spring update from Guatemala

nothing holy comes from being right

Dear friends,

Warm spring greetings from the smoky, dusty western highlands of a Central American country that we love: inexplicably, inexorably, theologically (and idiotically at times). The volcano across the valley continues to spew smoke, as do the chicken buses; the Mayan farmers are burning crops to prepare for a new planting season, the sun rises and sets and here we all are. Doing the work that has been set before us.

(we climbed Volcan Pacaya last month with friends)

I have been thinking a LOT about how to do that work lately. We don’t have a ton of new news to report in these newsletters… the work just goes on, you know? I keep doing diabetes work in the garbage dump community, seeing some successes in between a whole lot of failure. Jeff keeps seeing my patients (and many of the people caring for those patients) for therapy. We keep going to church, parenting our kids, trying to earnestly know and be known by the people around us. We keep leading our team, serving them, and being taught and led and cared for by them all at the same time. It’s a good life and we don’t take it for granted.

(above is one of my patients: her diabetes is dramatically better, renal function and blood sugar improved and vision in great shape. Winning!)

One of my favorite patients, J.C., went blind in December. I saw him in late November… he is a jovial guy, a devoted husband to his wife, E. They are both my patients, and last spring (2022) he lost his leg to a festering diabetic infection. He’d worked as a repairman before that, and E. sold home-made food on the street. They had to sell their stove to pay for his wheelchair, and their kids are around but not a lot of help. That last visit in November, we’d talked about mobility issues, how to deal with the swelling and numbness in his remaining leg, and the fact that he’d gained weight while she has lost weight, sort of wasting away from the fret and worry of care for him and not paying enough attention to herself.

They were my first patients of the day on a clinic day in late January, and as I pulled into the clinic I saw E. pushing him, at a 45 degree angle, up the street into the clinic entrance. He was wearing sunglasses and a mask, and looked dejected in the waiting room… when I finally wheeled him into my room, he began to cry and explained that his vision had gradually and then rather suddenly, over the course of 2 days completely vanished.

It makes sense. All the same things that caused the loss of his leg had destroyed his vision, but after the visit was over, I wept bitterly: for the hopelessness and injustice of it all, for the never-ending suffering and the brokenness of everything.

(recent house call to check on one of my patients who is bed-bound after a stroke)

This is weary work: scrambling up a sandy, gravelly, ridiculously steep cliff that has no real ledge to land on at the top, no finish line. This is also NOT UNCOMMON. Literally everyone I know that is doing this sort of work (caring for the poor, raising money, running organizations, raising kids and trying to keep a life together cross-culturally) is tired.

There’s no simple solution: the thing that we are called to do here is to partake in the suffering of the world, and we take that seriously. The poor and huddled masses, etc. I hold this cherished ideal of the happy warrior, working joyfully and fully in the valley of the shadow of death, and I think I am growing in my understanding that this only happens in the setting of submission and shared suffering.

The norm, in the Western missionary world at least, is an export model. We come, in all of our tall, educated and well-heeled caucasian glory, into the tropical and brown Global South… we look around, with love and idealism and no small amount of ignorance, and identify a host of problems. We then go energetically to work at solving those problems. We plant churches. Open schools. Start small (but sometimes big!) businesses and do job training. Open orphanages and feeding centers for malnourished children. Build houses. Many, many people adopt children, thinking: at least I can save this one. We do gospel renewal! Train the trainers. “Deepen the roots of the local church.” And boy do we do a lot of healthcare. Hospitals, community clinics, training national doctors in the ways of evidence-based medicine, etc.

Underlying all of that productive work, is a power differential and a reliance on that power differential to keep the lights on. When we first came to Guatemala, my mantra (on the topic of sustainability) was that the sustainability of mercy is people continuing to be merciful. It turns out that the sustainability of mercy is actually humility under the suffering world and the God who holds us in the palm of his merciful hand.

(happy girls at the Mexico beach last month)

It is a great blessing to not be alone, to have so many faithful, deeply good and joyful people to work alongside, who follow a crucified Christ and know what it means to weep with those who weep. We are so grateful that it is the church that sends us out, that the people of God give meaningfully toward the work of the gospel in parts of the world far from their doorstep.

We will be on the road for a little over 2 months this summer, recharging our batteries and refilling our depleted ministry fund in preparation for five more years of service in Guatemala. I’m putting our travel schedule below— we would LOVE to see as many of you as possible, so let us know if we’ll be able to catch you when we come through.

Much love,

Abbie (for all of us)

Summer 2023 Home Assignment

June 6-12: Atlanta area

June 13-19: Washington DC

June 20-25: Philadelphia

June 25-July 1: Vermont

July 2-9: Grand Rapids area, western MI

July 10-15: the Great Midwest (driving from MI to Tahoe)

July 16-31: Lake Tahoe/Carson City, NV

August 1-6: Lake City, CO

August 7-11: travel back to Atlanta and on home to Guatemala