You burrowed your way into my heart many, many years ago - your dusty, dirty roads; your poverty; your children...God's children. Deep in the back of my mind, but coming ever and ever closer to my daily thoughts, is the idea of going back, and this time, not just for a few days.
Lydia of Guatemala, my daughter holds your name, and the next time I'm there and I hold a child I'll have the skills I need to help that child be healthy. I pray you are healthy. I pray you didn't fall victim to the violence against women, or the poverty, or the diseases. Maybe your mama came back to that orphanage for you.
So, Guatemala, I will see you again, and this time I'll pass on the refried beans sold in this place, and the papaya sold on the street that was apparently rinsed in poo water. I'll pack better bug spray and maybe bring MY Lydia along.