The rough concrete walls had been coated in white just a few days before our arrival . . . a stark contrast from other walls in the building, scarred and crumbling, yet to be repaired and restored. Mandarina School, in the La Limonada ghetto in Guatemala City, was where we would be painting our mural. We planned to include the children of the school on the project, to give them ownership and hope. Over a year of thrifty living had enabled us to save the money to make this trip possible. . . and to buy paint and brushes. Now, it was time.
What started as a color study on paper ended up being a forest scene nearly 50 feet long. As soon as the rough outlines were drawn, we designated color areas which the children began filling in with paint. For some of them, it was their first time painting. We were amazed by their focus . . . their intensity . . . their attention to detail. This mattered to them.
My husband and I worked continuously on the project Thursday and Friday. Staff members and students would pick up brushes and work with us. Saturday Tita, the director of the ministry, brought her 9-year-old son Moishe, and the four of us painted for three hours. Monday would be our last day at the school, and I didn't see how we would get finished.
I've heard it said that a true test of faith is when you take on something that will fail if God doesn't show up. Sunday, I was praying He would be there. Had I taken on more than I could manage? Was I, in my arrogance, kidding myself to think that we could accomplish such a big project in such a small amount of time? I tried not to panic, knowing all along that this project wasn't about me. Still, I felt uncertain . . .
Monday we opened the paint cans and began again. The other five members of our team came in, and all of them picked up brushes and painted. My throat tightened as I realized that God had meant for every one of us to play a part . . . that there was no inessential contribution.
Part way through the day, the rest of the team was going out to tour the ghetto and visit some homes. When Pat, one of our team members, asked if we would go, I told him I wanted to, but no. I could hear Jesus saying: "Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me." I told Pat: "I'm doing this for Jesus. I want it to be my best."
Sometimes, a project is finished because you run out of time to do more, and that was the case with our mural. As a painter, I could have added layers of detail for another week. Yet, what all of us were able to create was beautiful, because the Body of Christ came together to accomplish what one or two people could not do alone. Even more, the beauty came from each painter giving his or her best.
This project is for you, Jesus. We pray that by blessing the children of Mandarina, it will bless you, and make you smile.
--Susan Rodebush © 2009
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