Last fall, I had the opportunity to spend time volunteering at Misioneros del Camino, an orphanage in Guatemala that cares for children with open arms and open hearts. What I didn’t expect was how deeply one little girl would change me.
Griselda had arrived just a few weeks before I did. She and her twin sister had been through more than most children ever should. While her twin slowly began to adjust, Griselda stayed silent. She didn’t speak. She didn’t eat. She kept her distance, wrapped in her own quiet world.
But something in her pulled at me.
I started sitting near her during mealtimes, talking softly even when she didn’t respond. I offered her food without pressure, played music, showed her books, and just stayed beside her — patient, gentle, present. Slowly, something shifted. One day, she reached out for a toy. Another day, she whispered a word. Eventually, she took my hand.
We didn’t have long together, but by the time I left, Griselda was smiling — not all the time, not for everyone, but enough to feel the spark of hope. She still didn’t say much, but she didn’t have to. We had found a bond beyond words.
My time at Misioneros taught me so much about love, resilience, and what it means to show up for someone. Griselda reminded me that healing doesn’t always look loud or fast — sometimes, it’s quiet and slow, and just as powerful.
