In September 2010 I left for Guatemala with a group of individuals from PC3. We were going to build houses for widows and orphans in need. I was not sure what to expect. I didn’t know anything about building houses, but I felt that God wanted me to go on the trip, so I left with an open heart. I decided to journal during my stay in Guatemala to help me remember the experiences, the people and the things that God wanted to show me. As I look back over my notes, I can see that I experienced more sadness, compassion, love and spiritual growth than I had hoped for through the experiences of our Guatemalan adventure. From the dirty barefoot children running through littered streets, to the persistent beggars in the market in Chichi, to the starving dogs living on trash piles, I learned the meaning of real poverty. This is a concept that eludes us, to our good fortune, in America. As a middle-class kid, my idea of poverty has generally been not being able to pay my bills. In Guatemala, it’s literally not having food or a home. It’s a whole different level of survival. But I saw more than poverty; I also saw a great deal of beauty. Guatemala is a beautiful country despite the trash on the streets. It’s beautiful not only geographically but also in spirit. The resilience of the people despite their hardships is simply inspiring. I found that they gave as much to me as I gave to them because I learned so much from them.
During my quiet time on my second day in Guatemala, I opened my Bible to
2 Peter 1:5-7, and my gaze fell on the following verses:
…add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.
At that point, I understood at least part of my purpose for being in Guatemala: I was in Guatemala to show kindness and charity to my brothers and sisters, and through these acts of kindness, God was going to alleviate their suffering and build character in me. I was building houses, and God was building character.
Our second day of building houses was particularly profound to me. The widow we were going to assist lived far out into the country. The ride to her land took about 45 minutes. It was bumpy and muddy from recent rains. We all piled into the back of a pick-up truck and rode with our gear to the site, taking in the scenery and culture along the way. Finally, we reached a point where we could drive no longer. The driver pulled over to the side of the road and explained that we would have to get out, pick up our gear and walk down a narrow, muddy path 6 minutes to the plot of land where we were to build her house. Now, I am an avid walker, but walking a muddy path on the side of a mountain carrying construction materials was a little bit intimidating. It wasn’t that far, but I knew that if I slipped and fell down the side of the mountain while carrying tools, it would not be a good scene. We all stood there for a minute assessing the situation. Was there any other way? Who would carry what? Finally, we just picked up the materials and started down the path. It was doable but tedious. We had to watch our steps, but we all made it safely to the widow’s land. Along the way, little faces began to appear off the side of the path. Community children, much more adept at maneuvering through the terrain, had noticed us and began to walk with us. They knew who we were and that among our hammers and drills and nails, there were also suitcases filled with toys, candy, food and shoes.
Once we were at the site, we met the widow and began the task of building a very simple structure that she could use for shelter. We broke into teams and started to build the walls. I teamed up with another woman, Emily, on a wall. Two days prior, our group had gone to a separate site to build our first house. On that first day, we had built walls with three to four people working in a group; but on the second day of building, the numbers did not quite work out the same. Perhaps Emily and I could have just joined another group, but we decided to make a go of building one of the walls by ourselves. It was not fast going. The boards were very heavy and we could only carry two at a time. She carried one end, and I carried the other. Once we got the boards where we wanted them, we had to turn them on their sides, line them up, drill holes and hammer in the nails to build up the wall one board at a time. As we locked in one board, we grabbed another and repeated the steps. We lined up the next board, overlapped it to the previous one, and so forth, until we built up the wall. Several times along the way, the boards got really heavy and slipped from our hands. There was some discussion over when we should ask one of the guys to come over and help us, but we decided to keep on going. As the wall got higher, we again discussed asking someone who was taller to come over and help us hold up the boards; but everyone seemed busy on their own walls, so we decided to get a ladder. Finally, we had a lopsided ladder set up against our wall. We couldn’t get it to stand even on the ground because we were building on an incline. Emily climbed up the ladder while I stayed on the ground and leaned on the ladder with my body to keep it from tipping over. I stretched out my left hand as far as I could to help her hold up one end of the board. She probably used all of her physical strength to maintain her balance on that ladder while she drilled holes and hammered the nails in each end of the last board, but she pulled it off, and we finished our wall!
All of us worked really hard that day and finished the house in just enough time. As the guys were putting on the roof, a heavy rained moved in. We waited for a break in the rain (inside the house, which didn’t leak, thank goodness), then gave the house to the widow who had patiently waited in a shelter close by. We hung a cross in her new house, prayed with her and packed up our gear to return to the truck.
On the way back to town, we were caught in another downpour. I remember being soaked and cold as I pondered the fact that we were riding in the back of a pick-up truck in a torrential rain in mountains so high we were in the clouds. Suddenly, I realized that God was giving me, all of us, a gift. As a kid, I had dreamed of adventure, and here He was giving me my heart’s desire for obeying Him and doing His work. With His help and guidance, we were able to rise to the level of determination we had seen in the Guatemalan people. His hand had steadied us as we carried our gear on the muddy path, and His hands were on our boards as we built our wall. It was awesome.
Following is a portion from my last journal entry during my time in Guatemala:
We’ve seen so much hunger in this country. Hunger for food. Hunger for love. Hunger for hope and purpose. Families are starving, and women can’t feed their children. Dogs walk the streets freely, shadowing people to pick up crumbs. They are skinny and wild, unaccustomed to kindness. So many living creatures are suffering here… and yet there are beautiful things to be seen. Wherever God’s creatures suffer, there is an opportunity to pour out the love of God. And anytime God pours out His love, and we share in His grace, there is beauty.
— Submitted by Wendy Williams
