Claire Jacob Guatemala Journal: Final Words
Aug 21, 2017 | Women's Swimming and Diving
Tulane diver Claire Jacob is currently on a mission trip in Patzún, Guatemala. She will provide updates and photograph her journey during the two-week trip, sharing her experiences along way.
DAY 14Â - August 14, 2017
Entry by Claire Jacob
Today Maria and I said goodbye to the kids at the orphanage. Because the program that Maria DeRenzo, Gracie Daigle, and I co-founded is so sustained by the community, Maria and I only had to spend a few hours at the school for meetings and the rest of our time was well-spent at the orphanage where we studied with the children there and painted one of the dormitories. Because we were blessed enough to grow even closer to kids at the orphanage this year, the goodbyes were harder than they had been in the past..




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Maria and I have been traveling to Guatemala for four years now, so we have had the opportunity to watch many of the children at the orphanage literally grow up. Many kids have moved back in with their families, some now have siblings at the hogar, and others have not seen their parents in a number of years. I would like to take this opportunity to share with you a few stories of incredible resiliency that would otherwise go untold.
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One boy was 14 years old when we met him and is now 18. The first year that we were in Guatemala, we hardly saw him as he spent most of his time with an older boy as recluses in their room. The only words that we would get out of him were those vulgarities that he and the older boy would utter under their breath. This year is the last for him to live in the orphanage as he is graduating from electrician school this year. Now, he always greets us with, "Hola Clarita! Hola Maria!" and is constantly caring to the babies with a huge smile on his face when he isn't at school or studying.Â
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Two siblings who we have known for a number of years were not at the hogar last year as they went to live at home, however, they were back this year. The girl is now 16 and the boy is 14. We learned that at home she was living with her older sister and her three kids until her sister went to the United States. The children were left to the care of the girl that we knew from the orphanage. At the age of 14, she had to feed, bathe, and love one baby and two toddlers in lieu of their mother. Maria and I realized when we first arrived this year that she was… different in a way: less care-free, more reserved, much more quiet, and had a sort of glazed look in her eyes compared to two years before.

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Another girl, who is 19, had a baby two weeks ago. Apparently she started dating a boy from her school this year and had been often sneaking out at night to spend time with him. One night, she didn't return until 6 a.m., and one of the other older girls who is a certified nurse met her at the front door to let her in. The nurse who we're also friends with told us that she could tell something was awry. She knew that the girl was pregnant just by looking at the way she was pale in the face. The girl told the nuns that she couldn't live at the hogar anymore and left for Chimaltenango, a larger town in the area. She lived there for a few months where she worked and provided for herself. Pregnant and alone, she was retrieved by the mother of her boyfriend and the father of her child around five months after moving to Chimaltenango. She married her boyfriend and now lives with her in-laws as the only blood-relative she has is her sister at the hogar.

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Maria and I visited the girl and her daughter daily while we were there. Originally we were upset when we learned that the dorky 18 year old boy with glasses and a smile radiating his own pre-pubescent insecurities who answered the door was her husband, however, we got to know him a bit more with each visit and realized that he loves his wife and daughter very much: he dropped out of school to work in his father's electronic repair store so that he can provide for his new family. As we left her house on our last day, Maria and I simply said, "we love you so much". On the walk back to the hogar though, Maria and I talked about how much more we wanted to say to her – to affirm her – but just didn't have the words in Spanish.


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After saying the daily rosary with the kids at the hogar on Sunday night (our last night there), some of the children stood up individually and thanked us for sharing in friendship and love with them. One talked about how they know how difficult it is for us to pay for the trip to Guatemala, take off from work/practice/school to come every year and said "but we're like family now, so you've gotta come visit." Even the boy who was once a hoodlum gave a short speech. I had been holding myself together until then, but when he started talking, I realized how proud I was of him, along with so many other kids at the hogar who we watched grow into incredible young men and women – strengthened with love and resilience in the face of each trial that they encounter.
What I wish I had the words to say to them in Spanish:
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Brothers and sisters, I am so proud of you and bewildered by the way that you all have matured over the past four years. You have been through so much and I cannot even begin to fathom how difficult it must be to grow up without a father who tucks you in every night, a mother who reads you a bedtime story - parents who listen to your daily school adventures from across the dinner table. You, the poor and vulnerable, are by leaps and bounds the strongest and richest individuals I have yet to know. You have been deprived of so many basic necessities that I have assumed as givens but you are rich in a love that has managed to transform my overprivileged and undertender heart.Â
Â
Beyond all odds, you have become nurses, electricians, and teachers; biological and spiritual fathers, mothers, and siblings. I know that you will be incredible parents filled with love and compassion for your children and Maria and I will definitely be there to pester you and your families when that day comes.Â
Â
Thank you for an incredible four years of growing with you and I can't wait to see you all again next year. You are always in my prayers.

DAY 14Â - August 14, 2017
Entry by Claire Jacob
Today Maria and I said goodbye to the kids at the orphanage. Because the program that Maria DeRenzo, Gracie Daigle, and I co-founded is so sustained by the community, Maria and I only had to spend a few hours at the school for meetings and the rest of our time was well-spent at the orphanage where we studied with the children there and painted one of the dormitories. Because we were blessed enough to grow even closer to kids at the orphanage this year, the goodbyes were harder than they had been in the past..
Â
Maria and I have been traveling to Guatemala for four years now, so we have had the opportunity to watch many of the children at the orphanage literally grow up. Many kids have moved back in with their families, some now have siblings at the hogar, and others have not seen their parents in a number of years. I would like to take this opportunity to share with you a few stories of incredible resiliency that would otherwise go untold.
Â
One boy was 14 years old when we met him and is now 18. The first year that we were in Guatemala, we hardly saw him as he spent most of his time with an older boy as recluses in their room. The only words that we would get out of him were those vulgarities that he and the older boy would utter under their breath. This year is the last for him to live in the orphanage as he is graduating from electrician school this year. Now, he always greets us with, "Hola Clarita! Hola Maria!" and is constantly caring to the babies with a huge smile on his face when he isn't at school or studying.Â
Â
Two siblings who we have known for a number of years were not at the hogar last year as they went to live at home, however, they were back this year. The girl is now 16 and the boy is 14. We learned that at home she was living with her older sister and her three kids until her sister went to the United States. The children were left to the care of the girl that we knew from the orphanage. At the age of 14, she had to feed, bathe, and love one baby and two toddlers in lieu of their mother. Maria and I realized when we first arrived this year that she was… different in a way: less care-free, more reserved, much more quiet, and had a sort of glazed look in her eyes compared to two years before.
Â
Another girl, who is 19, had a baby two weeks ago. Apparently she started dating a boy from her school this year and had been often sneaking out at night to spend time with him. One night, she didn't return until 6 a.m., and one of the other older girls who is a certified nurse met her at the front door to let her in. The nurse who we're also friends with told us that she could tell something was awry. She knew that the girl was pregnant just by looking at the way she was pale in the face. The girl told the nuns that she couldn't live at the hogar anymore and left for Chimaltenango, a larger town in the area. She lived there for a few months where she worked and provided for herself. Pregnant and alone, she was retrieved by the mother of her boyfriend and the father of her child around five months after moving to Chimaltenango. She married her boyfriend and now lives with her in-laws as the only blood-relative she has is her sister at the hogar.
Â
Maria and I visited the girl and her daughter daily while we were there. Originally we were upset when we learned that the dorky 18 year old boy with glasses and a smile radiating his own pre-pubescent insecurities who answered the door was her husband, however, we got to know him a bit more with each visit and realized that he loves his wife and daughter very much: he dropped out of school to work in his father's electronic repair store so that he can provide for his new family. As we left her house on our last day, Maria and I simply said, "we love you so much". On the walk back to the hogar though, Maria and I talked about how much more we wanted to say to her – to affirm her – but just didn't have the words in Spanish.
Â
After saying the daily rosary with the kids at the hogar on Sunday night (our last night there), some of the children stood up individually and thanked us for sharing in friendship and love with them. One talked about how they know how difficult it is for us to pay for the trip to Guatemala, take off from work/practice/school to come every year and said "but we're like family now, so you've gotta come visit." Even the boy who was once a hoodlum gave a short speech. I had been holding myself together until then, but when he started talking, I realized how proud I was of him, along with so many other kids at the hogar who we watched grow into incredible young men and women – strengthened with love and resilience in the face of each trial that they encounter.
What I wish I had the words to say to them in Spanish:
Â
Brothers and sisters, I am so proud of you and bewildered by the way that you all have matured over the past four years. You have been through so much and I cannot even begin to fathom how difficult it must be to grow up without a father who tucks you in every night, a mother who reads you a bedtime story - parents who listen to your daily school adventures from across the dinner table. You, the poor and vulnerable, are by leaps and bounds the strongest and richest individuals I have yet to know. You have been deprived of so many basic necessities that I have assumed as givens but you are rich in a love that has managed to transform my overprivileged and undertender heart.Â
Â
Beyond all odds, you have become nurses, electricians, and teachers; biological and spiritual fathers, mothers, and siblings. I know that you will be incredible parents filled with love and compassion for your children and Maria and I will definitely be there to pester you and your families when that day comes.Â
Â
Thank you for an incredible four years of growing with you and I can't wait to see you all again next year. You are always in my prayers.
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