An Answer to Many Prayers
By Eva M., who spent the summer in El Salvador lending her hands and her heart alongside the missionaries there.
When I said “yes” to my short, spontaneous five week mission to Latin America I had no idea what country I was going to; I had never held a conversation in Spanish, and I had been grappling with my faith after my first year away from my Catholic upbringing. I knew though, that this mission, which embodies the loving presence of Christ, was an answer to many prayers.
Two months later, I arrived on a hot, humid night in El Salvador, thrilled to be in a foreign country with a month of growth and love to come. However, despite my excitement for this mission, life on mission did not immediately come easy to me. I struggled to see the suffering which was so clearly visible in the neighborhood and the lives of our friends. In my first week we visited an elderly woman in her home. She lived there alone, except for the 4 large roosters who clucked around her small home. It was dark and hot and the floor as well as all of the surfaces of her one room home was covered in chicken poop and the air was thick and stale. She told us how she had been blind for a year and she had lost touch with her children leaving her with no support. I remember she kept repeating “No es fácil.” (It’s not easy.) – a phrase that even I could understand with my very limited Spanish. I remember tearing up because of this feeling of injustice and despair. How was it that I could have such a beautiful life and this woman could have so much suffering in hers? I was overwhelmed with sorrow for her pain and sense of uselessness as I tried to think of any Spanish phrase or word I could say to offer some support.
My closest friendships that I formed were those with the children, and it was in those friendships that I learned how I could find the beauty and meaning in the suffering I was witnessing. The first friend I made was a 7 year old girl named Lupe. Lupe lives with her mostly immobile grandmother and older sister. Although she is in contact with both of her parents she has essentially grown up with little to no active parent figure. She is tough and often would boss the other children of the neighborhood around. The suffering of Lupe’s life is not hidden, and it is evident in how she interacts with the world around her. However, it also means that there is all the more opportunity for love. She came to our house everyday asking to help and was enthusiastic to join in any activity that meant spending time with us. I remember one day where I allowed her to cook lunch with me and the immense love and joy I felt. We laughed and teased each other and she was so eager to help in any way she could. Another day she came with us to buy our produce from the Tiendona and insisted on carrying the heaviest bags so we wouldn’t have to. Bit by bit, and through the openness to love I witnessed in every child I met, I learned the beauty of compassion.
In this special place, suffering is neither negated nor ignored; it is woven into every person and every element of life. Yet from this suffering comes an opportunity and a readiness for love. Christ’s loving presence, and His willingness to look sin and suffering in the face, transforms even the darkest moments of humanity, turning them into opportunities for His love.