Hinds Feet on High Places
Three of my boys and I have just returned form a one week trip to Plya Grandi and I am in the process of writing about it (Well actually I have not written anything yet but I an thinking about it.) Here is more of what Pat wrote about our trip to Huehuetenango that we took the previous week. (If I keep printing her stuff I will have to change the name of this journal to Pat Guatemala.)
Dick
A few months back, Dick met Bryan and his family while visiting Maria Garcia. Bryan had a cleft lip, and we were able to help them connect with surgeons who come into Hermano Pedro to do this very special type of surgery. After having spent time with his family during the preop and surgery, they had asked us to come visit them in Huehue the next time we were in the area. His dad, Santos, would call me periodically just to see how we were, and to find out when we would be up in Huehue again.
Santos met us in the town of La Democracia, very near the Mexican border, to guide us to his home. While not far from the town as the crow flies, it was quite a trip to get into the area where they live, in the middle of coffee farms. As we drove to their house, we passed any number of very beautiful houses on this small trail. When I commented about this, Santos replied, in a matter-of-fact manner, that these houses belong to the drug runners who live in this area. Gulp! Suddenly the drug trade became very real to me, at the same time I realized how much it is (by necessity) an accepted part of the daily lives of those who live in this area. I was glad, though, that I had not taken pictures of the houses. (For those of you who have visited us, and have been asked not to take pictures in certain areas, this is exactly why we have this policy.)
Momma had prepared a simple lunch for us, consisting of guisquil and tamalitos (corn meal tamales with black beans), which we gratefully shared with the family.
As is often the case in these isolated areas (though I am still taken by surprise when it happens) the children are often afraid of strangers, especially “gringos” (white people). The neighbor children hid at first, curious but too scared to approach the strangers.
Like your momma always said. . .
We were delighted to see Bryan looking so well. You can hardly tell he had surgery. He wasn’t too sure, about us, though, and kept his distance, safely in Momma’s arms.
he also plants some on the family’s land.
And here we were, in the middle of coffee trees. As we talked, I discovered that much of the land was owned by large coffee growers, who the family would work for—when there was work. But I also learned that the immediate area around their house was owned by different members of his Santos’ family, and they grew coffee themselves and could sell to whomever they wanted. So, we are working on making a connection between this remote area near the Mexican border and Texas. A trip that started out with only fun as it’s purpose, may turn out to be profitable not only for our friends in Texas, but for this poor family as well. This is the kind of thing only God could have orchestrated, and I’m so glad He lets me in on it!
Pat
Once again Thank you Pat.
Good night,
<>< Yours in Christ: Dick ><>
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