A New Season [Ecclesiastes 3:1-8]

I’m not even sure how to say this other than to just do it… to let the words fall from my fingertips and onto my computer screen.

Our season in Guatemala is coming to a close, and our family will be moving back to the states soon.

Putting these words out there is both terrifying and heartbreaking to me. Sharing the news publicly makes it seem real, when all I’ve wanted to do is to stuff the words back inside of me and carry that burden silently, but I know it’s a reality that I not only have to face but also share with others.

July had started out great- we were excited to head back to the states for a much needed break and to see family. We never dreamed that just a week later we would be in the PICU with John who was gravely ill from Covid. As I reflect back on those moments, I have so much to thank God for. When John first became sick and I took him to the ER for respiratory distress, we were sent home with an inhaler and told that everything looked fine (spoiler alert: everything was NOT fine). The next morning, I explained to my husband that if this were one of my patients, I would take him to the ER and demand blood gasses and a chest xray. Bryan suggested that I return, and I knew it was the right thing to do. Thank God I followed both of our instincts… It terrifies me what may have happened to a mother without a medical background who may have not been as persistent. As the medical team rushed him into the huge ER trauma room to stabilize him, they weighed the possibilities of high flow oxygen vs. more aggressive treatments.  I immediately felt sick… had we been in Guatemala, he would have needed to be intubated because of the lack of resources where we are. As I watched my brave boy sleep that night, I was overcome with gratitude that we were there in that moment receiving medical treatment that is far more advanced than most areas in the world.

John’s lungs have unfortunately suffered some damage due to this sickness, and his pediatrician has warned us that with any subsequent virus or infection, he will likely get sicker than most kids until his lungs grow and begin to repair themselves. Feeling the crushing weight of reality, it felt somewhat irresponsible to take him back to an area where I regularly work with kids suffering from tuberculosis, pneumonia, and any respiratory virus you can imagine.

However, as difficult as the past two months have been, we have definitely seen God moving and opening (literal!) doors for us. I remember the nauseating feeling of knowing this was our next step but praying “God, if this is truly what You want, You need to make it clear because my faith is small and also because I’m an idiot.” Thankfully, our God is patient and kind. Our offer was accepted on a house in the Harrisonburg, VA area, and I had several job offers to choose from. We are excited about being in Harrisonburg, because it is a very diverse area with a large Spanish-speaking population. In choosing where to work and live, this was incredibly important to us to still be in an environment where we can serve others. In fact, I fully believe that God is not calling us OFF the mission field, but rather to a different mission field that is closer to our family and the appropriate medical care that we hopefully never have to use again. I am a firm believer that nothing is wasted when it comes to serving God, and this new community will allow us to use the gifts God has cultivated within us over these past 7 years.

Knowing those things gives us peace in this season that is so emotionally difficult. We knew our time was limited as our children got older and we needed to begin thinking of their educational futures. (Unfortunately, there aren’t great education options where we are and while I think homeschooling is wonderful, I already know it is NOT for me.) We didn’t anticipate for this moment to be sudden or rushed, but now that it’s playing out that way, I am also glad that it hasn’t been dragging on over the course of several months.

We are leaving Guatemala with our hearts bursting with joy, pride, and satisfaction but also full of sadness, hesitation, and most of all, hope. We are so hopeful for this next season for our family and how we can be planted in a new place, growing new relationships, and bearing new fruit.  We are filled with gratitude for all that’s been done over these past 7 years.  We won’t miss the scorpions, the parasites, learning new languages, or the heat… but despite the difficulties of living in a developing nation, we would go back and relive the past 7 years in a heartbeat.  Thank you for allowing us to be here and serve in the capacity we’ve been able to serve…  never once lacking, God has always provided for our family through your generous encouragement and support.

As we close out our time here, will you please pray with us?
+ Pray for our Guatemalan friends and coworkers, we have already had some rough “goodbyes”.
+ Pray for Hope of Life, that they continue to grow and thrive and raise up the perfect people to fill our roles.
+ Pray for packing – it’s too expensive and unreliable to ship anything we own, so we will be leaving with what we can fit into our suitcases. Fortunately, it’s ‘just stuff’ so we are not too attached to the majority of it. However, buying vehicles and furniture etc etc etc seems so overwhelming right now.
+ Pray for ongoing health issues for all of us. This year has been difficult as we’ve faced parasites, covid, and several respiratory viruses. I feel like I’ve been sick almost all of 2022!
+ Pray that we find the right church to plug into. As we’ve said, ministry opportunities are highly important to us in this big change, so pray we are placed in an area that we can serve and grow.
+ Pray, probably most of all, for our hearts. Leaving a place you love and have spent 7 years of your life at is not easy, but we truly are believing in greater things yet to come!

*Several people have suggested a “Housewarming” Registry to help fill some tangible needs. You can find that here: https://smile.amazon.com/registries/custom/2QU78P140N9SS/guest-view

We thank you so very much for the support you’ve shown us over the past 7 years!  I sincerely hope you can hear our deepest gratitude in our words.  Although we are sad for what we are leaving behind, we look forward to what lies ahead.
Here’s to new beginnings, new ministry opportunities, and all that awaits us.
May we continue to love God and love others in all we do.

You are so loved,

Bryan, Whitney, John, and Flori Saulton

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Walter

So many tears have been shed these past couple days— tears of worry, tears of sadness, and plenty of tears of happiness! Today, I sat and wept with Walter’s mother who was so thankful for the cleft palate surgery he received at Hope of Life today.

As she wept, she shared the story of how many children in her village have died from complications due to cleft lip/palate. She wept as she remembered that 10 years ago, she was one of those very mamas who had lost a baby for this very reason. She wept as she reminisced of the day four years ago when she handed her one month old malnourished baby over to me. She couldn’t come with her baby because her husband wouldn’t allow it. When she ultimately refused to abandon her baby, he left.


When sleepy post-op Walter opened his mouth and she saw the new little palate, she wept again.

Today was all of the feelings.

In these remote areas of Guatemala, health issues are common and healthcare access is rare. On this #WorldHealthDay, I’m so proud of the work being done at Hope of Life to provide this basic human right to families who are unable to afford it but more than deserve it.

And more than ever, I am in awe at the beauty, the bravery, and the strength of these Guatemalan mamás. Providing what is a very basic service (in our eyes), is literally the life-changing help that keeps children alive and in their own families.

Thank You, God… for putting Your goodness on display through sweet little ones like Walter. 😭💞🙌🏻

Faithfulness in little things

She was sweeping her floor when arrived to bring her family to the malnutrition center at Hope of Life. As she swept, I was in awe. A dirt floor inside a mud house. I laughed to myself, AT myself, thinking how my tile floors actually looked dirtier than hers, as I had not swept in days.
She watered her plants that hung in makeshift plastic bottle flowerpots off the side of her house. Meanwhile,I had four dead tomato plants, a crusty old rose bush, and a few succulents on their last leg outside of my house.
She splashed water into her hands and gently combed them through her children’s hair. With a broken comb, she pulled her daughter’s hair neatly back into a ponytail. The other day, I picked the squished raspberry out of Flori’s hair and re-fed it to her.
Materially speaking, she had so much less than me, but showed so much more care to what little she possessed.
It reminded me of a Hudson Taylor quote, “A little thing is a little thing. But •faithfulness• in little things is a great thing.”
Lord, help me to be faithful in all things… especially in the small things.

Dulce

When I think of strength, I think of Dulce. A young girl from Guatemala’s Corredor Seco, her father didn’t have the financial means to provide dire medical care for her.

4 years ago when we brought her to Hope of Life, I would have never guessed how resilient, intelligent, and sociable she was! Diabetes and malnutrition robbed her of many things in her life— her vision, her joy, her strength, and even her own mother were lost to these difficult diagnoses.

Through Hope of Life, she has received surgery to restore her vision, training to learn to manage type 1 diabetes all on her own, and dental care to restore her beautiful smile.

When I asked her if I could share these pictures, she latched onto me with the biggest hug. Somewhere between giggling and sobbing, she agreed and thanked me… but it occurred to me that her thankfulness needed to be directed to all of you, too.

To those who support us, pray for us, and encourage us… thank you for letting us do the work God has called us to. You generosity is part of Dulce’s story, too. Truly, stories aren’t always as hope-filled as this one, but God’s hands are always ever-present over us and the amazingly strong Guatemalans we get to work with. As we enter into 2022, we are so deeply thankful for our friends, family, supporters, and encouragers for keeping us afloat in this crazy world!

Hope on the Horizon

What a year it has been for all of us.

I apologize for my absence, more on that in a moment. Let me give a very brief rundown of what The Saultons have been up to this past year!

+Covid hit in March 2020 causing a complete shutdown in Guatemala. Air travel, buses, and cars were forbidden to travel, meaning thousands of men and families were put out of work right in the middle of harvest season. Families who lived on a meager $2/day now lived on nothing. Malnutrition and poverty skyrocketed. For us, we worked hard to fill in needs around the ministry. Whitney worked 24 hour shifts every 2-3 days and on her off days, Bryan would fill in cooking at the senior center. John just bobbled around completely clueless of the havoc around him. Babies, man. 🙂

+After a few months of serving very long, difficult hours (24 hour shifts in full PPE in the 100 degree heat while in your first trimester of pregnancy is no joke), we were fortunate enough to get one one of the very rare flights being offered out of Guatemala at that time. “We’ll ride it out for a couple more weeks and then it’ll be over” or so we thought.

+On July 8, 2020 my best friend Jazmyn welcomed her beautiful daughter Kira into this world. Her birth was complicated by postpartum hemorrhage, a very sick newborn with a scary diagnosis, then an alarming health complication meaning Jazmyn needed to be admitted to the hospital without Kira. Being here in the states meant we were able to step in and help her husband Jordan care for baby Kira and their 2 year old son Zuri. God was so gracious and He truly answered all of our prayers in that season! Many tears were shed, but God was so good to all of us.

+On September 28th, Guatemala re-opened their borders, allowing air travel again. We booked return tickets for our family of three, excited to return home and give birth to Flori in Guatemala. Just 2 days before leaving, we discovered Flori was no longer growing due to placental insufficiency. Carrying the pregnancy much longer meant risking Flori’s life.

+October 12, 2020 we welcomed our precious Florence Jane into our arms. Tiny, but healthy, our 4.5 lb Flori was discharged after only 3 days in the hospital.

+Early November, back-to-back hurricanes hit Eastern Guatemala devastating rural communities, roads, and completely washing out a village at the base of Hope of Life’s campus.

+In December, my sweet buddy Yolanda passed away. She was a patient of mine that I have known for over 8 years! She is already deeply missed.

+We enjoyed Christmas and the new year with our family and babies. We missed out on seeing so many people because of pandemic + preemie baby + flu and rsv season… Please feel our love, hug, and presence despite our absence! I also dealt with some pretty brutal postpartum anxiety + depression. Listen, if you are dealing with the same, Jesus is wonderful BUT SO IS ZOLOFT. Through medication, Pink Stork mood support supplements, and pressing into The Lord I think I am finally better. Could that be hope I see on the horizon?!

+In a season of waiting for Flori’s passport, my precious Granddaddy passed away. He had just celebrated 70 years of marriage to my loving Grandmother. His health had been declining, but it was unexpected. However, he didn’t suffer and we were still in the states and able to see him and take him a prime rib dinner just one week prior. For all of those things, I am forever grateful and able to see God’s goodness even in the midst of our sadness.

+The end of February and the beginning of March were crazy! We finally received Flori’s passport, we were able to book airline tickets, and receive both of our Covid vaccines. Finally, some breakthrough in this past year that has felt suffocating and dark!

Which leads me to say… WE ARE HEADING BACK TO GUATEMALA ON WEDNESDAY!

I know the transition will be hard but we are still excited to get back. Our hearts are so invested in the work God is doing in rural Guatemala! The price to pay for having our hearts in two places is that it is hard to leave, but it is also hard to stay. Although it hasn’t always been comfortable or what we expected, we have also enjoyed this slow season of being in the states. We already so deeply miss our family– John and Flori will especially miss their cousins and grandparents!

Talking about what we do sometimes feels so weird. I never want the focus to be on us. I never want the focus to be “Oh, poor Guatemala… Thank God YOU were there to help THEM.” No, the glory is not ours to enjoy. The praise goes to God alone. We just goes where He has sent us. In the same vein, because we have so many amazing financial supporters and people who carry us in their prayers, I do feel responsible to let you all know about all of the exciting projects we have supported over the past several months. Through your generosity, we have been able to regularly supply a village of 100+ families with food bags every month. We have been able to minister to mothers and families who were once patients of mine, and helped coordinate medical care through Guatemalan missionaries who travel into the regions where we work.

We look forward to keeping you posted on when we get back home to Guatemala. We’ve been gone far too long and have so much work ahead of us. We are ready to get these hands dirty again.

Until then– stay healthy, stay masked…

And know that you are loved.
-Whitney

It’s pretty impossible to reduce our time here to just a few pictures, but here are just a handful of the literal hundreds that have been taken!

Yolanda

She was a real life sour patch kid and the closest thing I would ever have to a little sister.

It’s ironic, really… when I moved to Guatemala I didn’t speak one word of Spanish. Yet the person I understood better than anyone else was Yolanda. A deaf teenager growing up in an extremely remote and extremely poor village in the mountains of Guatemala, she spoke her own unique sign language. Her family didn’t have the resources to care for her diabetes, so finding a school to teach her to sign was so far out of the picture that I doubt they even thought of it. It wasn’t until Hope of Life started sending her to a deaf school that she began to speak some Guatemalan sign language. Even still, she spoke her own way and it’s remarkable how well we understood each other. She wasn’t completely nonverbal though… her laughter was boisterous, the way she shouted my name was precious, and she would say (rather loudly) some pretty obnoxious things at inappropriate times… this unfortunately always seemed to happen whenever I was responsible for her and of course always in a public setting. These memories crack me up but also make me want to cry knowing I will never experience them again.

Typing this out is painful. I don’t want to put it in writing because I don’t want to believe it’s real… and I don’t know HOW to put in writing a relationship that ran 8 years deep. We weathered many storms “through sickness and in health” and I was privileged to see a side of her that not many got to see.

My selfie queen, my shadow, my sidekick, my sweet girl. I only wish I had gotten to hold your hand, braid your hair one last time, and say goodbye. I will love you and think of you forever.

Faithful

“Don’t forget to be faithful to do the thing you’ve been called to do. It’s easy to get distracted, much harder to stay focused. Nothing lasting is built without steadfast endurance, wisdom, & the ability to press through the unglamorous, unrecognized, unseen, & laborious middle.” Christine Caine

Today, and really just lately in general, have not been days that I want to place on the highlight reel of my life. Maybe it’s this season of being temporarily uprooted from our home and our work in Guatemala, maybe it’s the weird season we’re all in and all of the changes due to “the” virus, maybe it’s a little bit of a lot of different things… but today it all came crashing down on how I’m in this weird unseen middle. In my stubbornness and consternation, I sent myself to my room twice today until my attitude would improve– but that didn’t really happen until I stumbled across this quote from Christina Caine.

And I realized– I might not be where or who or what I want to be at this very moment, yet I am still called to be faithful.

For the past month, I have been grieving over sweet Brenda in the above photos. I was so worried about her returning home. Is she getting enough to eat? Is her mama doing therapy on her arm? Is she safe? I seriously thought of this precious girl ALL the time, and would whisper prayers for her safety throughout each passing day. At 3 1/2 years and only 13 pounds, her frail little body was shutting down when we received her. Could she survive the damaging effects of severe malnutrition? Miraculously, she nearly tripled her weight… but we had to discharge her to go home during a government shutdown and with the uncertainty of when we’d see or hear from her again. When I received word this evening that she doing well at home, nothing else mattered… not the things that I was mad about… nor the fact that I’ve experienced a lot of change lately and I’m just not good with changes. Knowing she was okay all of a sudden made everything with me okay.

Tonight was a beautiful reminder that when we are faithless, He is still faithful. In the anxiety and stress and confusion of this season, may we all be gently reminded of this.

You are loved.
-Whitney

Endless Alleluia

“There’s nothing better, there’s nothing better, there’s nothing better than this right now.”

I sang it to John through tear soaked eyes and with an empty heart. Motherhood sure has a way to knock you down and keep you humble.

My normal 7pm-7am perfect sleeper was still wide awake at 3am and had been screaming for 4 hours non stop. I was tired, he was tired, and I was replaying every decision I had made that day… “should I have let him nap earlier? Is what he ate for dinner hurting his tummy? I don’t feel his molars coming through but maybe they are?”

I had lugged in a rocking chair from the front porch and rocked my baby as I held him close and sang to him with my hoarse, shaky voice. This song was what rolled off of my lips, but I definitely did NOT feel the peace and praise that the words brought. Fighting through tears and exhaustion, I continued to sing. As the hours kept passing, I felt John’s body relax into mine as I felt the heavy weight start to lift from my shoulders.

I began to realize that all of the things I was seeing as a burden, were all of the very things I had prayed for years prior.

Being quarentined in Guatemala? There was a time in my life that I’d have given anything to do that. Yet here I was, already forgetting of the blessing of all that God had provided to get us here.

The old wooden rocking chair that felt so uncomfortable after 4 hours of rocking? It was a precious and prized possession that Bryan’s parents bought us specifically for our front porch in Guatemala. I had a place to sit, yet here I was complaining that I had to sit in it instead of in my bed.

The screaming inconsolable baby? At one point we didn’t know if children were possible for us. Yet here in my arms I felt the tiny, tangible, miraculous blessing of having a son. I traced my finger over his tiny nose and sweet little lips and watched him sleep soundly and safely in my arms.

Man, I felt like such a mess. How quickly I can forget about every precious detail in my life when I allow my focus to be shifted from praise to provocation… even right now, in the middle of the mission field and on Easter weekend when my mind should be focused as ever on The Lord, all I wanted to do was wallow in my frustration / fatigue / whatever it was.

This story doesn’t really have an end, as that part is still unfolding. Just as Psalm 30:5 days, our sorrows may last for the night, but JOY comes in the morning. Yes, I got John back to sleep… and Bryan was so kind to take dad duty the following morning so I could sleep in. But I share this in transparency, knowing that some of you too may be complaining about the very things that you’ve prayed for.  Lord, renew my mind. Help me to be ever focused on You and all You have done for me.

But even in my moments of forgetfulness, stubbornness, and complaining… this much I know is true.

My sin was nailed to the cross.

Along with my doubt

My hurt

My past

My mistakes

The hateful things I’ve said

The hurtful things I’m done

The painful thoughts I’ve had

Jesus died for me, knowing the evilness of my heart, yet He still calls me beloved. He calls me redeemed. He calls me worthy. In these moments where the world seems incredibly unstable, place your trust in the one who is unshakeable.


I am loved, and so are you. And oh, how I pray you know that and believe that, especially in a time such as this.

-Whitney


Easter 2020 : the time we ate steak, cheesecake, and used it as an excuse to put on real clothes and walk outside.

This little turd wouldn’t smile for anything, not even for the stupid bubble wand in my hand 🙄
Candid picture of John giving me a purple nurple in public while I scream at Bryan to control his son and poor Bryan is at a loss for what to do. Maybe this is TMI? But it’s hilarious. And it’s real life. And I’m practicing being thankful for my blessings, even if they do misbehave in public… and also it’s my blog so 🤷🏼‍♀️
His little cranky butt is cute, though 💙

Hard & Holy

I stepped outside for a few minutes today to remove my face mask. The heat index reached 110 inside the hospital, and every time I exhaled I felt like I was suffocating myself with my own hot air… meant to protect me, I felt like I was going to die if I had to breathe beneath my N95 for one more minute.

We’re weary. All of us. And we’re scared– but not in the way that we are timid creatures living in fear, but we are scared because we know the urgency and the weight of this situation and that when the time comes it will be US running fearlessly to the frontlines. Every single healthcare provider across the world is burdened, worried, and carrying the heavy responsibility to help others the best we can while doing no harm… even if it means that we are put in harm’s way.

Watching the medical system become overburdened in the United States is scary for those of us down here. I cannot count how many times I have had to resuscitate a child for an additional 30 minutes because all of the vents were “ocupado” at the first hospital we stopped at. Hearing just how loud silence can be as you intubate a baby– you see them screaming, but they don’t make a sound. What is overwhelming and devastating in the states could become catastrophic here in Guatemala where resources are less than limited.

The hard decision was made to temporarily “bar the doors” here at Hope of Life– nobody is allowed in, and nobody is allowed out. While I miss the luxury of being able to buy my own groceries or even pick up fast food on the weekend, I am willing to be part of the team doing what it takes to keep our vulnerable little babies safe… and behind the scenes, hard working Guatemalans have worked 15 consecutive difficult days to keep things running here. All masked. All gowned. All suffocating under their masks just like me.

I think the most difficult things about this quarantine, is that although we are taking aggressive preventative measures, life is still carrying on.

We are still watching babies like Santos gain enough weight so he can be strong enough for surgery.

At over 10 pounds, he has more than TRIPLED his weight in the past two months. He’s ready for surgery as soon as the travel ban is lifted!

We are still providing physical therapy for babies like Brenda whose bodies are reaping the long term damage from the devastation of severe malnutrition.


Playing with play doh to increase her strength and mobility in her right hand.
I know this picture is graphic, but it is REAL. I am thankful Brenda came to us over a month ago before we had to stop accepting new admissions.

We are still watching miracles unfold before our eyes — just like sweet Franklin. Less than two months ago, he was cyanotic and in severe respiratory distress due to a cardiac condition called PDA. The Lord breathed life into Franklin’s lungs again by sustaining his little body for long enough to be rushed into urgent heart surgery. Now that he has a healthy heart, we anxiously await for him to start gaining weight. It’s going to happen, and it’s going to happen fast!

His smile! His tooth! His ever so little beginners belly! Those PINK nail beds!

And even though so much good is happening within our walls, my heart breaks for the families outside who need help. For the families whose children were starving before the government shutdown. For the parents who made two dollars a day and now make nothing as many jobs have been suspended. For the mama’s who are having to say “it’s not time yet” when their child is asking at 4pm when they can eat their first meal of the day.

We have already received word of one baby dying and many others who need our help. We are just waiting for the travel bans to be lifted, for the quarantine restrictions to be loosened, and for the world to have a better grip on things before we can risk opening the gates back up to allow others in for help.

I am begging you. If you are able to, STAY AT HOME. The sooner we flatten the curve, the sooner this goes away. The sooner this goes away, the sooner we can be out in the mountains again to bring in those who desperately need help. This is the heartbeat behind what I do and why we are here.

If this post stirs your compassion into action, I encourage you to support Hope of Life or one of the missionary families serving here. Closing the gates has also meant cancelling groups that visit here, which is a devastating blow to the ministry’s income. Were you planning to come here and had to cancel? I challenge you to pray about still donating part of your expenses. The gates may be shut, but the work is harder and heavier than ever. And even though God has called us into a season of doing work here that is HARD, it is HOLY as we are watching some truly miraculous things unfold in these children and mama’s.

I know greater things are yet to come. I feel it. I believe it. We’ve all just gotta make it through this season.

You are loved,
Whitney

On Earth as it is In Heaven

She hadn’t been in for a follow up appointment, so we were all worried. We were already reeling from the difficult news of another patient who passed away, so we were naturally guarding our hearts and expecting the worst. We travelled for hours, climbed down a steep mountainside, crawled through a dangerous rocky ravine, and limbo’d through rusty barb wired fences to get to her.

We approached their home carefully, the whole time praying she would be healthy and safe. When her grandparents saw us, they burst into smiles. “Just wait til you see Santos!” her grandmother grinned. Immediately, all my fears subsided.

Her mamá walked out of their house made of palm fronds. Santos Cecilia was in her arms with the biggest smile on her chubby face and her little belly spilling out of the bottom of her shirt! She looked absolutely perfect! We got them set up with a follow up appointment, but I was so at peace seeing how she is thriving at home.

I wish all stories were this successful.  My heart longs for a world where poverty and malnutrition don’t exist. But until we see things “on earth as it is in heaven” we will continue doing whatever it takes to bring help to the physically and spiritually starving. God, protect these children until help can arrive.💛🙏🏻

May 2019 – the first photo we received of Santos Cecilia asking us to help. She was a month old and weighed under 5 pounds.
January 2020! Santos (mamá) and baby Santos Cecilia
May 2019 – Santos Cecilia’s family
Dr Kyon Hood, his wife Victoria, and their family sponsored Santos Cecilia’s rescue
What a difference several months can make!
it was all worth it.💛
vale la pena💛