Why did the turtle cross the road?

Yesterday was a crazy day. In the space of two and a half hours, we needed to do homework (for four), eat dinner, shuttle two of them back and forth to a Girl Scouts meeting and then race to get dressed for a Band Concert. There truly wasn’t a moment to spare, but then we saw Snap.

Just two minutes from home, on the drive between Girl Scouts pick-up and Concert drop-off, we spied Snap already a couple of feet into the road and in the direct path of oncoming traffic. Snap didn’t have his catchy name at that moment. He was simply (according to Luke): “Look at that huge snapping turtle trying to cross the road!” We immediately pulled over, as we have a history in turtle rescue, but we had absolutely no clue what to do.

Snap was indeed huge. I would now describe him as the size of a basketball, and I truly don’t believe that I have seen a turtle that large outside of a zoo or a nature preserve. We’re accustomed to small turtles and we most definitely prefer the friendly ones. Snap was neither small nor friendly.

Thanks to a recent car cleaning, we were left with nothing to use to help us direct Snap to safety. Juliana’s clipboard received an aggressive bite and communicated Snap’s agitation with our rescue efforts. A neighbor stopped and helped us search for side-of-the-road items that would do the trick, but branches and sticks were simply not strong enough to prod him along. With our next event looming, we were beginning to feel the pressure of the moment, but our love of creatures and desire to save this obviously decades old turtle kept us focused on the task at hand. And then, help arrived.

A blue pick-up truck, over-filled with what some might call treasures and others might call trash, pulled over to lend a helping hand. I shouted out: “You don’t happen to have a big shovel on the back of that truck, do you?” And, sure enough, they did.

This was no ordinary shovel. It was a turtle relocation device, if ever there was such a thing. I think I’ve seen something like it at the hardware store during the winter months, but this particular tool was clearly an antique. Made of wood that posed a major threat for splinters, it had a super-size square base and a bar for pushing. After some hissing, combined with full head and neck extension, Snap found himself in the center of this contraption and was transported to safety on the opposite side of the road. Mission accomplished.

We said our goodbyes and hurried on our way, and I was left thinking that this experience was a metaphor for positive living. There are times when we feel flustered and we don’t feel like we have what it takes to make a difference in the world (or in a turtle’s life), but then God sends help to get the job done. Those who are not outfitted with the proper tool belt are sometimes placed in that specific moment to serve as inspiration instead. We don’t know for sure if the couple in the blue truck would have stopped on their own to help the turtle or if they might have otherwise experienced a tragic collision, but what we do know for sure is that we have all been blessed with different gifts and, when we share them with each other, we make the world a better place.

Why did the turtle cross the road? He had a story to tell.

A Mother of Four... in Guatemala

Mountain Path from Panajachel to Tierra Linda
Photo by, my brother, David Patterson, March, 2010

Not a week goes by when I don't get a comment like this one: "Wow! You have four kids? How do you do it?" Or, "You certainly have your hands full." Over time, I have come to wear it as a badge of honor. Indeed, I can sit smack dab in the middle of pure chaos for extended periods of time and still function without the assistance of alcohol and drugs. And I oftentimes surround myself with even larger crowds of kids as if I'm participating in a "how many marshmallows can you fit inside your mouth" contest. It's crazy, I know, but I'm privileged to live the life that I live.

When I consider what I worry about, it's the easy stuff. Is Juliana turning into a teenager too quickly? Is Kendra unnaturally afraid of the dark? Is Luke going to get caught kissing a girl in second grade? Will Will's speech issues be resolved in the next few years? There are moments when these questions weigh heavy on my heart, and then I read an email like the one below and realize that my life as the mother of four in the United States of America is a cake walk.

If you have a moment, please read the message that my Mayan Families Connection group received last night from the Director of the non-profit organization in Guatemala.

From Sharon Smart-Poage
Friday, January 14, 2011

Panajachel, Guatemala

Hi everyone,

Today was the end of a very long week for us. We have been distributing school supplies to over 1,600 children....the lawn at the new office will never be the same. It will probably never be able to revive...we have had 1,600 students plus their mothers and siblings there every day. We have been working from 8am till 8pm.

We have had 5 people trying to update the student blogs, interviewing as many students and their families as they can, translating from Kakchiquel, Tzutihil to Spanish and then to English.

We have had the Tierra Linda Jr. High school officially open and we are registering students. We had the parent meeting yesterday, 50 parents anxious and hopeful that their children will be able to have an education and a better future than they have ever dreamed of.

We have organized the opening of the new pre-school in San Andres in partnership with Tom Heaton....Mission Guatemala.

We have held teacher meetings about the re-opening of the five Mayan Families pre-school/feeding programs: Panajachel, San Jorge, Tierra Linda, San Antonio and San Andres.

We have negotiated to open the 6th Mayan Families Pre-school/feeding program/community center in El Barranco. This will also be the home to the Folkloric dance troupe and we hope the beginning of many exciting opportunities for this community.

We have organized the opening of the new Elderly Care and Orphan Care center in San Jorge this coming Monday.

This evening at 7pm I was still in the office, trying to get out to join my husband, Dwight and daughter, Zoe at a restaurant for a Friday night pizza. I was feeling pressured and irritable. All I wanted to do was go home and relax.

I came out to the main room and saw Joaquin who was still working and still cheery, even though it was his birthday and he was working late. He was working with a family who came from Tierra Linda. The mother was painfully thin and carrying a little baby on her side and had a son who is about 10yrs old, a little girl who is going into our pre-school probably around 4-5yrs old, and a little boy around 3yrs old.

It was the little 3yr old who stopped me in my tracks. He was wearing a t-shirt that was full of holes and a pair of pants that were torn. He had no shoes on. It is very cold at this time of the year and the wind is howling. He was pulling at his mother and trying to get her to go to the door. I asked if he was cold and his mother said yes, he is tired, he is asking to go home.

Now to go home, this little boy would have to walk, barefoot for at least 20 mins to get to the now dark mountain path to Tierra Linda. It would then be an hour walk up the mountain to their village and I don't know how much further to their home.

I could see that the little boy was very tired. This is before he starts this mammoth trip home. I asked the mother when she had last eaten....she said ...."oh we haven't eaten yet"...meaning all day. I could not help but think how my 6 yr old would be reacting...cold, hungry, barefoot and a good hour an a half walk up a dark, mountain trail.

I had brought a bag of jackets down to the office just in case there were children without jackets in this cold weather. I went and got these children jackets that thankfully you all had donated. The 3yr old was sitting on a chair when I came back with his jacket. I put the jacket on him and he looked up and gave me the sweetest smile. I felt his feet and they were ice cold and hard from walking barefoot all the time.

I sent for juice and snacks for each child and I arranged for the little boy to pass by my house. Berta would put shoes and socks on his feet and give the family a few bags of incaparina (a cereal) sugar so that they had something warm to drink when they got home. I heard the mother talking to another woman about how some days she doesn't even have corn to make tortillas for the children.

I felt humbled by the life this mother lives. She has four children that I know of. She sees these children hungry and suffering nearly every day. She walks long distances with them to try and get help. She was not complaining, she was smiling and grateful, thanking me for the help that they were receiving.

Me...who was feeling irritable because my computer connection was slow and I couldn't answer all the waiting emails, pressured because my husband and daughter were waiting to eat pizza with me....tired because I had been working long hours this week .......how could I even compare my life to this woman....who in the face of all that she has to endure, was smiling and gracious, her children were not whining even though they were cold, hungry and had at least an hour and a half walk to go home. This woman and her family renewed my desire to do as much good as we can here in Guatemala. I felt very fortunate that we are able to help her as much as we can. It is not perfect, but at least her children can go to school, two of her children will go to the preschool so for at least 5 days a week they will not go hungry. Tonight they all have jackets and a 3yr old is not walking up the mountain barefoot. If we are lucky, someone will sponsor this family for food.

Thanks to all of you for providing the help for this family and for the families like this in the future.

Sharon

http://www.mayanfamilies.org/

My relationship with Mayan Families and all of the local organizations that I support grounds me. It reminds me, almost daily, that I am one of the lucky ones. I was born, by chance, into a family that could provide for me and in a country that would pick up the slack if they couldn't. I have never known what it was like to not have shoes or food or a sense of security. And, more important to me than anything else, I have never seen my children suffer and been powerless to help. Can you even imagine?

So, after a long absence from blog writing, Sharon's email inspired me to start tapping the keys. It called out to me and said, "Scream from the rooftops that all is not ok in the world. Share the stories. Touch people's hearts. Inspire others to give or to begin to think about giving. Be the change you want to see in the world."

And so, I hope I have done just that.

Your long lost (but now found) friend,

Just Beth

Four Children of My Own

We've all heard the recent news about the Mother who sent her seven year old son back to his homeland of Russia because he was demonstrating unusual and violent behaviors. As you can imagine, I was appalled by this woman's actions, and then I was devastated to see that it had an immediate impact on international adoption and that it now threatens to delay or terminate the completion of adoptions that are currently in-process. I deeply feel the pain of those families, as we were one of those families on many different occasions.

The Joint Council on International Children's Services has issued a call to action, and I've put on my Mommy cape and am ready to fly. They have created the We Are The Truth campaign, and they named April 15th as the day to blog about your successful adoption experience to prove to the world that most adoption stories are success stories.

So here it is...

There aren't many people like me. In fact, I'm guessing that I may truly be one in a million, although I don't know the official statistic and wonder if it is even available. I am the mother of a blended family which was created by domestic adoption, birth, and international adoption. And I speak the truth.

Adoption is a unique journey and, after experiencing all aspects of it, I know that it is not for everyone. It's not for people who want to save the world, one child at a time. It's not for people who feel that their needs are more important than the Birthmother's needs. It's not for people who think that it is the next best thing to giving birth.

So what is it then? Adoption is loving, and respecting, and honoring all members of the triad. Adoption is opening your arms and making a child your own. Adoption is preparing for every bump in the road and every difficult conversation and every emotional breakdown so that - when it happens (and it will) - you have the tools that you'll need to make things better. Adoption is parenting.

We adopted Juliana and Kendra as infants through the domestic adoption process. We held Juliana in our arms minutes after her birth, and we arrived at Kendra's bassinet just one day after her early arrival. We had them both from the start, and you could say that the experience most mimicked actual childbirth - other than the pregnancy, of course. We even had medical ID bracelets at each hospital to prove that we were their parents. I fell in love with them from the second I saw their sweet faces and held them in my arms. I became their mother, because their Birthparents lovingly made a plan for them to join our family. Imagine being entrusted with such a huge responsibility. Jay and I were ready for that responsibility... and it's one that we will carry forever.

A couple of years after Kendra arrived, we tried IVF and I was blessed to become pregnant and give birth to Luke. I didn't need a birthchild, but I desperately wanted to experience pregnancy if my body could be coaxed into doing it. At one point during the pregnancy, I started to wonder if I would feel different about Luke. I kept convincing myself that I surely would not, but - one day - I owned it and accepted that I wouldn't truly know until he actually arrived. When that day finally came, I felt such joy and relief in knowing that the same feelings that I had for the girls were welling up in me for Luke. As clearly as he was my own, they were too.

And then we decided to adopt again... this time from Guatemala. The questions resurfaced as to how I would bond with a new little guy from a faraway place who not only had been born to another woman but had been raised for his first eight months by a Foster Mother. Surely this would feel different?

We learned of Will's arrival more than a month after his actual birthday and I didn't meet him for the first time until he was four months old but, when I held him in my arms, he was all mine. I grieved for him at the end of our visit until the day I returned to Guatemala to bring him home. I wore a symbol of him and his country around my neck every day that we were apart, and I physically ached for him. Our bond was instant and can never be broken. He too is my own.

We're not your typical family, this McFadyen tribe. We come from different places and even different cultures. We are varying shades of white and brown, and our personalities and temperaments and interests and abilities are all over the map. That said, we are family.

And so, when someone says: "Now you gave birth and adopted, right? Which one is your own?"

I say, with a smile on my face: "All of them. Can't you tell?"

Another successful adoption story. We Are The Truth!

God Bless all people who joined their families through adoption. God Bless their loving Birthparents. And God Bless all of the children who are waiting to come home to their forever families.

Re-Entry

My new friends in Guatemala prepared me. They said that “re-entry” would be difficult. They said that it would hit me at unusual times. They said that it would bring me to tears. They were right.

Within five minutes of returning home, at 1:30am on Palm Sunday, I was standing in the dark in my bedroom, weeping. It had been a long day of traveling, and I had every intention of quickly transitioning from doorway to pajamas to bed, and then, mid-step, I froze. As I stood still in the quiet of the night, with spring peepers offering a faint chirp in the background, I absorbed all of the comforts of my home. I felt the sturdy wood floor beneath my feet and remembered all of the people I had met who slept, every night, on a dirt floor. I felt the expanse of my bedroom, with vaulted ceilings and many windows, and I remembered the mud brick homes that I had entered, which – as beautiful and traditional as they were – reminded me of small caves. And I actually felt the conveniences in my life… a bathroom only steps away, a thermostat on the wall to control the heat, a stocked refrigerator downstairs, and light bulbs… lots and lots of lamps and recessed lights and nightlights which simply required the flip of a switch to illuminate an entire room. It was in that darkness, as I thought about Florinda and Daniel Pablo and Cayetana and Erwin and so many others, that I began to unravel. Yes… it happened that quickly.

So what is re-entry? Ever since I was 10 years old, in Ms. Weems’ 5th grade class, I have understood the concept of re-entry. I don’t remember much from that year (other than being the girl winner of the multiplication contest and earning dinner at China Blossom with the teacher and boy winner, David Natoli), but I do remember this. Ms. Weems told a story about a friend of hers who had traveled to a poor area of Mexico to do volunteer work. She explained that, when the friend returned home for the holidays, she burst into tears as family members tore through wrapping paper to open Christmas gifts. Her friend was not just sad to think that the people she had met in Mexico would not have gifts to open, but she was overcome by the symbolism of the wrapping paper, knowing full well that such beautiful paper would be valued and treasured by the poor people she served. The image stuck in my head for, well… more than 30 years. I have often envisioned a small brown child, much like my own Will, slowly and meticulously unwrapping a small gift so that the paper could be saved for another special occasion. That’s re-entry. It’s the realization that what you left behind is not at all like what you experience at home… and it is the sadness, the guilt, the anger, the hope, and all of the other emotions that fill your soul and cause you to stop in your tracks and just let it wash over you… like being overcome by a great big wave on an otherwise calm seas day.

I think I may have been wrong in an earlier post. I wrote that, because of the kinds of work that I do, this trip was not as much life-changing as it was life-affirming. As I now have had some time to reflect, I realize that, indeed, it did change me. I am feeling a bit Zen… whatever that means. I am hugging and praising and valuing my kids more. I am treasuring my time – and my life - with Jay. I am thinking more deeply and acting less quickly. I am praying more than I have in a long time. I am feeling more comfortable, and perhaps even content, in my skin. I am feeling valued and validated. I am feeling blessed and grateful to a higher degree. Good changes… every one of them.

And so, when can I expect this re-entry phase to come to a close? Time will only tell, but – for lots of reasons – I would like it to stick with me for a while. I hope that certain sights and sounds and smells bring me back, if only for a moment, to the land that I have come to love… a land of extreme poverty and intense pride… a land of culture and tradition… a land whose people exude warmth and gratitude and honor.

With my “orientation” now complete, I can hardly wait to return and be put to work by my new Mayan Families friends. Oh how I’d love to make this an annual trip. And I’d love to bring Jay and the kids. And I’d love to stay for a month and do a Spanish immersion program. And I’d love to build an Onil stove. And I’d love to bring a supply of basketball uniforms for the free sports program. And I’d love to pick avocados with Juana in Tierra Linda. And I’d love to create a garden in Chuk Muk with Louise. And I’d love to secure space for a community garden in Pana with Sue. And I’d love to build a community center in El Barranco. And I’d love to create a transitional living program for the kids in the San Andres orphanage who will be put out on the street at age 15. It’s such a blessing to have so many opportunities to make a difference.

Like I have carried the Ms. Weems story with me for all of these years, I hope that you will carry my story. When you have that quiet moment, perhaps also in the darkness of the night, I pray that you will think about the bounty of your life and tip your hat in gratitude. And, if you feel so inspired, consider your next opportunity to serve and be ready to pay the toll.

Feeling abundantly blessed,

Beth

Day 7

Icing on the cake... There surely isn't a more perfect example of this common expression than what I experienced tonight. My week in Guatemala has been a 10+. It exceeded all of my expectations and has left me full of joy. And yet, tonight, as we arrived in Guatemala City to prepare for our Saturday departure back to the States, it got even better.

After 5 years, I was reunited with Will's Birthmother and his Foster Mother. Ever since taking a photo with Maria and Martha, I have called our trio Las Tres Madres ~ The Three Mothers. Maria is his mother by birth, Martha is his "primera madre" (or first mother), and I am his forever mother. The three of us make quite a team.

In Guatemala, it is fairly uncommon to have the opportunity to meet your child's birthmother, so I feel humbled and honored to have met Maria twice. I can't quite explain how it feels to hold the person who gave your child life. With every extra squeeze, I tried to communicate my love, my gratitude, and my respect for her. This very special woman provided the missing piece to our family. And her words and expressions proved to me that she felt comfort in her decision, despite the deep loss. Maria will always be a part of our family, and I look forward to the day when we can travel as a family, along with Will's birthsister's family, to see her.

Will's Foster Family is as sweet as they were when we first met them in 2004. I can't express how comforting it is to know that he felt loved and safe during his first 8 months in Guatemala. I remember watching his Foster Dad, Bayardo, tossing him into the air as Will giggled with glee. They prepared him to transition into his new life with his new family - our family - and I know for sure that the love that they showed him then still blossoms inside his heart.

I'm feeling a bit lightheaded now, and it's no wonder with all of the emotions that are buzzing through my head. I can hardly wait to get home to Jay and the kids, and yet I already miss the new friends that I'll be leaving behind. The staff at Mayan Families sits on top of top notch. They are exceptional... extraordinary... remarkable. I was honored to observe them in their element and lend a helping hand when I could. This trip certainly felt like an Orientation to me, which leads me to believe that a return tip might be in my not too distant future.

I hope that you've enjoyed sharing this journey with me, and I hope that it might inspire you to take a step outside of your comfort zone and serve others in a way that is meaningful to you. My Guatemala may be your (fill in the blank here).

I am now convinced that, on your life journey, you must stop every so often and pay the toll. Your toll may be as simple as sharing something you no longer need or as complex as a trip to a faraway land to help the less fortunate. Exact change is not required... Just follow your heart, and it will lead the way.

Signing off from Guatemala,

Beth

Day 6

I love "full circle" moments, and - as you can see from the photo - I had one of those today. Last fall, a dear pal of mine called to ask if I could help with a project. She and some of her fellow soccer moms wondered what they could do with their children's blue soccer uniforms after the league switched to Tewksbury red. Knowing that I can often find homes for "used but usable" items, she asked if I would find someone who could use uniforms if we were to do a collection. I jumped at the opportunity to send them to Guatemala.

Needless to say, the Tewksubry Blues collection was a great success. And, not only did our generous families offer their uniforms, but many donated gently used cleats and shin guards as well. I shipped the uniforms to Mayan Families as part of the Christmas shipment last October and, today, before my very eyes, I watched Tewksbury South play ball. And what a treat it was.

The uniforms were donated to a free sports program which is run by a retired American gentleman, named Willie, who has lived in Guatemala for the past seven years. Seeing the need for organized sports, Willie created a program that runs much like ours in the US. Children register to participate and must have parental consent and show a birth certificate. Of course, this program is free, since many of the families cannot even afford to register their children for school, never mind sports. Willie manages the program with a host of volunteers who coach soccer, basketball, and swimming. (He was able to convince a local hotel to offer their pool for one hour each day, five days each week.) The program continues to grow, but it stands at nearly 500 children today.

Because the program is free, there is no budget for uniforms or sporting equipment. Willie was overjoyed when he learned that a little town in Massachusetts was coming to the rescue. He is such a dear man, and it is clear that he cares so deeply for the children. He introduced many of them to me by name and shared stories of each. One of his favorite children is a young boy who appears to be eight or nine years old. Because of his family's extreme poverty, the boy works at a local restaurant rather than attending school. This sports program is an escape from the life he normally leads.

It is wonderful to know that the uniforms are being used several times each week by hundreds of players. Rather than distribute them (and fear that they not be returned), Willie's coaches bring them to each game, distribute them according to size, and wash them after each use. By doing this, the uniforms will be available for many years to come.

As you can imagine, watching the children play in their Tewksbury Blues was magical. I remember counting and rolling and banding each and every one, and I now realize that I have touched each child that wears one in a very real way. What a perfect example of one community reaching out to help another.

P.S. to the soccer story... Scroll up to see the dilapidated ladder in the photo. I had to climb down that ladder backwards in order to reach the soccer field. Adventure!!!!

The other highlight of the day was assembling and distributing Semana Santa baskets. These baskets feed a 10 person family and consist of a chicken, carrots, green beans, sugar, mosh, incaparina, a pineapple, sweet breads, and chocolate. It's all the makings of a traditional Easter meal. Supporters of Mayan Families purchase these baskets for their sponsored children or for general distribution at a cost of $35 each, and families in need line up outside the door to request one... as if they are waiting to purchase front row tickets to the best concert of the year.

Back at Mayan Families...

Today, I helped to create more than 450 baskets, but it was passing them out that was the most fun. Many of the women brought pieces of traditional Mayan fabric to wrap their basket and carry it on their heads. Each of them expressed genuine thanks, and many stopped to offer a hug and a squeeze too. This week, I have been among a great people... warm and loving and thoughtful and proud.

I feel so entirely grateful to all of my pals who participated in my jewelry fundraiser and also those who generously offered funding for this project. Together, we raised over $800 which purchased 24 baskets for general distribution and which fed around 240 people. Now that's something to feel good about!

And so, this was our final full day in Pana, and we'll be traveling back to Guatemala City tomorrow. What a great finale to an absolutely awesome experience.

Thanks for sharing my day.

Your friend in service,

Beth

Day 5

I am reminded each and every day how blessed I am to have such kind and generous friends. As I began planning this adventure, my friends expressed their enthusiam and encouragement, and many of them even offered some resources of their own to share with the people of Guatemala. One specific offering made the picture you see here possible.

Cayetana is one of the sweetest souls you could ever meet. Her body may be small and frail, but this woman is strength defined. We believe that she is in her eighties, and we know for sure that she has lovingly cared for her two disabled daughters for more than 50 years.

I met Cayetana through pictures quite some time ago, and - today - I had the pleasure of embracing her and sharing some love from a friend. That friend popped by my house last Friday and quietly slipped some money into my hand and ensured me that I'd know how to spend it when I arrived in Guatemala. And, sure as she said, I did.

With no other family support, Cayetana walks the hill from San Jorge La Laguna each day with her blind daughter and she begs by the side of the main road to Pana. Her second daughter, who appears to have Downs Syndrome, stays in their home and waits from her mother and sister to return... perhaps with enough quetzales to buy a small supply of food. Well, today, Cayetana received a surprise visit from a gringo bearing gifts... and that gringo was me. Through our pals at Mayan Families, we delivered a large sack of food containing rice, beans, sugar, protein fortified cereal, eggs, and more. I felt unworthy as she kissed my hands in thanks, but I'll be sure to pass it along to the rightful owner when I return home. There is no doubt that my sweet new friend and her daughters are sleeping with full bellies tonight.

After visiting Cayetana, we continued on our journey to visit a pre-school and elementary school in San Jorge. Again, thanks to my friends, I continued my role as Santa Claus and distributed more than 100 beanie babies, toothbrushes, and toothpastes to several classrooms. The excitement in their eyes when they heard that we had brought "regalos pequenos" (small gifts) was sparkling, and their gratitude, as we shared the gifts, was genuine and sweet. There's nothing better than being a kid magnet, and I enjoyed every second.

I spent the afternoon visiting the homes of sponsored children and witnessing the pride that these families have in their homes and the very few items that they possess. One two room house that we visited slept thirteen people. It reminded me of my mother's stories of growing up in McLarenville with six sisters sharing the attic... but that was 60 years ago. It seems so hard to believe that people still live without electricity and plumbing, and that they fashion roof-top forts to house those who don't fit within, but that is indeed the norm here. And yet, their smiles are wide, their dignity intact, and their spirits still seem to soar. It's a kind of inner strength that I will surely try to summon when I return to my daily routine.

Late this afternoon, I had the pleasure of observing my brother, David, meet his sponsored student, also named David, for the very first time. Little David is 7 years old and has just started the first grade. His age is deceiving, as he is the size of an average 5 year old by US standards. Little David's mother is recovering from a respiratory disease which claimed a part of one lung and was likely caused by overexposure to smoke from cooking over an open fire. She is not able to work at this time, and yet she has six children to support. Thanks to (big) David's generosity, she is able to send her little guy to school, and she will be able to take care of some household expenses while she continues to recover. Think of a time when you were feeling down and out and someone lent a helping hand... that's what David's mama and Cayetana and quite a few other people we visited today are feeling tonight.

We finished our day with a visit to Casa Hogar Feliz in San Andres. This is an orphanage for children from ages 4-14 who have either been abandoned or come from such abusive situations that they are pulled out of their homes and find refuge here. The children were delightful and were so happy to receive jumpropes, sidewalk chalk, books, and other new toys. But we drove away feeling uneasy because it was clear that many of the children are fast approaching age 15, when they will literally be thrown out into the street because they have "aged out" of the system. What must it do to the psyche to suffer a horrific family life, then be nurtured in this safe and loving environment, and then to be forced out of the only place that they had truly called home? Our dreamers at Mayan Families hope to, one day, offer these young people housing and an opportunity to learn a trade, which will provide them with a bridge into adulthood. These are the kind of "hand-up" opportunities that MF coordinates with help from their friends.

It took a phonecall tonight with the Jayman to dig deep into this experience. I could feel his love and joy as he told me with such sincerity how happy he was that my trip was going so perfectly well. But what we realized during our conversation is that this trip, for me at least, is not life changing, but - instead - it is life affirming. For many years now, I've been doing this kind of work on a small scale... coordinating school or church or commuity projects that lift up someone in need. So, I guess what I've now confirmed is that I'm on the right road, in the middle of my journey, and that I should stay the course. This is my life's work... it's my calling... and it's what I'm meant to be.

With excitement on the horizon for tomorrow - our last full day in Pana - I wish you a day in which you too feel the love and support of those you hold dear.

Abrazos,

Solamente Beth