I haven’t yet talked about our ministry this month. Or at least not in very much detail.
This month the Boundless Freedom Fighters were working in the hospital less than a minute from where we are staying. The Santa Elena Hospital is one of the only hospitals for miles around. It’s government funded and almost what you’d expect from a third world hospital. The walls are cracked in places, the area is dirty, and the whole compound is run down. The emergency room is the most striking area of the whole hospital. What you’d expected from an emergency area waiting room is an indoor area with lots of chairs, maybe a small TV, and fairly clean. Well that’s not how Guatemala does things. Not because they’re corrupt or evil, but because they simply cannot finance it. No, the emergency room backs up to a small pavilion area that is the waiting room. The ambulances back straight in bringing the sick and injured through groups of waiting people at all hours.
What’s most striking about this is not that the people sit outside. Or that the ambulances have to drive through and around them. What’s most striking is that the people sleep out there. I’m not talking about during the day, either. Most of the people who come to bring their loved ones to the hospital are from far, far away. Meaning they can’t just hop in a Tuk-tuk and head home that night. No, they have to stay outside in the pavilion. In the cold. In the rain. With the bugs and wild dogs that roam around. And yet they sit and wait. One man whom we befriended has been here for 5 days straight. He sits day in and day out with his son-in-law and his grandson because his daughter is having complications with childbirth. Wanna know something funny? He is one of happiest old men I’ve ever met. He comes up to us every day and gets us to teach him some English. The other day he had me write down several words for him and sound them out. Today we all played soccer together. He was all smiles.
Then there’s the maternity ward. This is where we’ve spent most of our time over the past 2 weeks or so. There are several children there that have been abandoned or have some sort of complication with their health. There’s 10 year old Catalina the girl whom was left at the hospital. There’s young Macario, the 4 year old boy who just today learned how to walk. Then there’s the 7-month old girl whom I’ve most connected with. Regina (pronounced Ray-hee-na) was left on the side of the road by her heavily intoxicated mother (or so that’s what we’ve gathered). Regina has infant alcohol syndrome, meaning her mother drank heavily during pregnancy leading to mental problems for Regina. You can tell that something is a bit off with her due to the blank stares and unreadable expressions she sometimes shows.
My heart breaks for these people. I’m not generally one to say things like that. I usually understand the way of things and can separate my emotions from what needs to be done. But something about holding little Regina the first day of ministry, or seeing that smiling old man makes my heart break ever so much. It breaks because of the horrible conditions some of these people have to stay in while waiting for their families. The fact that they may not be able to eat. It breaks for the children that have been abandoned in the hospital. It breaks because sometimes the staff does not have enough time to care for the patients and give these children the attention they deserve. It breaks because I can see roaches go in and out of Regina’s crib. It breaks for the boy who had his appendix taken out and wanders the hospital in his wheelchair. For the wails of despair that can be heard at times, whether in pain or anguish. For the problems the hospital itself faces. The way that I know the staff tries their hardest but is run ragged at times.
There are so many things that could bring you down to the fetal position and weep. And keep you there. So many things that are hitting me now more and more as I sit here typing. Even more so than when I was there. This will not be the last time I feel this way. No, not by a long shot.
But.
There is not just a glimmer of hope for Santa Elena. There are giant, boundless, beacons of light here. The Lord is here with these people. With Renee the man who once lived in Boston and the rest of the workers in the Bodega General. With Ruiz, Julio, and Domingo; the happiest and greatest janitors any hospital would be lucky to have. With Sally and Erv, the missionaries we’re staying with who run Agape in Action.
All is not bleak and hopeless here.
In this blog I talked about what breaks my heart about Quiche, Guatemala. In my next blog I will talk about what makes it soar to new heights.
Seth
