Breakfast was at 7:00 am and, as usual, we were the first ones there. Yeni led devotions, and afterward we took the van to a new part of town about an hour away, where the main focus of the day was a wheelchair distribution.

We set up and then had to wait for the mayor to arrive for a small ceremony before we could begin. At first we had no patients, as everyone was being fitted for their wheelchairs, so we made rainbow loom bracelets to give to the disabled children.

I ended up seeing around ten patients. One man had very uncontrolled diabetes with ketones and refused to go to the hospital at first. After talking for a while he finally agreed to go to the local clinic the next day. Another lady was deeply depressed—her son had taken his own life and her husband had left her. I asked Ric to pray with her.

Lunch was delicious according to Ric. I had eaten a Kind bar earlier, so I wasn’t expecting lunch at all. After we finished clinic we packed everything up and took the supplies to the next location for tomorrow.

By the time we got back it was late. Ric and I decided to go to the supermarket for a simple supper—bread, bananas, cheese, and oranges—and we also stocked up on Rheumafrost.

Later, Vicente knocked on our door and handed us some empanadas. We went downstairs to play Skip-Bo and brought Yeni and Fernanda to choose some Bath & Body Works and other small gifts we had brought from home. Tomorrow would be their last day with us, and Yeni was quite emotional. She told us they had adopted us as honorary grandparents.

Then we packed and went to bed.

Reflection

Today was a beautiful reminder that ministry is not only about giving — it’s also about receiving. We watched children gain mobility through new wheelchairs, and we handed out bracelets that made little faces light up. Yet we also received gifts: the trust of patients who shared their deepest grief, empanadas from Vicente, and the tender affection from Yeni and Fernanda who see us as family.

It struck me how God weaves love into the smallest moments — a prayer for someone hurting, a shared meal, a handmade bracelet, even a simple trip to the supermarket. In a day full of both waiting and working, He quietly knit hearts together.