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We’re home.  Despite a few Immigration & Customs “adventures” on our re-entry to the USA, the entire Team has arrived safely to the various places we call home.  We are thankful.

Those who have been on mission trips before knew to expect it.  The rest of us were TOLD, but couldn’t really comprehend the words.  Re-entry is not necessarily a smooth process – physically or emotionally.

I had the incredible privilege of bringing my 11 year-old son with me on this trip.  While we were away and Dad was working hard at his job everyday, my 9 year-old son had himself quite a week at Camp All American at Perimeter Church.  We had never experienced that camp.  On Friday afternoon our reunited family went to watch the “closing ceremonies” of Camp.  It was fun and filled with energy.  The highlight of the event for the parents was the slideshow which recapped the activities of the campers throughout the week.  I was thankful to have a glimpse into the week I had missed in my younger son’s life.

As the screen filled with pictures of smiling faces of campers set to upbeat music, I was shocked to realize my eyes had filled with tears.  The contrast was just too much to bear.  As I watched snapshots of one group of campers get golf lessons from a skilled counselor – the video screen in my mind filled with images from the Guatemalan Orphanage.  Last Sunday, I watched one little boy on our visit there play “golf” with a limb that he had broken from a tree and a “ball” that looked similar to a walnut in a larger shell – definitely something from a tree, not manufactured.

The Camp All American soccer games filled the screen next.  The field was plush and bright green.  In my mind, I could only see Luis crumpled on the concrete soccer “field” of the orphanage with a severely sprained ankle – and Dr. Hermann’s story about the condition of the Guatemalan hospital.  (Remember how he compared that to the state of the church?)  Let us not forget those valuable lessons!

Next, there were shots of campers canoeing across the water.  How could I NOT think of the little fishing boat in the lake at our sleepover village?  Remember what Dr. Hermann told us?  Head knowledge is not enough to initiate life change.  The villagers have been TOLD repeatedly that the contaminated water from the lake is making them sick, but they drink it anyway.

I could write many more examples of stark contrast – but you get the point.  My heart was awash with mixed emotions.  I was so thankful that MY son was well cared for and happy at Camp All American while I was in Guatemala.  But I was also sad to think of the daily lives of the orphans we met, and the villagers we aided in the clinics.  “God… I feel like I have whiplash!  One moment my eyes are witnessing extreme poverty and the next they are witnessing such abundance.  What am I to do?"

I do not want to give you the impression that I am as in tune with God as Dr. Hermann.  Quite often in fact, I feel frustrated because it seems like God is not participating much in our “conversations.”  The truth, of course, is that I’m just not listening very intently.  That’s one of the things I learned this week.  But as I posed the “whiplash” question to Him in prayer… I honestly believe He answered.

“Is Whiplash fatal Marybeth?”

“No Sir.”

“How is it treated?”

“Well, Dr. Shay would give a better answer, but I think they just put a neck brace on the patient for a week or two to help stabilize the sore muscles.”

“Sounds reasonable.  Just do that.”

“Um… okaaay.  But I’m not sure I know how to do that in the spiritual realm.”

“Remember your discussions last week about my spiritual armor? Think of the neck brace in those terms.  It is not a substitute for any of the other pieces of armor – any more than a neck brace on an actual whiplash victim is a substitute for food or water.  It is an extra thing to provide comfort for a specific pain for a season of time.”

As I meditated on what might bring comfort, I came up with a short – but sweet – list.  I would encourage all our team members to prayerfully consider what their list might look like.  Here’s mine:

• I put four new songs in my iPod playlist: (1) Chris Tomlin, “God of This City” (2) Paul Baloche, “Praise Is Rising” (3) Lincoln Brewster “Surrender” and (4) Leeland, “Tears of the Saints”.  Those songs take me back to our Morning Devotion times, and the messages pour over my heart afresh.  It’s my way to make sure I don’t forget.

• I’m putting three new verses on index cards to work on committing to memory.  (1) Jeremiah 15:19 which talks about Restoration  (2) Hosea 2:14 which reminds me that Jesus whispered my name. (3) 1 Corinthians 2:3-5 which reminds me that God’s POWER is what is important… not eloquent words.

• Everytime I see an older model Suburban on the streets of Atlanta, I will remember the clinics – and I will pray for the Guatemalans and for Dr. Hermann and his team.

•  I am making a poster “thermometer”, with a financial goal printed at the top, and putting the poster in my kitchen where I will see it every day.  My desire is to give a gift to MMM in honor of the Team from June 2^nd – June 9^th, 2011.  It is my way of thanking each team member for your impact.  I am a stay-at-home mom, so my income is ZILCH.  (Doesn’t sound too promising does it?!)  I will involve the whole family, so that will help the cause tremendously!  However, most of the effort will come from COST CONTROL.  My poster will also contain the words, “Do I want to be a consumer in this world or do I want to be CONSUMED by the things of God?”  The dollar amount I have in mind is a stretch goal, given my employment status. It will take some time.  The amount isn’t important.  The shift in priorities is what matters.  It’s just part of my spiritual neck brace.

This morning I went for a jog to try to shake the cobwebs loose in my brain.  I listened to my new songs on the iPod as I traversed my usual course.  “In your presence, I find strength to face the day” – the lyrics and the melody were comforting to me.

Whiplash is unavoidable after an experience like we had in Guatemala.  But God doesn’t leave us to bear the pain alone.  He’s the Great Healer.  For now, He has given me a neck brace.  I’m not sure what will come next in my spiritual development – but I know it will be the exact right thing, at the exact right time.

We have arrived back safely to the Ministry Center from our two days in the villages of Guatemala.  Staying overnight in the village was quite an experience, and I could write a hundred pages about all we saw and did.  But frankly, I’d rather write about what GOD did to PREPARE us, instead of what WE did while we were there.

We’ve talked a lot this week about our hands.  In fact, Dr. Hermann had us put down our pens one morning in devotion and simply stare intentionally at our hands.  He wanted us to meditate on what it means to REALLY be available to God.  The following day our team visited a local orphanage for a couple of hours just to play.  One of my roommates, Suzanne, told me the coolest story about her experience there.  She said that one little girl in particular seemed to lead her around the place, despite the language barrier, to exactly the spot she wanted to be: the swingset.  As Suzanne pushed the child in the swing, higher and higher, she realized that she kept seeing her own hands out in front of her as she released the swing to the sky.  As she connected the dots to the previous day’s devotion, she was rewarded with the sounds of giggling from a precious little girl who has no one on earth to call her own.  Suzanne remarked that it was “awesome” that God allowed her to see - in such a vivid way -  that sometimes being “available” is as simple as pushing a child on a swing.  What a wonderful use of our hands.  And how sweet that giggles do not require a translator!

The subject of “hands” also came up in our devotion on Monday morning as we prepared to depart for our two days in the villages.  Dr. Shay (that’s his first name) prayed aloud that we would each hold hands with heaven AND hold hands with the Guatemalans we came to serve…and in that way, bring Christ to them.  I love that visual.  I think that’s what ABIDING really means.  When my boys were little, I would hold their hands tightly as we walked around a crowded mall or as we crossed a busy street.  Not much chance of them getting lost or separated from me that way.  The same is true for us with our heavenly Father.  It makes me smile that in the village clinic, Dr. Shay has one hand on his stethoscope and one hand resting in that of his Father.  (Incidentally, Dr. Shay used BOTH his hands to beat Yours Truly in the Championship bracket of the Mission Team Ping Pong Tournament by TWO points.  Pray for him.  Clearly he was backsliding.  There’s NO WAY he could have beaten me with one hand!!) J

Last summer we celebrated my in-law’s 50^th wedding anniversary.  We gathered with my husband’s siblings and their families at Callaway Gardens for a long weekend.  There was no fancy party (at my in-law’s request), just time together, laughing and talking and thanking God for 50 years of marriage and blessings.  God brought to my mind this week in Guatemala, a very specific event from our time at Callaway.  On Saturday of that weekend, we took all the kids to the FSU Circus under the Big Top.  FSU performs at Callaway every summer.  There are no animals, it’s all acrobatics, juggling, and everyone’s favorite… the flying trapeze.  It was the latter that God kept nudging to the forefront of my mind in Guatemala. 

It’s thrilling to watch the trapeze act.  It’s ridiculously HIGH, near the rafters of the circus tent.  You’ve seen those type of performances before.  This one involved two young men, fit-enough in appearance, but certainly not “Incredible Hulk” status, (which is what I would have preferred had I been the lovely young lady adorned in the sequined leotard standing atop the platform!)  As the act began, I caught myself physically holding my breath from anxiousness, despite the fact that there was a safety net to catch the girl if she fell.  As she swung off the platform, both of her hands were tightly gripping the trapeze swing, with her body fully extended below the bar.  Back and forth she swung, gaining momentum, gaining height.  All eyes were glued to her.  Then suddenly in my peripheral vision, I saw one of the young men on the opposite side of the tent leap from HIS platform.  Unlike the girl who was hanging from her arms, the boy was sitting on the trapeze bar the same way a child sits on a playground swing.  As he gained height and momentum, he lowered himself off the bar and gripped it with the back of his knees.  He was now flying through the air upside down with his head and his arms dangling below the bar.  His hands were now free.

Few people on earth understand the importance of timing quite like the trapeze artist, particularly the sequined one!  At precisely the right moment, at the very apex of her upswing, she released her grip on the trapeze bar – she was completely vulnerable, but completely free.  In her unfettered state, she did a couple of flips and twists, thrilling the audience.  But then as gravity began to claim the sequined girl as its prize, the boy hanging by his knees swooped in to snatch her from the air in the nick of time – with his hands.  We leapt to our feet in a burst of applause!

Over and over this week, I’ve replayed that scene in my mind, especially during devotional times when “hands” were a focal point.  In my spirit, I sensed God asking me “How thrilling would that act have been if the sequined girl had never let go of her trapeze bar?”  Well, “not very”, I had to admit.  It would have simply been two people in fancy clothes swinging back and forth.  No risks taken, so no thrill.  “Exactly right,” I sensed the Father reply.  “The same is true with you.  I long to give you a life that will thrill you at a soul-level, my child, but first you must choose to let go of the things you grip so tightly in your hands.  Trust me to catch you.”

God put an exclamation point on his comments to me this morning in our devotion time after spending the night in the village.  We were grungy, unshowered, a little stiff from a night on a cot, - but we were joyful.  We were circled up, eighty strong counting all our interpreters, and we were praising our Heavenly Father!  (Dr. Hermann often begins his prayers with the phrase, “Precious Daddy” – the intimacy of hearing a grown man unashamedly utter those words puts a huge lump in my throat every single time.)  The scripture passage this morning from our fellow team member, Tony?  Luke 18:23 from the Message Bible.  The latter part of the verse reads, “He was holding on tight to a lot of things and not about to let them go.”   

Hands.

So I will pose the same questions to you that we have wrestled with this week as a Mission Team.

• Are you using your hands to be available to God as you go about your ordinary, everyday life?  (Not just on Sundays and not just for one week on a mission trip.)


• Are you overcomplicating it, or do you fully understand that SOME days God simply wants to use your hands to push a child in a swing or give a hug to a neighbor?


• Are you staying closely connected to the Father on a DAILY basis so that you can HEAR what He’s asking you to do?  Do you have one hand gripped by heaven as you reach for the hand of your neighbor in need?  Or – like many of us, do you sometimes extend a hand to your neighbor while using the other to pat yourself on the back?  Who exactly is getting the glory from the work of your hands?  (I know.  I know.  OUCH.)


• Are there things in your life that you need to let go of, SO THAT, your hands will be more available for the thrills God wants to give you?  This week I have come to realize that there “ain’t NO thrill” quite like being an instrument for the display of God’s POWER.

Thank you for praying for us so faithfully this week.  Please know that we haven’t taken it for granted.  In fact, we have prayed corporate prayers of gratitude for YOUR role in this trip every day that we’ve been here.  And spiritually, we have felt your hand in ours as we have tried to be available to God in Guatemala. 

He has shown me so many things, both in my own heart and in the villages of Guatemala.  I hardly know where to begin to process it all; I know it will take some time.  I will slowly pray and study my way through it, but in addition to that, I now know that the correct “processing” of it all will somehow involve my hands.

Here we are in the wilderness.  We are trying  to get back to ministry from our two days out.  It has been an extremely tiring but moving two days. 

It all started yesterday morning as the team of 40 filled 4 Subarbans and one school bus and headed north to the village of Cerro de Oro at Lake Altibon. We were traveling at a quick speed and all of the sudden the pavement ended and it would be a very bumpy dirt road. Then after 200 yards the road would be paved again.  It happened again and again for miles. For those of us in the back row of the suburbans we would fly into the air off the seat.  Herman would apologize, but secretly I think his was chuckling at three 40 something women flopping here and there. 

We traveled into the countryside.  This is what I imaged when I thought of Guatemala.  Lush green foliage, long winding roads and small towns.  About half way into the trip we came to the mysterious place in the road.  I am sure you are asking what is the mysterious place?  We stopped in the middle of this tiny road that was going downhill.  Herman put the car in neutral and the car rolled backwards...going uphill.  He did it a number of times.  I am not kidding...facing downhill and rolling uphill.  Quite a mystery. 

We saw 117 patients in Cerro de Oro.  I sat at a counseling station all afternoon.  This is a Mayan village so we needed a second translator who spoke their language of Tzutujil (sounds like su tu il). All the women wear the skirt of their village and there is a huge sense of community.  The big church we used has tiled floor and is nice and clean.  Four large bouquets of flowers line the stage.  So beautiful.  I think I met 10 or so families.  Everyone who came through my station had already received Christ, that gave me the opportunity to bring them one step closer to God.  Cindy and myself had a wonderful day. We met one sweet young family who touched my heart. A young husband and wife came with their little baby. When he smiled his face lit up and you could see Jesus shine through him.

Today was a little tougher.  The village was named The Holy Land.  It was anything but that.  There was a sense of desperation.  The children were aggressive toward our offerings of candy, stickers and small toys.  At one point I had kids grabbing and taking all they could get.  They were in survivor mode.  Near the end of the day Lane and I counseled a young mother with 6 children, the youngest was just a year old.  The baby was very sick and hungry.  Her husband had very little work in the fields and therefore very little money to feed them.  The mother was unable to breast feed the baby enough to fill her.  I filled my water bottle and gave it to the mom and she drank the entire thing.  I filled it again and let the baby and her son drink.  Lane and I were so moved by Lucinda and her story we filled her blanket with crackers and cliff bars.  We had the local pastor come and talk with her and she is supposed to come back tomorrow with her husband and talk about the gospel together.  I do pray she asks Christ into her heart.  I was once again brought to tears and humility for this family. 

As we near the ministry after after a 5 hour trip home, we come to the end of our missionary work here.  We spend the day shopping tomorrow.  Our mission now is to come home and work in our own battlefields.

The last 2 days have been incredible.  Here is just a snippet of what has happened...

Yesterday my team went to a village called Chi Chi Mecca (spelling?).  The church was more primative then Fridays. It had cinder block walls with a tin roof.  Very quickly we were reminded that tin roofs create a lot of heat from the sun.  The church steamed up as people came in and took a seat, patiently waiting for the doctors.  I got to work a new job as "pharmacist."  I laughed as Detrie our Guatamalan pharmacist said that this was "our" (meaning the Americans) pharmacy.  Ok I knew what a few drugs were, but was in no way knowledgable enough to call this my own.  Myself and Tony (the gringos) and Detrie manned the station.  I mostly filled prescription for vitamins, motrin and stomach meds.  Detrie and Tony did the harder orders.  Detrie smiled so patiently at me as I continuously asked questions.  By afternoon, Tony had gone to counsel and I had 2 11 year old assistants that were so lively and engergetic that I forgot about my weariness and continued on for the next 4 hours.  Occasionally there would be a lull in the scripts and I would look out onto the room and my heart would fill.  So many counselors, praying for the lost and weak. We have so very talented missionaries.  

During most of the afternoon, heavy rained echoed on the tin roof.  So loud at some times that I had to cover my ears.  Tony worked with a man during this time that is miracle of God.  I knew just who he was, because he was on crutches.  This man had been working and men came into his workplace asking for money. When he did not have enough money to give them gun shots were fired.  Before he knew it, he had 7 bullet holes in his body.  He lay on the floor crying out to the Lord.  He had not been a believer in Christ, but now in his time of desperation, he invited Jesus into his heart. He said if Jesus saved him, he would share his story with as many people as he could.  So God spared his life.  His trials did not end there.  Because he could not work, he could not provide for his family.  One night as he prayed for help, food from his neighbors came to his door.  He continued to tell story after story of how the Lord had provided during his time of great need.  Then he asked if he could pray for Tony and his son, AJ.  As you know, typically it is Americans that do the praying.  Tony and AJ were touched and the man prayed for them.  As the man stood up to leave, he held Tony's hand, and asked Tony to promise that he would go home and tell his story.  Tony promised.  The man would not let go of Tony's hand and asked back, "What do you promise?"  Tony looked him in the eye and said, "I promise to tell your story." The man, satisfied his story would be spread to help save others, hobbled home and brought his wife and children back to meet Tony and AJ.  A bond was created that won't ever be broken, no matter how far or how long their separation might be.

Today was a day of church worship, lunch at Chili's and time at an orphanage.  This paticular orphanage does not adopt out.  They raised the children under God's word.  They feed them, clothe them, educate them and love them.  They believe they can develop strong, faithful Christians that will go out into Guatemala and help their own people.  I could feel the love.  One little toddler was in my arms the entire time.  She would not let me put her down.  Her name was Brookalyn.  As I walked her out into the courtyard, she received no less then 10 kisses from the older children.  So very sweet.  We did have an awful accident though.  Louis one of our young translators was kicked accidentally in the ankle and it was broken.  He is being attended to as I write this, and I would ask for extra prayers for his quick recovery.  

Tonight is pizza night.  We are gearing up for our overnight journey tomorrow. We truly are going into the wilderness.  Yikes!! What an adventure that will be.  

Her name was Josselyn. She was 15 years old, with long straight hair and perfect skin, Although her eyes rose to meet mine as she sat across from me at the Counseling Station, there was very little light behind them.  She lives with her mother and her 8 year-old little brother.  Her father ran off to live with another woman and Josselyn now has a slew of half brothers that she has never even met.  I would have guessed her age as more in the early 20’s, but not in the way American teenage girls look older by applying too much makeup and wearing inappropriate clothing.  Josselyn looked older because her shoulders were sagging and her body language was anything BUT that of a carefree teen.  She came to the clinic to get meds for a respiratory infection.  She came alone.

Her name was Emma.  She had six kids by two different husbands, neither of which was around anymore.  The kids ranged in age from 11 years to eight months.  She came to the clinic with a backache.  (I imagine so.)  All six kids needed medicine as well.  Emma would have given her right arm to be there for a few moments, alone.

Her name was Beverly.  She was a shy, petite 11 year-old.    She lives with her mother and three brothers.  Her father lives somewhere in America, but she doesn’t know where.  She doesn’t hear from him.  She came to the clinic because her stomach hurt.  She came alone.

Her name was Elva.  She had a 13 year-old daughter she was desperately trying to support, but had a back and leg injury that kept her out of the fields.  She couldn’t get well enough to work.  She had not been hugged by anyone in a long, long time.  How do I know this?  Because after we prayed together and she very awkwardly put her arms around me (because that’s what you DO when a short, assertive American woman in a long skirt squeezes the breath out of you) – she slowly melted into my arms and simply RECEIVED for a very long time.  We both sobbed.

I saw 15 people/families at my Counseling Station today.  Each had already been seen by a doctor – because we meet the tangible need FIRST - and were waiting on the “pharmacy” (a cardboard table piled high with medicine and two volunteers who knew what they were doing) to fill their prescriptions.  During their wait time, we talked about life.  And we talked about struggles.  And we talked about Jesus.

The most repetitive thought I had today was “where are all the dads?”

As I sit tonight at this computer WAY past my bedtime, I find it impossible NOT to think of my own dad.  You’d love him – everyone does.  He’s an 87 year-old farmer who has lived his entire adult life in the same farmhouse.  It’s a little white house at the bend in the road on Highway 19.  He hasn’t had an easy life.  His own father was killed when he was still a toddler.  So MY dad didn’t have anyone to show HIM how to be a good dad.  Then my mom died of cancer at an early age, and left him with three kids to raise.  So now, not only did he not have a dad as a role model, he didn’t have a partner. (for several years until he remarried.)  But my dad never missed a single ballgame, a piano recital, a school play, or a church function.  My brothers and I were ALL athletes – the number of ballgames he attended boggles my mind.  Dad was not a perfect parent, because there’s no such thing, but he was PRESENT.  I understood his love by that factor. 

So tonight, my heart is heavy for all the Guatemalan kids I met today who do not have love like that in their life.  The temptation to feel overwhelmed and useless in the face of such a big problem is very strong.  But instead, I choose to turn to scripture.

You already know the verse I’m going to say.  Psalm 68:5 tells us that God HIMSELF is a father to the fatherless.  Those children are not forgotten, and as long as God’s people are willing to pray – their plight is not hopeless.  There’s only one father better than the one I have, and it’s the guy in Psalm 68:5.

I felt somewhat comforted by that verse, but something in me wanted MORE.  I had no idea what I was looking for or where to even START “flipping” in my Bible.  So my eyes simply roved up to the beginning of Psalm 68.  Apparently God knew exactly where I should look.  I never made it past the first three words in the Psalm.  Those three little words caused hope to SURGE through my weary body.   “MAY   GOD   ARISE.”

I don’t KNOW where the Guatemalan dads are.  But I invite you to join me in that simple, but powerful, three-word-prayer on behalf of the fatherless Guatemalan kids and the single moms.  Pray those three words for Josselyn, and for Emma, and for Beverly, and for Elva.  Their problem is too big for me to “fix”.  But NO problem is any match for God when He decides to ARISE.  But He’ll wait for us to care enough to ASK Him to.  Please, let’s ask.

And Dad…thanks for everything.  You’re MY role model.

For the past two days, the driver responsible for safely transporting my particular carload of Americans to the clinics and back has been Julio.  I don’t know his last name – just Julio.  He is a quiet, reserved man who mostly speaks only when bombarded by senseless questions from the backseat.  I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t think much about him until today.

Today we had a FULL clinic.  The numbers were more than we were originally expecting.  Everyone pitched in to help.  Julio served as a translator in one of the counseling stations, although technically that wasn’t in his job description.  His job is to drive.   We were getting weary, but the people kept coming.  We tried to rotate “jobs” in the clinic to combat physical and emotional burnout.  Except for Julio.  He stayed at his post.  I began to watch him during any moments of inactivity that I had.  If Julio didn’t have a patient at his counseling station, his head was bowed in prayer – fervent prayer.  How do I know he wasn’t just “resting” for a moment like me?  His lips were mouthing seemingly urgent prayers.  You could just TELL.  Julio wears a cap on his head, except when he’s at a counseling station.  I was struck by his humility and his respect for God’s house in that way.

Before we arrived in Guatemala, Dr. Herman gave us a reading assignment.  He asked us to read the first ten chapters of Luke.  There’s so MUCH meat in those chapters, it’s hard to even know where to focus.

Today, God focused ME.  He gave me a front row seat to watch a live demonstration of Luke 9:48… “For he who is least among you all – he is the greatest.”  My lesson began when TG asked me to rotate into the counseling station with Julio.  It was nearing the end of the day and the crowd was mercifully thinning.  A young mother in her early 20’s was escorted to our station.  Typically, the American “missionary” takes the lead.  The interpreter, well, you know... tries to make us sound better than we are.  I stumbled through my role, and Julio dutifully carried out his…until we discovered from our patient that she was a Christian but had drifted away from the church.  Julio began speaking to the young woman in a voice that sounded like a very-involved father.  At various points, he would remember that I was actually in the room and try to get me back in the loop.  He was telling Idee (the young woman) what the Bible says about being “lukewarm.”  I don’t speak Spanish, but I’ve been on the receiving end of a few passionate lectures from a concerned father before.  The language wasn’t really that much of a barrier in this specific situation!  When he was done, he looked at me sheepishly and said, “Sorry.  Why don’t YOU pray for her?”  So I did.  The medicine arrived from the pharmacy station, generally signaling the end of our counseling session.  Julio looked at me and said, “I think there’s something else going on.”  So he began to probe with more questions.  This time I was COMPLETELY in the dark.  I never sensed anything else was “going on”, so I had NO CLUE what he was asking her.  In a few moments, Idee began to cry.  Julio paused long enough to tell me that Idee’s husband, age 27, had been recently diagnosed with severe diabetes.  Then Julio said, “God wants me to share my testimony with you Idee.”  Thankfully, he also translated his story for ME.  In December of 2010, Julio was diagnosed with diabetes.  His blood sugar was crazy high (I THINK he said 700, but I could have that wrong.)  Julio came home and spoke to God.  He spoke to his own internal organs and reminded them that God had created them to function perfectly.  He reminded them that God had important work for him to do in helping Dr. Herman.  He explained to Idee and to me that Satan had begun attacking the men of the church with diabetes in Guatemala.  He decided to fight it with the weapons of God.

Julio’s blood sugar is perfectly normal today.  He received a miracle from God because it pleased God to do it, and because Julio has great faith - and because Julio understands that his life has a purpose.  He urged Idee to be the same way.  Then Julio gave ME the honor of praying for Idee’s faith and for her husband’s health.  In American terms, he “received the kickoff deep in his own end zone, ran it all the way down to the one-yard-line, then flipped a lateral to ME so that I could score the touchdown.”  The interpreter was discreetly training the missionary.

Then, he put his cap back on and drove us safely home through a heavy rainstorm.  Julio is the least.  Julio is the greatest.