Tammy suggested we kneel down to keep from intimidating the family. (We're not only very tall by comparison, we're a group of total strangers, so we try to tread lightly.) Ana arrived back from Guatemala City just in time for the dedication and walked right into her new home. There were quite a few of us in there--six on our team plus Ana and all of her relatives, including little Andrea who had stolen my heart.
We started with a simple get-to-know-you conversation. I told her she had a beautiful family and asked about them. I told her a little about us as well--just that we were from the U.S. and are all followers of Christ. It was surprisingly simple finding the words. Maybe that's because all the pauses for translation gave me time to think. Maybe it's because God was giving me the words.
Everything I said, in short, simple sentences, was translated by Tony into Spanish and then by Fausto into Quiche (a native, Mayan language spoken by many of the people in Chichi, including Ana). She listened intently to everything we said, and I could see in her eyes she was appreciative. At Tammy's suggestion, I asked her if she ever went to church. She said no, but that she really wanted to check it out. To me, that was worth all the work.
Rob said it best a day later after Jill told an incredible story about sharing God with someone. He fought back tears when he said that physically helping someone lasted a few years, but sharing Jesus was eternal. Ana got a glimpse of eternity when we told her the home was a free gift from Jesus Christ. I told her we were just His helpers.
And that's no bull. Without God in my life, there's no way I'd be here right now. What kind of red-blooded American voluntarily skips vacation to spend a week in a third world country? Who puts down their iPhone and picks up a hammer? I sure wouldn't have done this without faith. I'm far too self-absorbed to choose to serve others without a nudge from God to do so. But I digress.
I told Ana that Jesus was the God of hope, and I prayed He gave her hope in her life. I got to hand her the lock and key to her home. We also gave her a basket full of goodies--everything from eggs to pasta to chocolate.
Ana thanked us, and we all shuffled out of her house. Just before we left, we distributed a few more gifts. Our group had divided up the gift-buying duties months earlier and then sorted the gifts the night before so that each family would get everything from toys to bubbles to soccer jerseys.
I handed a baby doll I had bought in the States to my sweet little buddy, Andrea. I wanted to take her home. I wanted to take all of those kids home. The poverty is overwhelming, and we were about to get a taste of even more of it.
After the dedication, we piled back into the pickup truck and headed back towards the house in downtown Chichi. While we were riding down the mountain, Dustin said the house experience was the coolest thing he'd ever done. I was thinking the exact same thing.
After spending about an hour unwinding at the mission house, we got back in the bed of the pickup truck (all ten of us this time) and headed out of town to one of Manos de Jesus's three feeding centers.
Wow, was that chaotic, but in the best way. As soon as we pulled up and hit the ground, little kids grabbed our hands and led us into their class. They had never seen us before in their life, but the attachment was instant. They were SO excited to see us, we couldn't help but smile. Each one of us "Gringos" was surrounded by kids. They begged us to pick them up and swing them around. It was clear that what they really wanted was affection.
Some of the little girls had tiny vials of glitter, which I didn't realize at first. All I saw was a bunch of girls huddled together touching each others' faces. I figured it was just a cultural thing I didn't understand and didn't think much of it. Then a little girl touched my face and burst out laughing...and I knew there was something more to the face touching.
It still took the laughter and stares of my other team members for me to realize I had been glitter bombed. Multiple times. Mark turned on the "mirror" feature of his iPhone, and I saw that I essentially had a blue glitter beard. It was ridiculous.
All the girls were attacking with their little, glittery hands, and I thought it would be a shame to waste it all on me. In my broken Spanish, I pointed out our group jokester, Darren, to the girls. He was sitting quietly on the other side of the room. I basically told them Darren LOVES glitter. They conspired for a minute and then attacked in full force. So, Darren got a glitter beard that day too. You're welcome, Darren!
We watched the kids worship, which was awesome. I've never seen such enthusiasm for what was basically a group Sunday School class. (The three feeding centers operate twice a week and take in about 200 children each. They sing and dance and learn about the Bible in Spanish and Quiche for about an hour. Then everyone gets a meal...possibly their only meal for several days, depending on how poor their families are.)
While it was amazing to watch so many little faces joyfully praising God, the feeding center was our first glimpse into the heartbreaking, widespread poverty of Chichicastenango. We helped scoop the food onto their plates and hand it out. Each child got a tiny amount of chicken along with some vegetables, rice, and a few corn tortillas. The drink du jour was cold coffee water.
By the time the last children took their plates, the food was cold. But each and every little person who came through the line and took a plate from us said "thank you."
The plates were cleared of every last grain of rice in record time, but I wasn't paying enough attention to see what was happening to much of the food. For now I'll just say that the children weren't actually eating all of it. More about that later. It broke my heart.
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