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Writer Buzz Trexler
holds a 3-day-old baby at the La Finca de Carman 'Other Side of the World' found close to heart, home"Well the other side of the world "The Other Side of the World," Around 10:30 p.m., Oct. 13Donna and I had been in bed about 15 minutes when Lytle Brown called to say there was an opening on the medical mission team to Guatemala. "Do you think you can go?" my surgeon friend asked. I was dumfounded. I wanted to go, but the question was would I be able to pull it all together. We agreed that the passport would be a big problem; work may or may not be. ... I promised to follow up first thing in the morning, but immediately called work to check the vacation board. One hurdle down, since all was clear. Donna said the selfish part of her (the worrier) did not want me to go, but she knew it was my heart's desire. I went to bed hearing Rich Mullins' "The Other Side of the World" spinning in my head. I prayed that if this mission trip was God's will for me that all hurdles would be erased. Oct. 14I checked and discovered I had nine days of vacation available. I blocked off six working days for the mission trip and allotted the remaining three for Christmas week. I explained the situation to Larry (Executive Editor Larry Aldridge), who said if the vacation situation was taken care of it was OK with him. He also noted that I could write a story for my return. I picked up a passport form and discovered, to my chagrin, that I lacked a birth certificate. A call to Richmond had one coming in "three to five days." That could be a stumbling block. However, another call to Congressman Duncan's office resulted in their saying they would do all they could to help me. Now I wait. Oct. 15Lytle faxes me the itinerary. The trip promises to be quite exciting. I shared it with Donna who helps me make note of what I need to take. Oct. 16I couldn't believe it, but as Donna and I were beginning our morning walk a FedEx truck pulls by. I turned around and watched it hesitate at our house. He must have seen me, too, and pulled back up the road and stopped. "Trexler?" he asked. "Yes," I responded. "Is that from Richmond?" I couldn't believe it: The birth certificate had been FedExed after all. They had originially told me it could not be done! I went to the Post Office with my photos and Airborne Express documents, ready to overnight to Duncan's office, but the Passport Services worker who had helped me get the birth certificate convinced me he could have it back by Oct. 23 - five working days in transit and eight days before the trip. I decided to trust him … and God. Oct. 25We went to Ripshin the weekend before the Guatemala trip and I spent some time at the picnic area at the dam and wrote the following thoughts: "Well, I have my passport and next week this time, Lord willing, I will be with the medical team in Guatemala. "I'm doing all I can to stay healthy. Elizabeth is sick and I'm trying to steer clear of catching whatever it is she has. "Today, I cut wood for Mimi and Pa - that is, until I broke the axe handle. Now, I'm out walking around and taking pictures with the office camera to make sure I can use it when I set out on 'The Mission.' "It's been more than 12 years since I accepted Jesus into my life at this very place. He has brought me far since then. From Sunday school teacher, to youth worker, to youth Sunday school teacher, Disciple, Emmaus, Washington for Jesus '88, Promise Keepers '95 (with my son) and now to Guatemala. "Not to mention the Contemporary Worship Service, my begnning a journey into lay speaking and the numerous stories and columns he's brought my way. There's also the Web sites. … In short, God has called me into many directions. "I suppose this sometimes makes me feel a little schizoid when I consider the question, 'What is your ministry?' However, it could be that the answer is, 'My ministry is to answer God's call to wherever He sends me.' "Here I am, Lord, send me." "As for Guatemala, I fully anticipate this to be a life event of some sort. As to how it will turn out, I find myself incredibly at peace in knowing that it's in God's hands. "In arranging things such as my will, retirement plan and other matters, I have found myself wondering whether I am subconsciously preparing for my death. Perhaps I may be, for we've all heard such stories of people getting things in order and then dying unexpectedly. "Still, perhaps it will be that a certain part of me will die as a result of this mission. Will Guatemala be a 'dying moment' for me? If so, how will my family react. I pray that if it is so, that God will prepare them and move in their hearts. "Meanwhile, here at Ripshin, I feel God in the breeze, and hear His still small voice saying, 'Follow me, trust me, and I will lead you home.' ... Oct. 31We met at Central Baptist Church at Bearden about 7 a.m. and after brief introductions started cramming every available nook and cranny with medical supplies. There were already nine duffel bags full of medications, but there was still more to be packed. My backpack was pretty light: Sunscreen, sanitized wipes, about 60 Emmaus agape bracelets (leather bracelets with colored beads that each represent part of the Gospel message), about 20 love bugs (little yarn creatures with bouncing eyes and a safety pin for attaching to clothes), a drinking cup, my passport, wallet, pocket New Testament, copy of my birth certificate and snacks. I crammed bottles of medicines into the remaining space. We then drove to Nashville for the flight to Houston. On the way there, I learned all the names: -- Dr. Bruce Allsop, a Knoxville doctor whom we called "Dr. Bruce" to differentiate from ... -- Bruce White, of Clinton, whom we called "Bodega" Bruce, which would translate to "Warehouse" Bruce. -- Jamie Russell, of Knoxville, a nurse who works in Dr. Bruce's practice, along with ... -- Cherry Russell, another nurse form Knoxville. -- Jim Myers, a Knoxville accountant. -- Randy Holt, an account manager with Block Drug Co. -- Dr. Lytle Brown, a Knoxville general surgeon referred to by most as Dr. Lytle. We each checked in with our own bag, plus one duffel bag filled with medical supplies. It was then that Jim Myers' bag was found to be 7 pounds over the accepted weight and we had to redistribute his meds. We left Nashville about 11:45 a.m. CST and arrived in Houston at 1:45. There was a four-hour layover in Houston and we took that time to eat what would be our last meal in the U.S. for the next 10 days.
As we soar out of Houston on a packed Boeing 727, I am mindful of things such as: -- The providence of God, who brought me to this point in my life where I am ready to serve Him on the mission field, even if it is only a short-term misison. -- The sovereignty of God, who overcame all the obstacles to my making this trip. -- The creativity of God, who brought such a diverse group of people together for His purpose. ... I was somewhat disappointed in myself at one point: Woody said I would be spending some days working in the warehouse with Bruce and I felt a little discouraged in not being able to spend every day at the clinics. But then, I chastised myself: "If only a few are able to work the clinic, is it not better for the Guatemalans to have as many medical personnel as possible? Plus, at the warehouse I would be able to gauge their supply needs to inform those who might give. After all, this is a mission, not a vacation. I'm here to serve! And serve I will!" Here am I, Lord, send me. Use me where you will; use me how you will. Use all of me; use none of me. For I am yours to do as you will. The sunset smeared across the western sky looked much like the Emmaus bracelets I brought for the children. It was a welcome reminder of the artistry of God. During the flight, I used the electronic pocket translators to transcribe the meaning behind the beads on the agape bracelets. It was an educational exercise.
We arrived at the Guatemala City airport and actually breezed through what was said to be customs. We were met by Dr. Noel Rodriguez (whom is often referred to as merely "Dr. Noel") and Reuben Aguilaro, a young man in his 20s whose mother is an anesthesiologist at Hospital Shalom in Mazatenango. I had heard about both of them. Dr. Noel was a tireless worker, and Reuben worked as a translator and driver - a driver who could find a second career on the NASCAR circuit. ... When the vehicles arrived, we piled the medical supplies and luggage in a small covered pickup truck, while the rest of us rode in a Hyundai van. ... After about 20 minutes on the side streets, we pulled up to what appeared to be a small compound with barbed wire along the top of the walls. Dr. Noel tooted the horn and a sliding gate opened, allowing us to pull inside a parking area that resembled a large courtyard surrounded by buildings. Six of us put our luggage in a room that housed three bunk-beds and several of us decided to ride with Dr. Noel and Reuben to get something to eat. As I walked into the parking area/courtyard, I found Woody talking to a smallish man, a woman who turned out to be his wife, along with two young children. After the discussion was over, Woody told us the man was a Mayan who was there translating the New Testament into his tribe's language. The Mayan language has some 29 known dialects. It was then I fully realized where we were: A Wycliffe Bible Mission House. I felt as if I was standing on Holy Ground. What an honor to be staying there - a place dedicated to bringing the Gospel to the corners of the world. Nov. 1Today is All-Saints Day, a holiday. Families will gather in the cemeteries to party with their dead loved ones. The morning was nice and cool with the sound of strange birds greeting us as the alarm sounded about 5:15. ("You're in God's army now … Rise and Shine!) I arose at 5:25 and waited on the shower, which was supposed to have water heated through something referred to as a "widow maker" - an electrical contraption that was attached to where the shower head would normally be. As it turned out, it was broken and I began the day with a cold shower - a routine I felt sure would continue for days. Downstairs, I gave out my first agape bracelets to the Mayan children. I motioned to the mother that I wanted to take their picture. She nodded as if she understood and approved, but then they went into their room and didn't return. Later, the young girl played peek-a-boo with me around the door to their room. I tried to sneak a photo from the upstairs, looking down into the commons area, but later gave up on getting a better shot for fear of unnecessarily offending them. We left the Wycliffe Mission House and ate breakfast at a nice restaurant that we jokingly said must be the outer marker of Guatemala City's airport. The jets came over so close to the ground it appeared you could count the rivets. My first meal consisted of finqueros (steak and scrambled eggs), refried black beans, goat cheese, orange juice (naranjada) and lots of great coffee!
Guatemala City, the largest city in Central America and situated about 5,000 feet above sea level, is filled with colorful buses decorated each in their own unique way. Exhaust fumes permeate the air and there is a certain order to the chaos. Guatemala City appears on the verge of experiencing the vast wealth of a Western commercial center - Pepsi, Wendy's, Radio Shack and Rooms to Go can be found co-existing with street vendors. But within the city as well as in the countryside, the disparity between the haves and have-nots can be seen in the hovels dotting the urban landscape and roadways.
We visited Iglesia Elin's Clinic Ebeneezer and were given a tour by Dr. Carlos Monzon, an oncologist who arrived on a motorcycle. The clinic, which receives supplies from Vine's Mazatenango warehouse, was located on the same block as the church. At the clinic, there are 28 doctors covering general, internal, pediatric, gynecological and trauma medicine, trading out days in the small facility. "The doctors are praying for the building next door," Rodriguez said. ... We left Guatemala City and drove north to Mazatenango, past fields being burned, cloud-covered volcanoes, shanties, hillside fields of corn, sugar cane and saba trees. The saba is a massive tree with wood so soft that the tree is useful only for shade. The saba is unofficially the national tree; the quetzale, the world's largest parrot, is the national bird.
If chicken is the national food (Pollo Campero is the Guatemalan equivalent of Kentucky Fried Chicken), then Orange Crush and Gallo Cerveza are the national drinks. (For gringos, the main staple is agua pure - bottled water - or any drink made with agua pure.) At one point during the trip you would see a man setting up a ramshackle Pepsi stand; another would find a man setting up a stand selling green coconuts. They cut the top off of the coconut and carve a hole, keeping the plug. You take the plug out, put a straw in and sip the slightly fizzy milk. As we drove past hovels, push carts and Guatemalans carrying every imaginable item on their heads and backs, Dr. Bruce Allsop noted, "Five percent of the people own 95 percent of the wealth in Guatemala." We drove on toward Mazate (the Mayan name for Mazatenango) and as the elevation dropped the temperature went up. As we passed from village to village, Guatemalans could be seen decorating cemeteries and waiting for intercity buses as they continued an All-Saints Day celebration. People could be seen decorating shrines to loved ones who had somehow met their death along the road. The shrines sometimes took the form of little houses or churches, or as simple crosses much like the ones seen at the site of a fatal accident in the U.S. Having left Guatemala City about 12:15, we arrived in Mazatenango at about 2:30 p.m. and checked in to the Hotel Alba.
Arriving at the warehouse about 4:45 p.m., we started unpacking and sorting the medical supplies and broke for dinner about 8 p.m. After dinner, we resumed sorting from 10 p.m. until 12:30 a.m. We had to break down and repackage children's vitamins, antibiotics, decongestants, ulcer medications and others into prescribed dosages. We also divided the medications into six clinics. "Even the most simple things, such as boxes and tape, we have to ship in here," Woodson said. "It's not like you can run down to Lowe's." Teams are brought in with the assistance of John Diehl, a businessman who came to Guatemala about 13 years ago as an American consultant. Asked how he fared during the civil war, Diehl said, "I came home one night with nine bullet holes in my truck. "They were lousy shots." Nov. 2We arose at 6:30 a.m., after about 5½ hours of sleep. We ate breakfast at the Hotel Alba restaurant, where we had the basic American choice of pancakes or eggs with meat. Plus, plenty of orange juice. By now, the electronic pocket Berlitz translator was coming in quite handy and I began to think the inventor should be beatified. We joined about 15 other workers from Iglesia Elohim and Hospital Shalom on a school bus for the two-hour ride to the beach clinic at Churim. On the bus, I spent the time trying to carry on a conversation with two boys, Alejandro and Pedra. I nicknamed them named "Alejandro de Mas" (my pigeon Spanish for "Alexander the Great"), and "Pedra de Roca" (the same pigeon Spanish for "Peter, the Rock"). I gave them each Emmaus agape bracelets, plus a bracelet to an older woman who had fun trying to translate what I was trying to pass off as Spanish.
At the Churim clinic, we largely treated children, whose common ailments included worms and ear infections. Their ears were often sand-packed. At times there was confusion over what medicine was available. Adult vitamins had somehow been left at the warehouse. I started giving away agape bracelets to children who were peering through the open slats that served to ventilate the community building used as a clinic. Looking at one of the boys, I pointed to the bracelets, saying, "Cristo amor?" which I hoped would pass for "Christ's love." He nodded and I took one of the many bracelets I had on one wrist and gave it to him - then, to another, and another, and so on. Later, a number of children came up and it was obvious what they wanted. As I opened my backpack I knew there was not enough to go around and I wondered what I would do when they ran out. I handed out the bracelets, and the love bugs, saying "Dios amor os," or "Cristo amor os" until I had about a half-dozen left. By then, there was almost a mob of children and adults. I then said, "Nada mas," which I hoped meant "nothing more." I thought they would be mad, but they just laughed and left me to zip up the backpack. No anger, no discontent. The pulseros were merely gone. The bracelets had run out, but agape (God's unconditional love) never does.
At Lytle's treatment station, there was one family where the children and adults looked quite different than the others. John Diehl said, "They came in from the jungle, starving to death, with such malnutrition that the child's totally retarded. They all are." Louisa, an 18-year-old acquaintance of Dr. Noel Rodriquez's daughter, interpreted for Dr. Bruce, while Diehl was translating for Dr. Lytle. Just before lunch - brought by the people on the school bus, but which I still did not eat - a group of children slowly started to gather around me, wanting bracelets. I told them I had even given the one on my wrist away. (I later found about a half-dozen in my backpack.) Then, a teen who had gotten one of the bracelets stood solemnly at the back of the group. I coaxed her forward and she hestitantly came. I took the hand with the bracelet and explained to the group what each bead represented. A sweet little girl named Astrid interpreted my poor Spanish to the crowd. It brings tears to my eyes when I recall how intently they listened, occasionally nodding. I showed them my Emmaus cross - which I planned to wear the entire trip - and tried to translate the words, "Christ is Counting on You," pointing to each of them.
Lytle handed me a 4-month-old baby while he attended to the mother. The child's eardrum had burst. I played with the baby, hugging, bouncing and holding him … until he urinated on me. After handing the baby back to the mother, I walked over to an open door, pulled out a bottle of water and poured it on my leg, washing the urine off. I walked over to Jim Myers and, not thinking about what I was saying, pointed to the soaked leg and said, "That baby wet on me." Jim looked at the water-soaked leg and said, "That must have been some baby!"
During lunch, I walked to the beach and was followed by two boys who picked up seashells and gave them to me to put in my camera bag. I told them I would give them to my hija (daughter). As we stopped, I found out the boys' names were Eduardo and Ludi. Eduardo asked me if I had any more bracelets, I tried to explain that I had given away all I could that day. (After all, they were supposed to last six clinics.) I looked at Ludi's wrist and noticed he was wearing two of the bracelets. "Ludi compartir con Eduardo?" I said, hoping to get "Ludi to share with Eduardo." I typed feverishly into the pocket translator, trying to explain that Jesus shared his love with us and would want Ludi to share with Eduardo. Slowly, Ludi started taking off one of the two bracelets, finally giving one to Eduardo. Tears welled in my eyes and I hugged him, telling how proud that made me. I walked along the beach, marveling at the creativity of the Holy Spirit. Heading back to the village, I saw Eduardo walking along the road, with Ludi far behind, walking much slower. I caught up to him and said, "Ludi hermoso Cristiano," which I hoped translated to "Ludi is a beautiful Christian." I then unfastened an agape cross, the only one I had, from my backpack. Earlier in the day, several children pointed to the leather cross with colored beads that were much the same as on the bracelet and I told them it was "especial." Taking the cross from my backpack, I gave it to Ludi, who hooked it on to his bracelet, and hugged him. Ludi stayed by my side the remainder of the day. No further words were exchanged that I can recall. Just a feeling of God's love. As for Astrid: At the end of the day, I pulled one more bracelet out of my backpack as we sat next to each other. I put my finger to my lips, saying, "secreto," and gave it to her, thanking her for all the help.
Before we left Churim, Jim joined Drs. Bruce and Lytle for a swim as the sun was setting on the beach. The waves were good, about 6 feet. The sky was beautiful. As we drove in a caravan down the washboard road in the dark, a man on a motorcycle pulled alongside our van, holding a pistol high in the air. "He's got a gun!" someone said as he passed the van and pulled in between the van and school bus. "Now, don't get excited and don't do anything stupid," warned John Diehl. The motorcyclist was joined by another one and the two of them rode between our two vehicles for about 5 to 10 minutes, the armed rider continuing to hold the pistol high. Finally, the riders pulled around the school bus and disappeared into the night. Nov. 3Today I decided to be grateful for every morning that I don't wake up on the toilet. Reuben, our translator/driver, ate one leaf of lettuce on a sandwich the night before and said he spent an hour on the toilet this morning. Today, I also realized that before coming down here I never really cared for people of Spanish descent. I had always thought that in my heart I considered all people the same. But, God spoke to me in that still, small voice of His, saying, "If you encountered these people on the street in the States, you would treat them differently." I knew, in my heart, that He was right. I asked God to forgive my prejudicial heart. All of Your people are beautiful, no matter where they live!
We broke into two teams today: Drs. Bruce and Lytle, Jim, Randy, nurses Cherry and Jamie went to Mazatenango prison. "Bodega" Bruce and I went to the bodega (warehouse). Just call me "Bodega" Buzz. We worked in the heat for a while, but it wasn't long before the children started coming. I would take a picture, talk a while, and then try to go back to work. But the kids just kept coming, and I loved them. One 8-year-old girl, Cheidi, I nicknamed "Fireball." At first, she thought I knew far more Spanish than I do. She rattled off some words. I said, "poquito espanol," meaning, "little Spanish." She then repeated the words, slowly, but I still didn't get it. Then, she enunciated, word ... by ... word. "No comprende," I said. She rolled her eyes and playfully bopped me on the head, walking off rattling words a mile a minute, and shaking her head at the obviously "estupido gringo" (my words).
Otherwise, this was an uneventful day, but important work that took a lot of time. It was incredibly hot and whoever donated the huge industrial fans should be blessed, maybe even beatified. Nov. 4It was a long haul to La Finca de Carman refugee camp, about 50 kilometers east of Mazatenango, where the first clinic took place. It took over an hour to travel 7 miles once we turned off the main paved road. We had traveled about 30 to 45 minutes and stopped for a minute to look back down an incredible hill we had traversed. "We may not get there until about 4 or 6 o'clock," said Dr. Noel. "We may have to spend the night." Later, back in the van, nurse Jamie said, "He wasn't serious about spending the night, was he?" We all agreed that he sounded serious. "I haven't had time to prepare my heart to spend the night," she said in a loud, tearful voice. As it turned out, we arrived at the camp about 45 minutes later. A little joke at the expense of gullible gringos.
I worked a pharmacy table where I gave out toothbrushes, vitamins and oxybiotic, which is worm medicine. I had lots of fun with the kids who hung out around the table. I got a big kick out of their reaction when I told them my name was "Buzz." The best way I explained the name was, "abeja," a "bee," and moved my hand around making a buzzing noise.
We took a break, but no one cared to eat lunch. I went with Lytle and Dr. Noel up to one of the lodges where about 100 people live. There, we visited with a 17-year-old mom who had a 3-day-old baby. I held the child and it seemed incredibly small to me, but strong. It broke my heart when I thought about the environment it was born into. I pray that God protects that child and mother. Lytle took a picture of me holding the baby. ... Nov. 5Today the doctors and nurses left with Woody and Dr. Noel for Xela. The Bodega Boys stayed behind and, well, worked the bodega. We sorted and packed until lunch. Once things were cleared somewhat it appeared there were supplies that were not much in demand and some things in dire need. We broke for lunch of "Tiger Pizza" made at a nearby Esso station guarded by a man with a pump shotgun. At the end of the day the children gathered at the warehouse. A moderate rain really cooled things down. As we talked with the children - Jim doing high-fives with Henri - Bodega Bruce got the idea of having them sign his bilingual Bible. I did the same with my pocket New Testament. I would include these children in my prayers. Everywhere, everywhere there are children wanting to be talked to, wanting to be loved, caring not that you are a "bobo (silly) gringo."
Tonight, Bodega Bruce and I went to a Bible study at Iglesia Elohim. We sat near the back and were a few minutes late. The worship leader already had the group singing what appeared to be a praise song. I prayed that God would give me enough of a "gift of tongues" to understand something of the service. The praise song ended and the worship leader walked over to the keyboard player and spoke something in his ear as the musician kept playing an interlude. The worship leader returned to the front as the keyboardist started playing a new song. It had a familiar tune to it. "What is that song," I said to myself. "It's … it's …" I looked at Bodega Bruce and he smiled, saying, "I know …" Then, it came to me: "How Great Thou Art." I had no idea which verse they were singing, but when the chorus came I knew it well. "Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee. How great thou art! How great thou art!" I bellowed each time it came around. As soon as Pastor Minor saw us, he came to our seats and said he would get someone to interpret the lesson. He chose Dr. Omar Ponce, the Churim clinic dentist, to interpret. The dentist was later joined by a young man who spoke English very well. … Nov. 6Today, we are past the half-way point, and I'm not ready. "I haven't had time to prepare my heart!"
We work the Bodega some more before checking out of the Hotel Alba and driving across the volcanic range to Xela. The scenery was beautiful with moderate to heavy cloud cover. Falls cascaded near a new bridge that had been blown out during the civil war. As we traveled the highway, much of which was newly repaved or currently being worked on, there were ventilation lines similar to storm drains emitting volcanic steam at the edge of the road. Farming villages were nestled in the valleys. Xela sprang up in much the same way; although, this city was built in the crater of a volcano. The surrounding ridges are actually the volcanic rim. There are said to be daily earthquakes. Xela has more of a metropolitan feel to it than Mazate. There is even an Internet café. We lodged at the Hotel Modelo, which had a nice courtyard near our room, a suite shared by the four Bodega Boys. I had the first hot shower since arriving Oct. 31. It was simply mar-ve-lous! We ate at the Cardinali restaurant, which has to be one of the finest Italian restaurants in the Western Hemisphere. … Nov. 7Driving from Xela to the mountain clinic Chuanoj, we made our way up into the mountains where the view back into Xela was beautiful. We were halted for what appeared to be road work. We got out to shoot photos and wait for movement. It was then that Terri Littrell passed us on the way back down the mountain and shouted to Dr. Bruce, "Turn back!" We turned the convoy around and met her at a store, where she told us the people of the village Chuanoj had gone on strike and closed the Pan American Highway. "We've never had anything like this happen before," Dr. Bruce Allsop said. The feeling was things had been going so smoothly we were due for a glitch, "big time." ...
There was "down time" in Totonicapan while we tried to figure out what to do next. We visited the home of a doctor who was adding on to his house in hopes of establishing a Quiche-speaking hospital. "They built this house with a ramp in it," Terri said. "Can you believe that? Someone was guiding this man. "He's Quiche and wanted a hospital for his people.," she said. "It's amazing. He's moving his family out and he's still building on."
Terri came to us and said one of the women who was in her truck lived in Ocheta area of Totonicapan and offered to let us set up the clinic in her house. It was quite an experience with chickens in the pharmacy and treatment area. … Since we got started late, we ran short of time and had to quit taking any more patients as we had about 50 people with numbers still waiting around 3 p.m. and we only planned to go until 4 p.m. Randy Holt, who was working crowd control with Bodega Bruce and Jim Myers, said the people outside were getting angry. I began to worry. I could see concern on the faces of Drs. Bruce and Lytle. Fear began to fill my mind and then I felt a peace as the words came to me, "Show them love." I started to smile and make jokes with the patients and things began to go better. We were still late getting away, but we saw about 150 patients there. The translators were a Nicaraguan teen-ager and her mother who had worked the Xela clinic on Thursday. They were a blessing in that they had originally planned to leave early, but stayed for the duration.
Sometime during the afternoon, Terri told Jim Myers she needed someone to ride into "the city" with her tonight to take a freelance photographer to airport. He had become separated from his group. She said she needed someone to ride with her so she didn't fall asleep. Jim said he would and later discovered that "the city" was near Guatemala City, hours away and he would not connect with us until morning at the hotel. The team was worried about becoming separated from him, but he went - and our prayers went with him. ... Nov. 8Our final clinic was even more unique than the others. We traveled to the Parraxquim village about 11,000 feet above sea level. I nicknamed them "The People of the Clouds," since clouds would waft through the village, at times obscuring the houses and inhabitants. The air was very thin and you would find yourself stopping and involuntarily taking a very deep breath. There we saw about 80 patients, many of whom had colds or flu symptoms. The doctors also treated a 22-year-old paraplegic named Diago. … At Parraxquim we were joined by the Peten team, a group of businessmen that Vine had taken on a whirlwind tour of mission projects, including an area where missionary Tim Spurrier is building a hospital in the jungle. In the evening, we drove to Panajachel on Atitlan Lake where we stayed the night. Nov. 9In the morning, we had a worship service overlooking Atitlan Lake, with its twin volcanoes. We then walked through the market areas and did some shopping before leaving for Antigua. On the way, we stopped in Chimatenango, where there is a ministry that rebuilds donated wheelchairs. However, the workshop was closed. We went on to Antigua, toured the shops and markets, and ate in a refurbished 450-year-old monastery before leaving for Guatemala City where we spent the night before flying home. I was already praying for an opportunity to return to Guatemala. The country and its people had found a place deep within my heart. Nov. 10As we left Guatemala City, there was a view of a volcano that was the most impressive yet. Steam could be seen emitting from the cone. I was glad, particularly since the entire week had been cloudy. Before departing, we said our goodbyes to Reuben, Dr. Noel and exchanged great Guatemalan hugs and words of love. ...
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