The most frequent question asked me about my medical mission trip to Guatemala is: “What did you do there, John?” And for folks who don’t know me, that question takes various other forms, like: “Oh, are you a doctor?” or “Are you a pastor?” or “How’d you manage to sneak into a trip to Central America with a bunch of brilliant medical people?!”

Good questions – especially since I didn’t have a clue myself what I might be doing when I signed up for this trip. I just knew the Spirit had said “Go!”, so I went. Of course, being the adventurous type, I fantasized myself in grass huts, sun beating down, sweat pouring from my brow, dust stirring beneath my feet as I lovingly cleaned wounds, held snotty nose children and sympathetically pulled rotten teeth. Parts of this picture were absolutely accurate. Me as Dr. Livingston was not.

So, what did I actually end up doing? Well a little of this, a little of that – mostly just being myself – which is easy enough. At the airport, I was a porter stacking crates and tossing luggage. On the first clinic day, I directed traffic – as in getting patients sorted out and into the right clinic rooms. I also became the Fan Man (read my post below entitled: “New Aromas”) in the dental clinic. And I bribed, I mean, made friends with the local police simply by acting like a dumb gringo (no act) and passing out boxes of Chiclets. And I held a little girl’s head after she passed out. I told jokes, learned Spanish phrases, put together a basketball tournament, signed a copy of one of my kids’ books for a Guatemalan family (who couldn’t read a word of English), and generally zipped around doing whatever I could to be involved – just like any other day of my life. Except in this case, on this trip, in this country, there were so many opportunities, so many people in need, and all so receptive to the help.

That was Day 1.

On Day 2, I assembled part of a used dental chair that had been donated to the orphanage across the street from where we were HQd. I tripped over some pieces of reinforcing rod that had been used to hold concrete forms, and were dangerously sticking up right along a walk way. So a couple of orphans and I got a hammer and had fun driving that ‘rebar’ deep into the ground. I played with kids, played basketball, read, talked, learned, got to know a lot more about some of the other team members, and ended the day with an awesome church service (see my post below entitled: “El Shaddai Service”)

But Day 3 was when things really hit stride – when I really found my niche – found how I could most be a contributing part of the team. And not surprisingly, it was simply by being me!

Being me usually involves people, and especially kids. And that usually equates to having fun, being goofy, making new friends and making people feel good, making them laugh. Susan introduced me to a plastic crate full of crayons, stickers, V-day hearts and crafts, and what quickly became my #2 prop – a simple stamp and red ink pad. A butterfly – mariposa in Espanol – that very obviously had a mind of its own as it took wing to leave crimson impressions on people’s cheeks, foreheads, hands, arms. As much as I tried to control the actions of this simple little mariposa – butterfly in English – its actions got more and more outlandish every hour of every day we were in Guatemala!

Thus I became the roving minstrel, the court jester – out on the sidewalk or the street working the crowd. Butterfly images all over everybody. Hugging, making fun of my six basic Spanish phrases, high fiving, tripping over my own feet, stopping traffic in the middle of the street just so I could say ‘HI’ to the drivers, and teaching Guatemalan kids the ’splat’ (if you don’t know, I’ll show you next time we’re hangin’ out). And, yeah, this is the part where holding snotty nosed babies came true.

But as popular as the mariposa (you know what that means in English now, right?) became, my #1 prop by far was candy. And not just any candy, but magic candy!! Of course I didn’t know it was magic when I bought it by the bag full at Wal-Mart in Franklin, Tennessee. I was just following the suggestion of my dear and missions-hearted friend, Julie Riedel. She’s been there, done that, so if she said take bags of candy, then I was going to stuff as many pounds into my duffel as possible.

Amazingly, from the minute I opened that first bag and filled my cargo pant pockets, it was obvious some magic had made its way into my luggage. Either that or the sugar content was radically altered by being closer to the Equator! Candy started appearing from everywhere! From inside old men’s cowboy hats, from little boys’ pockets, and almost always from deep within little girls’ ponytails. It was amazing. Just shake the ponytail, and out would cascade candy – and usually in just the right quantity for every member of that family unit to get exactly one piece!  It worked for pigtails, too!!

Cheap tricks, sure. Amatuerish slight of hand, absolutely. But did it ever delight the crowd. And isn’t it refreshing to imagine a culture where a single piece of candy was deeply appreciated. Think about that for a minute, will you please?

And then there were stacks of plain photocopy paper originally intended for one or another craft project, but being much more artsy than craftsy, I soon gave up on origami and started a paper airplane factory instead. The sky was filled with aeronautical wonders zipping, zooming, zagging. One day, I had an impormptu (does that word kinda describe my whole involvement here?!) contest to see who could fly a plane right into my wide open mouth. Nobody won, but one flight came close enough to zap me right in the heart area of my chest. Feigning impalement, I staggered backward, forward, sideways, before collapsing flat on my back on the asphalt, grasping the plane as it still ‘protruded’ from my chest, legs twitching, body quivering just before my last gasp! Everybody within 50 feet cracked up! I’ve seldom enjoyed dying quite so much!

So now you see why in a team meeting one night, Libby described my contribution as being “like the opening act”. Doug would later call it “John’s silly shtick”, but spoken with a smile. Someone else would express that I made people comfortable – relaxed them while they were waiting (for hours) outside the clinic.

Did I get hot and dirty – sure did. Did sweat run from my brow – big time. Did I get the grime and smells and germs of those wonderful people all over me – yup! Was I exhausted at the end of every day – actually no. I was so buzzed on adrenaline that I couldn’t sit still. A nice natural high

For me, it was just fooling around, making people happy … just being me. My encouragement for you would be to make sure you know yourself well, and then just go be yourself in whatever you do. Jesus came to set us free – and appreciating how he wired us is one of the most special freedoms of all …