Living Water

GUATEMALA – It felt like the grass was attacking me. Every inch of my sensitive skin was begging me to get up out of this foreign, dry grass but I was too exhausted from running to move. We all just laid together on our backs, staring at the sky in silence, trying to catch our breath. Off in the distance I could hear the sound of the well being drilled in the school yard. My eyes swelled with tears as I thought of the kids racing again, racing to their well to drink deeply the fresh, clean water. Suddenly, someone laughed. It didn’t take long for that laugh to trickle through all of us. Soon everyone was laughing and one by one, we sprang to our feet as they yelled at me: “Again! Again!”

From the very first day my heart was broken when, toward the end of the day, the kids asked “Tomorrow? Tomorrow?” I knew I could answer honestly only a few times with a resounding “Yes! Tomorrow!” My heart ached every time I said “yes” knowing that on the last day I would have to answer “No, I won’t see you tomorrow.” And more than likely, never again.

With this realization, I made up my mind to soak up as much time with the kids as I could. I played harder in those few short days than I think I ever had as a kid. We ran until we collapsed in a heap in the aforementioned field. We sang ridiculous, made-up songs, and we sang them ridiculously loud. I taught them a little English; they did their best to teach me some Spanish.

I slowly began to realize that through all of this God was teaching me how to love him again. As we played I could hear him whisper to me, “This is how I want you to love me, this is how I want you to delight in me. All I want from you is:

…to laugh with me like a child
…to sing to me like a child
…to run to me like a child
…to cry out to me like child
…to trust in me like a child…”

I went to Guatemala to document a well being built, to tell a story about a village moving from dirty water to clean water, from death to life. In the midst of this I was blessed enough to capture my own resurrection story. I am reminded every time I look in the faces of the children in Los Cruces that God loves me, and all he desires of me is to love him back.
 

See more of Natalie’s work at nataliehebert.net.