This next post was written by Samantha Knopp and Scott Reynolds.
At the end of our trip, our minds and bodies feel more deeply the effects of our immersion. As we prepare to head back home there is a growing anticipation of some of the comforts of home (drinkable tap water, reliably hot showers, and of course, sushi!), but there is also a growing realization of just how much we have as Canadians. It is easy to forget the true gift of the social security systems we have inherited (and are responsible for), and it has been impossible not to compare the stark differences in healthcare, education and governmental accountability from our Canadian experiences to our experiences in Guatemala.
A couple of days ago, we visited Transitions, an NPO that provides mobility for those in need with affordable wheelchairs and prosthetics, as well as other much needed support and advocacy. We were greeted by the organization's founder, John Bell, an American expat who after just one visit to Guatemala over 20 years ago redirected his entire life's energy to support this desperately needed work. John greeted us with a surprising amount of energy and excitement given that he had only gotten a few hours of rest due to an unexpected hospital all-nighter (John's most recent patient/adoption, a 16-year-old gunshot victim, needed emergency surgery).
Doris affectionately likened John to Mother Teresa, and the description seemed fitting in that moment, even moreso as we learned more about Transitions and John's ongoing work (even if it's hard to imagine Mother Teresa moving at John's frenetic pace). After a brief introduction from John, we were handed over to Joel, a man now in his early 30's who has been with the project since he was 12 years old after his brother became physically impaired. As John generously admitted, Joel could basically run the site we were at on his own. From fitting and making almost all of the prosthetics, coaching the national wheelchair basketball team (best in Central America), and overseeing building projects (while we were there he was installing a 20 ft well) Joel seemed to very capably do it all, a modern-day Renaissance Man aweing us all as we walked with him.
But this project has many sites, and is about far more than just one or two people. There's the printmaking site where many of the people given wheelchairs or prosthetics are also employed in a for-profit businesss; there's the wheelchair assembly site where many others are working on hundreds of quality wheelchairs every year; and there's John's home, which also doubles as an office and emergency shelter. For people like John and Joel, the project has fused to their personal lives from a place of love, but it's about the people recovering from polio, or from gang violence, or from years of neglect in hospital. This is a project about choosing life and compassion in a situation where "just going along" would result in death and apathy. In that way, this project is a living embodiment of the gospel.
It is strange to be back in the city of Antigua, alongside tourists strolling cobblestone sidewalks, strange to be back in an airport in the United States where thousands drink the tap water without thinking, strange to be back in Canada with family and friends. We arrive home more thankful, more inspired, more ready, thanks to people like John and Joel and the others at Transitions, to embody the gospel ourselves.