One of Those Days

Here I sit.

It is about quarter after nine, on a quiet Wednesday evening.  I sit awake in the living room, sweating. No, not from a late night aerobics binge.
It is just plain H O T, hot!

Yes, I am a Midwesterner, born and raised.  I should be able to take the heat, for I have suffered through 115 degree days with 90% humidity, and no AC.  I will not, however, tell you how many times we drove to the mailbox on those days, just to enjoy the luxuries of Air Conditioning in the car.

There is something about the sun here that makes you feel like one of those poor bugs, being fried under a microscope by an enthralled adolescent. It is unrelenting. It's got to rain at some point, though..... right?

I am having one of those days. And when I say days, what I really mean is years. At least I hope it is only one.

I have not written since last December, almost four months. I am amazed that I was able to squeeze something even slightly intellectually viable out then.   To anyone who subjected themselves to my recent writings, thank you for your unbiased support. And for those of you who haven't, lets just leave it there, in the past. Shall we?  Well, than don't say I didn't warn you!

Some of my close friends and family saw something coming. Whether they saw the writing on the wall, or had personal experience I should have learned from, I was clueless.

 What started out as occasional panic attacks during the night last June, somehow fully transformed into chronic anxiety. I began being relentlessly subjected to fear every moment of my day. When I was not panic stricken, I would live on edge, anticipating the next 'wave' of fear or the next 'attack' that was always lurking around the corner.

It could and did come-on at any moment, without warning. Because of this, I was no longer fit to be alone, or care for my children or our many, MANY ministry responsibilities. We went on in a state of shock for about two months.

At some point along the way, we learned that I was suffering from Anxiety and Depression.

I cant tell you I know when it started, but I think maybe when I was 8?  Or possibly after my oldest son was born, with postpartum depression? Or maybe after I turned 29, last April, and was stricken with homesickness?
You know what, maybe all of the above.
( Psst: That is a hard thing to write)

Maybe I have always struggled with anxiety. Maybe I have always struggled with depression.

Why in the WORLD am I here?  Why did I look like a good candidate for this lifestyle? I mean, really? ME?????
My credentials for the job are something like this:
Adaptability: I cringe at the sight of any bug.
Pacivity: Dirt in my hair or in my food freaks me out.
Tranparency/Communication: I am completely fine with remaining that face in the room, that will always smile, but never wants to talk, especially about myself!

I don't know if a less qualified missionary ever existed! And you want me to raise my family here? And you want me to help build a 20,000 sq/ft structure complete with O.R. suites?  And you want me to live off of 'good will'????

I wish I had another punctuation mark that was more dramatic than an exclamation point,
             !  is just not cutting it!

My Aunt Marilyn learning to make Dobladas

( Deep breath............ ahhhhhh)


Here we are. March, 2016.
 I am almost 7 months into my treatment plan, and I am again beginning to feel normal.
Maybe sadness and worry were my normal? So, I guess I am feeling better than normal.
(Psst: another hard thing to write)

If you are wondering if I have been avoiding another journal entry, or possibly dropped off the face of the Earth?  That is because I was and I did.

A bedtime story by flashlight

Yet here we are. 18 months in Guatemala.
In many ways we are still going strong, and in other ways we are not.
No sugar coating here. You have got the wrong girl for that!

We continue to push forward on the construction. Many days I grow weary. We have had extra hands on deck though, to lend a helping hand or a hug. Since the first of the year hands from all over have come to get involved: Oklahoma, Iowa, Arizona, Illinois, Texas, Kansas, Michigan, Nebraska, Spain, Argentina, and even from our Home Church, in Highland, IL.  The first of my family from back home came to visit and we had a blast! Thanks again for coming Aunt Marilyn!

We are encouraged by each face that steps foot into the construction, and offers gratitude for all the blood sweat and tears that have gone into it. I secretly enjoy watching as first-timers  must tilt their heads back to grasp the enormity of the full structure.

This is how we floor!

Today was one of those days. We started out early, ready to cover about 2,000 sq/ft of cement floors with sealer. We were greeted by our old friends, fatigue and discouragement. We eventually finished what we started.


 It makes me wonder if I have bitten off more than I can chew. Will I be able to see this project through? Will I remain mentally healthy enough to be a blessing and not a burden? Will I be able to protect my family from the sun, the bugs, the food and the motorcycles?  Will we continue to scrape by on what God has provided?

There are so many unknowns for us in each and every day.  Maybe that how it is supposed to work?

If I had all I needed to execute my plan, what use would I have for waiting on His?

Hmmmm???



Thank you for all your love and grace during this time of growth, for myself, our family, and this ministry.

I cherish each person who is limping along on this journey with us, and loving us along the way.
Thanks for your encouragement, patience, understanding and support.

        Katie Ann Ficker

One rare occasion, being allowed out of the
 house to help the guys with a wild fire, and loving it.