Rancho Esperanza

Testimonial

       Another Friend from up North

By the time we pulled into the 24 N Go to make a pit stop, our trip was almost complete. I had seen Guatemala City, with areas as modern as any city in the states.  I had seen slums that make Appalachia look like a paradise.  I had seen the Rio Dulce region, where rich Guatemalans and tourists on  vacation on the banks of the river and only 100 yards inland there are small poverty stricken villages with chickens, turkeys, children, and adults co-mingling around dirt floor structures held together by rusty nails and leaky roofs.  I had seen the first building and driveway at Rayo de Esperanza, where Mike and Karen’s vision of an orphanage has come to life!    So before we pulled into that gas station, I had seen so much.  I was numb, keeping my      emotions at arms length, not allowing the pain of   the people to infiltrate my shallow world view.

 

But then, as I stepped out of the van, I saw two little girls lying on the dirty sidewalk just outside the front door.  The youngest girl was at most 5 or 6 years old, and the older girl was 8 or 9.  The girls were absolutely beautiful, but so weathered.  Their hair looked like birds nests in winter and their skin was stained with different shades of earth. We made eye contact; the younger girl walked toward me; my heart began to melt.  She came nearer, but I couldn’t speak.  I then looked into her eyes, eyes which were soft yet intense, as if Jesus himself were looking at me.  Maybe he was.  Her eyes haunt me as I write.

 

For the first time on this trip I began to  feel the pain of this country through a little homeless girl. I didn’t have a clue of how to respond to her.  Fredrich Buechner’s quote came to my mind. “The world is pain.  And its pain makes strangers of all; tying my tongue into a lovers knot.”  So I just       motioned, pointing to the store, communicating to her where I was going.  Walking past her, questions began to spring up in my mind.  What can I do to help?  Where is her mom?  Why does the store owner  allow these two girls to sleep on the sidewalk?  And, why am I feeling this way?

 

I went into the store and began looking for treats for myself, trying to avoid the uncomfortable feeling I just encountered.  I looked to the front of the store and saw the girls straddling the doorway. They had been kicked out before; but this time they were waiting on me.  Were they waiting for food, candy, money, or just to be acknowledged?  I bought them some ice cream and Ring Pops and gave them a few quetzals.  The older girl shyly mumbled “Gracias” and both walked back to their spot on the sidewalk.

 

My heart was torn with more questions. Where do they go when it’s dark?  Is this ice cream the only meal that they will have today?  I then hopelessly turned around and walked back to the van as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders.

 

As I write this, I’m two weeks removed from my trip and cannot get these girls out of my mind.  I long to know those little girls and others like them:  the dirty, the poor, the rejects, and outcasts of this world.  This is uncomfortable and radical, but I can’t ignore what I saw and what I felt.  This is where life begins for me, where the “lovers knot” begins to unravel.  For this simply allows me to know and be known to others within this fallen world that we all call home.

                                                                                                                                       Jason Turnblazer

 

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