I remember crossing the border from Colombia into Ecuador and almost immediately seeing the country’s mantra. As a World Racer, one gets used to picking up and moving every single month, but there’s no real way to prepare emotionally for it. I had just come off of a great month in Colombia, and part of me was still truly missing my time there. I had no idea what was in store for me this upcoming month, and we still had a ways to get to Shell, Ecuador. I was expectant to see what was coming.
However, as soon as we got picked up by Chris and Mandy at the bus station, I knew there was something really special about this family. My four teammates and I were huddled together under some covering to stay out of the rain, our packs a pile on the floor. Exhausted after a 30 plus hour bus ride, we were anxious for any kind of rest. Chris carried so many of our huge packs and we were met with a delicious dinner that evening. I quickly learned that the Zunigas had a special gifting: selfless hospitality and rare generosity. We have been loved so well this month, and it’s hard to truly describe how much it means to us. Being in Month 7, we sometimes tire easily after being on this adventure for so long. To be in someone’s home, and told to see this place as our home as well, was rejuvenating.
The Zunigas love for all of those around them, their constant care for others, is such a testament to Christ in them. When I see this family, I see Jesus. Jesus put others first and invited people in (friend or stranger). It is both beautiful and sobering to see a family that not only left everything back home to come and serve in a foreign country, but who sacrifices so much for others who are just passing through in Ecuador.
God is using them in powerful ways, and I see how they have developed friendships with so many Ecuadorians. Ministry is not just about giving someone a bag of food or holding a baby. Those things aren’t all that hard. What ministry comes down to is that interpersonal relationship, and how one is investing in it. The Zunigas have dived into relationships, have immersed themselves in the people around them.
Being the native Spanish speaker on my team, I had the opportunity to translate for Chris or Mandy on occasion. So many of the people that I got to speak to would tell me how thankful they were for “Hermano Chris” or “Hermana Mandy” (Brother Chris or Sister Mandy).One of the things that stuck out to me the most was a lady named Berta. Chris, two of my teammates, and myself, carried supplies for a rain catcher and a water filter into the nearby jungle community of Sacha Runa. Just one mile from Chris and Mandy’s home, there are families living in the jungle with no clean water. Chris wanted to construct a rain catcher for this particular family whose water supply had been cut off. I was talking to Berta, the grandmother of the household. She told me how grateful she was for Chris’ visits and for the rain catcher and filter he was providing for her. We were watching as Chris and Berta’s husband were putting it all together when she looked me in the eye and said, “Who would do this for us? No one else would do this for us.”
It struck me so deeply to hear her honest words. “No one else would do this for us.” This family is helping those forgotten by even other missionaries who won’t venture just a mile outside of Shell to see needy families. This family is loving, even when they might not get much at all in return other than a soft spoken thank you. This family is truly building Kingdom here in Shell, Ecuador.
Ama la vida. Love life. I see the Zunigas doing just that, and I am honored to have been a part of it, if only for a little while. I am forever grateful for them.
Ecuador gave me the unique opportunity to also work at a special needs orphanage. I could sit here and type out pages of the sad stories of all the kids there – how they ended up there, what their parents attempted to get rid of them, both while in the womb and also after they were born. It’s honestly overwhelming and depressing, the fact that humans are capable of that much cruelty.
But I want to talk about a sweet encounter I had with one of the girls at the orphanage named Michele, or as they referred to her there, “Mishi.” Mishi is 8 years old and has something called “smooth brain.” She can’t talk or communicate verbally, and can only walk when holding on tightly to someone’s hands. She also has to wear a swimsuit over her clothes, because otherwise, she’ll dig into her diaper to eat her own poop. Mishi spends the majority of her days in her crib, and doesn’t get out much. During her physical therapy times, I would take her outside and walk around the building to help her with her walking. She would sometimes get discouraged and try to sit down on me as I held her hands. All the while, I would just urge her on, “Vamos vamos, si puedes!” I created a little way of motivating her, I’d count to three and hoist her up. Uno. dos. tres. She became familiar with this routine. One time, when I came up to her crib, she began to hoist herself up without me having to count. This little gesture gave me hope that my words were impacting her – that somehow, she could understand me.
One day as we were walking outside, Mishi kept sitting down every few steps because she was distracted. You see there’s this dog that lives at the orphanage. His name is Jeff (I know, what a random name for a dog). Anyhow, Jeff is a trooper and all the kids chase him and pull at him, and he just takes it all. Jeff would walk around near us, and every time he did, Mishi could not take her eyes off of him. I realized immediately that she and I had something in common. We both loved dogs. I had an idea.
I sat down with Mishi on the sidewalk and summoned Jeff over. Like a good dog, he came right over and laid down by us. Mishi was beside herself with excitement, clapping her hands and grunting. I took her little hands and began to teach her how to pet Jeff. The joy on her face was a precious thing to behold. Sometimes, in her excitement, she’d begin to pet Jeff a little too forcefully and it turned into smacking him. But Jeff seemed to understand somehow. He never moved, he just laid there and let it happen. I would take Mishi’s hands now and then and tell her that we had to be gentle with Jeff. I don’t know how long we sat there, but it was an experience that I will never forget. I couldn’t do much that would help Mishi in the long run, but I could help her to experience the touch of a dog’s fur in order that she might experience joy and something different and unique from the ordinary. And maybe that was the way that I could show her Jesus. Maybe that was enough.
Ecuador was a month a country of blessings and beautiful encounters with those around me. I could write so much more. We traveled to the Ecuador/Peru border to spend some a few days with a jungle community there, where I ate grub worms and drank Chicha, a combination of spit and fermented Yuca. My mom came for the Parent Vision Trip and it was the best seeing her and hanging out with her in Quito, site seeing and doing ministry together. The Lord was present in it all, and I came to love Ecuador and my time there.
Update: I leave for Bolivia tomorrow! Prayers are greatly appreciated 🙂
