"Hormiga," said the young Guatemalan girl as she grabbed my finger and pointed to an ant on the ground. "Yerba," she said, pointing to the grass. Having recently arrived in the country, I was wet behind the ears and scared to death. Only 19 years old, I decided to serve a mission for my church for two years. It was my first Sunday in the country and though I studied Spanish in school for 5 years and intensively for eight weeks prior to my arrival, being in Guatemala seemed to be a whole new game. Everything came much quicker, words seemed to be all joined together and I was having a hard time understanding what was being said. While my companion, Elder Castellanos (a guatemalan himself) was speaking to the leader of the congregation, the bishop's eight year old daughter tenderly took me by the hand and taught me words in Spanish. Her acceptance of me, a foreigner in her land, warmed my heart. I immediately grew to love the people of Guatemala. I later had the opportunity of working with Mexicans, Dominicans, Puerto Ricans and others. It was during these two years as a missionary that I knew that I wanted to pursue a career as a physician.Having done well in school and loving the challenge of solving problems, I Initially studied to be an engineer in college. During my mission years I came to desire to be in a field where I could interact with and bless the lives of others as well. There were many times when we would visit people in hospitals who were sick and I enjoyed my efforts to be of help. I began to think of being a doctor and on returning home, I changed my course of study and pursued medicine as my career. After completing my residency training at Barnes Hospital here in St. Louis, a friend of mine introduced me to a fledgling Spanish speaking medical clinic called, "La Clinica." It was held in the bottom of a Methodist church. Though primitive, it grew into a respectable organization. Unfortunately when the economy took a nose dive in 2007 the funding dried up and the "La Clinica" was no longer viable. In its place came "Casa de Salud" (translated Home of Health). St. Louis University has been a generous sponsor and I have continued to be a volunteer physician as before.
I view these efforts as essential to my overall development as a person, as an essential part of my health, really. I don't really give that much. I am only there, a few hours, once a month, and I share the knowledge that I have been blessed to acquire. In return, I am showered with appreciation, compassion and care. I can see in the patient's eyes gratitude for my efforts. I feel wanted and that perhaps I am making a small difference in another's life. Doing so without being payed monetarily changes the interaction dramatically. I find that as I give of myself, I leave with more than I had before. Sure there are days when I am already exhausted and I don't relish the thought of driving down and extending my day but once there, my spirits rise and I leave refreshed. At some point in my life when my children have all left the house, I will probably increase the time I spend at the clinic but for now I keep it simple, I try to stay balanced.
The image of that sweet Guatemalan girl is never far from my mind. Last week, I put my daughter on a plane as she begins a journey to Brazil. She too has decided to be a missionary. We are so proud of her and I know that by dedicating her life in serving others, she will come to know the beautiful person that she is even better than she does now. She will find her own little girls that will reach out to her, taking her by the hand and bless her life. A life of giving brings out the best in all of us.
