The Real Parasite

Part V

On our last morning of building homes in El Salvador, I sat at the long, wooden table listening to roosters and trucks usher in the morning. But on this day, I did not begin by asking the Lord to help me bring joy and reflect his love. I was just happy to be sitting at the table and not on the toilet. I was grateful that I hadn’t shit my pants. 

I don’t know if it was the rusty machete or too many papusas the night before, but I woke up at 3:00 am with the distinct, dreaded cramp in my lower intestine. Instead of an anxiety parasite, there was an actual parasite causing digestive distress. I was saddened to think that I may have to spend the day in my room rather than building with the beautiful people of El Salvador.

I took some Immodium anti- diarhea medication, texted a friend for prayer, and tried to rest. Then I took more Immodium. When I awoke in the morning, the stupid cramp was still there, and I was grateful that I had my own bathroom to pollute. I took more Immodium - much more. 

Later, my head felt a little loopy, and I realized I was a little bit high on Immodium. Who knew? But the cramp had dulled, and I was hopeful I would be able to participate in building on this final day.

The build site was beautiful and lush. Dense foliage and lemon trees surrounded the area that would soon be a safe home for a lovely grandmother named America and her husband.

The new home was going up quickly, so I wandered over to the tiny, ramshackle hut that America and her husband were living in. 

To my delight, three little boys, America’s grandsons, were outside eating papusas and corn flakes at a flimsy picnic table. I called out “hola!” as I approached the intimate breakfast scene. I worried that I was intruding. But the wide, gap-toothed smile that America gave me felt like an embrace and an invitation. 

She brought out a green, plastic lawn chair from inside her home and placed it at the table. She gestured to the food and spoke in Spanish. The interpreter confirmed that she was offering me breakfast, but I didn’t dare feed my swirling stomach. It amazes me how these people with so little are so eager to share. 

Three sets of wide, brown eyes and little boy smiles made me feel like a long-lost aunt as I sat at their breakfast table. I was unworthy of their affection, as you will soon see. 

They were eager to practice English, and we laughed together as we shared our languages. The oldest grandson, who seemed to be about seven or eight years old, brought over a scruffy, half-inflated ball. Then my old, overweight, Immodium-fueled body was playing soccer. The boys laughed at my attempts to stop the ball. 

This sounds good. But I have left something out. As I look at pictures and relive this day so that I can share it with you, I realize I am not being honest. I have left out a part that makes me feel ashamed. (Don’t worry, it has nothing to do with diarrhea.)

When I first approached America, I was going to offer to paint her toenails. But when I saw her fat, dirty feet with gnarled toenails, I changed my mind. The thought of touching those feet repulsed me. Now, that thought fills me with shame and regret. Washing the dirtiest of feet is exactly what Jesus would have done.

If I were really loving like Jesus, I would have tended to America’s feet and then played with the children. Instead, I took the easy way and only played with the adorable children. I even felt good about it.

  I wanted to show the love of Jesus, but I fell short. Love had indeed loosened the anxiety parasite, but a narcissistic organism still leeched from my heart. Luckily, Jesus is pretty big on forgiveness. He gives second, third, and even seventy-seven chances. I need to work on loving more like Jesus, because ultimately, that is what we are all called to do. 

*See photographs below.

I am responsible for fund-raising the cost of one home. The cost of the home is 4,000 dollars. I must have all my funds in this week, but I am about 700.00 short. 25.00 from a few friends and family members would mean a lot to me and the families receiving a home. Tax receipts immediately provided by Shelter. My deadline is this week.

Donations can be made online using the link below.

Please contribute to the team, Sunwest Church –week 1, and my name where it says "Team Member." https://www.shelterhelps.com/sunwest

**Let me know if you donate, and I will mail you an original haiku written with love just for you.**

This is where America and her husband lived. Three of their grandsons were there every day while their parents were at work.

A new safe home with doors and windows. A concrete floor is poured a few days later. The concrete floor itself is life-changing.

Sharing our languages and hearts

The children used a piece of burnt wood to draw a hopscotch in the dirt. They are loved, resourceful, and happy. Canadian children experience a different kind of poverty- I could write an article about that!

America's husband was injured from a land mine. He weaves these beautiful baskets to sell.

 Please consider helping me to return to El Salvador this November. I am responsible for fund-raising the cost of one home. The cost of the home is 4,000 dollars. I just need about a thousand more! 25.00 from a few friends and family members would mean a lot to me and the families receiving a home. Tax receipts provided by Shelter.

Donations can be made online using the link below.

Please contribute to the team, Sunwest Church –week 1, and my name where it says "Team Member." https://www.shelterhelps.com/sunwest

**Let me know if you donate, and I will send you an original haiku written with love just for you.**