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Written by Jim Guffey, April 13, 2006
Pictured above is Fernando José. He is a sweet little four year old boy and he has a problem; more about that later.
I had received a call on Sunday morning, April 9, 2006 from Guatemala while I was in the States. I had not
planned to return for another month but now there was pressing business which required me to return as soon as possible.
I made flight reservations and was on the plane Tuesday night at 11 p.m. As I awaited takeoff and reflected on the events
of the past few days, I couldn't help but wonder if I was on a wild goose chase. But God had given me a verse several
times in the past few weeks:
1Sa 10:7 Once these signs are fulfilled, do whatever your hand finds to do, for God is with you.
1Ch 17:2 Nathan replied to David, "Whatever you have in mind, do it, for God is with you."
On this basis I was confident that God would work out the details of this trip. And when that trust in him, I found
myself on the plane, suddenly remembering... I had not made arrangements to be picked up at the airport when I landed in Guatemala!
At 5 a.m. in the morning after flying all night I would need to figure out how to get to Panajachel. Oh well, there
was nothing I could do about it at that time so I put the seat back and tried to get some sleep.
Upon landing in the
morning I began to think of my options: 1) go to a motel and wait for the guys to get up and come and get me, 2) Rent-A-Car,
3) take a taxi, 4) try to find a shuttle. The motel option sounded really good because I really need my sleep but I
didn't want to impose on the guys to come get me and spend the money for the motel. The Rent-A-Car didn't make sense
because I would have to keep it for the full week. The taxi costs $100 US! And, the shuttle was a longshot since
I had made no arrangements to be picked up. The motel sounded the best of all and I purposed that, after I collected
my luggage, I would find a taxi and go to a motel.
Upon exiting the airport with my luggage, I was immediately approached
by a taxi driver who asked me in Spanish where I wanted to go. For some reason I ignored him and didn't answer.
He followed up in English: "Where do you want to go?" Again I ignored him and kept walking. I didn't know why
I didn't respond, even to say no thank you. As I came to the end of the sidewalk it was obvious there were no shuttles
available to Panajachel. As I stood there, dazed in my sleepless stupor, a man with a sign approached me, asking if
I was the individual on the sign. I replied that I was not, but asked him if there were any way to get to Panajachel.
He stated that if his passenger didn't show up in a few minutes he would take me to Antigua where, after a two-hour wait I
could catch the bus to Panajachel. The cost was reasonable so I waited for him. Sure enough, his passenger failed
to show and we took off for Antigua.
Ordinarily, this would not have been such a big deal, traveling on a bus, but on this day I was heavily packed with two
large suitcases filled with shoes, toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo and stuffed animals sent by my aunt Nita. In addition
to this, I had purchased a new computer, a big one and very heavy so I was lugging my old computer and the new computer.
Two large suitcases and two carry on computer cases were a lot for me to manage! I was glad to be on that minibus even
if I would have to wait for two hours in Antigua.
On the way to Antigua I prayed a lot about a decision I needed to
make as I had been for the preceding several days. God was so good and he was about to get even better! As we
approached Antigua the driver spotted a bus just getting ready to leave for Panajachel in the next few minutes. Was
there room enough for me and my four pieces of luggage? Always in Guatemala. What's the capacity? About
two more (people, chickens, suitcases, logs-you name it).
After stowing my luggage I made my way onto the bus and was directed to the last two seats remaining. I took one
and we began the journey to Panajachel. A few moments later we stopped so that more people could board. Coming
to the seat next to me was a young girl in her mid-20s. The porter was carrying her carry-on bag and she was leading
her two-year-old girl by the hand as she walked towards me. I noticed that she had another child suspended on her back
as is the custom here. I wondered how she would sit with the child on her back but she had no problem sitting on the
edge of the seat, her bag between her feet and her two-year-old daughter sitting on the bag.
As we began the three-hour drive we stopped many more times to pick up new people and let people off. Many times
this "Greyhound type bus" had upwards of 25 people standing in the aisle with no straps or bars of any kind to support themselves.
And the driver was terrible with his jerky shifting. I watched the little girl, who I was to discover was not yet three
years old as she sat on that bag, people moving directly in front of her in the aisle, bumping into her and almost stepping
on her. Never once did she cry or complain or have to use the bathroom. Not that it would have done any good anyway.
She was very well behaved.
The ride was uncomfortable for me because I had my computer in my lap (it has my money and passport in it) and I was supporting
it with my left hand. The baby, slung over the young woman's back was slumping against my right side. A beanie
cap covered the baby's head and as it slept I was unaware of the gender. I tried repositioning my arm but each time
I moved it, the baby would slouch further into my side. Deeply asleep it was I suspected.
As we drove along stopping and going, I continued praying and thinking about my trip. I wondered how I got on this
bus in the first place (never in all my trips have I taken a bus to Panajachel) and failed to go to the motel, which was sounding
really good! I took out my phone and called Hector to arrange for him to pick me up at the bus stop. Afterwards,
God called my attention to something I had heretofore not noticed. I began to observe the baby.
The eyes are open cut the baby is staring
somewhat dazed into space. The right arm is attached to the mother's blouse suspended over the baby's head while
the left arm is dangling, resting the left hand on my leg. My attention was drawn to this baby because the left-hand
was scratching at my leg, flexing the fist. God leads me to boldly speak to this woman. For those of you who think
"Jim never has a problem boldly speaking to people", consider this: I don't know Spanish very well and I don't know any dialects,
of which there are over 30 in Guatemala. Nonetheless, I speak to her.
"Is your baby a boy or girl?" It
is a boy. "Does your boy have a problem?" Yes, she says, when the baby was born... something about the head...
something about the blood... something about something I don't know what it was about. "Please, I say, I don't understand."
"One more time?" She repeats, the head, the blood, three months old; most of which I don't understand. I ask if
she will speak to Hector my friend and she agrees. She speaks to hector for several minutes, they exchange numbers and
then she hands the phone back to me. Hector tells me briefly about the child and that we have told her we will call her later.
I thank him and hang up.
We talk more
as the journey continues and I discover that the problem occurred when the baby was three months old. It has to
do with blood in the brain building up and having to be released in emergency surgery. For those three months after
he was born, the baby was normal. And then an emergency and now the baby has some paralysis of the right side.
He is now four years old.
As I gaze at the baby I notice the beanie cap has rubbed itself off the baby's head.
I at once notice the tremendous scar where the emergency surgery had taken place. And now I notice that other people
who are standing up in the aisle and who had been listening are now staring at the babies deformed head. I immediately
pick up the hat and hand it to the mother who simply puts it in her purse, leaving the babies head exposed. I am embarrassed
and slightly repulsed by the scar; she has lived with it for four years. Now I am embarrassed by my feelings. .
I now turn and stare out the window, away from the baby and his mother. I am fighting back the tears, which are fighting
equally as hard to be heard. Why did this happen to this child? To this mother? I ask God these questions
as I pray, staring out the window, fighting back the tears. And then he answers me, "For a time such as this."
I am again, overwhelmed!
And so we met
with the girl and her family and discovered that she has a two-year-old daughter and Fernando Jose, her four-year-old
son. He cannot speak or move about on his own as he has a neurological disorder which has impeded his growth, physically
and mentally. Two years ago a neurologist was in town and he treated Fernando, prescribing therapy and medication and
stating that the child had a good potential to be normal after substantial therapy. However, the mother works as a housekeeper
and her pay is 400Q per month (roughly $50 US) and she needs almost that same amount of money for transportation, medicine
and therapy. So the baby has received no medicine or therapy for the last two years!
Look at the girls shoe to the right. Click on the picture and look closely.
The two-year-old sister of Fernando is in the blue dress below.
I mean the sister, Leslie is in the blue sweatshirt to the right. The rest of these are members of the family although
I don't know quite how they relate.
They sure are enjoying the stuffed animals, sent my my Aunt Nita!
We are sending them to the neurologist once again and restarting the therapy next week. We will keep you posted.
Expect a miracle! One way or the other! Usually the other! God is good!
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