The bed squeaked beneath me, the extruding springs that had initially pinched and scrapped my back were now a comfort. I stretched out like a baby seeing its first glimpse of the world. Through the window the warm Guatemalan sun shone and I smelled the goodness of fresh fruit. In only ten short days I had fallen in love with this country and its people. Suddenly a breeze of realization swept over me, today was the day; it was time to journey back home. My heart ached at the thought of saying goodbye to my new friend Johanna.
I carried my suitcases down the stairs and loaded them into the van. It’s hard to explain the feeling I knew in this moment as I made my way back to Johanna’s wheelchair. For the first time in ten days, Johanna was not smiling. Unable to speak to me in words, she lifted up her mobile hand until it found mine. I leaned down and hugged her. “I love you Johanna,” I whispered, and the tears came, disregarding the wall I had desperately tried to build up to stop them. I watched as a tear slipped from her eye as well. As hard it was, I turned to walk to the van. Johanna made a faint noise and began to rock back and forth. Tears poured down her smooth face. Eventually I joined the rest of the group. It was a dead silent ride to the airport.
Lets go back in time, ten days previously, as I waited at the airport ready and excited to go on my first international mission trip. We would be going to Guatemala City to work with a group home that took girls from abusive or orphan situations and provide them with a healthy and safe environment to live in.
As I waited in the airport, a cloud of thought about the buddy I had been assigned bounced through my head. At one of our group’s weekly meetings before the trip, our leader explained to us that one of the girls, Johanna, was physically disabled and was unable to verbally communicate. I felt a pressing on my heart, and volunteered to be her partner through the different activities. We boarded our plane, I’m sure many of you know the anxiety I was feeling and we arrived safely in Guatemala City.
On arriving at the home we were greeted by thirteen incredibly friendly young girls. We were met with hugs, kisses, and a lot of scrambled Spanish. Johanna was a beautiful young girl. She had long deep brown hair and dark stunning eyes. Her teeth were very straight and she smiled as I imagine an angel would.
We brought out sidewalk chalk and the girls were colouring the cement blocks they had as a backyard. Johanna was in a wheelchair and was unable to reach the ground, so I held a piece of paper in her lap. Although it was a slight struggle, she could lift her one arm up to grab the chalk from my grasp. She was delighted. Her constant smile and gentle motions touched my heart. Suddenly, she looked up at me and ever so softly lifted the chalk to my lips and began to make me beautiful. The louder I began to laugh, the brighter her face shone. She painted my face with the chalk, then my arms, and proceeded to cover almost all the bare skin she could reach. She inspired the other girls to colour each other and soon we were all running around decorated brightly.
A few days later we had a party for the girls. We had each purchased a pair of pajamas, hair accessories, and other fun things for our buddy. As we presented each one with a small girft, it was if we had placed the world in their hands. After we had dressed each and done their hair in various styles, we went downstairs, put on some music, and let them stride by as if they were models. Again, words cannot describe how I felt at this moment. I was living…no, dancing in…in a miracle.
The last Friday that we were there, we all met in the main room to have a prayer session. We would pray in English and then in return our buddy would pray for us in Spanish. We all sat in a large circle, unified by not only our held hands, but also by our hearts. I was sitting next to Johanna, her hand resting in mine.
We bowed our heads and closed our eyes. The moment I began to hear Spanish prayers, I heard a soft noise. I looked beside me and watched in awe as Johanna faintly began to make sounds. She spoke in little gurgles, words that didn’t make sense to me. I sat in wonder of my God as Johanna communicated with him in her own way. I knew then…and I still know today that she was speaking to God, and that most important, He knew her heart. As the last person said Amen, Johanna stopped her melodious sounds. My eyes remained closed as I continued to process the fact that Johanna has just, in her own unique way, conversed with her creator.
I love Johanna, and love her still – and will continue to love her until the day my memory fails. I learned a great deal from her about love – love that is non-superficial and based on nothing materialistic. I also learned that love for our creator goes beyond words and mental capacity. Johanna will never know the way in which she touched my life. She may not even remember me, but I will forever be grateful to the sweet gentle soul who showed me a greater depth to love.
J.D – Ontario, Canada
CH Global volunteer's Weblog 
