kristentorrestoro - "I'm Dying and Do Not Want to Be Forgotten"

It's incredibly late and I'm wide awake, with an open suitcase on the floor of my living room and the fans going wild, as I turned "down" the ac while away, so as to save energy. Now it's too hot to do anything but check my email. :0)
Below is a story by Connie Rock, who led the Costa Rica trip I just support staffed, about a meeting she had with a man named Francisco. His story broke all of our hearts and we know that it was no coincidence that we were at the church at the same moment he was.

More stories of Costa Rica to come! For right now, I will say good night, and thank you so much for praying!

-K

(some of the Ohio team)

(photo by kristen torres-toro)

(photo by kristen torres-toro)

(photo by kristen torres-toro)

"I'm dying," he said with tears streaming down his face. I put my camera down and sat next to him on the pigeon pooed covered steps while leaning against the old door of a catholic church in Costa Rica.

Did I hear right?

"You're dying?" I asked.

Shaking and stuttering he repeated himself, "Yes, I'm dying. That's why I called you over to take a picture of me."

"I'm happy to take your picture, but tell me...why do you say you are dying?"

"They've given me a short time longer to live. I'm an alcoholic who has been kicked out of my home. My family has disowned me. They have forgotten me, but now, now there is a picture of me. I will not be forgotten!"

"I'm so sorry my friend! Can I pray for you?" I spot Kristen from the team and motion for her to grab Pastor Marcos, our host, and begin praying in English when Pastor Marcos joins us in Spanish. Then the conversation began over again. This time with even more tears and sorrow: "I'm dying."

(photo by kristen torres-toro)

Once again...we began to intercede on the behalf of our new friend, Francisco. It was a messy mixture of Spanglish, Spanish, snot bubbles, hiccups, and tears. In the next minutes following, Pastor Marcos walked Francisco through a prayer of confession and faith. Simply... beautiful. Francisco didn't repeat Pastor Marcos' words, but instead inserted his own confessions and praises. He was broken and sincere as he looked to the heavens with his arms raised. I sat there feeling as if I was in a scene from a Peter Jackson movie. Light was shining in his face, while the shadow from the century old church protected us from sun and the statues provided a covering from the pooing pigeons. His eyes once dead, had now seen the light-and was alive!

Pastor Marcos went off to buy coffee and tortilla for Francisco while I stayed behind and continued on with our conversation. He called me his "angel" sent from God.

"I'll be your 'angel' sent by God! It's true. He heard your cries and sent me all the way from the US to remind you that God loves you and you are not forgotten! He loves you that much.

Grinning from ear to ear, he asked "Will you take more pictures of me, so you will always remember me?" He leans against the church and fixes his shirt.

"Of course! I would love to! I will never forget you, nor will your heavenly father."

"Now how about a couple with me, your 'angel' sent by God?" He threw his head back and blushed. Tears began to once again race down his face, dripping off his nose. "Si, por favor!"

I turned the camera around and said "cheese!"