One Simple Question

Two days before leaving Guatemala, we traveled to the town of Chichicastenango. It is a relatively large town lined with cobblestone roads. On the outskirts of town, we met with a local group of sponsored families. They entertained us, they fed us, they blessed us with their smiles. We had a chance to sit with several mothers of sponsored children. Each of them told us their stories and explained how their lives and the lives of their children have been bettered through the support of people who live thousands of miles away. They thanked us, offering the priceless gift of their humble prayers.

Later that afternoon, we traveled to the center of Chichicastenango and right into the heart of their weekly market. The market itself is a maze of stands and shops where local people come to sell everything from souvenirs to food. In every direction we looked, there were more people and more stands.




We traveled through the market and couldn’t help but smile as we heard broken but effective English being spoken by many of the Guatemalan people. We certainly weren’t the first American tourists to make our way through their market. I will forever remember the Chichicastenango market as the place I learned to say, “No gracias.” Over and over again, I said it. I will also remember it as the place where I learned humility from a child and his one simple question.

My dad and I were making our way through the market, looking to buy a gift we could offer to another sponsored child, one we were to meet the following day. My dad was wearing brown leather shoes, the type of shoes that attract dust far too easily. For the entire week, his shoes were filthy. Not only were his shoes dirty, they were also a welcome target for the men and children wandering Chichicastenango in search of the perfect pair of shoes to shine.

As my dad and I walked through the market, a young boy carrying a footstool and a shoeshine box approached us. He came straight up to my dad and asked, in English, to shine his shoes. My dad politely said, “No gracias,” and we tried to move on. A shoeshine, we knew, was useless. His shoes would be dirty again in seconds, and he would be right back to “no gracias.” This particular child, however, wasn’t going to give up easily. He attached himself to us, following at our heels wherever we walked and persistently offering a shoeshine. It was obviously a technique that had worked for him in the past.

When my dad entered a small shop, the young boy didn’t follow. Instead, he stopped and just stood there, right next to me. He looked at my tennis shoes and I could see the frustration on his face. I looked at him and felt my heart start to break once again. He wasn’t in school. He wasn’t with his friends. His clothes were dirty. He held onto his footstool and supplies like a lifeline, as if they were his only chance. He looked up at me with a face I will never forget. And then he spoke.

“Como estas?” he asked – “How are you?”

My mouth fell open, and my heart splintered. I stood there with a wallet full of money. My clothes were clean. In two days I would be traveling back to the United States, back to the land of opportunity. My home and its comforts awaited me. I had everything he could want; yet, he was the one to reach out to me. This poor child, wanting nothing more than to earn some money for his family, looked beyond himself and asked how I was doing.

I have never been more humbled or struck by a simple question in my entire life. I frustratingly tried to communicate with him the best I could. I told him that I was well, and I asked him how he was doing. He told me that he, too, was well, and that he was twelve-years-old.

I felt honored to be there with him. He wasn’t begging for money, he wasn’t asking for a handout. He was working. While most twelve-year-olds in the United States are playing with their friends or their Xbox, this child was on the street, trying to do nothing more than survive another day. I felt that this young man had probably worked harder in his twelve-years than I will ever work in my life. He was poor, but his shoulders were held high. That, I believe, was the strength of his God-given, human dignity. He smiled, said goodbye, and left me with my moment.

We left Chichicastenango shortly thereafter, but not before I found that young boy again. I smiled and said, “Adios,” pointing to the van we would be leaving in. Then I reached out and shook his hand, slipping the meager amount of money I had taken out just for him, into his palm. His eyes went wide, and he thanked me. Then, of course, he smiled. I pointed to my camera and he nodded his approval. So I took a simple photo and captured the moment.

As our van drove away, he smiled and waved. I watched him turn on his heels and return into the swarm of the Chichicastenango market. A twelve-year-old boy going back to work, trying for one more day to survive.

The Face of Hope

We ended our trip in Guatemala on an unexpected and much needed high note. Being surrounded by such poverty for even a short period of time can be an emotionally exhausting experience. I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem and the fact that we had only witnessed the very tip of the poverty iceberg. One could easily begin to believe that the problem is outside the realm of possible solutions. I was guilty of fostering those thoughts, wondering if there was any hope for the beautiful, suffering poor in our world. And then I met Oswaldo.

Oswaldo is a teenager who has been sponsored by the CFCA for a number of years. His sponsors are friends of my parents, and when they heard we were going on our trip to Guatemala they asked us to see if we could meet with their sponsored child. When we arrived in Guatemala we gave Oswaldo’s information to our guides, not knowing if meeting him was even a possibility. Although we didn’t know it at that time, we would not only get to meet Oswaldo, we would get to spend an entire afternoon with him.

We met Oswaldo and his parents in the town of Antigua, the last place for us to visit before leaving Guatemala. Antigua is one of the larger cities in Guatemala and much more modern than most of the towns we visited. Although Oswaldo only lives thirty-five miles from Antigua, this was his first visit to the city. His father had been to Antigua only once, and his mother was making her first trip as well. Many of the poorer people in Guatemala will spend their entire lives in or near the town where they were born. They have little means and little reason to travel, as most of them live surrounded by family. It seemed as though the trip to Antigua was as exciting for them as it was for us.

When we first met Oswaldo, I was struck by just how normal he looked. He seemed to me no different than any fourteen-year-old on the planet. If we had plucked Oswaldo from Guatemala and placed him in any city in America, no one would have taken a second glance. He would have fit right in.

But we had seen the homes where sponsored families live, and this was a sponsored family. We had witnessed the struggles they face each and every day. Oswaldo’s home, we found out, was no different than the rest. If his family needs electricity, they must borrow it from a neighbor, and their home has no running water. Oswaldo is a product of the same poverty we had seen all week, yet there was something so strikingly different about him. That difference, I realized, was hope.

Most of the sponsored children we had seen were very young. This was our opportunity to witness what sponsorship can accomplish over the years. The most important requirement of the CFCA is that every sponsored child must stay in school. Education is the absolute key to ending the cycle of poverty. If a sponsored child leaves school, their sponsorship ends. Oswaldo knows this, his family knows this. And because he has stayed in school, because he is receiving the education he so desperately needs and deserves, we saw in him the strength of a life with purpose.

The morning before we left Guatemala, I saw a father sitting along the side of a road with his two young sons, both of whom couldn’t have been older than ten years old. All three of them were holding a large hoe in their hands, waiting for a ride to the fields where they work. Those two children are likely to face that same morning and that same wait for the rest of their lives. Without the benefit of education, they face a lifetime of backbreaking labor and a lifetime of poverty.

Oswaldo, by his own determination and will, has beaten the odds and stayed in school. His horizons have stretched far beyond that of a child who knows nothing but the wooden handle of a hoe. Neither of Oswaldo’s parents made it past the third grade. It wasn’t until we sat down in a restaurant that I recognized the fact that his parents couldn’t read. When a menu was placed before them, Oswaldo reached across the table to help them read it.

He was as polite, as gracious, and as kind as any teenager I have ever met. He showed maturity far beyond his years. He was interested in our lives, what kind of work we did and where we lived. He explained to us that after graduating from high school, he hopes to attend college and become a nurse. I felt as if I was ready to burst with happiness. Here was a young man able to see beyond the barriers of poverty, a young man with purpose and hope. Oswaldo shares his home with four younger brothers. His hard work and his success will offer his brothers a rare opportunity to discover their own potential, because Oswaldo's hope is contagious.

Oswaldo’s struggles are far from over. For the children of Guatemala, graduating from high school is a rarity. Going to college is almost unheard of. The CFCA is trying and succeeding, in changing that. Although a child’s sponsorship officially comes to an end when they graduate from high school, their sponsors can choose to continue offering support for college. Oswaldo has the support he will need. The courage to break through the barriers that hold so many back will be entirely up to him. I only spent one afternoon with Oswaldo, but that’s all it took - I know he can do it.

Oswaldo was exactly what I needed before leaving Guatemala. Because of him, everything seemed to fall into place. The children of Guatemala do not realize the beautiful potential that lies within each and every one of them. To meet Oswaldo and to see a child who understands the value of their own potential, was beyond moving. It filled me with hope, with a realization that the cycle of poverty can and will be broken. One human being at a time.

I watched Oswaldo’s eyes well up that day. He was asking us to pass along a word to his sponsors. Every single night, he told us, before he closes his eyes to sleep, he offers a prayer for them.

I believe with all my heart that his future is limitless and bright. I believe it for one reason – because Oswaldo is exactly what hope looks like.

The Reason Why

This blog was born on my way home from Guatemala. I wondered how it would ever be possible for me to explain to my friends and family the experiences I had during my Mission Awareness Trip. I figured a blog was as good an idea as any. It has also afforded me the opportunity to expand on the things from my trip journal, to place my experiences somewhere solid, where I will always have them.

My hopes are many. I hope that others can get just a taste of the experience my dad and I had in Guatemala. I hope that others may decide that a trip like this is just what they need. I didn’t know how much I needed this trip until I was there. If you feel the itch, please scratch it. You’ll be so glad that you did.

My life and the direction of my life have been forever altered by one simple week spent with the poor. I found new purpose and new ideas for where I hope God will take me. I have been a sponsor with the CFCA for a few years while being fairly ignorant as to exactly what they do. I know better now.

The CFCA is changing the face of the planet, one family at a time. Their goal is to help the poorest of the poor to recognize the strength of their own dignity and their own self-worth. They are offering hope to the hopeless. They are providing children and families with the tools they need to drastically improve their lives and the lives of future generations. When a child is sponsored, the entire family is sponsored. Each family is looked at for their specific, individual needs. Families are able to receive food, clothing, improved shelter (a new home), medical supplies and medical care. These families are finally able to afford schooling for their children. Parents are being taught to work trades and to raise animals for both sustenance and income. The CFCA is helping families to lift themselves out of poverty.

Though it pains me to admit it, I spent a week trying to pinpoint exactly what the CFCA may be doing wrong or how they could better use my monthly support. Instead of finding faults, I left at the end of the week in utter amazement at the work this organization is doing. I will never look at sponsorship the same again. For the first time, I was able to grasp what my sponsored child, Marlon, is facing. The first thing I did when I got home was write to him. And because of my trip, Marlon won’t be the only child I sponsor.

As of now, there are over 375,000 children and aging being sponsored all over the world. Before we left, I asked one of the CFCA representatives how many children are waiting to be sponsored. Her answer was short and sobering – “Tens of thousands,” she said.

My hope and prayer is that someone reading this will consider sponsorship. If you do, please visit www.cfcausa.org where you can see the faces of those waiting for help. Please feel free to share this blog with anyone, and thank you for taking the time to read about my experiences.