I've Seen a Rain

Welcome to day five. It was a very long day filled with the stories of many people. Today was the day the teams tour the different areas where the real work begins in the morning with sun up. Although we stopped at the orphanage in Hogar Miguel, the stay was brief. I did however get a chance to schedule an interview with Karen, the woman who had the vision and guts to take the
place from need to reality.

The drive to Santa Maria de Jesus was long and very slow as the chicken bust filled beyond its capacity, and I am sure safe capacity, had to climb very steep, narrow roads to the highlands of the area. The drive is magnificent as the bust enters the cloud zone some time before the city makes itself apparent.

It is an old city in near ruins. The streets are much less active than those of Antigua but the presence of donkeys and horses pulling carts breaks the silence. We continue to turn down narrow streets until finally we arrive at a gated entrance where several dozen indigenous women have been waiting for hours to greet us. Fireworks are lit in the street to honor our arrival and the ground has been covered in what appears to be pine needles. This is the local tradition of recreating the palms on the ground that welcomed Jesus to His final city. In their hearts, the missionary team is Christ like in their hopes that some relief will be brought to the area.

A dinner of local food is served and is unexpectedly brilliant. A performance by local children and women follows as is the tradition in this place. (ever wonder how much fuller our churches might be if we welcomed folks this way) Suddenly, in mid performance, the clouds that have filled the sky all day break loose and the rains pour down. The crowd disperses inside a building, under plastic sheets and bags, a few have umbrellas.

I make my way to the street to film the crowd leaving but the rains eventually drive me to a doorway with a bit of cover, As I am standing there, the door opens to a small, dank room that quickly presents itself as a home. The family, minus a male figure, invites me to stand just inside the door to get out of the rain. It is a dark room without lights or electricity and the back wall is gone and open to an alley. The home smells putrid and garbage litters the floor. Everyone just smiles and stares at me as if my Spanish will somehow improve in the coming moments. The rain was picking up intensity so I stood there and smiled at them as they smiled at me and the whole thing was just a big smiley thing.

From the left of the doorway a woman appeared with two small children walking and one slightly older girl, perhaps 8 or 10 in an old wooden wheelchair. They are soaked to the bone and the woman is trying to push the wheelchair up over an 8 inch curb and into the narrow doorway. I motion that I will help and she smiles at me. I bent down and picked up the child and bring her into the room still sitting in her little wooden chair. I believe she had cerebral palsy. It becomes quickly apparent that they too live in this small, damp space.

We set for a few moments longer and an urging to pray over the little girl that began as soon as I laid eyes on her becomes too strong to withhold. I have been feeling this urge and acting upon it since I have arrived and to this point there have been no problems, only smiles, hugs, and signing the cross. I ask the woman if I can pray over her (this takes a few minutes of complicate sign language) and when she lowers head I know the answer is yes. I place my hands on the little girls head and warmth fills my heart as I begin to pray for her. It is a short prayer for peace and comfort that is finished with the traditional Catholic signing of the cross on her forehead as this is the Catholic tradition of this place.

I take my leave and walk back to the bus in the rain, soaked, but happy. It was a long day and I have shot several hundred pictures. Some are posted here.