Tuesday, Thursday and Friday mornings consist of "caminatas," which are more or less neighborhood walks, where Sergio and I go visit with the mothers and children in Los Cuadros. Leaving the homes, I am often in shock, convinced that there's no way I could see or hear anything worse than what is just experienced. Life's full of fear, pain, and sorrow. Home after home of mothers saying they're absolutely exhausted, pregnant teenage girls, and walls that don't even keep out the rain, much less the danger of this environment. I often ask Sergio how he chooses where we walk, or who we visit. There are so many families in need of simply someone who is willing to listen, how does he choose? Time and time again, he has told me that he says a prayer in the morning when he wakes up, asking God to lead him to the homes of the people who are in most desperate need. He allows God to guide his journey, and simply walks in the direction in which his heart is pointing. Today, yet again, I saw God work directly through Sergio as we stumbled along the path of three different homes where the mothers were hopeless; it was as if they had been asking God for some light, and God was answering their prayers through Sergio. I have never met a man so gifted.
The first house we stopped at wasn't even planned, but as we walked past, and it registered in Sergio's mind that he had visitied with this mother a few times before, he began to knock on her door. She opened immediately, as if she knew we were coming, and there were already tears in her eyes. She invited us to sit down on the couch, and then was mortified as I sat in the spot where her child had just had an accident. I told her not to worry, Sergio asked her what was going on, and she pointed to a mirror on the wall behind her with a bullet hole straight through it. I guess she could tell from the puzzled look on my face that I didn't understand, thus she led me into her bedroom, and showed me the bedroom through which the bullet had entered just last night, waking them at 3:00 in then morning. It went through her window, through her bedroom wall and the mirror on the other side, through her child's bedroom door and stuck into the wall right beside his bed. They had been awake and terrified ever since; she was still shaking. There were no words that neither Sergio nor myself could say to what this mother was feeling away, as she told us that her home was located in the war zone, between two battling gangs, and that she was out of work, hadn't eaten in days, and couldn't even dream of relocating. I looked over and noticed that her baby was eating mayonnaise out of a bowl because that was all she could offer him, and I wanted to burst into tears. We sat with this woman for about an hour as she spoke to us about the danger, her failing marriage and her recent thoughts of suicide. The hardest part was knowing that the only thing would could provide this woman was our love and prayers.
A bit overwhelmed, we continued our walk, when suddenly Sergio began knocking on yet another unplanned gate. A young girl stuck her head out the window and told us her mother wasn't home, but told her two little brothers to let us in the gate and onto the porch. We entered and Sergio asked her where her mother was, she replied, "At work." He asked her why she was home alone with the boys and not at school, and she told us she wasn't going to school anymore because she had to take care of her little brothers because they couldn't afford child care. "Did you want to stop going to school?" Sergio asked her, and immediately tears began to well in her eyes as this ten year old little girl told us she wanted to go to school so badly, but her mother wouldn't let her. Thus she and her two brothers are at home, alone, in the house all day everyday as their mother works. As we left I became angry with this child's mother, "How could she do that to her child?" I asked Sergio. When he looked at me and just smiled, I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me without saying a word, "Who are you to judge this woman, Caroline. You have absolutely no idea what her life looks like." And my heart melted; I really don't have any idea.
And then finally, we made it to the house we had intended to go to all along. One of the "ranches" right down the hill from the home of the biggest drug dealers in the area; the ones who are often seen shooting shot guns into the sky from their roof. We visit this house very often, because though the mother is always telling us how much love there is in her home, her five girls all wear a face of sadness unlike any that I have ever seen. Yesterday, when we arrived, we were greeted with coffee and homemade "Tres Leches" cake. For some unknown reason, this mother was especially open and willing to share yesterday, therefore when Sergio asked her what her life was like as a child, stories began to spill. She told us that she was always the rejected child growing up, therefore when she found a boyfriend at age 14, she moved into a "home" with him. When they were 16, they got married and had their first child; by age 26, they had five daughters. Today, their daughters range from age 12 to 22... The 22 year old has a four year old son, and the 19 year old has a 1 year old daughter. They all live in this home made of scrap metal together. There are rats, the walls don't keep out the water, and there is hardly room, much less food for them all. I looked upon this brave woman with disbelief; I am constantly amazed by what some people are capable of enduring. And the most unbelievable part about it is her faith despite all of her suffering. As she looks upon her sad, skinny, yet gorgeous girls, she speaks of God, and His plan for she and her family, and how grateful she is for all the blessings He has given her. 
It is in these places that I feel closer to God than ever, which is often troubling. Why is it then when I am with people who are fighting some of the worst violence and poverty that I feel God's presence so strongly? Maybe it is because I can feel Him working through me as I visit these homes. Maybe it is because the only thing some of these families have is there faith, and therefore it is infinitely strong. I don't know the answer, really, all I know is that God's presence here is undeniable.
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