We’ve all heard the cheesy story about the starfish, right? Here’s a condensed version — a father and son are walking along the beach, and there are hundreds of starfish that have washed ashore. The starfish are dying because they are out of water. The kid begins throwing them in one by one, the dad makes a remark about how ‘you can’t save all of them’ and the kid replies ‘yeah, but I saved that one.’
I’ve come to realize how true that really is. A few weeks ago, I shared on my instagram a story of the ripple effect that helping others has. I’ll share it below:
Several months ago, Hope of Life rescued a little baby girl named Estefani. She was malnourished due to feeding problems related to a birth defect. Months later, she is healthy and now awaiting a surgery date to repair her double cleft lip and palate. Her precious mama told us about her neighbors who just gave birth to two tiny, precious twin girls. “They are chiquititas, como Estefani!” she reflected on when Estefani was first admitted into our care. Yesterday, Hope of Life arranged for the little 4lb babies to be brought in. They are our third set of twin girls this year, and I’m so proud of Estefani’s mama for making us aware of them. This is why you do for one what you wish you could do for everyone. Helping others is not some sort of debilitating crutch that leads them into a life of dependancy… Rather, giving help is an extension of your hand to lift them out of their current situation. If it is done in grace, love, and with some education, it can truly change future generations. Empowered people empower people. [Acts 20:35]Continue reading How to Save the World
“You may choose to look the other way, but you can never say again that you did not know.” -William Wilberforce
Today was Yennifer’s “going home” day. As morbid as this may sound, I never thought we would see this day.
I remember vividly the day she was brought in. I wasn’t even sure she was alive at first. She was 6 years old and only weighed 9 pounds. “How is this even possible?” I thought to myself.
Her skin was dry and flaking off in areas, her pulse was thready and beating at 38 beats per minute, her breathing slow and still. I choked back my own tears as we undressed her to do a full assessment. She didn’t stir, she didn’t fight, she didn’t even wince. She was much too weak for any of that. Continue reading This is rural Guatemala.
Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
It never takes long… when I pull out my small, see through bag filled with nail polish, the hospital mamas all come running toward me for a manicure. I wish I was able to describe to you how much they love this small act of being pampered. These are mamas that have lived tough lives– having dropped out of school, raising several children by the age of 18, and carrying gallons of water on their heads for miles when they are home in their village. The moments that I am painting their small, dirty, hardworking hands are some of my most cherished moments in Guatemala. It gives me a moment to speak to just them and get to know them personally… rather than my usual sweep through to ask medical questions about their babies. Having their nails painted is more than just some frivolous act of vanity. Rather, it is an opportunity to speak into them of how important they are and that they are loved.
This day was particularly exciting because I had finally replaced some of my old nail polishes with new ones I had received from the students in Ms. Kleinert’s class at Freedom Middle School in Spotsy, VA. As we meticulously lined them all up on the table, the mamas and little girls were enamores by the new packaging and fun, glittery colors. One of the more clumsy mamas excitedly reached across to grab the popular color, and we all watched as the color slipped through her fingers and shattered onto the floor.
The table of mamas all gasped, and she immediately bent down to try to scoop up the glass shards covered in paint and somehow salvage what was left. While I knelt down beside her to convince her it was okay, she looked at me with tear soaked guilty eyes. She was frozen in fear from a history of being abused. “It’s only nail polish, it’s okay!” I attempted to reassure her, as I reached out my hand to help her back up. But the expression on her face was as though she had committed the world’s worst crime. My heart shattered that day just like the nail polish.
John 12:1-11 is a beautiful story of a girl named Mary who intentionally broke open an expensive perfume to wash Jesus’ feet. Using her hands and her hair, she anointed his feet out of an act of love and service. This perfume was a rare gift and incredibly expensive. The small bottle that she used cost a year’s wages!
Those who were present during this moment judged her and called her wasteful for pouring out all of her precious gift. “The expensive perfume was wasted!” “You could have sold the bottle and given the money to the poor!” Despite what critics would say, Mary’s gift wasn’t wasteful. It was worship.
How many times have I allowed a critic’s opinion to interfere with my worship? I can remember when I had shared my crazy dream of living in Guatemala with others, and they responded with confusion, eye rolls, and disappointment. I don’t know where I would be now had I listened, but I know my heart would still feel a restless longing to be here in Guatemala had I stayed. While there are fleeting moments of me being a heroic nurse and saving lives, the majority of my time spent here are the small moments of holding hands, wiping up broken nail polish, and wiping up tears. It’s allowing myself to be broken and poured out in an area of the world that is desperate to hear about the hope of a God who would die and rise again for each of us.
A glimpse inside this family’s smokey home. This home is one room and has over 10 people living inside.
What I do can be so difficult to describe sometimes… I made a pretty detailed blog post about it a year ago… Click here to read more about child rescues at Hope of Life. What I love most about this program, is the opportunity to connect with the mommas. To let them know their need has been seen, their voice has been heard. It paints such a beautiful picture of how God sees and hears us, even in our most desperate moments.
Today, I want to give you a glimpse of some of the families we have been able to help. It’s a huge honor and blessing to be part of the Hope of Life team. 2018 is already shaping up to be a year filled with lots of healing and help here in rural Guatemala. Thanks to each of you that help support this. <3
This man works hard to try to provide for his family. Here, he is collecting corn kernels for about 40q (or $5/day)He is 75 years old and has 15 children in this home. The youngest is malnourished because the mother has poor milk supply.
I hope this helps to provide some perspective. The disparity here in these mountains is great, Hope of Life is working around the clock to bring hope to those who need it most. Praise God.
Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. [Romans 12:9]
Last Saturday, I traveled three hours out into the mountains of Guatemala with four of my favorite ladies to bring back a four pound baby who was starving because his mother had no breast milk and no access to baby formula. When we prepared to leave, we had asked if we could pray together. Excited, the mother said yes. As we began, her prayer overcame ours. “Gracias Señor por mis hermanos aqui, gracias por este ayuda. Gracias por su grande amor sobre nuestras vidas.” She went on and on thanking The Lord that we had come all the way from the United States, that God’s love was so great to send someone from so far to save her four pound baby, and her prayers were over OUR lives, that God would continue to bless and protect the work WE were doing.
Again, on Tuesday, we ventured out to a village but this time for a medical clinic. At the end of the day we made a house call to visit a family that I was very familiar with… a man in his 40’s whose peritoneal dialysis is failing and is now in need of hemodialysis, and his 105 year old grandfather who is in relatively good health given his age and history of a fractured femur without medical care. As we were wrapping up the visit and delivering the medicine, the same thing happened. The precious 105 year old abuelo prayed over “las canchitas” (the two blondes) that were there. Again, his prayers echoed how thankful he was for us and he prayed that God would bless us.
In light of all the the recent media, I just feel the need to say that this world and this country are full of so many good, good people. But poor people and brown people are not ‘less than’ people. Sure, they may have less than you in a materialistic sense. But what they are lacking in ‘stuff,’ they make up for in thoughtfulness, in joy, and in peace. In things that come without a price tag. The people of Guatemala are strong, courageous, resilient, creative, generous and hard working. They are not to be pitied or scoffed at. Rather, I am proud to know them and learn from them.
I once heard that blowing out someone else’s candle doesn’t make yours burn any brighter… and how true that is. Cling to what is good like these sweet little Guatemalans who prayed for me when they were the ones needing help.
2017 has been a beautiful year. I’ve worked hard, loved harder, and have allowed my roots to grow deeper into Guatemala. There have been happy tears, sad tears, confused tears, and the type of gratitude tears that hit you out of the blue like a ton of bricks… the kind of tears that stop you in your tracks as you sit in awe and remember all The Lord has done.
I have lost patients I cared deeply for and spent days in my room grieving. I have also held kids who my hands had resuscitated months prior, in awe of their tenacity and progress. I’ve been a shoulder and a set of arms to hurting mothers, and an expert hug giver and nose wiper to orphaned toddlers.
Through it all, the one word that resounds in my head is grateful. I’m so grateful for all of it, even the bad moments because I have experienced healing and hope on the other side of my despair. I am grateful for our supporters– our financial donors, supply givers, prayer warriors, blog readers, post sharers… all of it. I have so many words I want to say, but they all seem so inadequate to express how deeply thankful I am. “Mil gracias” from the bottom of my heart. What we do isn’t about us… it is about THEM. And it is about you. Because you have provided a way for us to go.
As we approach 2018, we look forward to The Lord using us to our fullest capacities. With the new year quickly approaching, now is the time for year end giving. If you are interested in supporting us, Click here to find out more. I’m not sure what all this new year is going to have in store, but there’s one thing I can say for certain… it’s gonna be good. 💛
You are part of this.
You are loved.
-Whitney
Here are some of my favorite pictures of 2017 <3
Sweet Yolanda. Click on her picture to read her story.My William. I can hardly look at this picture without crying!! Click his picture to read his story.William again <3Delfi and Mariella. They were brought in the same day and were two of the ittiest bittiest teeny tiny chiquititos we had this year.Delfi nearly doubled his original weight after a fast five weeks.Sweet Mariella a month later! Same size bottle, much bigger baby. My heart!!Gervin was the sweetest boy!! He was always smiling and helping me with chores. He arrived to us severely swollen related to a kidney problem.Doris’ transformation is remarkable. You can click her photo to read her story.Elfido and his sweet mamaDoris <3Happy new year! Praying your 2017 was just as full as love as ours was.
“Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which He looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which He blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are His body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”
― Teresa of Ávila
Exactly 1 year and 10 months ago, I hiked hours into the Guatemalan mountains with two Guatemalan men to bring back Valentin. The day would prove to be difficult, as we had to cut down a tree and tie a hammock to each end of it just to carry him back up the mountain to the ambulance. At 27 years old, he didn’t weigh but 40 pounds. But 40 pounds became very heavy for the three of us during our uphill journey.
We were greeted by his brother and pregnant sister in law at the door. They had tears in their eyes as they pulled back a plastic tarp to reveal what was inside. Valentin was critically sick. He was lying on the dirt floor, burning with fever and reeking of infection. When he saw me, he smiled. He explained to me how he had fallen ill a couple of months ago. He could no longer stand, and infection spilled out from a hole in his abdomen that fistula’d through to his bladder. He was pitiful, but you could see the determination in his eyes and the joy in his smile. When it came time to move him to a hammock so he could be transported, he winced and cried in pain. When I apologised, he smiled and said “It’s okay, Whitney. I’m just happy you’re here to help.”
To be honest, I was happy to be there to help too…. until about 10 minutes into our journey back. It was hot, he was heavy, and I was already exhausted. “Just about an hour and a half to go,” I tried to reassure myself. But that was difficult to do when the two hours that had elapsed in my head ended up being only 10 minutes in reality.
Had I known then what I know now, I would have done a lot less internal complaining on that journey up the mountain. I would have sucked it up. I would have disregarded my fatigue and carried Valentin with honor and pride.
Valentin was rescued February 7, 2016 on my oldest niece Kayleigh’s birthday. He turned 28 that following week on Valentine’s day. Today, he took his last breath. With his last breath, he also took a huge part of my heart with him. Anyone that has ever visited here knows he was my little buddy. He had a rough life– traveling to Guatemala City (a 3-6 hour trip one way) three times weekly for hemodialysis. Sunday’s I would wake up early to go pick him up for church and we would end the mornings eating lime cucos. I’m really going to miss him.
I don’t have a lot of words to say to adequately express how I’m feeling. Valentin became like a little brother to me (even though he was actually older than me)… we would read the Bible together, we would joke around, and he was always such a kind and gentle soul to anyone he ever met. To know Valentin was to love him, and he left an impression on everyone he met. It’s miraculous that he ever survived that first week to make it to his 28th birthday, but I had the joy of knowing him for exactly 1 year and 10 months longer than expected.
My soul rests in knowing where he is now. I am thankful for Jesus Christ’s promise of salvation. But in this moment, the world seems a little less colorful without Valentin in it. Oh, but his legacy will carry on in every part of my life. I will always think about him when I read the book of Philippians, whenever I eat a lime cucos, whenever I sit on the green couches at the hospital and watch the sun setting over the trees, whenever I go on a difficult rescue and forget to be grateful in ALL things and not just the easy things.
Valentin, thank you for letting me be the feet of Jesus just for a moment when we carried you up the mountain. I pray for the time that we had you as a patient that you felt cared for and significant, because you very much were. I still carry you, only now it’s in my heart… and the weight of it now sure does feel a lot heavier than the 40 pound boy I once knew.
Forever proud of his strength, his joy, his patience, and his drive. A boy that had a terrible prognosis spent a year and 10 months overcoming odds, learning to walk again, and adjusting to the difficulties of hemodialysis. You sure did make me proud, Valentin.I will forever cherish memories of your birthdays, reading the Bible, and giving you “chilero haircuts, como Bryan”
We love you forever, Valentin.
Whitney & Bryan
Dec. 7, 2017
**Before reading this post, I should warn you that these pictures are heartbreaking and graphic. I suppose inquiring minds can scroll ahead, but without hearing the beautiful story you might miss the bigger picture.
Going back and forth from the states to Guatemala always inflicts some sort of culture shock within myself. Strolling through the aisles of Target (which I believe is a small glimpse of what heaven may be like), I can’t help but to feel overwhelmed by the abundance of stuff. “$60 for a pair of boots?” I rolled my eyes thinking how many pairs of shoes I could buy for that same pricetag. It wasn’t long until my pretentiousness got the best of me and I found myself looking at $12 birthday cards, although I literally knew no one with an upcoming birthday. I dodged that aisle and settled on a 25 count package of cute thank you notes, at least those I would use. I threw them into my cart and they nestled in between the box of pumpkin spice frosted mini wheats, pumpkin chai drink mix, and various items from the $1 bin that I’m always a sucker for. I had somehow accumulated all this stuff since scoffing at a pair of boots. “This is it,” I thought to myself. “I have officially become THAT internet meme…” Continue reading Target vs. The Insanity of God
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. [Psalm 51:10]
“No,” she persisted. “I am too afraid that if he has the surgery, he will surely die.” Franklin’s mother clutched him against her waist. She was over 7 months pregnant, but you could tell by the shakiness in her voice that she was preoccupied with her 2 year old son who needed open heart surgery. His tiny frame was too small to fit in the new 3-6 month onesie he was given, and he laid his small head against his mama’s belly as his arms and legs fell limp over her lap. Although he was just a baby, his big brown eyes seemed to tell a history of difficulty, as he struggled to breathe with every chest rise and fall.
So I wrote this blog almost a month ago, didn’t want to publish it at first and then due to internet issues and getting back to life in Guate, I delayed it more. So without further delay, here it is:
08.01.2017
Every now and then I feel like writing a blog and so I’ll say something to Whitney about it and she sort of nods her head and probably thinks “I’ll believe it when I see it” because for the most part, she’s right. I said I felt like writing a blog post back around the middle/end of June. It’s August 1st and I’m just now starting to write this!
The thing is, I knew I wanted to write something but wasn’t quite sure what. But while getting ready to go to bed tonight sitting here at my parents’ house my theme/subject/whatever came to me. I want to blog about my wife. I know Whitney will read this and may even ask me to edit out some of the things I’ll say because I want to praise her and share a tiny bit of what only I know and see. #sorrynotsorry Continue reading if i’m being honest.. in sickness & in health
