Hands down: you meet the best people as a hospital janitor.
This month, my team has been reporting to the janitorial/maintenance teams of the Guatemalan National Hospital, Santa Elena. I quickly learned that this month on the Race will be defined by the people I encounter and how much I commit to these relationships — not by the actual work I’m doing.
During our first week at the hospital, some of the girls got asked to paint the walls of the emergency room a calming color. Appropriate. As I was painting next to the entrance of the mens restroom, you could imagine that Id have some quality awkward eye contact with the men awaiting their turn. Vicente was no exception.
This middle-aged man asked me why I was painting and what all these white people were doing in Quich. Valid question, sir. I answered with my cookie-cutter answer of what the World Race is and why we are serving at the hospital. He was intrigued.
I set down my paintbrush as our conversation went past the surface level. I found out that he was at the hospital tending to his sons hurt arm going pretty far out of my comfort zone, I asked if I could pray for his healing. He said yes. My Chacos awkwardly squeaked down the hospital hallways as we made our way to the other side of the building.
Jose, his twelve-year-old son, was lying unconscious and almost completely bandaged up from head to toe. His arm got disconnected (theres probably a better medical term for that) at the elbow from a bad horse accident. His anguished face was smushed in from the blow. I laid hands on him as I asked the Lord to heal this little trooper. After talking to Vicente some more, I promised to visit Jose til he was healed and then went back to work.
The next day, I went back to the mens wing of the hospital to check on our boy. I walked in to see a conscious Jose. Poor guy was still in a lot of pain, but conscious. We talked for half an hour or so I found out he likes mango just as much as I do. Thats a good sign. Other noteworthy facts: he plays soccer, is shy, has 5 siblings, and wants to learn English. Well, I could help with one of those things! English. That day I taught him some basic words… mango being one of them.
The next day I returned with a homemade coloring book in hand: Joses Big Book of English. The pages were filled with English/Spanish vocabulary and corresponding pictures. This little dude had to spend a straight week in a hospital bed around all grown men, so I figured it might be nice to have a productive time killer. His shy face lit up he loved it.
Day after day, I had the privilege of getting to know Jose better. Day after day, the Lord healed this guy right up, and his personality slowly came to life. He is sweetly bashful he shyly tries to hold back smiles, but when they bust through, its magic. He got to the point where he could come visit me outside at work. We could go on walks, watch soccer games and eat mango. When the time came, his operation went well. They even released him several days before they had expected to! Bittersweet.
Vicente and Jose unexpectedly came by early Friday morning to say goodbye before they started their 11-hour trip home. Vicente told me about his sons new dream to study English and work in Texas one day. Sweeter words are hard to find. Our team sent them off with prayer and some food for the journey.
Its neat to see how our Lord is mightily over circumstances. He can work through something as trivial as lines outside of the mens restroom on the wrong side of the hospital. He blessed me when he called me to put down the paintbrush and commit to a relationship with one of his people.
Im going to miss Jose the Fuerte, but have high hopes for his future as a Texan.
Cheers to horses, mangos, and restroom lines,
Darcie
