Raw and Transparent

Warning: This blog entry is an unfiltered glimpse inside my heart. If you are looking for an uplifting and cheerful post, then please read no further. These are the ramblings written by a man who still trusts and loves his God, but is feeling broken. Over the years I have been cautioned by a few people that I am too transparent in my blogs and will scare others, including ministry supporters, away. I want you to know that I understand if you read this blog and decide that I am too much of a wreck to support this ministry. I would not blame you. If, however, you read this and decide that this ministry is worthy of support, in spite of my weakness, then thank you. Either way, I believe everyone deserves to know the unvarnished truth so they can make the right decision regarding who they do and do not support.

As you know, on Sunday, July 6 we lost our little Thania. This was six months to the day after we lost Esperanza on January 6. I wrote to you a brief overview of how it happened yesterday, but I would now like to go into more detail.

Thania was completely fine on Friday and Saturday. We had a 4th of July party on Friday for the home and she seemed to have a good time and be happy. On Saturday that continued with no health concerns. When she came to us last October we were not sure she would survive. At age 13 she weighed just under 19 pounds and we struggled to help her gain weight. She was so frail and weak and could not swallow well, so we finally put her on an NG tube and she began to put on some weight. At the time of her death she was nearly 30 pounds which, believe it or not, was proportional to her tiny body size. We honestly believed that she had turned the corner and was going to be fine, even though she continued to struggle with energy.

On Sunday morning she awoke with a slight cough. Two other children in our home, Christian and Angelita, had been struggling with a chest cold, so we were not surprised or concerned. But just to be safe we started breathing treatments on both Thania and Angelita because of their histories with respiratory problems and arranged for the doctor to visit in the afternoon.

Then at around 1:00 pm Thania took a sudden and severe turn for worse. She went from what appeared to be a minor chest cold to respiratory distress in just a few minutes. So Carissa, Jeremiah and I climbed in my truck with Carissa holding Thania and headed to the hospital. While I was concerned, I was not in panic mode. We have dealt a lot with respiratory issues and I kept telling myself that you cannot just go from chest cold to emergency in 15 minutes.

But we had only gone up the road 50 yards when Carissa yelled that she had stopped breathing. I stopped the truck, moved to the back seat, checked her airway and began doing CPR while Jeremiah and Carissa used my phone to call for the bomberos (Guatemala’s equivalent of paramedics). I was having difficulty forcing air into her lungs, so I turned her around and did abdominal thrusts. Large amounts of fluid and phlegm were expelled, so I turned her around and checked her breathing. Still nothing, so I continued CPR and found the air was entering her lungs better. But after every three cycles or so I had to repeat the process as her airway would once again become blocked. (If you are a medical professional and realize that I did something wrong, please don’t write and tell me that now. I carry a huge weight and feeling of responsibility for her death and do not feel that I can carry more right now. Please give me some more time before telling me what I did wrong.)

I continued this process while we waited for the bomberos. At some point I realized that Wanda had run up the street and was standing next to me. I felt her hand on my back and heard her praying that God would help Thania and help me know what to do. The only thing I could think was, “I DON’T know what to do! Nothing is working!”

The bomberos arrived, grabbed her and headed to the ambulance. They put her in the back and I climbed in with them. At that point I thought, “Praise God! I can let professionals take over!” But it was very quickly that I discovered that a Guatemalan ambulance is nothing more than a high speed taxi. The bombero in the back did not know how to do CPR. He was simply rubbing her chest in a circular motion and trying to bag her every 30 circles. So, at that point, I moved him out of the way and resumed CPR.

At this point the ambulance was traveling over very bumpy and curvy roads at a high rate of speed. I could not continue CPR from a standing or kneeling position as I was being thrown in the the sides and bounced into the roof, so I laid on the stretcher next to Thania and continued. I directed the ambulance to a private hospital in Antigua and continued respiratory breathing and cardiac massage until they pulled her away from me and carried her inside. They laid her on an examining table and I resumed CPR while the doctor came in and prepared to intubate her. At that point I was pulled from the room.

At this point I knew she was gone. I had actually known it in the ambulance, but kept praying I was wrong. Her eyes were fixed and dilated, her lips were blue…she was gone. It took about ten minutes for the doctor to motion me back into the room and confirm it. And then I was left in the room with her alone.

Wanda and Carissa had not yet arrived. My telephone had been left with others who had used it to call for the bomberos. I was alone. So I went over and knelt next to Thania, I closed her eyes, held her lifeless hand and wailed. I had lost another child and it was my fault. Why didn’t I take her to the hospital that morning when her cough first appeared? I must have done something wrong in my CPR process. Thania was dead and I was responsible. And I completely broke down.

(Please don’t write to me and tell me that these feelings that I had and still have are wrong. Maybe they are, maybe they are not. They are what I feel, and I guess God will have to help me separate fact from fiction as time passes.)

As I knelt there I thought back to Esperanza’s death and told God, “We can’t do this again! I can’t say goodbye again! This is not fair!” I flashed back over the last 45 minutes and lived them all over again. I saw her die in my arms again and again. My adrenaline began to dissipate and the shakes came.

And then another thought hit me. Carissa and Jeremiah had seen the whole thing. And Wanda had seen most of it. Are they okay? They saw their daughter/sister stop breathing and saw their father frantically try to save her (and fail). No one should have to see that. Especially not a 13 year old boy. And I realized how much death they have seen…how much suffering that have experienced. And for the first time I wondered if this ministry is harming my wife and children.

And, for the first time since moving to Guatemala, I wanted to quit. I told God:

That’s it! I am done! I am closing up, selling off, packing up and moving back! I am going back to the States and finding a normal job! I want a job with 8 to 5 hours five or six days a week! I want to live a life not surrounded by death and suffering! I will move my family back, go to church (maybe even pastor a church again), tithe, take care of my own and pray for and support others who do this kind of work! But I can’t do it any more!

I know that at this point I am supposed to share with you how the Spirit of God came and ministered at that moment. That he spoke to me and soothed my heart and helped me see clearly. The epiphany came and suddenly I stood up ready for ministry again. But none of that happened. It simply continued to be one of the darkest days of my life.

At some point I walked outside the hospital as Wanda and Carissa arrived. I met them and told them that Thania was gone. I watched Carissa collapse to the ground sobbing, and we all held one another and wept.

Later that afternoon I found myself waiting at the hospital for Ministerio Publico to come. (Ministerio Publico is the police agency that investigates deaths to determine if there was a crime involved.) Because of the events leading to her death they needed to come, take statements and remove the body for autopsy. Unfortunately, MP runs on its own schedule, so they did not show up until 8:00 pm. I am thankful that my friend and ministry partner, Manuel Moran, and his wife Cristina came to be with me during that time as Wanda and Carissa had to return home. They were such a blessing during that time.

Sometime during that wait my friends, Dick Rutger and Pat Duff showed up. They hugged me, wept with me, prayed with me and shared what were, I am sure, words of wisdom. But while their presence was greatly needed and wanted, my heart had not changed when they left. I still wanted to quit and walk away.

Finally, at around 9:00 pm, the paperwork was done and photos were taken. I gave Thania one last kiss and they removed her body. At that point I had nothing left to do but drive home.

During that drive I continued on the quitting theme. I was ready to walk away. But suddenly it hit me (which shows how unclear my thinking had been to that point)…what about Brayan? What about Alejandra? What about Yenni, Angelita, Rafael, Christian, Raquel, Esther and Olimpia? These are my children and I can’t take them with me. They depend on us as their family. We are all they have.

And then I thought about our rural village ministry…about the families that we work with month after month. Could I leave them behind?

And finally, God spoke. It wasn’t words of great comfort, healing or inspiration. They were blunt and to the point:

Daryl, go ahead and grieve. You are entitled to. But let’s just drop this whole quitting thing, because we both know it ain’t gonna happen.

And that was it. No open heavens. No angels singing. No burst of energy and passion. Just the awareness that I am not going anywhere. I am here…for better or worse…even when the worse far outweighs the better. I am here to stay.

So, yesterday morning I drug myself out of bed. Manuel, Gerardo and I went to the morgue to claim her body following the autopsy. We went with the guys from the funeraria (the place that prepares bodies for burial) and purchased her casket and waited for Thania’s body to be prepared.

Afterwards, we brought her back and had a brief service in our home to say goodbye and remind one another where she is…not in a box, but running and dancing with Jesus. Then we loaded her body in our van and Manuel, Cristina, Gerardo, Jeremiah and I headed to Jutiapa to take her to her biological family there.

When we arrived in their small village we found around 150 to 200 people awaiting our arrival. As we unloaded her casket and carried it inside, I saw numerous stares that seemed to be filled with hostility. From their perspective, we were the ones who took a little girl away who was alive and then brought her back dead. So, I could not blame them. In their position I would likely have felt the same way.

We carried her casket into a room and people pressed in behind us. Once we set it down we opened the lid and the crowd pressed closer. We were trapped behind the casket and could not leave. People were sobbing and wailing and we were crying as well.

At that point, Manuel began to speak. His words were from the Holy Spirit and he spoke with boldness and love. The crowd began to calm and listen. He shared the goodness of Jesus Christ and the faithfulness of his promises for those who receive him. He spoke words of truth and love, and the crowd listened. Their disposition changed. He ended with prayer as those around the room raised their hands in gratitude for Thania’s life and God’s goodness.

Then I spoke and shared how much we loved Thania. I told them that she was like a daughter to Wanda and I and like a sister to my children. I told them that we did everything we knew to do to help her, and that I had done everything I could do to save her the day before. I wept as I spoke, and the crowd wept with me.

By the end, we were welcomed and loved. Her parents and sister and grandfather all hugged us and thanked us for loving and caring for Thania. We gave them the family photo we took last week, and it was passed around the crowd.

At that point, we were able to share with Thania’s parents what we now believe to be her cause of death. According to the coroner, her lungs presented a strong indication that she had undiagnosed Cystic Fibrosis. We are still awaiting test results to confirm that, but the coroner seemed confident. If this is true, it explains a lot, including her respiratory problems, her low energy level and her sudden decline and death.

We had taken her to lots of specialists and had thousands of quetzales worth of tests done, but no doctor had discovered it. When we mentioned her breathing problems we were always told that it was related to her cerebral palsy. It appears the illness was hiding behind her other health problems. Ironically, a simple and inexpensive test would have diagnosed it and enabled us to prolong and improve the quality of her life. And that is another burden I must bear.

If this test comes back positive, we are going to pay for Thania’s younger brother, Henri, to come to the city to see a specialist and be tested. He suffers from cerebral palsy and breathing problems, just like Thania did, so there is a strong likelihood that he has it as well.

Afterward we drove home again and arrived at around 10:30 last night. This morning I woke up, got up, and started into the day. I wish I could tell you that I am once again filled with joy and purpose and things are good again, but they are not. I do what I do mechanically because it needs to be done. And, under it all is a deep sense of fear.

Angelita is continuing to struggle with a chest cold. The doctor came again last night and said she is some better. We are monitoring her closely, but I am afraid. What if I mess up again? What if she needs to go to the hospital and I don’t realize it? What if she is struggling with a hidden illness like Thania and I miss it again? What if I let another child die in my arms? What if…

Respiratory illness is a part of this life and ministry. On a regular basis viruses and infections invade. Children cough, medicine is given, breathing treatments are administered and we keep a close eye to make sure they do not worsen. Until Sunday I thought I did a good job of that. Now I don’t trust myself at all.

Dear God, I can’t lose another one. If I do I may crawl into a corner and die. I love each of them desperately and cannot stand another goodbye. Please help us.

I warned you ahead of time about this post. I am raw and transparent. I know God is good. I know He is sovereign. I know He has called me. I know Thania is with him and that she is whole and happy. And I know I am here to stay. But I am broken and scared right now. And that is all I have the heart to share at this time.

For those that pray for us, thank you. It is those prayers that have enabled us to continue to function over the last two days. Please continue to pray. Pray especially for our children who have seen so much suffering and death. Pray that God heals their hearts and gives them peace.

And please pray for healing in our hearts and home. Our house is emptier today and the pain is immense.

Because of Him,

Daryl