I woke up early this morning to get ready for work and
happened to check Facebook before crawling out of bed. (oh the joys of an
iPhone) As I checked I came across a new album that my Uncle created, filled
with pictures of my sweet cousin. As I looked at each picture, my eyes filled
up with tears as I remembered Ryan and then also remembered how this day 15
years ago changed my life.
15 years ago today I was in Guatemala, on my 1st
mission trip. I was 16 and my parents were trusting enough to send me down there
alone with the intent of meeting up with another group that would already be
down there. That 1st trip to Guatemala changed my life in many ways.
It was on that trip that I learned to love like I had never loved before. It
was there that I felt my heart come alive in ways that I had never before
experienced. It was in that place that God called me to serve Him through
missions. It was also in that place that my heart was broken and I learned to
lean on others and to trust in His plan for my life.
Rewind about 2 weeks prior to this day 15 years ago…it was
Mother’s Day. I remember being at church, in our youth room, when my Mom showed
up. She had gotten a call saying that my cousin was in the hospital and that he
was very sick. She was planning on leaving from church to go down to San Diego
to see him. I asked her to go with and her and I left.
Walking into Ryan’s room I remember being overwhelmed with
the number of tubes and machines and wires. It seemed as though he was attached
to everything and there were medical devices everywhere. His skin had turned
purple in some places and his body was so swollen. I had never seen anyone so
sick in my entire life. I don’t really remember what came next or what else
went on over the course of that day, but I remember that first impression.
Over the next week my Mom would spent a lot of time at that
hospital while my Dad helped me get ready for my trip. I was supposed to leave
for Guatemala in less than a week. I’m pretty sure we visited the hospital a
few more times that week, but I can’t remember the details.
Before I knew it I was off to Guatemala, on the
trip/experience of a lifetime. I was a part of a medical team that trip and I
was so excited to assist in rural clinics and to observe surgeries and give injections
in the capital city. 15 years ago today, after our morning was spent doing
medical work, we were taken to a local hospital where there was a ward for
small children and babies who needed medical care. There were probably 10
little ones in there and we were able to hold them and rock them and love on
them. I think this may have been our 1st day there. I held 2 sweet
babies that day, Luis Miguel and Maria, both babies with a clef lip/palate and
both were in that place to gain weight so they could be big enough for surgery.
I think they were both around 6 months but were nowhere near the 10lbs that was
required for surgery. Holding those sweet babies changed me, they captured my
heart.
When we got back to where we were staying that afternoon I
was told that my Dad had called and would call back later. In my heart I knew
that something wasn’t right but I had no idea exactly why he called. That
evening someone from the staff came and told me my Dad was on the phone and
they stayed in the room with me while I took the call. They must have known
what he was about to tell me. I will never forget sitting in that office,
hearing that my sweet cousin had died, and then feeling the embrace of the
sweetest 2 people. George and his wife Kathy just sat with me once I hung up
the phone. They let me cry. They held me and hugged me and reassured me of
God’s promises. I don’t know how long we were in there but I remembered that
eventually I walked out of that office and joined my team in the meeting room.
They were singing a song that I can still remember to this day. My heart was
hurting and yet I knew that God was there. I learned that evening to let others
near, to let them in, to allow them to share in my grief.
To be honest, I don’t really remember the rest of that trip
other than that we kept getting to go back to hold those babies. I was given
the choice of coming home early to attend the memorial/funeral or finishing out
my trip. I chose to finish my trip. By the time I left to return home I had
already promised the staff that I’d be back that summer for 4 weeks and I knew
in my heart that someday I’d be back to stay.
