket to say their last words. It was a beautiful service. I was thankful that during such a difficult, emotion filled moment we could all be together as a family to say goodbye and thank the Lord for giving us Juan Jose for the time that he did. It was also a time for our littlest children to learn about God and death. 

I held one of my little girls, Maggie. She’s 5 and still doesn’t understand the concept of dying. When children don’t understand, they ask the most innocent of questions that can’t help but put a smile on your face at such a difficult time. Maggie looked up at me and asked, “Are we going to take him to Heaven?”  Another 5 year old boy with a concerned look on his face asked, “Can our baby breathe in that little box(casket)?”  Even through the toughest times, God gives us moments to smile and to teach about His goodness. That was one of those moments!

As we sang my little Maggie looked at me and asked me why I was crying. I told her I was crying because I was sad that baby Juan Jose died.  Confused and looking around the room she said, “Everyone is crying.”  I think the 5 year old was just trying to understand it all. Truth is, we all were. Then in a little whisper she looked at me with honest, teary eyes and said, “Tia JJ (Aunt JJ), I’m crying now too.” She rested her head on my shoulder and began to cry.  

5 months, 8 lbs

July 2nd, 2014 our sweet baby Juan Jose became the luckiest baby.  He got to meet our Lord and Savior. I’m thankful for the moments God placed me in his life to be his person. I’m thankful that I have God’s joy, His hope, and Philippians 4:7, “Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live    in Christ Jesus.” 

We miss you Juan Jose, but I know I’ll see you again someday. And that makes your person so happy.

Our newest children!

Our two newest children came to Casa Shalom last night around 9pm. Keily, 9, and Carlos, 7, arrived at the orphanage after being removed from a bar, where they were with their parents, who were very drunk. The crazy thing to me is that after the police officers took the children away, the parents returned to the bar to continue drinking.  I can't imagine that life.  Praise the Lord that these children are now here at Casa Shalom where they can learn how to be children and grow in a healthy environment.  

Drive in Guatemala.... CHECK!!

For a good 60 seconds I had about 40 children chanting, "JENNY, JENNY, JENNY" as we drove down the road. All 40 children were stuffed inside a 15 person passenger van that I was driving.  They were yelling my name because they wanted me to drive faster!  Which by the way, Grandma... I didn't!! So I can now check "Driving in Guatemala" off my list of things to do someday. :) Never thought my first time would be with 40 children and house moms though.

 I believe I had every child and house mom flabbergasted that I knew how to drive and that I own a vehicle in the states. I had at least 10 kids ask me how I learned how to drive or if I can drive them again! haha Our first all orphanage outing since I have been here. I'd have to say that it was pretty amazing.  At one point a little girl around 5 years old was standing with her friend in the middle of the van between the driver and passenger seat. I looked over and saw her fast asleep on her friends shoulder.  Not only did she fall asleep standing, but also with the noise of 39 other people in the car.  It was awesome but I was the only one that thought it was funny or strange. I was also the only white person in the van!

Here are a few pics that I took from the driver's seat. It of course doesn't do it justice.  And I think about 10 people aren't even in the picture since they were more or less in the passenger and front seat with me.  I think next time we'll try for 50 kids. :) Why not!

Our older kids piled in the back of our truck. Wish we could still do this in the states!

Vaccination Time!

About a week and a half ago we took 12 kids under the age of 5 to get their Polio shots.  Yes, 12 kids.  No matter where you live that many kids and shots is always an experience.  Fortunately, only 8 of the 12 had to have shots and the others a check-up.  I had no idea what to expect but I was super excited to go, saying the person who didn’t have to have a 2 inch needle go into my leg or arm.  The health center was an outside facility with a courtyard.  It was 9am and already there where 10-15 people waiting.  We managed to wait for almost an hour before the first victim’s name was called.  Jose David, age 5.  Within minutes of him being in the room we all could hear the screams and loud crying.  He came walking out of the room with tears rolling down his cheeks.  Before we couldn’t get this kid to sit still and now he sat down quietly as they called the next kid’s name.  The assistant director was the one in the room with the kids and nurses while I and the two house mom’s stood outside trying to keep the kids under control.  Not as easy as it sounds.  When they got to the 4th child’s name it was Mynor. I brought him into the nurse’s office to pass him to the asst. director.  Mynor is a 2 year old boy who is very very shy.  He doesn’t know the asst. director very well so he started bawling.  So she passed him backed to me and without speaking about it we changed places.   For the rest of the children I stayed in the office. :) I helped the nurses give the shots by holding the children in my arms and telling them it was going to be ok.  An incredible experience in many ways.  

Jenny

That morning helped me understand each child better and how they deal with fear and the unknown. Two things that are very common for these kids.  A few of the children stand out to me.  Jenny, a 3 year old that has been at the orphanage since the end of February, was physically abused by her mother.  She came to the orphanage with bruises and pinch marks all over her body. I held her hand as we entered the room and she walked in smiling and singing a tune.  She appeared as if she just got off her favorite ride at the amusement park.  So happy and giggly.  When we were in the room she sat on my lap and I just kept telling her it was going to be ok and she just kept smiling and singing.  Then it was time.  When the needle was in view and it was time for her shot she began to freak out and cry.  She’d say over and over, “No, no I don’t want a shot! No, no!”  It broke my heart to see this 3 year old girl try and be “grown up” by hiding her fears and masking them with her giggling face and a cheerful smile. 

Sergio (left) and Mynor (right)

Sergio, age 4, is another boy who stands out in my mind. He has been at the orphanage since January or February.  He was the last one to get his shots.  Every time I came out of the room to bring in a new child he would ask me, beg me, to take him.  He would repeat over and over that he wanted a shot, in fact he wanted two! This made everyone laugh since most 4 year old children don’t beg for a shot.  He would try and come into the room with me to watch the other kids get theirs.  Then it was his turn.  He sat on my lap with his head held high.  He appeared very overconfident.  Then the needle came out.  And he flipped.  He started yelling, “No no.. I don’t want a shot! No!!!!” He started kicking and throwing his arms so we had to have 3 people hold him still while the nurse gave him the shot.  He sat on my lap and I bear hugged him holding down his arms as two other nurses held each leg so he didn’t kick anymore.  After he had his two shots, one in the arm and one in the leg, he fell to the floor screaming and crying.  Every time one of us tried to pick him up he would try to hit us and scream at us, “No, don’t touch me.” Finally, I just grabbed him and held him in my arms while he kicked me and tried to push away.  That only lasted for a few short seconds.  I took the hand of the other little boy that decided to watch and we walked back into the waiting area.  Everyone in the waiting area chuckled because this was the arrogant little boy who was sure he wanted a shot.  He continued to cry for another 5 minutes in my arms and would get mad if anyone talked to him. 

Believe it or not, this little event helped me immensely understand this boy on a deeper level.  He was so scared, so nervous, so he put up his defenses.  He appeared confident and brave, when really on the inside he wanted to pee his pants.  Then after the shots he tried pushing everyone away, when again on the inside he was hurting for love.  With kids like him, with people like him, it’s so easy to stop there.  To stop when he starts kicking and pushing us away.  A part of us wants to believe that we are respecting what he wants.  That’s why they are called the “difficult children”.  His overconfidence is really his defensive mechanism that causes him to lack the love he desires and needs.  Or I wonder if it is the love he soo desperately desires and lacks that causes his overconfidence.  So I love him anyways.  When he pushes me away I go back.  When he’s disobedient I tell him what an amazing boy he is and how much I love him.  For this, I need God and His constant reminders that Sergio has enough people yelling at him and telling him what to do, but only I am there telling him how great and special he is.  I’m not writing this to pat myself on my back, because I know that it’s all God.  You can never tell a child too often how much the Lord loves him and how special he is.  Those are words that can never be worn out, but unfortunately those are words that are preciously rare to these children.  So I feel honored to share God’s love with these children and then slowly watch how God begins to heal their open wounds.

Shots at the Guatemalan health center... another amazing experience to add on to my list! :)

Love knows no language

Love knows no language.  Wiliam has confirmed what this truly means to me.  When my spanish lacks and is inadequate, he shows me that we don't need words to show our love for eachother.  These eyes and this smile is God's daily gift to me.  He's precious.  He never has a shortage of hugs, kisses, or smiles for me.  He gets angry at me when I leave the house and is attached to my leg when I come home.  He hardly keeps me out of his sight.  I love this little man so much.  We came to the orphanage the same day and his personality and love only grows each day.  I pray the day this boy leaves the orphanage he knows how deep and how wide the love of the Lord is.  That God has always been and will always be holding him in his hands.  That He gives unlike any human can.  That he will always be there to care for him.  God will never leave him or abandon him.   Like my niece says, "God is POWERFUL!" Thank you Lord for Wiliam who will forever be a part of me.



Wiliam, age 3

"When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.  And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.
Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.  Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen.
--Ephesians 3:14-21 NLT

Parent's Day

Yesterday was parent visiting day.  Any parent of the child who has permission from the judge can come to the orphanage to visit their child/ren. They are able to do this the last Sunday of every month.  I don’t know how many parents ended up coming but I would say probably 10 -15.  They can stay for 4-5 hours and have lunch and visit.  Then they leave.  And just like that it’s over.  Then it’s our job to hold them as they cry for their parents.  To rock them to sleep when they wake up crying for their mama.  To tell them that everything is going to be ok.  But is it?  It makes me so sad but I have to remind myself why these children are here in the first place. Because they have terrible parents.  Parents that abuse them, that make them beg for money, force them to work, parents that don’t care enough about their education, hygiene, or nutrition.  And while some of that is because they are too poor to provide a meal- most of it is because they just aren’t good parents.  A part of me is so happy these children get this day, but then a part of me is so mad that they are the reasons they are here. 

For one 7 year old girl, it’s her favorite day.  She can’t wait to give her Daddy a huge hug and just be held in his arms.  He loves on her and tells her sweet things like how they will be a happy family soon and he will get her out of the orphanage and take her home.  They share food and laughs and then the 4 hours is up.  He leaves and she bawls.  Then for the next few days she acts up, a lot.  She disobeys and talks back.  It breaks my heart.  It breaks my heart because this is the second time she has came to Casa Shalom.  Her father did just that the last time.  He took her home to be a sweet family again.  Then months later they found him wandering the streets stumbling drunk as his 7 year old daughter was left at home alone.  Her dad is an alcoholic and the mom isn’t in the picture.  Her dad also gives me creeps in which I would never leave any children near him alone. This is the same dad that puts a huge smile on this little girl’s face.  At Casa Shalom this girl receives 3 meals a day, an education, a bath every day, new/clean clothes, her own bed, and get’s to be a child.  But is that enough?  Does that surpass the broken love of a parent? 

I also got to see the parents of William and Roxanna whom I have become way too attached.  All the parents and children were sitting in chairs in the cafeteria.  Sara (the other volunteer) and I walked in and sat in the very back.  William saw me and yelled “Jenny!” which is something he always done when I enter any room.  Then after 5 minutes or so Roxanna pushed to get out of her mom’s arms to be on the ground. Once on the ground she weaved through chairs and came to me to sit on my lap.  I picked her up to give her a quick hug because of course her mom was watching.  She sat on my lap and didn’t move to be put down.  I looked at Sara and with a smile on my face whispered, “Oh shoot, this isn’t good.  What do I do?” And Sara quickly said,  “I have no idea, send her back. The mom is staring at us.”  So I put her back down on the ground and prayed that she would go back to her mom.  Then Sara and I left the room.  It was awkward. We did not want that to happen again with her or any of the other children.  On one hand, it’s Roxanna’s mom and you would think she wouldn’t want to go to anyone else, on the other hand, she hasn’t seen her mom in almost a month and Sara and I have been the ones loving on her and giving her constant attention.

But it happened again later on.  Sara and I walked by the family eating lunch and we all exchanged a hello.  Roxanna spotted us and tried to walk to us when the mom picked her up.  She started crying and the mom just looked over at us and smiled.  It was awful.  I had split emotions.  I felt so bad for her mom.  That she has to deal with the fact that her baby is being loved on and rocked to sleep by another person.  That she doesn't get to hug and kiss her baby goodnight.  But then I also wanted to take her out of her mom’s hands.  That’s when I realized I’m a little too attached. J

I think I’ll be better prepared for next parent visiting day. So thankful that God sent me to love on each one of these children and I know they are blessing me way more than I have blessed them.

A New Hope

On March 5^th, at around 4 pm the door opened and in walked 2 social workers and 3 children. It was my very first day at Casa Shalom and already we were receiving new children.   Ages 8, 3, and 15 months.  Scared, filthy, exhausted, and eyes filled of hopelessness.  The 8 year old girl looked more like she could be 6 and had what could be a sunburn across her face.  Raw, red skin with little bumps that looked like a rash or small blisters.  When they took the 8 year old away to her separate house the younger children screamed and cried.  I held the 3 year old boy as he screamed.  He smelled like he hadn’t taken a bath in months.  It took about 20 minutes before he was calm. 

(Posted on the Casa Shalom blog: Pictures of 8-year-old Candelaria, 3-year-old Wiliam and 1-year-old Roxana when they first arrived at Casa Shalom. They've been living on the streets with their parents who made them beg for money and wash car windows for spare change. Candelaria has never been to school and the children are all malnourished and small.  The picture of the 8 year old and baby girl does not do justice to how small they both are.)

The house mom and I took him into the bathroom to bathe him.  First we pulled off his black rubber boots.  Immediately I could smell the sweat of dirty feet.  He had no socks on and his feet were stained with dirt.  We then took of the rest of his clothes and he screamed for his older sister. Awww… I will never forget what he was wearing.  As we began to put the warm water over him his tears began to fade.  A warm bathe in Guatemala in more difficult to come by so I’m assuming this was his first one.  He looked almost paralyzed from the fear and the warmth of the water on his skin.  The first few days he hardly spoke two words.   The 15 month old, Emily Roxana, wears 6-9 month clothes.  She is very malnourished.  For the first 5 days she looked exhausted like she hadn’t slept in weeks.  She wouldn’t smile and her eyes seemed so empty.

It’s been two weeks now and you wouldn’t even know these were the same kids.  William, the 3 year old, has one of the most handsome grins I’ve ever seen.  He is very sweet, loving, and energetic.  He constantly cares for his little sister.  Every day when we give out vitamins to the children he always gives half of his to his sister.  We have to tell him every time that we give her one to and he can have all of his.  He still doesn't stop giving. There are no words for Roxana. If I could take this girl back to the states with me I would. Frankly, I would take them both.  Roxana is hilarious.  Anytime another child cries she looks at them and fake cries.  I swear she does it to make fun of them.  She is constantly trying to mimic everything the big kids do.  Today she learned how to roll her eyes and I was her first victim. Of course I laughed so she repeated it over and over.  Everyday, more and more of the true Roxana comes outs.  I can’t wait to watch her grow over these next 3 months.

I am blessed. I am here in Guatemala by the grace of God. Even though I know how blessed and lucky I am, I still have to remind myself daily of God’s loving grace.  It’s not always so fun and easy, but then again that’s life… no matter where you’re living it.  I know it’s been a good day when I crawl into bed and my back and arms hurt from holding too many children. Those are wonderful aches and pains.  Thank you all for your prayers.

Moving to Guatemala...again

In a few hours, many men and women will join together in a small room and begin learning how to read and write.  I will be going to take care of the children while they can learn for 3 hours. This will be their 3rd time meeting.  Their main goal is that they will be able to read the bible for the first time. Last Sunday, my Pastor talked about how a person who cannot read is a person who is blind.  A strong parallel.
 
Right now I am looking into buying audio bibles for the men and women in my community.  I recently wrote on facebook that if anyone feels blessed to help me by donating money to buy one or by donating their old cd/cassette player that would be a huge blessing.  What a huge difference it could make to so many people to be able to hear about Jesus Christ for the first time.  For me, it almost seems impossible to think that there are people still in this world who have never even heard about Jesus before.  Something again I take for granted.

On Monday I will be moving again.  A whole new routine, schedule, new environment, new bed, and different friends. It will feel like I'm going to Guatemala again for the first time.  Monday, I start working at the orphanage.  At Casa Shalom, the orphanage, their are many different buildings with different aged groups of children.  For the next three months I will be living in the babies room. The babies room houses children aged newborn to 4 years old.  Right now the youngest baby is 10 months old.  I will basically play "mom" for 10-12 little children for the next 3 months and I couldn't be more excited.  This is a dream come true for me.  I have no idea what to expect but unlike every other new experience I have entered, this time-- I'm not nervous.  If the Lord has blessed me with one thing it's the ability to love and care for children.  It comes easy to me.  Some people are gifted at a cooking, or playing basketball, preaching at a church, or photography.  Me... I love to care for children.  That's my "thing".  And I believe without a doubt that it's a God given love. 
 

My first blog!!

My first "blog"....ever. I always told myself I would never become a blogger and here I am. Yesterday marks 3 weeks in San Bartelome, Guatemala. Some days it feels like 3 months.  Already I have done so much.  I am so blessed to be here and excited to see where the path leads that God has already laid out for me.  I believe with all my heart that I am not here by mistake.

I decided last year in March or April that I was going to go to another Spanish speaking country with one of my roommates.  We were hoping to go at the beginning of January and stay for 3-6 months. August came and went, then September, October, then November and I still didn't have a glimpse of a plan except that I wanted to go "somewhere" in January.  All it took was one visit with an old neighbor who grew up in Guatemala for the next 6 months of my life to fall into place.
And here I am. In a small town in Guatemala. Living with a WONDERFUL family who happens to be my neighbors family.  I live and help out at a Christian Church and get to experience life here as a true Guatemalan.  I visit families, newborn babies, the sick, go to the mercado everyday to help buy lunch, play soccer with kids, and attend church 3 times a week. I have bible study on Monday nights, fast every Tuesday and youth group on Saturdays.  We pray over people in their houses, at church, or at their businesses.  Little did I know this would be my life for the next 5 months. I am so fortunate to be here.
In two weeks I will be starting work at a nearby orphanage called Casa Shalom.  I get to go visit it for the first time tomorrow!! I've already been told that I'm going to be staying in the babies room.  I am very excited to begin working with kids, especially orphans.  I've always felt that God has laid it upon my heart to care for his children, especially the orphans. After all, that is what the Bible tells us we were called to do. 
My first week here I went with the Pastor and his daughter Raquel to visit a small town called Agua Colorada. It is a very very poor community.  Most of the people that live here have many kids who don't attend school and many of the parents are illiterate as well.  Starting next week the church is going to be going to this community once or twice a week to begin teaching the parents how to read.  This way they can be able to read the Bible. 

The women in Agua Colorada are incredible in my eyes.  When we went to visit we got to see where they do their laundry.  It's a beautiful place where the water runs off the side of the mountain and pools at the bottom.  However, it is a long, steep and rocky trek to the bottom and these women do it at least 3 times a week.  I believe it took about 20 mins each way. As if that isn't enough they have to carry their laundry on top of their heads, typically with a baby on their back and a toddler holding their hand. It's really incredible.... and sad. Here is a picture of one lady that was on her way down to wash the clothes.

Pictures of them washing their clothes.

I'm excited to be able to share my experiences here in Guatemala. I'm hoping that I will also keep up with this blog! Thank you all for your prayers and support.

Love, Jenny

Philippians 2:13