A Departure

Home Going

"She has days or hours to live," he said, as I waited in line.  Along with a few hundred other people I was being held in an arrival gate until the Miami Customs lobby had capacity to receive us.  Signs saying "Bienvenido a Miami" greeted me and Will Smith's "Miami" was stuck in my head. He's from Philly--and that's where I was headed.   

"I'm sorry you had to be welcomed home with this news," my Dad said after softly breaking the news to me.  He told me he loved me and shortly after we hung up.  I felt no different than before I'd called.  For the next few hours I recounted Dad's message to myself, waiting for it to hit home.  I wanted it to, but it wouldn't.  I still felt…good.  Excited to be in the US.  Positive.  Energetic.  A little goofy even.  

Around 12:45 AM my eldest brother Dave picked me up from the Philly airport.  We drove directly to the cancer center, enjoying a lighthearted conversation along the way. In the moment, the high-spirit of our talk felt needed.  Just past 1 o'clock, we arrived and the security guard let us in past the locked doors.  The building seemed dead--its hallways empty of staff, guests, and patients.  Half the lights were off.  We walked through a maze of corridors, the noise from our steps carrying through the emptiness.  A few turns and an elevator later, we arrived at the entrance to Mom's room.

There's no easy way to enter the hospital room of a terminally ill loved one.  As soon as you see her the canon ball hits you, rocking the steady ship you tried so hard to keep afloat.  I felt the inevitable sinking chill rush from my eyes to my stomach as I took in the now weak body of the once strong woman who had loved me so well.  Mom lay asleep on the hospital bed, breathing laboriously with her head tilted back on a pillow, hair gone, and a large gash on the bridge of her nose from a fall a few days before.  She was still lovely…and my heart instantly broke.  

The Dorris Family, Christmas 2012.  Mom took the time to tell each of us how much she loved us.  

All four of her kids made it home just in time to be with her--from Phoenix, Connecticut, Central Pennsylvania, and Guatemala.  We took turns holding her hand while she slept, speaking to her on occasion in hopes that she could hear us.  After some convincing, Dad went home to rest after a marathon of care.  The lack of sleep took its toll on the kids too, so we took turns being with her--leaving the others to get rest in the visitors lounge.  At 8:23 AM, while Anna held her hand, Mom let out her last breath and entered glory.  The five of us gathered around her and sang Amazing Grace.  Dad prayed.  He thanked God for Mom's life, while I pressed her hand to my face and cried. 

Before Guatemala

In the months before I left for Guatemala, Mom's health had begun to take a steady turn downhill.  I'd been living at home since the last summer and witnessed the decline.  We were nighttime buddies: I just following my normal work schedule, allowing the darkness to appease my hypersensitive nervous system; she because discomfort was often too great to allow her to sleep.  We'd hang out on the living room couch, the "bed" that offered her the best chance at falling asleep.  Unintentionally, this worked out well.  We could talk, and I was present to get her water and adjust her pillow when needed.  It felt good to be of help.  Often I felt helpless to do much else but offer my presence.  

Mom with Aunt Brenda on her comfortable couch, just weeks before she passed.  She playfully wore a hat Anna brought back from Jamaica.  

She didn't sleep well and suffered through near constant nausea.  Despite this, she insisted on being as independent as possible.  Boy, was she a fighter.  She prepared her IV bags during the day and her parenteral nutrition at night.  Sometimes she'd cook dinner for Dad and I…and then collapse on the couch and close her eyes, struggling a few minutes to find a comfortable position.  She still bought her children Christmas gifts and still listened intently when we shared our lives with her over the phone.  Her voice could only manage soft and short sentences, not with the witty edge custom of years past, but she could listen.  One day I told her I was feeling sluggish.  Like I had room to complain! Despite my protests, she went online and ordered Shaklee--revitalization medicine.  Against my cynical expectations, it worked.  I guess Mother still knows best!   In the months before she died, Mom and I still managed some fun.  But all the while, a dagger question kept its tip close to my ear: "How dare you plan to leave the country when you're not sure Mom is going to be alive when you come back?"  

The answer found me in a memory.  April 2012, while driving home with my parents from a day trip in the quaint town of Jim Thorpe, PA, I brought up the subject. "Hey Mom?"  I asked.  "If I'm called away from home but you start to get really sick…how could I possibly leave you?"  "Go where He's called you," she said.  "We'll have all of heaven to make up the time."  The next week Mom brought me an old letter she had saved.  It was in her handwriting, addressed to her parents and dated just after she'd left for a year of service in Haiti.  She wasn't much older when she wrote it than I was:

 Dear Mom and Dad, 

Thank you for letting me go, for letting me take a risk for the Lord, and for supporting me with such love. I know it wasn't easy to let me go and I'm glad you understand the urgency of ministry that we have on this temporary Earth.*

Love, 

Betty Jean

Her message to me, in her scrawled words, was clear.  Before I was born, Mom knew how she'd answer my question.  A year after our conversation the mission field called and I went.  And now it's calling again.    

Mom practicing physical therapy in Haiti, at 26 years old.  Not much older than me (I'm 24). 

Guatemala Part 2

May 30th 2013: An email from Rogelio, my contact in Guatemala, popped into my inbox.  "Want to come back in July?"  Split second mental answer: "Absolutely."  So that's how I replied.  Then came the new thoughts: "This is going to be a lot of work…thank you anyways God...how on Earth am I going to be ready to leave in a month…"  

Ready or not, my flight leaves June 30th and I can't return until August 9th.  41 days to enter a poor community in the Guatemala City garbage dump, look the people in the eye and let them know that they are worth my time.  To say, "Christ has not forgotten you." And, of course, to make a couple videos. 

During my first visit to the dump community, Jose, its elected leader, took me on a tour and showed me all of the flood-prone areas.  Now the rainy season has arrived.  When the rainy season hits Guatemala City, some of the tin homes in the dump community flood, collapse, or float away.  It is a disaster situation.  The need for stable homes is urgent and even goes beyond the flood problem.  So Potters House assembles teams of community members and foreign volunteers to build new homes.  

Home building in poor areas is more important than normally assumed.  It prevents disease.  More specifically, it protects children from acquiring the diseases they are particularly at risk of getting when living in a rusted dirt-floored shack.  Diseases that could harm their normal function for the rest of their lives.  For the adults, a healthy home--the building itself--is empowering.  You can't succeed in your work when you're sick all the time.  The next video I make, called "Why Houses?" will explain these things more fully. (Update: click here to watch the "Why Houses?" video)

This happens every year.  

Potter's House doesn't stop with a house.  Their work is holistic.  They get new house owners working, they equip them to properly take care of their children, they train men to be good fathers, they educate the children, they disciple families.  And the onus to work hard is always on the home owners themselves.  No free rides here.  But in the lives of many of these community members, progress begins with a house--and these houses are succeeding. You will see the evidence in the videos I'm scheduled to make.  Throughout July I'll be filming in the rain (what a glorious feeling!), talking to people who have received homes and learning about the progress in their lives.  At the moment, Potter's House has built 86 homes since 2007.  That's an average of 11 a year.  In the month of July the goal is to build 14.  The countdown to 100 cinderblock homes begins!

New home recipients work harder than anybody else during the building process.

Most children beg for the opportunity to help build their new house.  If only all kids were this eager to help. :)

Here we go...

Familial death changes you forever.  But the change doesn't always lead to grief.  It can be a fire, a motivation to live your best.  To live in a way that honors her legacy.  Mom might be dead but she's alive in my heart.  This time when I go to Guatemala, she'll be with me.  

She took the time to pose for this photo despite being very tired from her illness.  I'm very grateful,  it has carried me through some tough moments. 

A Prayer

Father, my tin roof is full of rust and mold

My walls are punctured, there's little more they can hold

My door swings in the wind, letting in good and bad

How can I live in this existence and be glad?

I dwell in my poverty, 

My sins are like painful sores

Then through Your word you remind me

That my little shack is actually yours.  

It is the temple in which you dwell, 

The vessel you look at with pride

You've bought me, with no plans to sell

Your light bursts through my punctured walls...is this what it's like to feel alive?

The rains have come, but somehow I'm not wet!

I know the reason why, but I often forget.

Your church is my shelter, they keep me standing tall

So I may do Your work, with awe and my all

Amen.

*paraphrase of a much longer letter

Learn from Mom’s life:
A. Slide show of Mom’s life (obituary in info section)--without the "crackles" in the previous version
B. Text of my speech at Moms funeral

Other Links:
A. Luke 9:57-62 for more insight into family and mission (you have to dig into this one, not read it at a glance).
B. Why home building is important (A TED talk) 

If you would like to make a tax-deductible donation to my upcoming trip my work in Guatemala, please see the instructions at the bottom of this blog.