NPH El Salvador, the Advantage of Stability and a Snapshot of the Chapel We Hope to Build

In mid-August, a group of ten of us from NPH Guatemala drove about six hours south to the NPH home in El Salvador to meet some of our co-workers and learn about how they live and manage the home. In addition to the National Director, his wife and me, we had the doctor from our clinic, the head of human resources, the director of the primary school, our social worker, psychologist, the heads of the boys’ and girls’ houses, and an administrator who works on special projects. Each was able to spend significant time with those who have corresponding roles there…

One thing I realized right off the bat was the huge advantage that comes with stable leadership. The Guatemalan home has had a number of National Directors over its sixteen year history; in El Salvador the same person who opened the home in 1999 continues to lead as National Director. He had the foresight to plant thousands of trees (whose shade is essential there), and created a home nestled within a botanical garden.  The El Salvador home is really out in the “boonies,” which reduces exposure to outsiders and to the outside world. There are pros and cons to this. It is becoming clear to me that each NPH home has its own personality, and that approaches that work well in one place may not be appropriate in another.

Our new national director, Christopher Hoyt, has the task of implementing major reforms here, and taking a team from Guatemala to visit a real success story in El Salvador will undoubtedly yield results. While there was no lack of good will and good intentions here in the past, we all realize that we are at an important moment in our history, and many are counting on Chris to lead his team to power through changes and improvements that will benefit the kids here.

A key position recently opened up for us, and it will be crucial to fill it with the right person. The former house director (who manages the residential areas and the tios and tias) decided that it would be best for him and his family to return to his native Nicaragua (he grew up in the NPH home there). I very much enjoyed working with him, and while sorry to see him go, I think that he was ready for a change. I really believe that the kids will miss him, and his departure is a loss. Finding the right person for this post will perhaps be Chris’ most important decision this year.

I have always felt that transition in organizations can be positive, bringing in new people with fresh eyes and new perspectives. But in a children’s residential environment like ours stability is a huge value. And it is something that the kids here in Guatemala simply have not had. The talent pool is limited in Guatemala, and so it is often best to work as hard as you can with people you’ve got and help them to grow and develop in their roles. Just as at Catholic institutions in the States, a lack of funding affects our ability in some areas to move forward as we should. We have many good people working here (there are something like 150 employees), but the education and training of those who work most closely with the children is nothing like what we would have in the USA. And attracting “the best and the brightest” is more difficult when salaries are low. Many of our "tios and tias" are awesome, and on-site continuing education helps to fill the gap; but most do not have the benefit of an educational background in child development and children’s emotional and psychological needs.  

This understanding of children’s emotional and psychological needs undergirds the general policy about limiting visitors’ interactions with the children, and is the reason why volunteers are asked to give a full year to the home. Transition is hard on children, and it can stunt children’s psychological and emotional growth when they get to know people, develop bonds… and then those people disappear.

In fact, this is something that I struggled with prior to coming here: I don’t want to cause further emotional wounds by developing relationships with these kids and then leaving them behind when I return to my life in Chicago. I guess I have determined that it will be OK, though- and here is why:

• Start with this sad fact: the kids are used to people leaving them. I hope that losing me will be just another blip in their history of comings-and-goings of significant people in their lives.
• While they have not had stability on the “inside,” most have stability on the “outside.” For most of these kids, their primary relationships are with family members living outside of the home. Remember that the profile of NPH (at least in Guatemala) has shifted quite a bit over the years, and only about a quarter of the kids here are true “orphans.” (I think that it serves the cause of “truth in advertising” that the American fundraising arm for Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos, “Friends of the Orphans” has recently changed its name to “NPH USA.” Perhaps I should also change the name of my blog- I probably would if it were going to be up more long-term. Hopefully I will at least be able to stop using it for fundraising by the end of the year, when I hope to have all that I’ll need to build the chapel here. See below for more on this.) While most of the kids here are not orphans in the technical sense, they are here for a reason. They are certainly underprivileged and the family situations are such that children have been removed and placed here by a judge. 
•   I wear my black priest’s clothes every day, with occasional exceptions. I simply think it is the best way to present myself to the children and adults here. I have come not as Jim Hurlbert, but as “Padre Santiago,” a priest of Jesus Christ; I want to make sure that message never gets lost. The kids who develop an attachment to this “man in black” will hopefully be able to transfer that attachment and affection to the man in black who takes over for me when I return to Chicago. A priest’s role is not to develop a “cult of personality” that leaves people devastated when he departs. Our role is to mediate the presence of Jesus. And while I may have my own particular way of attempting to do this, others who follow me will mediate the presence of that same Jesus, even if in a different way. It is Jesus I want the kids to fall in love with- not me. And when I go, Jesus will still be here. I was comforted by the fact that many of the younger kids called me “Padre Wasson” (the founder) during my first weeks here. The roman collar was the message, not the face or personality. 
•  Finally, I suspect that my relationship with the kids at NPH Guatemala will end up being life-long. Seeing how experiences in NPH homes have affected other priests and seminarians, I imagine that I will make regular visits down here even after I am re-assigned.

Visiting other NPH homes is helpful in gaining perspective, as well as getting ideas for how we might follow the example of success found there. I plan to visit the NPH home in Honduras at the end of September, and look forward to meeting the children there, as well as learning about their approach to ministry.

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Here’s a look at the design for the chapel we hope to build: 

We are putting the finishing touches on construction documents that we can use to solicit bids for the work. I suspect we may need to simplify once we see what our present idea will cost, but that’s all part of the process. I am anxious to get some numbers so that I can make the final fundraising push and assemble the dollars to make this a reality! If you have not yet made a donation, but are ready to now, click here and it will take you to the page with instructions for how to do this.