Bogota Blessings (12 page)

Shrugging off the weight of the past, Mateo looked up at
El Señor Caído
above the altar. The sculpture depicting a bloodied and bruised Christ halfway between sitting and lying down had captured Mateo’s attention the first time he entered this church as an angry eighteen-year-old.

He’d lived with Carlos and Maria for nearly a year, and he’d finally admitted his intense dislike for all things Catholic. Carlos, although a Protestant minister, hadn’t been willing to allow a cruel man with no true understanding of salvation color Mateo’s perception of the Catholic Church. He’d coerced Mateo into boarding the funicular to the top of Monserrate and then told him they would only go home again after visiting the church. Since Mateo hadn’t gotten his first prosthetic leg yet, he was unable to walk down the mountain and had to go along with the pastor’s plan.

They’d entered the mostly empty church, and Mateo wanted to leave as soon as he saw the twin rows of pews stretching toward the altar at the far end. Although fancier than many of the churches his commander had forced him to go into, it didn’t prevent the familiar feelings of resentment and anger. At Carlos’s urging, he sat in one of the pews about halfway up. Once he was settled, Carlos wandered off and Mateo’s gaze went to
El Señor Caído
. Seeing the image of the injured man with a silver crown of thorns ringing his head made something click inside Mateo. The Church wasn’t responsible for everything he’d endured, just as it wasn’t responsible for the suffering Christ had endured. All the things Carlos had been saying about God’s love and mercy started to make sense, and Mateo had wondered if God would heal his broken and battered spirit.

“Mateo?” Kayla’s soft voice broke through his memories, and he glanced over to find her watching him. “Are you OK?”

“Yes. Just remembering the first time I came here.” He guided her into a pew and they sat near the end. Following the prompting of his heart, he spoke quietly as the pews around them began to fill. “This is the church where I accepted Christ as my Savior. Carlos made me come, even though I did not want to, and then he left me sitting alone while he went to find the priest. Something about this place broke through everything I thought I knew, all the hurt I had suffered at the hands of the rebels. By the time Carlos returned with the priest, I was ready to truly listen to what they had to say about God.”

“That’s wonderful, but I don’t understand. Why did Carlos go for the priest when he’s a minister?”

“Because my commander in the FARC had messed up my thinking about the Catholic Church. Carlos knew I would never be able to move past everything that had happened until I saw that what my commander believed was not the way the Catholic Church proclaimed.” Mateo sighed and leaned back in the pew. Kayla took his hand and held it in her warm grasp, giving him the strength to tell her what he had told few others. “My commander forced me to fight, to help with kidnappings and attacks. These were not things I wanted to do, but I had no choice. Then he would take me and the others to whatever church was closest and insist we confess to the priest there so we would be forgiven and saved from burning in hell. Once we left the church, however, he made us continue to do the same things he had just forced us to confess.”

Kayla rubbed his arm with her free hand. “That is really messed up.”

“I know that now, but at the time I just saw us doing things I knew were wrong, and then priests telling us God wouldn’t hold it against us because we confessed. That whole time, I never knew true forgiveness. I only knew that our commander somehow convinced the local priests to absolve us so that if we died during the next raid we wouldn’t be damned for all eternity.” Mateo shook his head, still unable to believe how many of the rebels had fallen for his commander’s warped theology. “I was sure it couldn’t work that way, but seeing priest after priest forgive us for things we would continue to do without a second thought made me think the Catholic Church was based on lies and deceit.”

“But coming here helped you see that’s not the case.”

“Right. Thanks to Carlos, I finally understood that the priests could not judge what was in our hearts, could not assume what we would do in the future. They could only know what we were confessing that day. And even if they suspected, they had to do whatever they could in order to protect their villages. My commander was a cruel man. Who knows what kind of threats he issued.” Dark memories threatened to surface, but he shoved them back with a deep, cleansing breath. “It is still difficult for me to attend Mass because of those memories, but it is good for me to go now and then as a way to remind myself that God loves all Christians, regardless of denomination, and that not everyone who claims to be Christian is a good representative of the faith.”

“True, but I think you’re a good representative of the faith.” Kayla kissed his cheek and settled into her seat as the service began.

He felt unworthy of her confidence in him, thanks to a past still alive and well in his mind. Yes, he was a strong Christian now, but she didn’t know what he’d done that made him desperate for absolution. Although he’d gone to those village priests because his commander forced him to, once alone in the confessional, he admitted to his sins with true remorse. He had learned to hate himself for what he did and what he watched others do without attempting to stop them. Everything he’d done had been to keep his life, but it hadn’t taken long for him to wonder if it was a life worth saving. Something kept him going, however. Each time he went to confession had been torture because he had to say out loud just how horrible his life was, and no matter how many times he confessed and received forgiveness, his commander still forced him to do the same things again and again.

Mateo forced the depressing thoughts from his mind once more and prayed for God to give him the strength to endure and the comfort he needed in order to focus on the Mass. After all, he couldn’t very well tell Kayla what was said if he didn’t listen, and he planned to keep his promise to her. With one last look at
El Señor Caído
, Mateo focused his attention on the priest speaking to the congregation.

After Mass ended, Mateo took Kayla’s hand and led her outside. They followed part of the crowd to an area vendors occupied, and he waited for her say something. She’d looked thoughtful through most of the service.

“Mateo, what did the priest preach about?” she asked as they wove through the crowd.

“He spoke about the restorative power of faith and hope. About how keeping our focus on God instead of the world around us will enable us to endure the trials of life much better than if we get distracted from God.”

“Hmm, a good topic.” She gave him a small smile. “It kind of fits our situation, doesn’t it? I mean, with me going home tomorrow and both of us hoping to find a way to make things work between us.”

“Yes, and we must have faith that God will show us what we should do when the time is right.” He wished she hadn’t brought up her departure. For today, he wanted to pretend she would still be here with him a week from now, a year from now. But he couldn’t lie to himself that easily, and knowing she would get on a plane in the morning and go back to her life without him weighed heavily on his mind and his heart.

In an attempt to lighten his mood and hopefully distract her from further discussion of her going home, he guided her toward a food stand with brightly colored tables beneath a corrugated metal roof. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved. It was a long walk to get here, and breakfast was quite a while ago.” She scanned the people seated at some of the tables. “Do they have good food here?”

“They did the last time I was here.” He took her to the counter and scanned the handwritten menu tacked to one of the posts supporting the roof. “What would you like?”

She studied the menu for a moment then laughed lightly. “I don’t have a clue what most of that is. Why don’t you order for me? I trust you to pick something good.”

“All right.” He turned toward the middle-aged woman behind the counter and quickly placed their order.

Kayla spoke to Mateo as she watched the woman gather their lunch. “OK, I caught part of what you said. We’re having tamales and...chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate, yes.” He chuckled as her eyebrows lifted. “Trust me, it is more common than you might think to have
tamales y chocolate
.”

“Well, I did say I trust you,” Kayla said as the woman placed two plates holding banana-leaf-wrapped tamales and two cups of creamy hot chocolate on the counter.

He paid for their meal, and they found seats at an empty table. Kayla watched closely as he unwrapped his tamale, and he wondered if she’d ever had one before. Hopefully she would enjoy it as much as he would. She cut a small bite from her tamale and lifted the fork, hesitating only slightly before placing it in her mouth. A smile curved her lips as she chewed, and Mateo heaved a mental sigh of relief that she appeared to like his choice for lunch.

After taking a sip of hot chocolate, she reached across the table and touched his arm. “This is delicious. Forgive my earlier doubts about the combination.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said with a shrug. “Different cultures have different foods.”

“True. Of course, after all the Colombian cuisine I’ve eaten in the last two weeks, I don’t know whether I’ll be glad to get back to American food or sorry I won’t be eating Maria’s wonderful meals any longer.”

“Perhaps it will be a little of both.”

“Most likely.” They ate quietly for a few minutes, and then she said, “You know, you should come to the U.S. at some point.”

“What?” For a moment, he couldn’t think. He hadn’t considered going to the United States because he felt certain God wanted him in Colombia. Why would she suggest he go against what he knew was God’s plan for his life?

“It would be fun to let you take a look at what my life is like since I’ve been sharing in yours for a couple of weeks.” She reached over and grasped his hand. “Besides, it could be a while before I can come back here, and I’m going to miss you.”

“Kayla, I don’t know if the American government will allow me into your country.” It broke his heart, but he had to tell her. He leaned forward to keep his words from traveling to nearby diners. “I fought with the rebels. Your country may not grant me a visa because of it.”

“But that was years ago, and you’re out of it now. You’re a missionary to street kids. You work to keep them from joining the rebels.”

“I know, but governments are not always so willing to forgive as God is.” He gave her a sad smile and rubbed her fingers. “I have not contacted the American consulate yet to find out if I would be allowed to visit. Perhaps my work with the mission will prove to them that I am a changed man who follows the laws and respects the government.”

“I’m sure it will. We’ll just have to pray that you can get a visa. If all else fails, we can ask my dad to help. He knows several politicians.”

Mateo shifted the conversation during the rest of the meal to more mundane topics, such as the scenery and the completed children’s home. Despite Kayla’s confidence in her government’s ability to see that he was no longer involved with the FARC, he couldn’t deny the worry eating away at him that he might never be eligible for a visitor visa, let alone immigration if God chose to send him in that direction. Of course, if it was in God’s plan for him to go to the United States, he knew that his previous association with the rebels wouldn’t stand in the way.

****

As they waited in line for the cable car, the
teleférico
, Kayla wished she could lighten Mateo’s mood. He put forth a wonderful effort to appear relaxed and happy, but ever since he mentioned his worries about whether he could get a visa there had been an undercurrent of sadness. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to convince him he would be allowed into the United States. As much as she hoped the government would look at his life since being abandoned by the FARC, she couldn’t guarantee they would forgive his association with the rebels.

They followed several other people onto the car, and it soon started its descent. Kayla took in the view, suddenly realizing just how high they were. Looking out the windows and seeing treetops pass below was disconcerting.

“Relax,” Mateo said, smiling when she glanced at him. “We are perfectly safe in here.”

“I know. It’s just a bit unnerving to feel like we’re floating down the mountainside.”

He stepped behind her and wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Focus on the beauty of the view across the city, not the trees below us.”

“You’re making it much easier to do that.” She leaned back against his solid chest, enjoying the protective feel to his strong arms around her. Watching the city below grow closer, she whispered what she had been thinking for the last few days. “I don’t want to leave you, Mateo.”

He remained silent for the rest of the trip, but he held her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder. She could tell he didn’t want her to leave, either, but they were both well aware she had no choice but to go home for the moment. If he asked her to stay or to come back to Bogotá, she would gladly move. But he hadn’t said a word about it other than he would teach her Spanish if she ever came back.

Uncertainty struck as they left the teleférico station and headed down the sidewalk. Despite his assurances that he would miss her when she went home, he gave no indication that he wanted her to come back. And were his concerns about his ability to get a visa for traveling to the U.S. as great as he’d implied, or was it an excuse to avoid having to visit her?

Father, take these doubts from me. I know the situation is as difficult for him as it is for me. Please help me to trust what I feel in my heart is true, that Mateo will do anything he can to ensure our relationship doesn’t wither away after I go home.

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the city and avoiding discussions of her departure and their future. Even though they didn’t talk about it, Kayla couldn’t deny that it hung over them like a dark cloud, waiting to rain on them and douse the vague dreams of family already developing.