She grasped my hand tightly and rested her arm on mine. Her granddaughter was on the other side as we walked back to their house. I beheld her bare feet as we walked. There was so much wear and tear on them; a sign of so much life!
I actually noticed her and her bare feet when she walked into the building for our first meeting with the widows in Santa Maria Cauque, Guatemala. We were handing out bags of corn to the widows and then accompanying them back to their homes in order to get them registered for further assistance. Our ministry in November was working with GO! Ministries. One of their main programs was working with widows to pray with them, provide them vitamins or medicine, maintenance on their homes, or other odds and ends as provided to the ministry.
The widow, Emilia, only spoke Kaqchikel (the native dialect of this area in Guatemala) so I spoke with her granddaughter on the way home. Emilia was about 85-years-old and she lived with her daughter-in-law and grandchildren.
As we walked, I had a sudden realization that my own grandmother was now a widow. My grandfather had passed away in February, while I was on the race, and only having one grandparent left was something I hadn’t been able to fully process.
Over the last number of years, my grandparents had almost daily visitors from different people in and around their very small town. My grandfather’s best friend would come over one day a week and take my grandfather out to lunch. Another day, someone would come over and sort through their medicine for them, getting it all ready for another week. The next day, someone would be over to cook some meals for them to keep in the fridge. And someone would be over cleaning, vacuuming the carpets and odds and ends that were hard for them to do on their own. That doesn’t include the people who would just stop by to say “Hello!”
My grandparents were always very involved in their church and are still loved and admired by the people they’ve met there. I grew up six hours away from my grandparents, and I wasn’t able to be there for them the way the people in their town were. I’ve always been thankful for the family that has surrounded them, biological or “adopted!”
So, as we turned corner after corner walking Emilia back to her home, I realized the people who were taking care of my grandparents, and who are now taking care of my grandmother, were just paying it forward. They are in Cavalier, North Dakota blessing my grandmother, so that I can be in Santa Maria Cauque, Guatemala blessing this grandmother.
