My El Salvador mission trip: A round peg in a square hole
I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. Psalm 102:7
It has taken me three years to consider writing a story. Do you believe God would ever give you more than you can handle? I scratch my head because I did not sleep for about five days in El Salvador and I turned into a basket case. I think that God took me to the edge. He made me see what pain Christ suffered. The pain and torture we cannot understand. But the separation from the Father would be excruciating. God is good. I am humble to have met you all.
My story is dedicated to my wife, Linda; missionary friend, Marilyn; World Partners; our leaders, Dennis and Valerie; the Sarnia team, and my Pastor Tim, who died of cancer on Sept. 22, 2009, and who has gone to be with our Lord. Pastor Tim taught me to pray fervently and to praise worshipfully.
My good, bad, high and low adventures. If I died in El Salvador, people would think what a martyr or at least a good guy for trying to help the less fortunate. In reality, I was so excited, but certainly not prepared for the culture shock.
Ever listen to music that makes you hair stand on end? Music by Keith Green, "Prodigal Son," brings tears to my eyes when I listen to it. It reminds me of my life and how I have strayed from God. The song should be called “The Father’s Love.” The song teaches of the Father’s love in spite of the son’s waywardness. God loves each of us through His Son. I get a mix of emotions from other songs by Keith as well. I think of such a great composer and music talent snuffed out by an airplane accident.

I would like to share some of my struggles and revelations from my short-term mission trip.
Our son, Ben, was going to brave the trip. We were excited that he was willing to take a trip with our missionary friend, Marilyn, who has been a missionary stationed in Haiti for over 20 years. We attended the preliminary meeting set up by World Partner to evaluate the team and financial goals. Ben started to share his uneasiness by doing such a trip with none of his friends but only Marilyn. He wanted to bail.
On Good Friday, the music of Keith Green played in my head. At the beginning of “Open your Eyes,” Keith talks before the song: "This generation of believers that you and me are a part of, we are responsible for this generation of souls, all over the world. We're responsible to pray daily for the needs of ministries around the world, and ask God, ‘how about me not sending my money this time; how about me going?’ It's so easy to write cheques, it's so easy, but God can't cash out-of-state cheques in heaven. He needs you!"
This song spoke to me. I've wanted to make a difference in our world and Marilyn had prompted me many times to join her. I volunteered to take Ben's place. From then to this day when I hear an airplane, I pray for missions around the world.
World Partners provided a training manual for the El Salvador team. Paraphrased, its key messages were:
• Pray for the country, the people and your team.
• Learn about people & culture.
• Mission through hand-on experience;
• Prayer as you see results in people’s lives;
• You as you are stretched, challenged and used by God in exciting ways. Emotionally, you will be facing many new situations, a different culture and different language. You will be stretched sometimes more than you think possible. I almost lost my mind because I could not sleep for five days.
• Physically, prepare for high temperatures and the hot sun and humidity. Metropolitan area of San Salvador contributes urban environmental problems, including air and water pollution. This affects people in different ways, so be prepared. I never did ask anyone. How do you prepare for this?!
• About 95 per cent of income in El Salvador comes from coffee exports, but only two per cent of the population control that wealth.
History
In the ‘60s, El Salvador and Honduras had strained relations over a decade because of a soccer game. I took lots of photos during our friendly game (El Salvador vs. Canada) at the end of our work week, but our goalie, a Salvador teen, would not allow me to take his photo because he was representing the Canadian team. People seemed happy but I kept thinking of the previous 30 years.
In the ‘70s, the country suffered from increased landlessness, poverty unemployment and overpopulation. In ’72, there was more political instability as guerrilla activity increased; the government responded by unleashing death squads to murder, torture and kidnap thousands of Salvadorans.
In 2001, the country experienced a major earthquake and still experiences aftershocks. A couple weeks after our trip, Hurricane Ida tore through; 124 people lost their lives, and more missing. With hurricane winds, and landslides, there have also been many homes lost.
Departure
I was a bit apprehensive to fly. My dad had a fear of flying and told me how the flight attendant helped him relax by giving him reading material to help the time pass away. Unfortunately, the front cover of the Time magazine had a gruesome photo of a jumbo plane crash.
Tears flowed as the plane lifted off the runway from Toronto airport. I thought of all the people’s generosity in fundraising to purchase four metal homes and for my travel expenses. Watching the monitor of the movie during our five-hour flight made me ponder: lots of money goes into movie-making so we can be entertained, money that could be used for the less fortunate.

Arrival
At the El Salvador airport, a guard with a mangy-looking dog sniffing for drugs walked over to the bags on the conveyer belt. All was good until the first step out of the airport -- the heat hit me like a wall.
We were being picked up by a first-class air-conditioned bus. Driving away on the highway, I was surprised to be greeted by government billboards advertising biking, hiking and exploring. The posts on the highway were painted red, white and blue. It reminded me of the Acadian flag (French flag with a star).
Getting closer to San Salvador, I noticed beat-up homes and cars. I saw a man urinating on the side of the road facing traffic and I wished my son was with me. We'd have had a good laugh. Beautiful distant mountains could be seen all around us -- a real paradise. Such green and lush vegetation, distant mountains and volcanoes. A land of beauty.
We made a stop at a business depot store downtown and two guards with shotguns patrolled the store front and parking lot. I got out to investigate and stretch my legs in the parking lot and noticed a man lay sleeping on the side of a hill (I assume he was sleeping). I think we rode for a couple hours and eventually we got to our final destination, St. Vicente, which was down the side of mountain along a windy road. I was uneasy, thinking if the brakes failed, we would fly off the edge of a cliff. This was the road we travelled daily. It looks pretty neat from Google Maps®. In the distance was a unique mountain with clouds hiding the top of it.
I loved the architecture of the houses. It was like summer, with much activity in the streets. I teared up thinking how we got escorted like royalty in air conditioning, just like the Popemobile, while people hung onto the backs of trucks and drove beat-up automobiles. In the next days, we would be clinging to the bars in the back of a truck as we were transported. Cars drive on diesel and most would fail the emissions test. Downtown was a carnival full of life and activity.
A large Catholic church so packed with people, with chairs lined out the doors; I was blown away. Our vehicle drove down a slim side street and right turn. With the beep of a horn the metal gates opened and we drove in. We unpacked in the courtyard and moved into the second-floor balconies to our rooms.

Describing my culture shock experience was like watching in an Indiana Jones movie. I'm not used to seeing people walk around with machetes and guns at the gas station or stores. At the end of the first two days, my heart went like a jackhammer because of anxiety and excitement. I told Karin, our nurse, and she offered me a Gravol. I didn’t want to feel groggy, so I said no thanks.
A few sleepless days later, I was feeling groggy anyway. I wish I had taken the Gravol. I thought if the nurse checked, it would confirm that my heart was racing before I died. My doctor laughs at this because there is nothing the nurse could have done, and mentioned how most people get a bit wound out while down in Central America.
Pastor Deve told us that God wanted to tell him something on this trip. I wanted to scream, “It is in song and praise!” Pastor Tim was a bluebird. He was always singing and giving praise at church, even right up to the end of his life. Pastor Tim had the answer. I stayed silent, though, because I didn’t want my newfound friends to think I was a know-it-all or had any answers.
I was fully awakened from rest at 4 a.m. when someone found it necessary to shoot off fireworks or shotgun shells every half hour ‘til morning. Marilyn told me in Haiti she could hear gunshots but would just fall asleep. Wow, my mind and body was again on high alert.
We went to a Sunday evening service. Our interpreter played drums. Miguel is kind, warm-hearted and brimming with enthusiasm. As our interpreter, he was a unique young fellow with personality. I felt like I had known him for a lifetime. Some of the worship songs were familiar but I had a tough time to remembering the lyrics in English, because they sang so loudly, I could hardly hear myself think. The youth director, Oscar, spoke with boldness and sincerity in Spanish. He sang a song with back-up vocals with the pastor’s daughter, Jackie. Tears drowned my face because the song ripped through my heart even though I had no idea what they were singing.
Open my eyes.

The Spanish church and workers shared with us great love and lots of food even though we could not readily communicate. I thought we were just two groups serving El Salvador. A relationship with the Spanish church and World Partners has been developing into flurry of ongoing activity for some time now. I’m very glad and indebted for Pastor Jorge and family help the poor in the surrounding area, and displayed warmness and hospitality to us. They are a pillar of their community, country and Heavenly Father.
The missionary motto is: "Where you lead me, I will follow; what you feed me, I will swallow!" To my relief, the food was great and delicious! We were told most food is cooked in oil and grease, and we may not be eating healthily. Fresh fruit was unbelievable; I didn't like coconut until I tasted the real thing fresh.
Tears flowed from my eyes as we travelled on the highway first thing in the morning. I looked behind and as we travelled further away, the mountain behind was getting bigger. The only way I can explain it is that we were rising at the same elevation, so I was seeing more of the mountain. The mountain appeared to be growing.

As we attempted to build our first house, we were at bit out-of-sorts; it was a big learning curve. We constantly looked for equipment . . . the tape measure, shovel, level, etc. At the day’s-end group meeting, we were told that this is very typical beginning; a wee bit disorganized in the sweltering heat. Of course, Paster Deve was just fine; he enjoyed the heat. We took a few breaks and discovered that we were sitting in the owner’s vegetable garden, which resembled a few misplaced rocks and dirt with few wilting plants scattered around.
We all did what we could, but Joe and Don were a powerhouse working on the roof in the heat and hot sun. The strength of the villagers and our team put me to shame. I had heart issues before I left. I was told I could help with children's activities or just take pictures if I wished.
The older children watched the younger ones. Here in Canada, our kids play in fenced yards and under the supervision of parents. In El Salvador, the kids came out of the woodwork. When there was a big event, it was like a family affair. We, as adults, had to be accountable for our whereabouts and look out for each other. These kids were like adults tending to their younger siblings. Teenagers were more than willing to give a hand.
When I wasn’t working, I took photos. I've seen National Geographic magazines and thought it was unfair for the rich to take advantage of photographing the poor. I can’t explain the feelings of engaging with another culture. People were patient, allowing me to take photos. I took too long to take a candid shot when an older sibling showed up to straighten the kids up and made them stand in a line (shucks, I missed that Kodak moment). Faces would be cleaned and noses wiped.

I can juggle, so I did a bit of entertaining. A child watched me perform and right way he turned to see what older brother was doing; older brother smiled and engaged with what I was doing. The child turned back and laughed, and I knew I had them. I juggled and did other silly stunts. The kids followed me around with laughter, cheers and applause. Who am I but a 10-year-old with 40 years of experience?
I am hard-of-hearing, so the kids would laugh when they taught me simple Spanish words and I could not repeat them back properly. We handed candy out and one child put the wrapper in his mouth. Much to our relief, an older sibling solved his dilemma. A Kodak moment for me was Percy, the oldest member of our group, was trying to stay organized by handing out one candy at a time to kids who swarmed at him. They grabbed as fast as he could deliver, but the expression on his face was priceless.

Members of the team had time to chat. Joy loved music, including Keith Green. Julia, mother of two adult kids, in the kindest and gentlest way told me to act my age: thanks for great job of entertaining the kids but slow down, take time to smell the roses, so to speak. I am grateful to this team since I was along for the ride. Our team had an agenda and stayed on track building four houses, playing a soccer game, handing out beans and food during the key ceremony day. And even a swim in the warm ocean to end our days.
Another day we had a flat tire. Like a well-greased machine, we were back on the road in no time. One comment about the metal frame truck is that welders do not get paid enough. In the back of the truck, we were grasped the bars and held on for dear life.
House #2 to was in the shade of some trees. At rest time, Joe and I lay on our backs on the roof and watched a couple of vultures soaring above, making for a great “God moment.”
Another sleep-deprived day. Washrooms = a hole in the stump of a tree enclosed by a sheet of metal and bed-sheet doorway. Houses 3 and 4 were down a long lane way. One point we had to walk behind the truck; the frames extended out past the roof clearance of the truck, touching the wires. I guessed someone’s television down the road was going on the fritz.

A group of kids sat around in the shade of a tree while I slumped against a tree with my hat over my head. I could feel a number of little pebbles tossed at my hat. I did my chicken sounds while I had my eyes closed. I would say their names the way the Blue Jays announcer would call out the name of their beloved hometown players. They had a laugh. I sneaked away and rested on a pathway for about 15 minutes (felt like an afternoon) until a teen slightly kicked me to see if I was alive. I managed to get on the roof and put in a few screws.
Another day, I could hardly dig with the pitchfork. We took turns. Water was always provided for the team. One day I mentioned to Joy when I gave up my water bottle to one of the villagers. The father worked so hard and I was a bit disappointed when he handed the water to his son. Joy said, “You would do the same thing for your son.” She was right, but I just wanted the father to be refreshed for his strenuous efforts.
My hat fell off one day while travelling on the truck. Oscar, a Salvadoran teen, jumped off and retrieved it. I told him to keep it. I am sure that many people would say, "Just send these people the money and let them do the work of putting together all these frames." Yes, but it really was a privilege to see firsthand our money in action, to discover a new culture and work side by side with these people. I am grateful to have had this chance. It changed my perspective on poverty and the world seems smaller now.
On the way home that evening it was late and dark. I was dying of thirst because I had given my bottle away earlier during the day. The truck ran out of gas. I yelled out the window "The battery is dead." Someone replied, "No, the lights are still working." I got out and grabbed my camera as we discussed what to do next. They pushed the truck, I snapped a few time exposures. Luckily it was not all uphill. With emergency lights flashing, I followed behind and used my camera flash to light the back of our truck so passing motorist could see us better in the darkness along the highway. Providence! We pulled into a gas station and gassed up! There was a store and I drank the most priceless, refreshing Gatorade of my entire life. You will never understand how relieved and grateful, how one drink can change your perspective.

One day a dog laid in the hot and hazy sun and undisturbed by all the activity going on around it. I prayed the most heartfelt and earnest prayer, “Please, God, I want to sleep like that dog tonight, please and thank you.” I was optimistic. Do you believe that God will never give you more than you can handle? Why can’t I sleep? Why have you forsaken me. Why would an angel silence the tongue of Zechariah until his son was born? Why was Bob Vautour not sleeping and feeling outside himself? Why does he feel like a round peg in a square hole? Did you feel like that, Jesus?
I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof.
Lack of sleep changed me. One unbearable night a voice in my head told me: “You are spoiled goods. You are not worthy.” I had been fondled by an adult when I was a child. I said back to the voice that “I have forgiven my abuser, so that is not true!” Then another voice said, "Southern Ontario just got blown up by a bomb, now what are you going to do?” In terror and bewilderment, I had no idea. I never experienced such isolation and pain. I left the room on my hands and knees, I thought I was going to die. I was going to pass out and I did not want to be standing. I woke my leaders. Dennis led me back to my room. I remembered while lying down to grab a piece of chocolate bar because my strength weakened. It was very soothing and help me to relax.
The hardest thing for Christ was not just the beatings, being wrongly accused, physical and mental torture but the separation from the Father. Indescribable and incomprehensible.
Finally my prayer was answered to sleep like a dog. Thank God for Tyson. He had sleeping medication. They gave me two little pills, lead me to my room and my computer mind went blank. Whew!
This place is a treasure trove for taking photos. At various times on this trip I had a grandiose idea that I was like a National Geographic or Times photographer. I gave a young boy a dollar to take his photo. He clutched the dollar in his hands for fear it was a trick. Later, he rode his bike with the greatest smile on his face. It was only a buck.
I was sent home a week early, because of health reasons. Before leaving the country, we got to swim and eat at a resort along the coast. At the beach the water was warm and the waves were big. The sand was black and hot. We had a wonderful day. The air was fresh and the day was perfect. A woman selling jewellery on the beach posed for a buck.
The last driving day my face was glued to the window and my camera shot a few motion blurs. When we arrived at the hotel our leaders exclaimed, "Welcome to Canada!" A real treat. We had hot and cold running water. We could drink water from the taps.
Toilet paper could be flushed down the toilet. Rooms had TV and towels.
Relationships are important in life. In reaching out to help others we are truly blessed. I could never do a trip like this without the funding from loving and caring Canadians. I've been wanting to write about my El Salvador experience. Miguel at one point said, "We love Canada!" and another "You have made us so happy." It was better than winning gold!
Pastor Tim Expressed how faith is like season. During the last months of his life, I wanted to hear him say life sucks or at least tell me how much life sucked, but instead he was positive and grateful. Unfortunately in El Salvador, when I should have been winding down, I was winding up and prayed with the same emotional intensity that Pastor Tim had. Tears streamed down my face as I prayed for all the people of El Salvador. About Pastor Tim

I arrived home. In a million years I would never thought I would say the air is fresh when walking out of the Toronto airport. The team leaders drove me home and I think I slept for a few days.
Walking down my street, I realize my perspective has changed. This is my village, these are the people I need to be available to for mission work anytime, anywhere. One thing I learned from grief recovery is that "Grievers are not broken." We have problems here in Canada, too. My godmother reminds me that I don't have to travel far to reach out and help people.
My presentation at our church consisted of two songs on slideshow with photos of our trip. Susan, Pastor Tim’s wife, told me one of the songs, “All over me,” the Jamaican version, was his favourite song.
It was a life-changing experience to make a difference in our world. It was a short-term mission trip -- meeting people, making new friends and developing compassion for the lost and needy. I will not be able to say enough good about World Partners in helping me step out and do the biggest thing of my life. Only my dog will know how many tears I have shed since my experience. It has taken me a whole year to get over the experience and losing our beloved Pastor Tim Trotman.
Much work, fundraising and team meetings have taken place over a year. Our Pastor Tim always said, "You can never out-give God," and it is true.
Want to know how a round peg fits in a square hole? Maybe you should make the trip to build homes in El Salvador and find out!

See More photos on my Toronto Photoclub gallery.

Visit my El Salvador mission page with other links to El Salvador.

About Pastor Tim. Cecil Timothy Trotman better known as Pastor Tim


He was called “gentle giant.” He was always singing songs of praise. He had hands the size of a baseball glove and a heart to match (he told me his fingers were the envy of his piano-player friend).
What I liked about Pastor Tim was his confidence and gentleness in the Lord. He was not a know-it-all, but a humble servant leaning on God's provision. I admired his passion in his preaching. Susan told me later that he spent many hours in preparations for his sermons. He could speak loudly to make a point, then return to a whisper. He repeated words so that when you heard them again, you soaked up new meanings from God’s words.
He is the closest person to God that I have met. I know people who grieve can enshrine the person they miss and put them on a pedestal; I know Tim was not perfect, but his life always pointed to He who is.
During his battle against cancer, I was awakened at 2 a.m. and decided to pray for him. The Spirit moved me to my knees and, arms lifted up, I prayed, “Please comfort him.” I really wanted God to perform a total healing, and knew he could if he chose. I believe God could do it. Praying the same way Tim did, I stumbled on the words and whispered, “Please comfort him.” I repeated "Comfort him," repeating, soaking up the meaning.
The word then changed to “comforter.” I resolved and knew that this is who we all need: "The Comforter." Knowing Tim had the Comforter was a great comfort. Tears streamed down my face and I stood up with hands in the air, my sorrow turned to joy.
On short visits with him, he always asked how my boys were and prayed for them. I will be forever grateful. There have been times that I know that he has prayed for the church and its mission. It would encourage the rest of us to do likewise, praying for our own ministries on this earth as we journey on this side of the sod.
Nathan’s story
One morning during my Daily Bread devotional reading, I read a story of a missionary couple who lost a child in a tragic car accident. My heart was grieved. I asked Tim, “Why?” He said God knows all things. He knows and allows some of us to die in tragic ways. We should take comfort in knowing that God is all-knowing.
The next day, my nephew, Nathan, was in a motorcycle accident. Someone went through a stop sign and hit him, knocking him off the bike, throwing him through the air several feet to land against the curb, but only breaking his ankle. The police officer on the scene to this day can't understand why he was not killed. This event speaks volumes to me that God knows when our gig is up; it was not Nathan's time. Trust in HIM today.
It has taken me over a couple years to get over Tim’s death. The wind has been taken out of my sails -- it was such a great loss.
A few days before Tim’s death, I got to sit and be silent with his eldest sister, Debra, as we watched him die. After his death, at the visitation, I was able to express to Debra that I did not lose a brother but gained a sister.
I have been dearly touched through Tim’s death about how great and glorious our God is. I will never be able to thank Susan and all of Tim’s family enough for that lesson.
Tim motto and now mine: "You can never out-give God," and it is true.

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Visit my El Salvador mission page with other links to El Salvador.