Forgive me if this post is a little long, but it’s after midnight, and I’m still reeling from a broken heart...
After two hectic days of interviewing sponsored children and families in Guayaquil, and encountering the extreme poverty faced by families there, my colleagues and I packed up our gear and headed to Quito. Now here I sit, at 2:00 in the morning – thousands of feet higher and several degrees cooler – trying to condense the intense emotions I’m feeling into a few meager paragraphs.
Our first day in Quito was supposed to be light. But that wasn’t to be. Before I could even acclimate to the altitude, the first interview of the day took my breath away.
Driving high up into a hillside neighborhood named La Colmena, or “The Beehive,” because of the clusters of poor families who live together in single buildings stacked like honeycombs, I was startled by the contrast to the homes we’d just visited in the low-lying river region of Guayaquil. Whereas impoverished families in Guayaquil typically live in split-cane shacks perched over dusty roads, those in Quito mainly occupy concrete tenements that cling to steep slopes that swarm with traffic. And it was there that we met 10-year-old Jessica.

Fellow writer Deron Denton and I wanted to interview Jessica because she had recently received one of the wheelchairs a group called Free Wheelchair Mission donated to sponsored children with disabilities, and we were curious to know how it was helping her get along. Our answer waited at the top of a dizzying set of narrow stone stairs that led to a claustrophobic, attic-like apartment Jessica shares with her petite grandmother, Doña Carmen.
Despite the steep surroundings, Jessica’s grandmother, 63 and barely five feet tall, used to carry her granddaughter up and down the hills to school and physical therapy every day. Pushing the wheelchair wasn’t much easier, she said, but it gave Jessica freedom to move around at school without someone to support her. When we asked who helped Jessica up the stairs to the house, the room grew quiet.
Jessica’s mother had passed away and her father, Juan Luis, had mysteriously disappeared a few months earlier, explained Doña Carmen. The police searched for him but to no avail. All she and her granddaughter could do was wait and worry about his safety.
That’s when Jessica got up and stumbled into her bedroom to show us the picture her father had drawn for her. A big smile flashed across her face as she told us what a good artist he is, but her smile turned to grief as the thought of his absence brought tears to her eyes. When I asked her what her father last said to her, all the heartache she’d been bottling up inside came rushing out in a wave of tears. Two staff members, Maria and Cecilia, rushed to her side and took her in their arms while Deron and I furiously wiped away the tears from our own eyes.
The pain of Jessica’s loss filled the room as we desperately tried to console her. And yet thanks to Maria’s and Cecilia’s kindheartedness and expert reassurance, Jessica’s smile soon returned, and she was able to find comfort in the pink sunglasses we gave her as a gift.
And now, as I sit here typing this post, bleary-eyed and heartbroken, straining to imagine a happy ending, there’s no doubt in my mind that Jessica’s loss would be unbearable if she didn’t have sponsorship to connect her with people who love and care for her. Because even at those times when life can’t seem to sink any lower, the spirit of a young girl like Jessica can still soar to new heights if you and I are there to lift her up.
By Damon Guinn. Photo by Children International Communications Coordinator in Quito, Ecuador, Cecilia Carrión.