Torn

The last few weeks were full of questions.

We were blessed to catch up with so many friends and family in Florida, and they all had questions as to how life is in Guatemala.

There aren't any simple answers. I think the best way I can put it is that I feel I have a heart torn in two. Not in a bad way, like a broken heart, but a heart that is stretched between two places.

On the one side, our time in Florida felt like we were being bathed in love. When we spoke at our home church and had so many people hug on us, tell us they loved us and prayed for us, press donations into our hands, we felt so supported, so humbled by their care.

When we spent 2 1/2 weeks being spoiled rotten by my mom and dad, so overwhelmed by how they just poured their hearts into letting us rest and renew, we felt so blessed to call them our family.

All of these good things made saying good-bye more painful than it's ever been. It was a reminder of how many people we love that we leave behind for months at a time. It was a reminder of the silly little comforts we miss....grocery stores so shiny, clean and stocked with everything.....speaking English.....Starbucks!......smooth, broad streets. All of these are unimportant, but they sure are nice to have.

And yet, now that we're back in Guatemala, although I wish I could pull up to a Starbucks drive-thru and get my favorite, and although my heart hurts if I think about the very tearful good-bye my children said to their grandparents, there is peace in knowing that this is where God has us.

No, we don't know how long we'll be here. We don't know what is next. But we know that, right now, we are obeying God's plan for our family, and even though that may cost us emotionally, the peace that accompanies that obedience is indescribable.

I've heard from other missionaries that this tearing of the heart is something that you, somehow, learn to live with. This trip to Florida was the time I felt it the most. For all the pain of missing my family, my friends, I knew that I didn't really "belong" there right now. Maybe someday, but not right now.

We shared with our church that missionaries are not "supermen" or "superwomen." They're just ordinary people following God. We've learned this year just how ordinary we are, how being a missionary is not some romantic feat. We've never wanted to glamorize it or be less than honest about it either.

Some days are really, really hard. Sometimes we wonder why we're here.

Some days are amazing. Sometimes we know why we're here.

And when you think about it, we all have torn hearts, longing for those things that we'll only know and share in eternity. No matter where God has led us, we should never really belong. One day, the tear in our hearts will be healed, and how good that will be. Until then, we want to do more than just survive. We want to live a wild adventure following the Spirit, trusting Him to care for those we love, trusting Him to bring the healing and peace we need. And He does.

Beach Days

My mom and dad rented rooms at a charming B&B on the beach (Beachside Palms), and we had 3 wonderful days of laughing, eating, swimming, eating, running, eating, catching up, reading, napping, eating.....it was great to have the whole Moore family together for the first time in more than 3 years!

The List

Since we arrived in Florida on Friday, we have begun to check off items on my dad's famous multi-page list of things for us to do while we're here.

Interestingly enough, when Nate read the list, his response was, "It's all about food!"

Well, yes. Yes, it is.

So far: Starbucks, Dad's famous breakfast, Mom's pot roast, the Lighthouse Doughnut Store, Cracker Barrel, Mom's Chex Mix, the pool, and somehow, we even managed to go to church in between all of our eating! It was great to see everyone, to hug and be hugged. 

Better go check the list to see what's next.....

On How We are Keeping the Local Hospital in Business...

Last week it was my turn to go to the hospital. I pride myself on my pain tolerance. I mean, I've had three kids. And a root canal. So, when I felt some intense pain that reminded me of well, nothing I've ever felt before, I woke up my hubby and informed him, quite calmly, that we needed to go to the hospital.

The first sign that things would not be boring was the fact that the hospital was totally, completely dark, and we had to buzz the intercom to get into the also-very-dark waiting area. The mumbling desk clerk gestured in the general direction of the hallway, so we assumed that was where we were to sit. 

The fact that the clerk had to call the doctor multiple times to rouse him from his slumber was apparently not enough to send us home.

However, when we both saw the ginormous rat...yes, RAT, hurtling himself down the hallway, we almost gave up. But no. We were committed.  And still in pain.

In the interest of good taste, I will not describe the noises that were coming from the patient in the first room. Suffice it to say that he or she must have been visiting the hospital due to intestinal issues. Maybe that's why the rat was running.

Anyway, when the doctor finally woke up, he proceeded to examine me. Now, I always thought that charts, writing down blood pressure, medical history, weight, etc. was kind of important, but I was very, very wrong.  I also thought that doctors checked the part of your body that actually HURT, but I have obviously never been to medical school. I'm not sure the doctor has either. 

Apparently when your appendix region is in great pain, the correct area to probe is your leg and your toe. Go figure.

I digress. The nurse eventually came in to draw blood and to have me collect a sample in a used baby food jar (hey, it had been washed. I think), and the doctor, upon exiting the room, threw out an afterthought for Steve to answer. This was in Spanish, but I will translate:

Dr.: "She's never had any children, right?"

Steve: "Um. Yes."

Dr: .......silence......

Steve: "Three."

Dr: "But of course they were natural births."

Steve: "Um. No."

Upon which the doctor had to push the nurse aside, to see for himself if this were true. It was.

We eventually did leave the hospital with no real diagnosis, but I was amazed at how quickly I began to feel better at the thought of just going home.

The best part is, we got to visit our friends at the hospital again last night, after Steve decided to see if a saw was indeed able to slice through a nail and a finger. It is.

His hospital visit was much less exciting, although we are learning so much medical information each time we go. For example, did you know that a used water bottle is perfect for pouring some sort of cleaning liquid onto an open wound? And that cotton "pieces" (formerly known as sterile cotton balls or gauze) do not have to be sterile? They can be stored in strips of brown paper bags. Awesome.

We've had some great laughs in our medical adventures, but in all honesty, we have an excellent family doctor here, and we are very thankful for our local hospital. Rats and all.

Before we moved to Guatemala, I had been a runner, but I'd only done a 5K race and a couple of 10k Turkey Trots. That all changed when I started running with what we affectionately call the "IDC Running Club" (Iglesia Del Camino). There is just nothing like running here...we have experienced puffing volcanoes, attacking bees, dead animals on the road (from huge pigs, to snakes of every size, to a bat, and everything in between), rain, speeding chicken buses, and more. 

We have seen the mountains from every angle, in every light, cloud-topped or clear, sun-dappled or hazy. We have passed people walking or riding their bikes to the market, to work, to their villages, and when we see some of those people walking without shoes, it is a reminder of how blessed we are, and how much more there is to do here.

We have pushed our bodies to their limits and experienced the highs of meeting new goals, crossing new finish lines.

But today was the best run I've ever had, because it was the first time Nate and I got to run in his first race together. He'd been asking for months if he could do a race, and today was his day to take part in a 5K in Guatemala City. I can't even express how proud I am of him. He ran his first race in a foreign country, on a course that was fairly hot and hilly, and he was amazing! He didn't complain, and when he started to get worn out and I gave him the good ol' "Mom peptalk," he listened, and then I could hear him telling himself, "I can do this. I can do this."

We sprinted over the finish line together....I hope there are many more finish lines to come.

Oh yeah---and even though the course was mismeasured (happens all the time here!), so that the 3 miles was actually almost 4, he finished the race in 35:54, having only done ONE training run. I'm gonna have to step it up!

Thanks, Nate, for a wonderful day!

Day with Dick

Nate and I spent the day riding with Dick Rutgers.  For all of the time I have spent leading teams in and around the Antigua area, it was very refreshing to spend the day with someone well acquainted with the local villages and the children impacted by severe disabilities and poverty. 

 

Click on the photos to get a closer look.  We packed into the front seat of the 4WD and left the valley which surrounds Antigua, and went south and west towards the Pacific Coast.  Within minutes we dropped from 5,000 feet to less than 100, and the scenery changed from volcanos to sugar cane fields.   We saw miles and miles of the fields, where men earn $10 daily (only 3-4 months during season), working 12 hour shifts in extreme heat and dangerous conditions (threshing machines regularly maim or kill workers).  Several fields burned as they were prepared for harvesting.

The villages we passed were crude block or bamboo covered in tin, and the barefoot children ran in the streets.  Mosquito nets are a requirement here in rainy season (lasting 6 months), but most cannot afford them.  Kitchens are outside (pictured at left towards the bottom center).

We picked up a nurse in a town which has a relationship with the 3 families we visited.  In all cases, families of 5-7 children was the norm.  Of these, at least one had a severe handicap, and in the cruel world of extreme poverty, they are the first to die.  Dick checked on a boy with cerebral palsy, who has spent most of his 7 years in a hammock (upper left) waiting to die.  Sponsors in the States have given Dick the opportunity to buy food for him, and while thin, he looks much better than 3 months ago.  We visited another family (affected by multiple sclerosis), and Dick looked at report cards and rewarded the kids with a trip to the local fast food restaurant (packing 13 into his 4WD)...we let the kids go on the rides, and Nate played tag with the healthy kids later at their house.  

What impacted me about poverty was how "normal" kids are regardless of culture or economics.  They want to be held (even by a stranger), played with, and rewarded for being good.

The parents have a resolve to survive, and a peace and simplicity that is hard to put into words.  They have nothing, yet invite any stranger into their homes.  They love their kids.  

Days like today come once in a lifetime, and I got to spend this special day with my son Nate, who impressed me with his love for other kids, and how he hung on every word Dick shared with us.  

Life and Death

I hope I never get numb to seeing hurting people, to seeing pain. It's easy to do, living here, because there is pain, poverty, hurt, need everywhere. I walk down the street with my kids, and I pass so many people sitting with a bowl, begging for money. I see people so drunk that they literally pass out and sleep on the sidewalk. There are homeless people sleeping in the grass. There are children who walk around the town with no shoes on their little feet.
It's easy to get hardened, to get "used" to seeing these sights. But this week brought a reminder again of why we are here. God wants us to bring His good news of healing and hope, restoration and freedom. We can't just "preach" to people without showing them first that God loves them. One way we do this is by meeting their very real physical needs, and one of the biggest ways we've been able to do that this year is through taking teams to the Malnutrition Center. This is a place for children whose parents cannot even feed them properly, or for children who, for one reason or another, simply are not thriving physically.
This has been a beautiful ministry for our family to be involved in. We've all gone there, and Nate and Shelby get so excited to play with the kids, to love on the babies, and just to help in whatever way they can. But this week, while Steve and a team were ministering there, a 7 year-old child named Benito (who weighed only 25 pounds when he was brought in), passed away.
Heartbreaking.
It was devastating for my children, even though they understood that Benito is not hungry anymore, is not in pain, is playing and eating whatever he wants right now.
And it was a powerful reminder that this is why we are here, that this is no game but serious business, helping to save lives both physically and spiritually.
Matthew 19:14-15 But Jesus said, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” And he placed his hands on their heads and blessed them before he left.