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.

Dazzling Precious Treasures

"How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure."

The Dump

The trucks move like clockwork, one after the other, driving to the same part of the garbage dump in Guatemala City. Putting noisily and releasing thick brown exhaust into the air, they reach the edge of the dump and drop their cargo.  

Dirt-covered people carrying large sacks surround the trucks, each appearing to be working alone and in competition with his neighbors. They scramble for recyclable items, food, broken toys, and whatever else they can find.  Trucks have been known to lose their traction on the trash and crush people.  Dozens of vultures fly overhead or perch on the trash.  Small fires blaze on the dirt, like a scene from Terminator.  This place is out of movie.

My first sight of the dump was at the overlook.  Imagine peering over the edge of a large canyon, but instead of seeing a river you see lines of dump trucks and people as small as specks collecting around the trash heaps.  The drama of the dump can even be felt on the drive to the overlook.  You have to navigate through an expansive and grandiose cemetery   The tombs close to the edge of the overlook have begun to fall apart under the crumbling dirt they stand upon while their caskets lay on the ground, broken into by robbers looking for jewelry.

View from one of the dump entrances.  Although I have good access to the dump communities (by far more important), dump officials will not let me inside the dump compound.  I'll make another attempt to enter the dump next week.   

Despite all of this, my first visit to the infamous dump was underwhelming.  I stood on the overlook with a camera, filming the activity from hundreds of feet away.  My desire was to be close enough to the small specs below as to be able to recognize their humanity.  That's what moves me.  When poverty doesn't have a face, I'm rarely moved to action.  But when I personally get to know someone living in poverty, it puts enough fire in my belly to keep me fighting for him long after we've parted ways.  Helping him becomes effortless.  As the often covered song says, "He's not heavy. He's my brother."

Kelvin  

Twelve year-old Kelvin shook my hand and stood patiently as I prepared my equipment for his interview.  "We're going to ask you a some questions about your life and your experience at Potters House," I told Kelvin from behind an eyepiece.  With a look of cool confidence, Kelvin looked back at the camera and with a slight smile said "Esta bien". It's all good.

He's a little small for his age but you wouldn't notice.  Most of his peers are small for their age too--a result of early-childhood malnourishment.  Observing him among his classmates, you begin to notice that he's a leader--relaxed and assured whilst everyone clamors to talk to him.

I was glad he was comfortable because I surely wasn't.  The idea to interview him had been rushed.  I found myself lugging equipment around, scouting for a decent location to interview him, while prepping him for his questions, and fumbling through tangled sound equipment, because wires always get tangled.  Kelvin noticed my rush and gave another one of his cool smiles, breaking it only to give a somehow cool looking chin nod to a friend passing by.  "I'm interviewing the quintessential cool kid," I thought.

Kelvin

Evelyn, the communications director at Potters House and my main collaborator for the month, had found Kelvin after a short search for a Potters House student who would be comfortable in front of the camera and whose story we could follows for a Potters House video.  And when I first met him I complained to myself, "This is the wrong kid."

His video interview went as expected.  Kelvin declared gratitude to the Potters house for helping him grow and was eloquent in his responses.  Cookie cutter responses, with little substance.  They were the type of responses that are easy to forget.  If you were to ask me at this moment what he said during the interview, I wouldn't be able to tell you.  My mind wanted to assume he was just a cocky popular kid enjoying the spotlight of the camera. His story wasn't worth pursuing.

Another Evangelistic Service

A few days later, I found myself standing in the periphery of PHA's main auditorium, where an evangelistic service was being held for the children, just before they left for the Easter vacation.  I filmed as several kids and teenagers walked to the front of the room in public declaration of faith in Christ.  Many of them were crying as the overwhelming emotion of newfound faith overcame them.

My camera slowly panned back and forth over the crowd until something caught me eyes and didn't let go.  I stared, fixated, through the lens although in that moment I forgot I was even looking through a camera.  I watched as Kelvin embraced a friend of his who had just opened his heart to Christ.  The friend was falling into Kelvin's arms, overcome by the decision he had made.  With one arm on the back and one on the head, holding as if to never let go, Kelvin prayed with his friend.

I had assumed a lot about who Kelvin was because of his demeanor.  Fortunately for us, God doesn't judge like I do.  The quintessential cool kid wasn't cool because he was trying to be cool.  He was cool because he had found rest in God's arms. That afternoon, Kelvin's friend felt the warmth of Christ's embrace through Kelvin, God's servant.  His entire weight seemed to be on Kelvin.

Can I Lie Here?

David Crowder Band has a lesser known song called "Can I Lie Here in Your Arms."  That short phrase is repeated over and over, capturing what the words alone can't express: That lying in Gods arms is endless and perfect.  And it really is perfect--because He is everlasting.  Now and for all eternity we will be able to lie in His arms--resting every heavy part of our souls on his strong arms.  So much better than a jacuzzi.

The Real Kelvin

As the service continued, Kelvin moved around, finding other new believers to wrap in his small arms. His simple and Christ-like act of love continued to move me.  Over time I've learned more about his story. He has lived his entire life close to the dump.  Every week he attends school at PHA, where he also is enrolled to receive proper nutrition and counseling.  When he first arrived at Potters House, he was dealing with intense anger and control issues and his awareness of his family's poverty contributed to his low self-esteem.  He also felt shame and insecurity for his unemployed alcoholic father.  Uneducated and broken, he arrived at Potters House.

It's been decided that Kelvin is going to be the focal character of the main video I'm doing for Potters House (9 total videos).  We're going to go to his house, meet his family, and get a closer look at the life he lives.  I visited his house briefly this past week--he doesn't live with much.  Before he noticed me approaching down the street, I witnessed him protecting a little girl as she tried to pass through a rough and tumble soccer game being played by bigger kids.  He was one of the players--but he stopped to help her out.  Kelvin has stood out as someone who has been completely transformed by Christ…and is now demonstrating Christ to others.

Tomorrow, the people of the dump will continue to rummage through garbage, looking for any small treasure.  If only they knew they were treasures themselves--but far more precious than anything on this Earth.  Treasures, like Kelvin, whose spiritual beauty was not immediately apparent to me.  And if only they found the treasure that is Jesus Christ.  I love the words from Flyleaf's triumphant song "Treasure," which sings, "Refined, I'll become the most dazzling precious treasure, I'll be treasured over all the Earth...Just look at what He's done, how He's laying down His life.  Take this life, Oh Most Dazzling Precious Treasure." These treasures need to know how dazzling precious they are.

Click on the video above to watch a random assortment of clips from my first week of filming, featuring "Kings and Queens" by Audio Adrenaline.  My apologies, they were hastily thrown together. :)

Spiritual Light

Written Saturday, March 16.

"Voy a trabajar en el basurero."

Translation: "I'm going to work in the dump."  In Guatemala City, when you refer to "The Dump," everyone knows exactly which community you are referring to.

So I understood the look of surprise on the face of the friendly Guatemalan woman sitting next to me on the airplane when I told her where I was going.  Very proud of her country, my new friend was quick to remind me that Guatemala had many bright spots.  "Ten cuidado," she said.  Be careful.

I'm expecting to find many bright spots in the dump.  Many in that community, through the discipleship of The Potters House, have come to believe that God's presence does in fact exist in the dump and that He wants a relationship with them.  I can't wait to meet these people and hear their stories of rescue and transformation.

The only outlet available nearby was in the bathroom.  No one was around so...I wrote this blog in a bathroom.

Video cameras, by function, capture light.  But once the light is captured, few people put the film (or memory card) away and never look at it.  Most want to look at the images produced and show them to others.  Similarly, Matthew 5:14-15 says, "You are the light of the world.  A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand and it gives light to all the house.

I love the imagery that "a city on a hill cannot be hidden."  It won't be hard to identify the believers in the dump community.  Their light will shine, as on a hill.  And this light has power.  Martin Luther King once said, "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that."

Just before I left for Guatemala, Ian Cameron advised me to "See the light through the darkness."  Some of the most beautiful shots in cinematography occur when a small amount of light breaks through a mostly darkness-filled shot.  Think, for example, of the beauty of stars in the night sky.  But even more powerful is when spiritual light, which can be seen in the lives of believers, is captured.  I want to capture this kind of light, and broadcast it for everyone to see.

For anyone interested, here's the website of The Potters House: http://www.pottershouse.org.gt/
And enjoy the two videos below.  The first is of me giving a tour of Seteca, where I'm staying.  The second is a music video to shots I took from the airplane to Guatemala.

-Joe

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.

The Beginnings of a Journey

"You should come work with us in Guatemala!"

I smiled back at Hector.  "We'll see."

Hector Rivas, an endearing man from Guatemala with a contagious smile and a disarming demeanor, sat in the 15 passenger van with his cousin Rogelio Rivas and several others as I drove them from the Philadelphia airport to Akron, Pennsylvania.  Everyone in the van had arrived for HOPE International's annual leadership summit, a special week where select staff from HOPE's overseas programs would travel to Akron for fellowship, worship, and many many meetings.

Latin, African, European, Asian, and American believers packed together in a meeting room for one busy week to discuss the building of God's kingdom.  It was a beautiful sight to behold.

Hector and Rogelio were there representing The Potters House, a faith-based non-profit located in one of the most unlikely places: a garbage dump, in the heart of Guatemala City.  The dump is enormous, responsible even for deaths caused by avalanches of trash.

11,000 people live in and around this dump--traveling daily to sift through the trash for food, household items, or toys they can give their children.  These people are exposed to harmful chemicals, fumes, sharp and rusty metal, and crime.  This is the community in which The Potter's House works.

While driving to Akron, Hector, Rogelio, and I conversed in a mixture of English and Spanish.  We were practicing our second languages. "I agree, you should come down and work with us in Guatemala." said Rogelio.  Upon hearing Rogelio's words, I felt a subtle nudge that I discerned was from God.  Over the next few months, God would continue to nudge me to reach out to Hector and Rogelio, but I never did.

In October 2012, I received an email from Rogelio inviting me to come down to work with The Potters House.  Another nudge, and this time I caved in.  Over the next few weeks, Rogelio and I would, with much prayer, devise a plan for me to visit The Potter's House in Guatemala City and film videos for them.

From March 15 to April 15th I'll be in Guatemala working to help The Potter's House get the word out about what they do.  I'll be using this blogs to give you regular (hopefully) updates on what God is doing there!

I'm excited to see this blog evolve from posts about "the people living in the dump" to stories about individuals, their personalities, and how God is working in their lives.  The Potter's House likes to say that, although most people don't expect to find treasure in a dump, they have found treasures there: the people.

Many people have asked me how they can pray for me while I'm in Guatemala.  I'll send prayer requests with each of my posts. For now, I'll begin with this request: please pray that God would humble me to a point of complete reliance on Him to do a good work in me.

Thank you to my First Pres. family for supporting me so generously.  If I may say so myself, I think we make a pretty awesome congregation. :)

Blessings,
Joe Dorris

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.