TeamDuggan

I’ll never forget the Tuesday morning I met Maria. Yes, most Tuesdays and Fridays have at least one “Maria” on my schedule, but this Maria grabbed my heart, mind and soul. She was a petite, golden brown-eyed Latina, dressed modestly and intently interested in things we discussed during her visit. One month shy of her sixteenth birthday, already the mother of a toddler, she asked if I had time to listen to something she needed to talk about.  I knew the women waiting to see me already filled the dust-covered plastic chairs and overflowed into the waiting room, but there was an urgency in her question.  “Sure, what is it?” I asked in Spanish, knowing that this definite connection had been forged by God for some reason.  “I want to finish high school and work in a clinic like this someday—is that too much to imagine, only a dream?”  Having spent over three years in the environment this Maria lives in, I knew that many would think that was an unattainable, ridiculous dream. Tears spilled out of her eyes, and mine misted over. This girl was determined and wanted reassurance. “No, I don’t think that is too big of a dream, and I believe you can do it.” A big smile lit her face and she hugged me. And then I smiled and asked to share my dream with her. Another dream that some might think as ridiculous. A dream I have of not being the one providing care to indigent women, but working myself out of job because someone from an impoverished barrio rose above the poverty and violence, imagined more, and became a provider who remained in the community instilling hope for other Marias, in barrios here in San Jose, and throughout Latin America.  

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This morning my bus stopped for several minutes beside an newspaper seller allowing my eyes to scan the front page of a newspaper and immediately focus on a subject I became familiar with first as a pediatric emergency nurse in the U.S., and encounter nearly every day I spend in clinic here in Latin America. Domestic Abuse. The article caught my attention because it stated that an average of 222 cases of domestic abuse occured daily in Costa Rica during the first three months of 2012.

I thought about this for the remainder of the bus ride, and prayed for those who suffer abuse in the home…spouses, children and the elderly. Men and women alike. The article discussed the number of policemen who were injured while attempting to mediate such cases. I inwardly questioned the validity of such statistics, and pondered this as I poured my morning coffee and greeted the clinic staff. Life in a fallen world is messy and tainted.

Several hours later I would come face to face with this dangerous enemy. A client who had removed herself from violence by crossing a border illegally stated that she most likely would be missing her next appointment because she was thinking of returning to her homeland, hoping no further abuse would occur. I pray that I will see her cheerful face next month and that she’ll reconsider for not only herself, but for the sake of her unborn child.

It is a tremendous privilege to raise children and watch them choose God’s path.  Benjamin didn’t want to be baptized until he really felt confident it was his own choice and not just what a kid raised in a Christian family does because it’s expected.  He also didn’t want to be baptized in a church baptismal or someone’s pool.  What he chose was to be baptized at a youth retreat here in Costa Rica.  The mountain waters at eight thousand feet elevation are a bit brisk to say the least.  But he’ll never wonder if he was fully immersed!  It was my great privilege to perform the baptism in this beautiful location and this was something none of us will ever forget.  Eighty witnesses, many of whom live a missionary kid life like he does, cheered for him as he came up gasping.  May this be a marker in his life.

After three long days in meetings with various ministries, good food and great fellowship, what better way to top off the trip than an evening of jazz? Bob spent twelve years in Honduras and used his amazing gifts in music to train a new generation of gifted musicians. This evening we went to a cafe where some of his former students were playing and he joined in. What an amazing performance! Truly music crosses cultures and generations. Don't you wonder sometimes what the bands in heaven will be like?

The deaf in Honduras can be lost, particularly among the poor. Abused or neglected because they are not perceived as valuable, the deaf need a different approach. Today I visited a school for deaf children that exists to serve these kids in the name of Christ. Do you ever wonder if these teachers and administrators really enjoy what they do? I think the joy that exudes from this photo clearly answers that question.

How can beauty come from ashes? In this third in our series of videos from Latin America/Caribbean we see a part of what God is doing to transform lives in a place where hope is rare.

We met when she crashed the senior picnic at our college president’s home. I was sitting with a group of friends and she joined us to talk and eat. A day later she dropped me a note asking to have coffee together and a friendship blossomed. Sometimes I think if she knew what she’d be in for she’d have run away as fast as she could. I, on the other hand, had no clue how blessed I would be to have this woman by my side for decades.

This Fall will mark thirty years that I have known this amazing woman. Thirty years of shared experiences, challenges, thrills and frustrations. She has supported me as I’ve moved through six careers that had us living in some wild places, with money and without, through doubt and triumph. What is even more amazing is that she considers it a life she’d live over again despite the fact that she hasn’t had what most would consider a normal life.

I suspect when we are face to face with our Savior we’ll learn about many blessings he gave us that we never knew. And I suspect the biggest blessing that I have received will be my wife who has been a major reason I’ve been able to do the things I do. Proverbs 31 describes a similar woman that is celebrated by her family and the community. My wife is that woman, and her family will rise up and call her blessed.