A Missionary’s Son
This is a story about three generations traveling to Guatemala. Before I tell you what I learned about my family, introductions are in order.
Me
I’m Nate. I fully experience things by writing.
Dad
Here’s David. He fully experiences things by taking photos.
Grandpa
Here’s my grandpa, Ron.
Ron L. Baker—or Ronaldo as he was called in Guatemala—is physically just ash now. He died last year. He experienced life by being with people.
Ron provided medical services with his wife, Marcia, in San Miguel Acatán and planned churches in the area.
There are the three generations. Now let’s talk about that sink thing.
A Sacred Sink
Dad is pouring grandpa’s ashes into a washing basin, called a pila. In Guatemala it’s where you wash laundry or your hair.
Don’t think pouring your father down a sink is classy? Actually this is sacred ground.
When dad was about 14 and still in Guatemala, he looked out the window towards the outdoor pila.
Dad’s little brother Mark, about 5 at the time, was “baptizing” the family puppies and unknowingly drowned half of them.
Dad ran out and picked up the puppies that were still paddling near the top of the basin. He brought them to the living room fire to warm. Other pups were already lifeless at the bottom of the pila.
So, when dad scattered his father’s ashes in the same place, it was already a place of mourning.
The pila is behind this structure. This is all that remains of the 2-story house where my dad grew up from age 5 to 18.
Guerrillas burned the house down during the Guatemalan Civil War. My grandparents didn’t pick a side so they were forced out. This actually wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Many of dad’s childhood friends were murdered.
By that time, dad had already moved back to the States.
After pouring grandpa’s ashes down the sink, this is the sunset we saw after driving up the mountain.
Grandpa was big like this sunset.
In fact, he was 6-foot-4 and 220 pounds in those days. Grandpa would take a photo with locals on his knees and laugh that he was still taller.
He was big in other ways too. Legend has it that someone once wrote him a letter with the following address:
Ronaldo Baker
Guatemala
The letter didn’t even have a city, but it got to him.
When the Guatemalan vice-president came via helicopter on a political stop to the village, grandpa was designated the host rather than the local mayor. Grandpa was the biggest personality in town.
I can’t help but think grandpa was part of the reason why everyone on the church steps shook hands and called one another hermano and hermana.
This is my first visit to my dad’s childhood, so I asked a lot of questions.
It wasn’t all grand of course.
My dad doesn’t describe his parents as missionaries. He softens it by describing them as medical missionaries. I don’t blame him. I call myself a Christian, but Christians have a PR issue for a reason.
As a missionary’s son, it may be easier to know God, but it’s also easier to know religion at its worst.
Dad said he didn’t truly discover God for himself until he was going through seminary.
Dad isn’t sure about some things like the value in proselytizing or the how much of the Bible is written by men vs. God, but he told me in the car he believes these three things deeply:
- There is a God.
- God loves me.
- What I do matters.
Dad keeps those beliefs alive. They are like the puppies he saved as a kid and now they are sitting by the fire warming up.
Grandpa, father and son. All in one place. It could be a while till that happens again. Maybe once my wife and I get around to having children.
One thing I know: I want my son to expect complete honesty from me, just as my dad models it. I want my son to know what I’ve let die and what I’ve kept alive.
I’m still writing my own list of beliefs and I’m not sure when I’ll be done, but here’s a draft:
- When I create little worlds—out of words, images, code, food—it’s a little homage to God’s creation. I’m made in God’s image, so that’s where I got the itch to create in the first place.
- God pursues me even when I feel He’s small, unbelievable and far away.
- When I give in to God’s pursuit, it’s transformative. He changes my motives and gives me the strength to love others even when I’d rather not.
That’s me anyway. And my list will likely look different as I age. Maybe it will get more concise like my dad’s. What’s your list of beliefs look like? God knows I long for more depth and messiness from others. Maybe I’ve just been too scared to ask.
So what did I learn in Guatemala?
Life is too short to only share the deep parts of myself till I have it all figured out. I might as well start practicing now.
Rest in peace, Ronaldo Baker. Guatamala wasn’t big enough for you, but maybe heaven will be.
