Day 3 -- Istagua, The Mystery is Over

Sister Eleanor began our day with a morning reflection at the Guest House.  She reminded us that we're here as messengers of peace, committed to a struggle for goodness in a world full of struggle itself.  Difficult to put into words, but you could sense the spirit in her on this day -- a theme I'll return to in a minute.


Left to Right:  Sister Grace, Kathy Garcia, and Sister Eleanor.


The crowd of people waiting upon our arrival -- we hadn't even started seeing patients as of yet.

 

 We arrived in Istagua a little late (a little after 8:00 a.m.) -- there were already a couple hundred people in line waiting, some had arrived as early as 6:00 a.m.  Children everywhere.  We immediately began to unload our tubs from the bus, and to setup our traveling medicine clinic -- a pharmacy, gynecological room, pediatrics, optometrist, and general medicine.  We were also joined by some dentists from the San Pedro clinic, as well as one of their physicians.  Somewhat surprisingly, we were also joined by a Peace Corps worker named Carrie, who graduated from the University of Oregon and worked for a time at Sacred Heart in Eugene -- a small world indeed!
After getting setup, we were welcomed with a formal ceremony, where many local leaders spoke (all of this was in Spanish).   Sister Eleanor addressed the crowd and gave them her profound thanks for letting us serve them -- she expressed the hope and belief that we were not only here to help with their healthcare, but also to deepen our own values and those of PeaceHealth.  We were here not only to give, but to receive.  As I stood behind her and saw the throngs of people who had arrived, I was almost moved to tears (I don't cry that easily).  But, it was time to work, and there was no time for standing around getting mushy.
Sister Eleanor addresses the crowd in Istagua, our first day of clinic work.


Children line up for a photo during a lunch-time presentation.

 Having not been through this experience before, this day was just amazing.  The doctors were incredibly busy, and I tried to make rounds to each room to deliver messages, supplies, and to take pictures.  The school where we were working put on performances -- a play, girls dancing, and several kids dressed up in colorful bird costumes did a dance as well.  As they danced, I was trying to weave my way through the crowd to setup for a good picture.  I noticed a father across the crowd wink at me, give me a nod, and then yell something in Spanish to the teacher coordinating the show.  The kids then lined up in perfect formation facing me, took a bow, and posed for a picture.  Pretty cool -- a wink, nod, and photograph appear to be part of a universal language.
The care, attention, time, and quality given to each and every individual today was truly inspiring to me.  Even with lines stretching seemingly forever, each person was treated with complete care and respect -- I saw no 'rushing' on this day.  And to think of all these people that had come to see the Americans to receive healthcare, such a rare commodity in their country.  And to think we were here giving away our time, materials, labor, and medicine for free.


Lauren Herbert and Kathy Garcia tend to a little one.

And it hit me -- the mystery that I had written about before departing, the reasons why these volunteers had decided to come, all came into focus.  I saw the gospel today -- really, the 'good news', and we were it.  The gospel was in action today.  This is why I came -- be part of good.  To be aligned with pure goodness.  What a tonic.  What adrenaline.  What an inspiration.  It truly "breathed life" into all of us today. 

Sister Eleanor was in deep reflection throughout this day -- you could see her spirit manifesting itself.  Mother Teresa once said:  "God did not call me to be successful. He called me to be faithful".  I saw that spirit today, with my own eyes.  In the flesh.  What a gift.


And then there's Sister Grace, the unstoppable one -- just keeps on going.  And that made me think of another U2 song that was rattling around in my head today:

Grace, she takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace, it's the name for a girl
 It's also a thought that changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness in everything

What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because Grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace makes beauty out of ugly things

 


Sister Grace

During the bus ride home, I overheard Jennifer Pflug from Longview say:  "I wish I would have done this after medical school.  This is fun".  Ken Henderson mentioned that he only saw about 1/2 of the patients he needed to--there was just not enough time to see everyone.  For context, Ken and his crew normally see 12-14 patients at their practice in the states.  Today they saw 67.  And I'd be remiss to not mention three pretty remarkable kids that joined us during the week -- Maia and Forrest (Lauren Herbert's children), and Silke, Julie Iverson's daughter.  All three were an incredible help in the Pharmacy pulling vitamins and medications, as well as entertaining children with coloring books, crayons, yarn, etc.  All this from 8:00 to 5:00 in 95-degree heat!
Forrest catches a moment for some reading

Silke entertaining children from Istagua
Maia keeping the Pharmacy stocked

Our bus ride to and from the San Pedro villages was about an hour each day.  The radio was usually blasting local music, which we all enjoyed but whose lyrics I couldn't understand.  On the ride home, out of nowhere, we got a dose of good ol' American rock-n-roll.  As we sang along just enjoying the familiarity of the music, I realized the lyric from this old Jackson Browne song was too appropriate:

Stay, just a little bit longer
Oh won't you stay, just a little bit longer?

 

Well, they had us for 4 more days.  Radio never sounded so good.  My memories and notes from this day are incredibly upbeat -- exciting, thrilling, everything you could hope for in a mission of this kind.