GUATEMALA

After traveling from 8am Saturday until 4pm Sunday, I admittedly was feeling so self-centered when I arrived in Puerto Barrios 2 weeks ago: "i'm hungry, i'm tired, it’s hot, I feel sick from that boat ride..." The weather on the peninsula was staggeringly humid, unlike any I have ever experienced. Coincidentally, that afternoon was my first opportunity to meet my girls. The language barrier was glaring, and even though our team had a translator, I couldn’t think of what to say. I honestly felt I might not be able to connect with them because of all these obstacles. We ate our lunch in relative silence and I wondered what I was doing in Guatemala.

Our first full day was what I had been waiting for - Soccer. We were receiving our jerseys and beginning league play. Being such a competitive person, I was hoping my team would dominate and I could make some jabs at the other members of my church who were there since we were all coaching different teams for the most part. Very quickly, I realized this camp was going to be more about moral victories and less about our rank among other teams. We didn't win or even score a goal on our first day, and it was a bit demoralizing. Our girls yelled at each other and by the end of the day, they were separated into 3 little cliques. I feared I was losing them already.

On day 2, I did my very best Gordon Bombay impression from The Mighty Ducks and gave a motivational speech. I ended it with "let's give everything we have to get our first goal, and after that, everything will fall into place." Even then, our team was still winless and scoreless after 2 days. Something began to change in me though: I saw the sadness on their faces and the frustration after each match, and I knew it wasn't about me. I did everything I could to cheer them up, offering to do crazy things with my hair or silly pranks so they wouldn’t lose their spirits. I viewed myself as more of their mascot until one very scary moment. One of my girls was not feeling well so we subbed her out of the match. I didn’t think much of it - she was probably just tired. I continued coaching, and as yet another match ended in defeat, I turned to find her receiving medical attention. My heart sank and I ran over to her. In that moment I realized just how much I cared for these girls and I knew there was no coming back from that. I was so stricken with guilt in that moment that I cried and I prayed fervently. I was the one pushing her to play harder, and now she could hardly breathe. I was so upset as dinner approached and still trying to think of something to say to the girls to cheer them up. As I was talking to some of the other volunteers, I heard a loud cheer from across camp. And again, and again.

Somehow in the midst of hating each other’s guts the first few days, the girls had developed a rallying cry: “Eso!” It was them I was hearing, and as it became more audible, I ran to meet them. Suddenly I felt incredible, and in that moment the girls had lifted my spirits when I was so sure I needed to do that for them. I joined in our cheer and that night at dinner was the most energetic the girls had been since we arrived; we had so much fun laughing, telling jokes, making up cheers and playing games. Our team really did find strength in “eso!”, found the courage to persevere, and even though we still lost, we played harder and harder, we played “con ganas”! Finally, breakthrough: we managed to tie with another team on the last day of league play! Though we didn’t score a goal, we put forth our best effort and the match ended 0-0, and I was so overwhelmed with pride for their hard work. I don’t think anyone expected anything from these girls - they were put together at the last minute as a replacement for another team that couldn’t make it, and they had never played together. The underdogs fought extremely hard and we earned our first point in the standings.

Though we didn’t win any of our games, I could see the girls begin to believe in themselves and that to me was a victory. I could see it in the way they played even, suddenly more confident and their skill level increased tremendously. Even when they messed up, they were able to laugh about it with each other and they always were encouraging; it was such a beautiful thing to watch and even more beautiful to me now as I reflect on it. There was one moment specifically where one girl went to clear the ball, missed completely and fell in the mud. On the first day, the team would have gone through with a mutiny but now just a couple days later, everyone laughed along with her and the other defenders helped her up. I was an incredibly proud coach.

Leading up to the camp, I envisioned my team and I hoisting the cup as we won the championship on the final day, but this was much different than my reality. We were the last place team in the league, and we were playing exhibitions against other teams just for fun. Still, we were set on scoring their first goal. Our girl who had trouble breathing was back after two days of rest, and she wanted more than anything to score for our team. From the opening touch she took the ball down the field, dribbling right through the heart of the other team, and though she got close, her shot didn’t find the net. The games carried on that same way all afternoon; the girls were getting chances to score but just coming up a bit short.

In our last game, we had a rematch with a team that destroyed us just a couple of days prior, and this game didn’t start out much different. They scored 3 goals against us in the first ten minutes or so, and our hopes of scoring dwindled. As the scoreline reached 6-0 in the second half, I began to think it wouldn’t happen - our girls would come in last place and be the only team not to score in the entire camp. I was brought back to reality by the sound of a blown whistle. Penalty kick. I don’t believe that we did anything to earn it, but the referees knew the girls were working for their first goal, and they awarded our team a shot. Our hardest kicker stepped up to take it and I am positive my heart stopped beating. It went in. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered but to rejoice over my girls for all their perseverance and hard work. I sprinted out onto the field to celebrate with them, and we spent at least 5 minutes in the middle of the match hugging, crying and rolling around in the mud in the middle of the field. It was one of the best moments of my life, and I will never ever forget it. We celebrated with each other at dinner that night over glass bottled Coca-Cola, popsicles and a tray of cookies. I can still hear them chanting “te queremos, Jeffery, te queremos!” and it makes me smile when I think about it. The impact I thought I would never make happened, and the family I hoped they’d become was realized. One goal lifted the world for these young ladies, and everything else was indeed falling into place.

I got to hear several of their stories later that night, and my heart ached for them. These sweet, hilarious young ladies who loved to eat and have perfect hair-do’s for all their games, had experienced such immense sorrow and grief in their short lifetimes. We talked until the camp staff made us go to bed, and we grew so close. I shared my testimony with all of them earlier that day, and my hope is that my willingness to be vulnerable spurred them towards trusting us and opening up about their lives.

The next day was so difficult for me. We had breakfast and then had to say our goodbyes. We had a big group hug and I wept over them, knowing the realities they would return to and that I couldn’t go with them. I walked them down to the dock, unloaded their luggage and said one last goodbye. I saw them off, and my heart sank, crying again for my little girls. My team was returning to a world, to families that hated them, called them mistakes, and abused them. My soul was crushed.

I did a lot of other cool stuff on this trip. I played guitar for the worship band every night with an amazing group of musicians. I was encouraged to have fun and for the first time in my life, people asked me to turn my amp up. It was a riot every single night and I saw beautiful things happening from the best spot in the house - a new generation connecting with their Creator, singing and dancing. I saw the bondage of sin and death lifted from their lives; as they worshiped, true goodness poured out over them and they left behind the lies that shaped them. There was also lament in their midst, and I left the stage to pray for every one of them that I could whenever possible. As much joy as I experienced, there was also weeping like i’d never heard before, loud cries that will haunt me the rest of my life. I felt my heart breaking for them and ultimately, shattered for God’s beautiful creations that lived their entire lives apart from the truth of the inherent value and worth they all possess.

I met some amazing people that I will never forget. I spent a day in Antigua. I got to try some local goodies and drinks which is always high on my priority list. I journaled. I helped pray away Hurricane Earl. One of my girls gave me boxer braids. I bought a hammock. I made some dumb jokes. I cried alot. I got to visit a foreign land. I consumed more chicken and black beans then I could ever want again in a lifetime. I could have talked in length about all of those things, but I wanted to share the story of grupo once, equipo verde fluorescente and the legend of “Eso!” because they will live forever in my heart. I see my girls faces every single day, I miss them and I wonder about them. I worry for them, and then I pray. God has comforted me in that He will watch over them when I wish I could, and I am sure that He’ll do a much better job than I. Somehow, I know that these girls returned to the same dire situations but not as the same people they were before. I believe they will be the catalysts, the ones who break cycles, those whom God uses to redeem broken things. I came back to my apartment and my job in the states and to my family who was worried sick about me, and I felt horribly privileged and ashamed of all i’d taken for granted before. I am still struggling to feel comfortable here, to adjust to living this life again, but I am aware of this: I did not come home the same person either, and I feel that I too can become a catalyst and one whom God can use.