I have "officially" been on the World Race since Wednesday evening. I arrived with my parents in Chicago and was immediately swept into a whirlwind of WR living. The reunion with my team and squad was wonderful, thou plagued by the daunting task of saying goodbye to my parents for 11 months — possibly the hardest thing I have ever done. With them gone, I have been forced to rely on my team and squad mates more, which has and will continue to bring us closer. (Amanda and I have ruined every team picture so far…)
My squad is a little bit different than squads in the past for a few reasons: 1. We have Seth Barns, the founder of AIM, as one of our leaders 2. Because of that, we are an "experimental squad" 3. We (all 60 people on my squad) are together for the entire first month. We are all living in community for this month, eating, sleeping, growing together during the mornings and evenings. For the rest of the day we will be split up into our respective teams and disperse to our different ministry sites.
Naturally, we didn't find out what our ministries would be until last night… the night before we went to them. My team, Hephzibah, has been assigned to work at "church 2". But they're not ready for us yet, so we spent this afternoon at the hospital in town.
I've already had my world rocked through the conversations that I've had and the stories that I have heard, but for the most part this trip hasn't been too difficult yet. I keep waiting for the moment when it really hits me that I'm gone for 11 months, far far away from home. It didn't hit me when we flew out of Chicago,
it didn't hit me when we landed in Guatemala city,
it didn't hit me when we spent our first night in a transitional Spanish speaking home,
it didn't hit me when we saw a neighbors pet monkey, it didn't hit me when we crammed 65 people + their luggage on 1 1/4 bus' for a three hour drive to Santa Cruz Del Quiche,
it didn't hit me when we spent our first night here in tents.
it didn't hit me when we landed in Guatemala city,
it didn't hit me when we spent our first night in a transitional Spanish speaking home,
it didn't hit me when we saw a neighbors pet monkey, it didn't hit me when we crammed 65 people + their luggage on 1 1/4 bus' for a three hour drive to Santa Cruz Del Quiche,
it didn't hit me when we spent our first night here in tents.
But finally, it did hit. Going to the hospital this afternoon I thought I had cleared my mind of expectations. I was wrong. We saw room after room filled with Guatemalans and Mayans who were sick, or waiting for their children to get better, or simply waiting to die. The conditions were much worse than what I'm used to, and the quality of care is devastating! I went from enjoying my tour of the hospital that serves over 1 million people, to praying that there were no more doors to enter! It felt like each room we entered was was more heart wrenching than the one before.
I have seen pain, but never so much in such a concentrated area! Malnourished children who have been given merely days left to "live", children with tubes coming from their nose and their arms, mothers waiting silently next to children who sob, post-surgery patients wheeled over bumpy, cracked hallway floors.
I don't know when "church 2" will be easy for us, but until it is, this is my mission: love the people who are in that hospital, convey to them that I care, be content that my ministry in this scenario may simply be the ministry of presence.
