The End Arrives

Well, our final day in Guatemala has come and gone, and Ellie and I both just said we didn't really feel like blogging tonight. It's been a busy day, a tiring one, and for me at least, very emotional, and I frankly just don't feel like crying again. But since I know so many people at home are looking at this, I decided to give some short highlights of the day.

The majority of the guys [and Ellie] went to the Dump and the Limonada. In the dump, they got the framing for the walls of the community center done, which was no small task. In the Limonada, they tore a roof off of a building in preparation for a new one to be built.

At Dorie's, Lindsay and Mark finished painting the murals on the wall of the yellow room, and Ron and Jeff built the outside wall of the storage room in the house we are staying in. I had my last ice cream party with the 2 and 3 year olds, and we all had lots of fun!

After lunch, Jeff and I went with Abel to the first ghetto, Maria Theresa, where we had church on Sunday. There were two houses that Desi has on her list for groups to help, and she asked Jeff if he would look at them and make lists of tools and supplies that groups would need to bring. The first house we went to was Jaime's mom's house, the little girl with the huge tumor on her back. Essentially, they want to move the entire house back about 6 feet, and build a hige stone wall in front of it. It's a huge job! The other house, along with two unscheduled stops , are not quite as big, but all pose a big challenge, since you have to walk down countless steps and cement ramps to get anywhere. I seriously lost count at 85 steps and 5 20 yard ramps, and that wasn't even halfway down. I took tons of pictures, so Desi can send them along to future groups.

After we climbed our way out of Maria Theresa and downed big bottles of water, we stopped at a store to buy a big expandable gate for the baby house. I'm really happy about this, because it will allow the Mamas to keep the babies and new walkers confined in the living room and play room, and still open the front door to get some air. The current system involves strategic placing of Alex's wheelchair and a bassinet, which a couple of the smart ones have figured out has wheels. It's a constant battle to keep them away from the stairs, the kitchen, bathroom [toilets are always such a draw for little ones!], and the front door. We ende up getting back too late for us to install, but Sammy will take care of it for us, and Desi will send pictures!

Since it was less than an hour until Abel had to pick up the Dump crew, he asked if we minded just going there. I hadn't been there before, and Jeff wanted to see how they'd done, so we thought it was a good idea. Until I looked at my feet. In my hurry to leave after lunch, I had forgotten to put my sneakers on, and was still wearing flip flops. It was a small concern in the ghetto, on the crazy steps, but the ghetto is so clean, the only thing I worried about was slipping. Jeff grinned at me and told me to watch where I stepped, and we were off.

The building looks great, and the party was about to start! The people of the community were so happy and thankful for our help, they wanted to have the first church service in the "building" with us, and turned it into a party, complete with clown. I can't even find words to describe the silliness. Suffice it to say, Ellie, my dad, Joe, and Thomas competed in a form of musical chairs, Evan, Kevin, Ellie, and I had to dance with a two foot stuffed lobster, and Joe, David, and Shane got blindfolded and dizzied, and had to smash a pinata almost as tall as me, hung from a wire with a padlock to keep anyone from running off with it. I got to meet so many of the kids and people I'd been hearing about all week, and the dump itself is beyond words. I have never, ever seen anything like it, and I don't think I can adequately describe it. But when we were sitting there with a woman from the dump praying, asking God to bless US and OUR families, to give us safe travels and to bring us back, even if we didn't build anything, I had tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. When it was time to go, they had carne tostadas for us. They are so generous, some of them ran out and bought cokes for all of us, too. We couldn't eat the tostadas, but Abel pulled over on the side of the road and we handed them to some homeless people, who were so happy.

Tonight we had a few of the kids who had had special things sent from home for them come up to the house. Silvia LOVED her yellow dresses and Barbie, and Lester would not let go of his picture of Noah and Eli. It was still in his hand when he went to bed! Ana loved her backpack and doll from my Ana, and Jose just liked being held and passed around. When I was eating dinner, Desi came into the dining room with Jose wrapped in a big blanket, and said, "He's been crying all afternoon. I think he missed you. When I went in there just now, the Mama asked where the American was, to take Jose, so I figured I'd bring him to you!" He stopped crying right away, and was smiling at me and Kevin, and everyone else who held him, until he finally fell asleep in my arms. I brought him down and put him to bed, and cried for a few minutes.

Then I decided a visit to Casa 6 would cheer me up. Only the oldest kids were awake, and Ana and Silvia and Nayeli were sharing their gifts with the rest of the girls, painting fingernails, putting barrettes in hair and playing with toys, so Jonatan and Brayan pulled me into the living room. I sat on the couch with Jonatan, who promptly laid down across my lap, watching Nickelodeon in Spanish. Amelia came to sit with me, too, and sang Si, Christo me ama [Jesus Loves Me] with me for a while. After a while, I figured I'd better go pack, so I told the kids adios. Jonatan [age 10] said, "hasta manyana?" and I said no, that I was going on a plane to America tomorrow. And then he cried. Oh, boy, how hard it was to leave there. I got lots of hugs and kisses, and promised to come back, and made my way up the hill.

So here I am, tears in my eyes and another lump in my throat, preparing to leave again. I cannot WAIT to hug my own kids, sleep in my own bed, and not have to struggle to find every word I speak. I know I'll be answering "si" for the next two weeks, and telling my kids to vamanos, and come aqui. I DON"T want to see how much snow is in my yard, and I really am not looking forward to wearing shoes again. But mostly, I don't want to leave these kids, who have a part of my heart. So everyone, gear up, because the next trip is coming. Soon. Is God calling you to come with us?