Transplanting in a new location to another involves a lot of physical and mental energy, but I looked forward to this move and saw it as a dream come true. The Lord brought forth the miracle for James Project of Latin America to own ten acres of land. This allowed for the growth of our vision and for the at-risk children of Guatemala. I could mentally picture the children riding bikes, playing soccer and basketball, planting gardens, and just enjoying the wide open spaces. However, among the promises of great things ahead mingled the protests of some who didn’t want to be uprooted.
Approached by one of our workers, I balked at the words I heard. “Mama Carroll, I do not want to leave Guatemala City and move to Monjas. I will if that is what the Lord wants me to do, and I think that is what I’m hearing Him say. But I don’t want to go.” I decided his roots lay deep in the ground and prayed for him to fall completely in love with Monjas. Lord, please don’t let his attitude affect the girls and other workers who are going with us.
Nely* approached me in the apartment with a sour face and tears in her eyes. “I do not want to leave San Cristobal!” she declared. I wondered why she had been sulking.
“Mi Amor, you need to give this move a chance. You will have more freedom and be safer in Monjas. You are going to be surprised at how much better it will be for us to live there.” The cold look on her face told me my words had fallen on deaf ears. Her attitude during the weeks of packing and preparing to move suggested that she would remind us of her protests.
The words of these two reminded me of when I pulled up roots to move to Guatemala. Even in the excitement of the adventure, I knew I would miss parts of my life in the States. Transitions have some pain, and that comes with the root pulling and transplanting. I hadn’t lived in Guatemala very long before I knew I would be staying here permanently. I hoped that these two would find God’s will for their lives and feel the peace that follows when we walk the path of His plans.
I stayed in Monjas for a week before the big move to find a place to live. The Monjas people had little experience with gringos, and options for housing appeared limited. Lord, guide me to the right place. You know my needs and desires. I viewed three places and quickly narrowed it down to two. I called one the “turkey house” because the owners had some live turkeys living in the yard that separated the bedrooms from the kitchen. The other house had balconies that I loved, but its stairs were double-sized steps. I had to stretch to use them. The wall of the house shared a wall with the neighbors, with a large open section to the outside. If someone climbed over the wall, they could walk up the stairs and into the living room and kitchen, because that section lacked doors. The other rooms had doors and locks. Loving the openness, the electric garage door, and the second story balconies, it enticed me.
I decided to rent the balcony house and shared it with swarming bats, who graciously ate the mosquito population. The back wall and balcony butted right up to a corral of about twenty or so head of cattle. Remember my country-girl heart? I had it all, including that lovely barnyard smell that filled the air. I had my home, and I felt a deep peace being in it. Lord, I pray that all who move with us will feel the peace that I feel. I ask for favor for them as the transplanting in a new location proceeds.
*Name has been changed.