I remember always making lists back home for everything; there were lists on my hands, notebooks, phone, mirror, chalkboard, napkins, etc. Growing up, lists were a part of my family’s everyday life. Sometimes when my sister, my mom and I would set out to complete our daily errands fully equipped with a list of tasks in hand, we would add things like “eat breakfast” just to have more things crossed off at the end of the day. My mom would hold up her list to my sister and I while reading the completed task aloud, and would dramatically swipe her pen across the words with a proud proclamation of “cheeeeyekkkkk”. Checking things off meant accomplishment.
A few days ago, Riley, Timmy and I headed for town with only one task in mind; blessing someone. We walked along the streets filled with working men and vendors and shop owners. No person particularly stood out to us so we decided to stop and talk to a few women sitting on the curb. As we approached them, a middle aged woman with a toddler girl stood up from the group and walked past us and Riley stopped to speak to her.
“¿Te gustas helado?” Do you like ice cream? That’s all that was said. Within moments the woman went to get her other daughter, an adorable three year old, and we were on our way to the ice cream shop. The woman, Marena, and her daughters shared two bowls of Neapolitan while Riley, Timmy and I sat with them licking our own coffee ice cream cones. Marena was shy and timid with a small grin and thoughtful expression which would light up to a toothless smile when looking at her daughters. She was incredibly gracious and invited us into her home so that we could have coffee together. With the three year old on Riley’s back and conversation flowing, we walked through narrow back roads to her house. It was a cement cube with a fire stove, a small sink, a mattress, a dresser and a few boxes of clothes and toys. Her husband, Pedro, immediately searched for two toddler chairs and a child’s table for us to sit on. They continuously apologized for not having real chairs and the mess as they scrambled around to clean up as much as possible. Marena served us Guatemalan coffee made from the beans grown around her neighborhood and ran to the nearest tienda (store) to purchase six cookies for us. They wanted to know all about our travels and we wanted to know all about their lives. Their knowledge of the world consisted of the existence of Central Americans, chinos (or basically Chinese people), personas del negro (people with dark skin) and gringos (North Americans).
As we sat with them longer, my Spanish got miraculously better until I was translating to my teammates as Marena and Pedro were still speaking. She told me about how her mother turned blind when she was seventeen from getting fire in her eyes while making tortillas and how her father was hit by a tree while working in the mountains. She grew up without an education and medical attention so her teeth rotted out at a young age. Her first house was flooded by Lake Atitlan two years ago and she had to move to higher ground. She washed laundry for the neighbors to earn money but she was struggling to pay the house payments. Pedro was looking for work in nearby cities and wasn’t home very often. Her daughters were her only company and she was lonely. She talked to us about how we and she have the same God but extremely different lives. Her voice reflected new passion as she exclaimed how thankful she was for what she has been given. I told her about being a waitress in America and she laughed and said “en mi sueno” or “in my dreams”. Though she refused to believe it, we told her she was beautiful.
Marena invited us to come back for a typical Guatemalan lunch the next day and when we all arrived, we sat on the floor and enjoyed soup, rice, tamales and pineapple soda. Timmy walked around and took pictures of the family while Riley and I played with the girls. We bought some photo frames and printed Timmy’s pictures and presented them to the family the next day. Pedro told me how it was the first pictures they have ever had and the three year old girl laughed to see herself on paper. Riley and I painted Marena’s nails and let her attempt to paint ours (my nails look like Barbie threw up on them as I type this). We made a plan to return the following Monday to help prepare a lunch of fish and shrimp to eat together.
A couple days after meeting this timid woman, I found myself in a toddler’s chair across from her in a dark cement room. The light from her small window shone on her face and tears welled up in her eyes when she told me that Timmy, Riley and I were a gift from God. She said that when we leave in a week, her daughters will be sad and she will cry. To Marena, it wasn’t about the ice cream or photos or money, it was about someone taking the time to know her name, to notice her long enough to bless her.
Knowing this family has meant knowing hospitality, graciousness and fellowship. It has changed my perspective on thankfulness and faithfulness… and it all started with buying ice cream. If every morning, we wrote “bless someone” at the bottom of our task list, I believe it would not only change others, but also our own perspectives on relationships. Though cliché, I never again want to go through my day without noticing those that are invisible. It may be as simple as buying coffee for the person behind us in line or calling to chat with a family member who doesn’t receive much attention. We may never see the person we blessed or it may make a difference in a life like Marena’s. Regardless, it will lead to much more than just another task to “cheeeyekkk” off the list.
