The Person in Front of Me

I can be impatient, and I am usually in a hurry. These two facts are a deadly combination, especially living in a country like Guatemala.

Before moving to Guatemala, we lived in Troy, Ohio. My ideas of a traffic jam were rooted in my regular trips to Dayton. During rush hour, the amalgamation of roads known locally as “malfunction junction” could cause a traffic jam that could delay you for up to (gasp) 45 minutes. Until I encountered traffic in Guatemala City, I had no idea what a real traffic jam could be. Now I know that if I leave for the airport at 4:00 am it will take me 55 minutes. If I leave at 5:00 am, it will take me two-and-a-half to three hours.

Guatemala is crowded. If you go to most restaurants over lunch time, you will have to fight for a table. And don’t even think about going to a mall’s food court during a heavy traffic time. A trip to Walmart in the city on a Saturday can look like the last shopping day before Christmas in the States. And a simple visit to the bank can leave you standing in a line that extends out the door and down the street. In other words, this is not a good place to be either impatient or in a hurry.

And God, with His infinite sense of humor, sent me to live and serve here. I can picture Him laughing so hard He has to wipe tears as He watches me in another line of traffic. And I think He especially likes it when I, the guy who refuses to leave my house on Black Friday, find myself pressed into a massive crowd at the Pricesmart checkout area. He enjoys highlighting my weaknesses to keep me humble and reliant on Him.

But the big problem with my whole impatience/hurry problem is the way it causes me to see people. In those moments when I am looking impatiently at the time on my phone and then looking at the people in front of me and calculating how long it will take me to get done or arrive, the people in front of me become an obstacle. They become “things” that are standing in my way. And I just want them to move and let me through. After all, “I have ministry to do.” 

In 1991, when I was in one of my first youth ministry positions, I was preparing for our annual winter retreat. It was a big deal that attracted lots of teens and required lots of work and planning on my part. There were lessons to plan, activities to schedule, youth leaders to coordinate, and more. I had set aside a full day to work on just the retreat, but I was constantly interrupted. The parents of one of the teens who was dealing with depression stopped by to ask for counsel. A teen who was struggling to fit in at school stopped by to just visit. My phone was ringing frequently with questions about the retreat and other events (this was before the days of e-mail and texting). And I was feeling the pressure of another short night of sleep due to my “unproductive” day.

So, I went down to complain to the Senior Pastor, Clark Miller. I leaned against his doorway and explained how lousy my day was going and how little I had gotten done. I told him about all the people that had interrupted me and kept me from my important ministry work. He smiled and nodded, even as I did the same to him. Then, as I turned to go back to my office, I heard him yell out, “Yeah, Fulp! Ministry would be great if it weren’t for all the people!” I returned to his doorway with a pained expression and mimed pulling an arrow from my heart. 

His words were true and powerful. The very people who I had seen as a barrier to ministry were, in fact, crucial ministry

I have had to re-learn that lesson many times over the last 28 years. And it seems I have to re-learn it daily here. These people that crowd me in traffic and lines and stores are not obstacles on my way to do ministry, they are my ministry. In fact, God is showing me that my most important ministry is whoever is in front of me right now. No person is an obstacle, they are someone created in the image of God for whom He died. And yet, I often fail to even notice them on my way to “ministry.”

I shudder to think of how many times I have likely rushed past a person whom God has led into my path. Even worse, how many times have I frowned or rolled my eyes at them in frustration? He put them next to me and slowed me down so that I could acknowledge them, engage them, listen to them, and extend love to them. But I was too busy checking the time and calculating an exit strategy to notice them. One of my great sins is that I am often so far-sighted that I fail to see the person right in front of me. Jesus, please forgive me!

Busyness and rushing is the enemy of love and ministry. Which means, all too often, I am their enemy, as well.

I keep reminding myself of some basic truths: 1) I have no control. I cannot control the traffic, crowds, or lines. 2) God IS in control. He is sovereign over all those things, and uses them for good all the time, even when I don’t see or understand that good. 3) I do have control over my response and attitude in the midst of them. When my attitude goes south, I bring harm instead of the healing and hope God intended. 4) Every person that God puts in front of me is my most important ministry in that moment.

Recently I began to pray a prayer each morning as I walk out of my bedroom door to face the world. I am making it into a little sign to post next to the door to keep it in the forefront of my thoughts each morning. It goes like this:

Lord, with your help, today I will be last and least. I will not demand my rights, but will lay them aside to bless and help others. I will be a servant, and expect no one to serve me. I will remember the mercy I have received and extend it to others. I will notice the person in front of me, and I will honor and love them in Your name. With your help, I will be more like you than yesterday. Jesus, please help me. Amen.

As soon as I finish typing these words, I will leave this place and head to another in order to minister. But every step and mile along the way, there will be lots of ministry waiting in the form of people. Please pray that I will notice and minister. And I will do the same for you.

Every person we encounter every day needs more of Jesus. Let’s slow down and give Him to them.

Blessings from Guatemala!

Daryl, Wanda, and the Crew

Grief and Grieving

We lost another child last week. It was not a surprise, but it still felt like a kick in the stomach.

Little Edy had been struggling for most of his time with us, which was over three years. He was missing a large part of his brain, and his brain stem was damaged. As a result, he would stop breathing on a regular basis. At some point, he stopped swallowing, so he had to be put in an NG tube. We never bothered having a G-tube installed because we were told that he did not have long to live, and we did not believe he would survive the surgery.

But day after day and month after month, Edy continued to fight. Many times we thought the end was near and we would say goodbye. But, in typical Edy fashion, he would turn a corner and improve, moving from near death to laughter in a few hours.

Over the last year, he had declined significantly. His bad days outnumber his good days, and we all began to pray that Jesus would take him home. But he continued to fight.

Wanda and I flew to the States on April 25th. The night before we left, I said goodbye to each of the children, and when I came to Edy I stayed with him a little longer. He was looking bad, and I wondered if he would live out the week. But, since I had thought he was dying so many times before, I shook it off and told myself he would fight through it, as always. But, as I said goodbye, I told him, “Little buddy, I will either see you in eight days, or when I get to heaven. Either way, I will see you soon.” It was the last time I saw him.

Wanda and I flew into Pennsylvania and participated in a family wedding that Saturday. On Sunday, we drove to Ohio to see our daughter, Ashley, and her family, including our new grandson, Sonny. We also visited with friends and spoke at a church. And on Thursday we drove back to PA. Before we left, I received a message from Katie Riley saying that Edy was not doing well. He had not been conscious for three days and was bloating badly, a sign that his internal organs were shutting down. While in the States, our Guatemalan cell phones do not work, so we rely on WiFi for communications. We committed to connect every time we stopped to check for updates.

At around 11:00 am we stopped for gas, and Wanda’s phone connected with someone’s WiFi. The message arrived then. Edy had passed away at around 10:25 am.

I had listened to his struggling breathing for the last two years. I had seen him worsen, and I had prayer that he would go to Jesus. Many times I held him and comforted and told him to stop fighting. Yet, when Wanda told me he was gone, it felt like a ton of bricks hit me. The grief of losing him, combined with the reality that we were not there and could not make it back by his funeral, completely overwhelmed me.

We stopped shortly after for an early lunch and to use WiFi to connect, comfort, and make sure the details were covered back home. Then we drove to get back to PA so we could fly out the next morning.

The next 36 hours until we were home with family was a blur. Grief, traveling, concern for those back home, thoughts of the funeral…they all came together in a fuzzy ball. When we were finally able to enter our home and hug our children (by blood, adoption, and internship) I finally felt like I could breath again.

For our family, grief can be difficult, because we are not allowed the same space to grieve that others are given. We have lost nine children from our two homes. Each time, the grief threatened to overwhelm us. And, in some case, the grief was accompanied by the trauma of sudden death and the frantic activity of CPR. And, each time, our family and interns grieved deeply.

But, in many cases, there is a failure to understand our grief. While it is never spoken out loud, the attitude is regularly conveyed that it is not as hard for us when we lose a child because they are not really our children. They are just children in our group home, and we signed up for these kinds of things. So we are not given space.

I am not trying to complain, just making an observation. More is expected of us than would ever be expected of other parents and siblings that had just lost a son or brother. Whereas other parents who had just lost a child would be visited, comforted, receive food gifts, and be encouraged to grieve and talk about their loss, we are not. Brief words are exchanged, and the conversation moves on.

We moved to Guatemala to be a family to children without a family, not to be an institution. Ever child in our home calls us mom and dad, and we call them our sons and daughters. Our biological and adopted children call the kids in our home their brothers and sisters. We love them as our own family, because they are. Yes, our family is way bigger than most, but the size makes us no less of a family and does nothing to diminish our grief when one of them leaves us. It does not make it easier when we prepare their little bodies for burial and place them in little coffins. It does not diminish the grief of standing beside their tomb. It wounds us to the core of our being.

When this happens, I want to be able to take a week off to be with my family and grieve. I want to be able to talk with friends about it instead of receiving a cursory condolence and moving on to the next topic. But I don’t have that freedom. Nor do Wanda and our children.

My friend, Drew, helps me a lot. He listens and understands my need to grieve. He keeps encouraging me to talk and let it out. I met with him two days ago and told about my fear. I am afraid that if I let down the spill gate on the dam that is holding back my grief of all the children we have lost that the flood would drown me. That, once it starts, it might never stop.

At the same time, I realize that holding back my grief is ugly, as well. It bottles up inside me and comes out in the form of anger and impatience. I lose my joy and begin to isolate myself. Even small tasks seem overwhelming. So, I have to let it out. But I have to find people who understand and will give me room to grieve. Drew is one of those people. Wanda is another. Dick is another. And I am learning that they have to be enough.

People often tell Wanda and I how strong we are. They really have no idea how weak we are. If they could see us in the privacy of our room as we struggle to figure out how to keep going, how to keep our marriage and family healthy, and how to get up the next morning…they would not call us strong.

So, we can only throw our tired and discouraged selves into the arms of Jesus and trust God’s promise that in our weakness, He is strong.

A song that has ministered to me over the last week has been “See You In a Little While” by Steven Curtis Chapman. I will leave you with the lyrics.

I hold your hand and watch as the sun slowly fades

Far in the distance the Father is calling your name

And it’s time for you to go home

And everything in me wants to hold on

But I’m letting you go with this goodbye kiss and this promise

I’ll see you in a little while

I’ll see you in a little while

It won’t be too long now

We’ll see it on the other side

The wait was only the blink of an eye

So I’m not gonna say goodbye

‘Cause I’ll see you in a little while

And just one more thing before I let you go

Please tell my little girl I love her

Though I’m sure she already knows

And ask the Father to please tell the Son

That we’re ready and waiting for Him to come

I’ll see you in a little while

I’ll see you in a little while

It won’t be too long now

We’ll see it on the other side

The wait was only the blink of an eye

So I’m not gonna say goodbye

‘Cause I’ll see you in a little while

Maybe you’ll teach me all the songs they sing in heaven

Maybe you’ll show me how you can fly

And I’ll hear you laugh again

And we won’t remember when

We were not together and this time it’s forever

I’ll see you in a little while

I’ll see you in a little while

It won’t be too long now

We’ll see it on the other side

The wait was only the blink of an eye

So I’m not gonna say goodbye

‘Cause I’ll see you in a little while

I’m gonna see you in a little while

Blessings from Guatemala,

Daryl, Wanda, and the Crew