Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Visiting Mayra (Guatemala City Zoo) - Lessons Learned, Attitudes Adjusted

I had really hoped today would be an easy day. After all, I wouldn’t be going to see Mayra’s house or community, so she could just forget her troubles, and we could enjoy ourselves and have a great day. No deal-i-o. I was humbled today. As in “brought down”. Lessons were learned and attitudes were adjusted. After five child visits in which I was the “main attraction”, and all the kids responded well to me and were animated and affectionate, today I took a back seat to “the occasion” (sorry for the constant use of quotation marks).

10-year-old Mayra and her family of mum, dad and seven children live 300km to the north of Guatemala City, and for some reason it takes 9 hours by car. So it was decided that rather than go all that way to visit her house and community, it would be better to bring her and her father to Guat City, and we’d have a few hours at the zoo, as a special treat.

When we met, I could tell Mayra was a troubled child, and her life is hard. She was tired, cold, nervous, overwhelmed and scared. She had no eye contact, no smile, no response. Even though she knew I was her sponsor, all she saw was this strange white guy speaking a strange language, wearing t-shirt and shorts in the cold weather, flashing around a big fat wallet and fancy phone (hey, I had to pay and take pics).

Spanish isn’t her family’s first language. They are Mayan, and they speak Q’eqchi, so that made Big Mayra’s (my translator) job a fair bit harder. I could tell this day was not going to live up to “my expectations” (like it’s about me anyway?).

Neither Mayra nor her father had ever been to the zoo before. She wandered around and stared in awed silence as she saw every imaginable animal up close for the first time. I kept my distance during this time. Whereas the other kids would reach for my hand or put their arm around me, there were no such movements from Mayra.
  
Big Mayra did a great job of moving things along so we made the most of every minute. There were lions, tigers, bears, elephants, giraffes, meerkats, monkeys, giant beavers, many kinds of birds, even an Australian section with kangaroos, wallabies and emus.   

There was also a section of the park with rides, including a couple of rollercoasters, giant slide, trampolines and kiddie rides. I took her on the mini-rollercoaster and the giant slide, doing my best to coax or cajole some visible reaction of enthusiasm and joy out of her. While I’m sure she enjoyed herself, she didn’t show it on the outside.

At this point the attitude insidiously crept in – the disgusting, self-righteous attitude that silently demands grovelling displays of thankfulness and gratitude for a good deed done, and judges and points fingers when none is forthcoming “I’m doing all this for them, but….” I felt sick and quickly moved on from those thoughts.

After the incredible rollercoaster that was the first five child visits, I thought maybe being away from Mayra’s home and community may mean I wouldn’t have to confront the harshness of her life and reality. I was incorrect. The zoo and the city are obviously so far removed from their reality, and both Mayra and her father were clearly in culture shock. During the day details of their lives came out in brief little tidbits, and the more I heard, the happier I was that I didn’t drive nine hours to see it. Just being brutally honest there.

Mayra’s father told me his wife would have liked to come, but someone had to be at home otherwise their house would be broken into and people would take their stuff. They can’t even leave their house vacant without fear of being robbed! Many houses in their community don’t have proper floors, walls or beds. Mayra’s father shared he has trouble affording to send her to school.

I was told in many Mayan communities women are still devalued and considered inferior, which would explain Mayra’s demeanour – only speaking when spoken to and even then in one or two words, always looking to the ground. I only saw one or two smiles the whole day, and even then it seemed like a real effort for her, like it wasn’t a practised skill. In all honesty, from the little bit I heard of what her life is like, I don’t think she has many reasons to smile.

There was a Pollo Campero at the Park (three times in three days!) so we shared lunch and then I gave Mayra some gifts for her and her family. The necklace with the “Jesus” fish was quite fitting, because of the little I learned of the family, He is the only hope they have.

There were a lot of unknowns and unanswered questions from our day today. We didn’t really connect or engage. Was it a worthwhile exercise? So they’ve had a day at a zoo, now they go back to their same struggles and harsh reality, of which I still know very little, mainly because I was trying hard to not have to find out, after yesterday. So that’s my loss, I guess.

Mayra’s father and Project director were both very grateful, and expressed their gratitude several times. When we prayed, I left Mayra with “The Blessing” from the book of Numbers: May the Lord bless you and keep you. May the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.     

I learned from Big Mayra after we had left the park that Mayra’s father had asked her to ask me for money to help his family. She wisely chose not to raise that issue with me in front of them. This “direct canvassing” is strictly against Compassion’s policies, and for good reason. I kind of felt awkward when I realised he had asked this and then been watching me shell out the cash for their transport and accommodation.

How do tie this up? I guess the reality check for me from today is that just because you invest in people, care for them and show them extravagant love, this doesn’t mean they will always react the way you want or expect. That’s part of being human and part of being in relationship with others. Grace, mercy and patience are needed.

This reminds me of God’s love for us. Imagine if he got grumpy every time we didn’t respond to His limitless acts of love for us? There would be no-one left! We then, need to treat others the same.

Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Visiting Yeymi (Guatemala) - "This stuff doesn't happen to people I know"...

What I saw and heard today was surreal. I remember thinking repeatedly: "This doesn't happen to me or people I know." The details in this post are all real. They are all true. They happened to me a matter of hours ago. I hope you are inspired, encouraged and challenged.
Sponsoring a child is a good thing. Today I found out that you can never underestimate the importance of a sponsor in a child’s life, and that’s the way God designed it.

Often you don’t find this out for real until you make the decision to go beyond the “face on the fridge and monthly bill” stage. When you start writing regular letters, the child trusts you more and gradually opens up, and you find out more.

When you go even further and choose to enter their world by visiting their home, school and environment, all sorts of things can open up and be discovered, and often it gets very messy. It is a scary but exhilarating place to be, and you realise that for all “we” are doing as sponsors, the reality is that only God can bring them true freedom, hope and joy.

Today it got messy for me. I visited 10-year-old Yeymi in Guatemala. I also met her 3 sisters, aged 15, 13 and 8. I have been investing in Yeymi’s life for two years now. I was very happy to hear that all the other kids are jealous of her because of all the letters and pictures she gets. Not in a prideful way, of course. It just vindicates the efforts I make to write all my kids once a month, because they are so important in encouraging the child that someone loves them, and they are special and valued.

Another tiny tear to my heart came when Yeymi said that she considers me to be like her Papa. She does have a father, but he’s two-and-a-half hours away in Guatemala City during the week, every week working in “construction”, sometimes earning 40 Quetzales ($5) a day.

During the visit to the house, which is owned by Yemi’s grandmother, I was given information that was like pieces of a disturbing jigsaw puzzle, which I didn’t put together until later. They have three rooms in their house which are used as bedrooms. They have some uncles that sleep in one room. All four sisters sleep in another room, in the one bed.

They have a third room – the “guest room” which is relatively well fitted out with a decent sized bed and mosquito net. We asked why a couple of the sisters didn’t sleep in this room. All they replied is “We are afraid of being alone.” Yeymi also showed me boxes of clothes in this room that belong to each member of her family. I found out later that these are the only things the family owns – the clothes on their backs.
We met all sorts of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents (Yeymi’s abeula is 55, but looks about 70) as well as her GREAT-grandparents, who have been married 61 years, and are still working, feeding and looking after 3000 chickens.

Yeymi’s Mama asked if we could give her a lift to Guatemala City when we left after lunch. I was puzzled and asked why. Turns out every two weeks she joins her husband when he goes off to work in Guat City for the week, and leaves her four daughters in the care of their grandmother. I didn’t delve any further at that point, and agreed to take her.

For lunch I took 11 family members from four generations to lunch at Pollo Campero (“chicken country”), including the grandma and the great-grandmother. The only males in our group were me and a three-year-old cousin. It would have looked quite a funny sight.

We said our goodbyes and my translator/lifesaver Mayra, Mama and I headed on our two-and-a-half hour journey to Guatemala City. We started off in silence, and when I tentatively started our conversation, I could not imagine where it would lead. This is what I found out.

Mama is about to turn 30, and her husband is 32. I am smack-bang in between them at 31, yet there could not be a greater chasm between our lives. They were married when she was 14 and he was 16, Mama was 15 when their oldest daughter was born. Mama did not finish school and has never worked. When she joins her husband every two weeks in Guat City, all they can afford to rent is a single room, and she does not work because “she does not know her way around”. From what Mama said, all she does is cook for him.

Meanwhile, four girls are without their Papa for five days of the week, and without their Mama for every second week, being looked after by their grandmother, with no male figure to protect them. The comments about me being like Yeymi’s Papa and the girls being afraid of being alone were starting to make sense, and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

However, worse was to come. Eight months ago, the family was living in their own house. At one point, while Mama was in the city with her husband, her uncle, who is an alcoholic and a “bad man”, came into the family’s house when no-one was there, over a period of days, and stole all the family’s belongings. Everything. Even the kitchen sink, and he tried to take the doors off the hinges! I could not believe what I was hearing. Mama said that neighbours saw him taking things every day, but did not do or say anything to stop him. He was only discovered by Papa’s brother, but by then everything was taken.

They had no choice but to move in with Yeymi’s grandmother, which is where they are now. So this precious family of six owns nothing in the world but a box of clothes, and if the grandmother dies, they will be forced to rely on the mercy of family members to stay in the house. Otherwise….

Fair to say I was shellshocked. I’d only ever heard of situations like this in the Compassion magazine, or some documentary, but this was happening to my flesh and blood. We have been connected for two years through sponsorship – love, encouragement, letters and money and now God had brought us together to meet in person. Mayra, who works for Compassion was also almost in tears as she translated the sorry tale. Fortunately, Visit Hosts write a report of each visit, and any areas of concern, so she has the authority to intercede in this situation.

I am writing this only a matter of hours after experiencing it, and I'm wrecked in heart, mind and spirit, but God has given me a clarity of mind to be able to communicate it pretty succinctly (if I say so myself).

To challenge you, particularly if you are a sponsor at the “face on the fridge and monthly bill” stage. It takes courage to move beyond this. But if you do, you will more clearly see the heart of God for His prized creation – people! It is a relationship – a two-way thing. Children want their parents and sponsors to be involved in their lives. A good start is writing regular letters. Your children NEED to hear from you, even the smallest thing. In many cases you are like a parent to them, and the only positive person in their life.  

The danger of staying in the “face on the fridge and monthly bill” stage is that you can become comfortable that you are “doing a good thing” and leave it at that. It can become about you. I have now visited 18 of my Compassion children and the one thing I can tell you is that in my own strength I alone am completely inadequate for the job of “releasing children from poverty in Jesus name.” It is God alone who can release them and give them joy, hope, freedom and an opportunity to dream, despite their circumstances. I am merely an instrument He is using to show these precious people His love for them. There is nothing I’d rather be doing.

Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Visiting Josefa (Guatemala)

The first stop on my whistle-stop tour of Guatemala was 14 year-old Josefa. As usual, to get there required a three hour trip, from Guatemala City to just outside Quetzaltenango, in the west of the country. The journey was an eye-opener, and I drank everything in. We were deep in the mountains, and passed a volcano or two. The beauty was breathtaking, but I’m sure that it’s little consolation to the hundreds of people we passed who were just aimlessly standing by the side of the road, or ekeing out a measly existence selling random stuff at roadside stalls.

In Australia, when we see people walking or driving, the likelihood is that they have a purpose in where they’re going; that they have something important to do or somewhere important to be. That’s not the sense I got on this trip. We were in the middle of nowhere, in the mountains of Guatemala, far from the nearest large town. It made me think about those people: the old man with a bunch of sticks on his back, the woman with a baby wheeling a bicycle. What were they doing? What did their day ahead look like, and what did they see their future being like?

We finally arrived at Josefa’s community. Her family and the community is Mayan, so the clothing was extravagant, colourful and beautiful. I met Josefa and her family at the Compassion Project (Mama, Papa, two younger brothers, two younger sisters) and they presented me with a traditional Guatemalan men’s top, which I put on to honour them despite the stifling humidity. I would also get one the next day from Yeymi’s family – starting a collection.

There was nothing happening at that time because it was morning and the kids were at school. They would be back in the afternoon. We had a tour, and I would say it was one of the least resourced Projects I have seen, which is an indication of the status of the community. There were leaks, and the place wears the battle scars of earthquakes. However, I talked to some of the Project workers, saw the cupboards full of student records, immunisations etc, and I knew that God’s love was in that place. They are doing the best they can with what they have.

While we were there, a parade went past. I was told the Catholics celebrate a different saint each year, and this year the parade was in honour of "The Black Christ" (whatever the heck that is). The dancers wore masks which were quite macabre and creepy. People are also into self-flagellation, crawling to the church on their hands and knees from a long way away. The music was funky though :)

We walked to visit their extended family, which was an experience. It was the main street of the neighbourhood. We dodged the scary-masked dancers, cars, trucks, bikes and buses, and on the way back school had just finished, so we passed hordes of kids looking at me strangely. This was because I was wearing the traditional Guatemalan top that Josefa's family had presented me with, and probably didn't look much like a Guatemalan. I met Josefa's grandparents, aunts and uncles, and saw where they and her father eke out their income, making garments and selling them. Despite their circumstances, they were quietly content and joyful, and welcomed me into their home.

We then went back to the family's house and had a tour. I presented gifts and taught them about Australian football. I kept asking Josefa about how she helps around the house. Does she help in the kitchen? Does she help looking after her baby brother? The reply to both was “A little bit, but I don’t have time". I was appalled to discover the reason for that: Josefa and her 12-year-old brother both have to work 36 hours a week making men’s shoes, just to help the family and be able to afford to go to school. Somethin' ain't right with this world!

Josefa dreams of being a doctor. When I was at the Project, I saw Josefa’s school results. She is in either 8^th or 9^th grade, and her results aren’t that flash. I would “bet the farm” that those poor results would have something to do with having to work 6am – 12pm six days a week before going to school.

I just realised, some of you might be reading my accounts of my Compassion children’s lives, and be thinking “Gee whiz, he’s painting a pretty grim picture here. Where does this Compassion business fit in, and how does it help them?”

For all my advocacy with Compassion, I’m not for a moment pretending that it’s a miraculous quick fix. Poverty is disgusting and is not easily solved. What Compassion does is come alongside the family and supports them, in a long-term strategy for the family to lift themselves out of poverty. Compassion assists with (doesn’t pay ALL) costs associated with the child and family’s medical, educational, nutritional and spiritual well-being. It provides them with a sponsor in a far-away country, to come alongside them and offer words of encouragement, hope and love.

The Compassion Projects, or Child Development Centres, are often the only places where children feel safe, loved and valued. It’s often the only place they get a decent meal. The Project workers are almost all volunteers, and they literally give their lives for these children and their families, because they are sharing the love of Jesus with them. They partner with local churches, which gives the family a community to support and love them. Compassion spiel over, and I hope that clears it up somewhat.

For lunch I took the whole crew to Pollo Campero ("chicken country") where you can "Enjoy, Dream and Jump", and then we came back to the Project to meet the kids. We went around to each classroom, I introduced myself and took questions from the kids. The reaction varied from class to class. Some were wide-eyed and silent, staring at this big, white, bald, smiley stranger speaking a weird language, holding a weird red egg-shaped ball, and they didn’t know what to think. Others were jumping out of their skin to ask questions, and enjoyed having me in there. I made sure to encourage them that God loves them, and I was happy they were there in the Project where they could feel safe and loved.

The goodbye was gut-wrenching. We were going to do it out in the street in front of all the Project kids, but I wanted to do it privately, just in case I cried (I did). Josefa was incredibly affectionate. She was by my side the whole day, and was distraught at the end. I spent five minutes just consoling her while she sobbed. That will never leave me. The older kids have a different sense of how significant a visit from their sponsor is. Praying with these families is an incredibly holy experience, and the inadequacy that I feel is ever-present. But I was able to speak Words of Life over this precious family, and leave them in His hands.

Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Visiting Olga (MX)

"Worlds of Poverty and Wealth Collide"

Today was a day of heartache and incredible joy. Massive contrasts. The worlds of wealth and poverty did not just collide today, they exploded in my face, and my head and heart are confused. I’m not pretending that I’m the first person to struggle with this, and I certainly won’t be the last, but I’m no longer some idealist/bleeding-heart/do-gooder whose only knowledge of the inequality in the world is theoretical by nature.  

By golly, it became real to me today.

I have been investing in Olga’s life through Compassion sponsorship for two years. She is a tiny ten-year-old, and is one of 8 siblings aged 6 to 20. I only met two of them today because it was a normal school/work day. This meant there was no action at the Project either. We met at the Project, had a tour of the rooms and the church, and I “showed off” on the drums. We then had an incredibly moving time where several songs were exchanged. I sang to Olga, Olga sang to me and Olga’s father sang to me as well. I know I repeat this a fair bit, but their gratitude for my support and for the impact that God and Compassion have had on their lives was heartfelt and genuine.

Olga has a mum and a dad who love their kids very much, but struggle to provide for them. I was not expecting to see that their house only had two and a half walls around it. The front wall is only partly completed and one of the sides of the house has wire fencing instead of a wall. It is basically made of sticks. They have one bedroom for 10 people. They do not have running water in their house and bottled water is very expensive. There are lots of chickens and dogs running around in the yard. Photos of me and my family were featured prominently outside the bedroom.  

Olga’s dad works as a motor-taxi rider and a fisherman, and spends most of his income paying it off. He also often gives free rides to the kids from the Compassion project who cannot get there any other way. I know God will bless this selfless act. He very generously rode me, my translator Irma, Olga and his wife around the neighbourhood and showed us the nearby beach. What a sight that must have been for the neighbours.

The parents show an incredible defiant faith in God that flies in the face of their circumstances, and their gratitude brought me to my knees. I met the oldest daughter, who is 20, and the second son, who is 16. The others were at work or school. The older ones choose not to go to church, and aren’t Christians as far as I’m aware. I know Mama and Papa fervently pray for their kids, and I know God hears them.
In complete contrast to what I had just witnessed of Olga’s home life, in the afternoon we toddled off to a shopping mall in Tapachula, a large town about 30 minutes away. Just your everyday, standard mall in our part of the world. Having just visited the family's house and seen how they live (remember: two and a half walls) this was culture shock for me beyond anything I had experienced. It was Olga and Mama's first time at the mall. When we got there we went on one of those little trains that goes around the mall and toots people to get out of the way. It was funny seeing a young Mexican hombre greeting his mates with cool-dude high fives as he drove a little tooting train around.

The little train trip was a mixture of funny and sobering moments. It was an eye-opener, for me as well as Mama and Olga. I watched them take it all in, and my heart broke. I struggled to reconcile the two worlds I had been a part of, so close together. They were seeing people just like them, who lived only a short car ride away, but may as well have been from another planet. I wondered what was going through Mama's head as we travelled past Walmart, jewellery shops, shoe shops, food shops and others, selling everything imaginable in unimaginable quantities.

After having some Dominos pizza, we went to Playland Circus, which is your everyday-average amusement game joint. I have to admit I initially wondered about taking them to a place like this, as I consider them to be an over-priced frivolous waste of money. However, on this occasion I can say I was very, very wrong. I had a couple of WINS today as a result of being a clueless gringo who had come all the way from Australia. One was that I got to join Olga on the massive bouncy castle. Initially she was the only one on, and you could see her enthusiasm waning after about two minutes. My translator Irma managed to convince the guy to let me on, and the transformation in her demeanour was incredible.

I don’t think sponsors can ever accurately judge the impact that their visit has on the child, but I got a pretty good indication on this afternoon. I cannot describe the pure excitement, joy and delight and Olga displayed as we bounced, jumped, ran and slid for (what felt like) about 30 minutes, and I certainly exhausted my aerobic capacity. That Jumping Castle was a “temple of joy”. She even brought on the teddy bear I had given her as a gift and started throwing it around! A highlight for me was when we were having a go at the inflatable punching bags that were part of the jumping castle, and each time I punched them I said “punch, punch, punch” In her excitement, Olga tried to copy what I was saying, but it came out as “woosha-woosha-woosha.”

We then went and had a go at some of the other games. Olga was unrestrained in her glee as she shot basketballs in the hoop (very well, I might add!), played airhockey, and tried several other games. She even won enough tickets to get herself a prize. My earlier grumbles about the way I spend my money went out the window as it dawned on me what a rare and precious experience this was for her (and her mother watching her). Absolute gold!

On the way to the airport, the one thing I could not get out of my head was the image of Mama looking around at the foreign world of the mall when we were riding the train. I tentatively asked the question "What were you thinking?" I was not expecting her answer. "I was very content, because I had never been to the mall before, and I was happy because my daughter Olga was happy to be there too." 

No trip would be complete without some airport drama, and today was that day. I was heading to Guatemala straight after the visit, and had my bags already packed and locked. What I hadn’t realised was I had left my deodorant and inflated Australian football in my carry-on luggage, both of which weren’t permitted to go on the plane. By the time we got pulled up at the security checkpoint, our checked-in luggage had been already whisked away. It wasn’t really a big deal, I’d just have to get rid of them both. The deodorant I could replace, but I didn’t really want to lose the Australian football. With some fast talking from my translator Irma, and some compassion from the woman at the check-in desk, my suitcase was recovered, football was secured and all was at peace with the world again.

Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Visiting Danna (MX)

The first stop on my visit to Jiquipilas, Mexico, to visit 9 year-old Danna, was church. What better place to be on a Sunday morning!? We were picked up from Tuxtla, a two-hour drive away, by the Director of Project ME738, Aurelio, who has been doing it for 10 years. Compassion doesn’t normally host visits on Sunday, but because of my schedule they were flexible and agreed to host me. This just meant I didn’t get to see the project in action, but what I got instead was still incredibly memorable and impacting.

The Project ME738 is connected to “The First Church of the Nazarene (Jesus)”. Nazarene is a pentecostal denomination in Mexico. Some of Danna’s family go to the “Second Church of the Nazarene” instead. I have given my experience here it’s own blog post.

It was a warm day, and the church was very open - no windows, and no enclosed wall on one side. I figured the weather must be warm/hot the whole year round, but was surprised when the family said that this wasn’t typical weather. I can’t imagine what it’s like when it’s colder. Translator Irma and I arrived before church started, and were escorted to the front row, where I met Danna. She was shy and polite. During the service she was busting to go out with the other kids, but Mama made her stay in and sit next to me. I felt sorry for her. 

The music was led by a team of six young guys, and was phenomenal and passionate, which are two words that could be used to describe the whole service. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand a word they were saying, apart from maybe “Gracias Senor”(Thank you God) or “Nombre de Jesus” (name of Jesus). I did recognise “Open the Eyes of My Heart” and “Agnus Dei.”

I felt the presence of God in that place. The lads displayed incredible talent and ability on their instruments, swapped instruments at times, and played without any sheet music. I learned they also sometimes travel around and lead worship at other churches in the area.  I was thrilled to find out later that three of those guys were former Compassion-sponsored kids, now using their gifts and talents for the glory of God! I love stories like that!

On this day there were between 200 and 300 people at the church, and it was interesting to observe the way they did things, and how different it was to a lot of churches I’ve been part of. There was a real healthy fear of the Lord in the place, and their faith and joy, even in their circumstances, was tangible. I was moved to tears, and beyond words, grateful and humbled to be there, feeling like I was in the presence of true worshippers.

The pastor of the church has been very sick, and appeared quite old and frail. He made his return to church on this day. I only talked to him briefly but he clearly inspires the people of his church, and has authority and their respect.

When the worship leader prayed, he or she got down on their knees. Postures of worship were very important – about three different times in the service, approx 50 people or so came to the front and lay prostrate before God. The people were very physically affectionate, with each other and with me. I was embraced more times than I could count, which is something I’m not used to, but have become comfortable with.

A young woman preached on this day (for over an hour), and she was strong, bold and passionate. There were no notes, or fandangled Powerpoint slides. The only tools she used were a whiteboard with three dot points and her sword – the Word of God.

A definite highlight was being able to get up and play the drums with the music team lads. It was a big ask for them, but I asked if they knew the song “One Way, Jesus”, and sure enough they did, so we belted that out. At first the people were just sitting, treating it like an item, but one of the church leaders exhorted them to stand, and soon we had a church full of 300 people celebrating Jesus as “the Way the Truth and the Life”.

As I was belting it out, a thought dawned on me that was so profound and humbling I nearly fell off my chair: I’m doing what God has gifted me to do (playing drums), and we might come from “different universes”, but I’m leading a church of 300 Mexicans in joyfully celebrating and glorifying OUR God, the Creator of the universe. It doesn’t get much better than that.

After we finished playing, I got off, but they yelled for an encore, so we played “Trading My Sorrows”, which they had done earlier in the service. I was then able to share briefly with the people. In all honesty I felt so inadequate, small, empty and broken. I was coming from such a privileged and blessed country, where we take EVERYTHING for granted and have everything we could ever need or want, and I was standing before these spiritual giants, who have nothing materially, but are so content, joyful and filled with faith and trust in their loving God. What was I supposed to say?

Thankfully, God gave me words. This is what I shared “I have only been in your community for a very short time, and I can tell your lives are hard. I cannot pretend to know what your lives are like, but need to tell you, I can feel your faith, joy and passion for Jesus. I can only encourage you, as the apostle Paul says in the Bible to “Fight the good fight, finish the race and claim the prize that Jesus has for us – eternal life.” True hope, joy and freedom only come from faith in Jesus.”

Home Visit
Danna’s family consists of Mama, older sister (Miss Ten) and older brother (Mr 14). Miss Ten is sponsored by a Korean family, and has received a total of one letter and photo. Mr 14 was sponsored, but left the program. I get the impression that, for whatever reason, he just didn’t want to be part of it anymore. They have aunts and cousins living next door. Mama works at Casa Dias (“Day House”), a government organisation where people get support and learn skills.

When I first saw their house, I asked how many other people live with them, but it was just Mama and the three kids. I thought it was quite big for a family of four. They have electricity, bathroom, one bedroom, and dirt floor. The house has wooden foundations and an iron sheet roof. What really struck me is how this family take pride in their home despite their humble circumstances. They still had their Christmas tree and decorations up, as well as a tribute in the corner to their deceased grandmother who died – a table with a photo, candles and a Bible.

The church service did not finish until after one o’clock, so we shelved our original plans. We were going to take Danna to Tuxtla, which was a large city about 80km away, for lunch. However, whenever I visit my Compassion kids, my priority is spending as much time as I can with the family and seeing their home and environment. So someone went out and bought some lunch and we ate at Danna’s home.

We were joined for lunch by the little cousins and a couple of aunts. There was good conversation and lots of questions. I was humbled by their generosity and hospitality. They did ask what I thought of their home and neighbourhood, but they didn’t seem overly concerned, insecure or ashamed. Once again, there was a sense of contentment in what God has provided for them.

Danna’s father has not been on the scene for 8 years, since she was a baby. Mama said he left for the United Statesto look for a job, and never came back. An all-too-common story in these parts of the world. I asked her if she was expecting that to happen when he left, and she said “no”, so it wasn’t like they were fighting and he stormed out. I could feel a sense of loss there. This makes Mister 14 the man of the house, and my role as Danna's sponsor even more significant.   
 
After lunch our little tribe (7 kids, 6 adults) headed out into the neighbourhood. It seemed quiet and safe with paved roads, and Danna said enjoys living there. Our first stop was a public football stadium, complete with synthetic surface. I had already introduced them to the strange, red egg-shaped ball that is an Australian football, so we were planning to have a kick. However, there were already a bunch of teenage boys at the park, playing that OTHER football, the round-ball variety.

They were on a break, since their soccer ball had burst and they were waiting for someone to bring back a replacement ball, so the kids and I got on and had a kick of the footy. I can’t imagine what the soccer boys were thinking at this sight! I tried to get the lads involved by kicking it near them, but only had one or two takers. Most of them were bemused by it and treated it almost like a bomb when it came near. However, it didn’t stop them wanting a photo taken with me when they found out I was Australian. There’s now a bizarre photo of me among a bunch of Mexican soccer boys, wearing a New York Knicks shirt (American basketball), wearing an Aussie cap and holding an Australian football!   

After this we headed up the road to a local soccer ground, where there was a proper match going on, and playground. Here I had an interesting bathroom experience. Being a local soccer match in Mexico, the changerooms are guarded by an armed policeman and he led me into one of them, where there was a solitary toilet in the corner. When the time came to wash my hands, I looked around puzzledly for a sink, but he came and pointed to the cistern of the toilet, which was indeed filled with water, but obviously not the kind I was originally thinking! So for the first time in my life, I washed my hands in the cistern of a toilet…

The kids (and I) then had a play on the playground. I did not need my translator Irma for this, because fun on a playground transcends every language. The equipment was rusted and quite primitive, but they even had one of those wizzy-dizz rides that you hop on and someone pushes it round until everyone gets dizzy. They’re the ones that are very rare, if not extinct, in Australiabecause the local councils are too scared of getting sued.

We finally headed back to the house for gifts and goodbyes, sweaty and content after a couple of hours of simple fun. I much preferred this to the original arrangement, which would have had us doing a lot of sitting in cars.

A holy moment I have been able to experience in every visit is the giving of gifts. I brought pretty much the same thing for each child, with a couple of extra things for two girls having a birthday and the ones with larger families.

Every child gets a teddy bear, even the older ones. One cannot underestimate the comfort and security a person gets from having their own teddy bear, particularly considering the lives these kids have. My one boy Antonio will be getting a soccer ball and the girls receive simple silver necklaces with a fish symbol containing the word “Jesus”.

After seeing the living conditions of pretty much all the kids so far, I have often struggled to hold it together as I was struck by the symbolism as I put the necklace gently round each girl's neck and pointed out the word on the Fish - Jesus. He is their only hope, and I’m very blessed to know that the majority of my Compassion kids already recognise and acknowledge this.

Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Visiting Allison (MX)

After about four hours sleep in my hotel in Mexico City, I was up at 6amto get ready for the first visit day of what I’m calling my “Central America Mega-Tour.” (even though Ecuadoris South America and Dominican Republic and Haitiare in the Caribbean).

I met my translator/lifesaver Irma at 7am. She will be with me for the entire four days in Mexico, for which I’m grateful. She has been working for Compassion for 12 years. We jumped on a bus for an 80 minute trip to San Martin Texmelucan to meet Allison. At the bus station we were picked up by the Pastor, who’s been at his church for 17 years, and Compassion project ME785 has been operating for 6 years, with a couple hundred kids.

In my visiting experience so far I have found that many of the Pastors who have churches involved with Compassion have been there a long time. I was told that the city of San Martin Texmelucanhas 130,000 residents, with only about 10,000 Christians, so they are the minority.

When we got to the Project, we walked in to a church full of kids of all ages. I did my best to introduce myself in Spanish (thanks to Microsoft Word translate tool), and sang them the song “God of Wonders”. There was no guitar, so I had to struggle along on the piano – chords only! I asked if anyone had a sponsor from Australia, and no hands went up. However I found out from talking to some of the kids later, some of them don’t even know which country their sponsor comes from, and have trouble saying their names.

I then met Allison and her family – Mama (27) and 2 sisters. Allison’s Dad was at work. He makes clothes with a couple of his brothers and brothers-in-law, then they go off to sell them on weekends, so the kids don’t see their dad much.

I joined some of the kids for a snack, and got to know the family better. The kids asked me questions about myself and Australia. I taught them a couple of fun camp songs, Thumb Wars (1,2,3,4 I declare a thumb war!), then I got out the footy! There wasn’t much play space. ME785 is an urban project, and there are currently massive building extensions happening in order to expand the Project. So their play space is a construction zone. Nevertheless, we made the best of what we had, and I took a group of 25 kids out to have a go at handballing an Australian football. Interesting….

After a while we took a tour of the Project. I saw the classrooms, medical room, kitchen, office, and pretty soon it was evident why they need to make extensions – there ain’t no room! However, the staff do the best with what they’ve got, and are being the hands and feet of Jesus to these kids. The kids at this Project were a happy, curious bunch, and I felt very loved and accepted. I even had some kids wanting my autograph! Weird… I just wrote them a little message and signed off with a smiley face “David from Australia.”

Meeting Allison was amazing. I’ve now met 14 of my Compassion kids, and part of me thinks “Surely I’d be used to it by now? Surely I know what to expect? Surely it would lose a bit of the thrill, excitement and nerves?” The answer to that is a resounding NO! When you make the decision to invest in a little soul for both this life and eternity, supporting them with money, love, encouragement and letters, and you finally get to BE WITH them and see what their life is like – where they live, where they play - not much else comes close to that feeling.

I have been sponsoring Allison for a year. She is a super-sweet, affectionate 8 year-old. She has an older sister (Miss Ten) and a younger sister (Miss Three). Mama is 27, and was very engaging and easy to talk to. She sells sandwiches and tortillas outside her daughter’s school, and takes Miss Three with her. Both Allison and Miss Ten are top of their classes at school. Miss Ten is also sponsored, but her sponsor never or rarely writes. Not good enough in my book.

Last May, I received a letter saying Allison’s Project was going to close at the start of 2013, and they weren’t sure whether Allison would go to a new Project. I found out today that from June to September Allison did not attend her Project at all, even though it was still running. From hearing Mama talk about it I think this may be because they weren’t happy with the decision to close the Project down. In October, the girls started going to ME785.  

We left the Project sooner than I would have liked, because of the schedule. With the sponsor visits, as well as seeing the Project and the child’s home, often we will go to a park/zoo/mall as a special treat. The problem with this is they are often far away from the child’s town, and much travelling is required. It’s also usually just the child and one parent rather than the whole family. Whenever I visit, my personal priority is to see the Project in detail and the home, and spend as much time with the whole family as possible. Anything after that is a bonus.

So today we rushed off from the Project and took Allison’s family to a place called Hacienda de Chautla, which is a historical castle and museum, and we got the guided tour. It was good, and has a nice natural lake, but is not necessarily somewhere I’d take three kids under 10. However, Irma told me the girls enjoyed it and had been wanting to go there, so that’s what matters I guess.

On the way out I asked the Pastor what sort of fish you can catch in the lake. He said there are two types, and when you catch a fish you pay a certain amount to take it with you. He also took this question to mean that I wanted to have a go. I tried so hard to refuse, but before I knew it a rod was in my hand, and my sponsored child and her family were all watching me. I never have been, nor ever will be a fishing person. There are many things I’d rather do before I go fishing. So I duly stuffed up the cast (is that what it’s called when you chuck the line into the water?) by getting the line tangled, handed back the rod and stormed off in a huff (not really, but my body language wasn’t positive for a few seconds). The one good thing about fishing for me is that it made possible the classic Homer Simpson line “na na na na na na na na fishing!”   

For lunch we went to a restaurant called Nila Restaurante, and this was the first time EVER for the girls. This made me feel quite privileged that I was able to give them this opportunity, and it’s something we just take for granted. Allison is only 8, and her plate contained a couple of massive pieces of fish. I was quietly sceptical about whether her meal would get finished, but by golly she did it!

The last stop for the day was their family home. They live in a busy city street, and it’s part of a “complex” of units that are hidden behind a high sheet metal fence. Their extended family lives in the same group of houses. We talked for a while, they showed me around the house, looked at some of their family photos, got out the letters I’d sent Allison and I gave them some gifts. For each child I am visiting, I am giving the following:
- a teddy bear, a “Jesus” pendant and a bead necklace for the child (soccer ball for Antonio, my one boy on this trip);
- a clip-on koala and a postcard for the siblings;
- a koala snow globe and an Australian flag for the family.

I am always affected by the generosity and hospitality shown by the families on my sponsor visits. They may not have much, but what they do have they share willingly and graciously.

Thus endeth day one.

Compassion Adventure #3 (Central/South America 2013): Intro

Over the next three weeks, I will be doing probably the craziest thing I have done in my life, especially for someone who spoeaks and understands very little espanol. I will be journeying through seven different countries in....The Americas (I couldn't be bothered repeating the post title). The purpose of this trip is to visit 14 of the children I sponsor through Compassion International. The countries are: Mexico (3 kids), Guatemala (3), El Salvador (2), Nicaragua (3), Ecuador (1), Haiti (1) and Dominican Republic (1).

I got back from an incredible trip to Brazil in October, and in a rush of blood, organised this trip straight away, reasoning that I had the health and the funds (and I still have both of those). I also wasn't going to plan my next trip nine months ahead, like I did with Brazil. At no stage have I regretted it, but I have spent some time wondering "what the heck were you thinking?"

I will be way out of my comfort zone and relying completely on God. I know something of what to expect - there will be heartache, despair, joy and hope in equal measures. Some of the kids I will be visiting have shared about sicknesses and addictions within their families. I am hoping that my visit to these families will assure them and confirm to them God's immeasurable love for them, and we will see healings and salvation in many lives because of His grace and mercy. I know beyond doubt that Compassion is God's business, and I am humbled that He is using me in this way.

Thanks for the prayers that have been thrown up, I know God is honouring them :)