The Yuma Years

I think I have tried in every way to not write about this chapter of our life in Arizona.  I'm not sure if I don't have the right answers, don't want to admit to myself that I know the answers, or am afraid I know the answers and don't want to act on what I learned.  So, for the most part I have just let myself semi drift for the best part of a year, keeping my thoughts at a distance. Unfortunately the thoughts keep returning home, and so I will let Chapter 1 begin with what we affectionately refer to as, Our Yuma Years.

Leaving Utah so many years ago was a mess of emotions. Not having lived anywhere else for 40 something years, I was convinced of a few realities: #1 Utah was pretty much the center of the universe and everyone was either trying, or at least wanting, to get there. #2 Everyone outside of Utah was a heathen sinner that didn't have a clue who God is, or how to communicate and listen to him.  #3 I would bring further light and knowledge to all those lost souls searching for the spiritual path home, and were just waiting for me to speak truth to them.
This new adventure would also have another side to it.  In addition to the confidence I outwardly felt, there was a quiet inner desperation and foreboding.  Personal feelings and impressions were pushing me to go, but under the surface there was this growing feeling that it was ME who was supposed to learn something from this undertaking.  I was confused and perplexed regarding these two divergent paths.  To lead? or to learn?  I would start out with the vision of what I felt I should do, but whomever it is that helps encourage us along life's journey, they would soon gently but clearly let me know I had a lifetime of learning to cram into the next few years. Buckle up, hold on tight, it was going to be quite a ride!

The first, and perhaps essential stop on this journey was the dusty southwestern town of Yuma Arizona.  Uniquely situated at the confluence of Arizona, Mexico, and California where the lazy Colorado river slips it's last miles thru the sponge absorbing sands of the desert and it's final resting place in the Gulf of California.  Heat is a badge of honor for the locals.  Coping efforts become legendary tales for visitors and new residents.  Where else do you only drive in the summer while wearing hot pads from the kitchen to protect your hands from the sizzling heat of the steering wheel.  Where else can you take a hot shower in the summer by only using the "cold" water tap?  Where else you do you only use the pool in the summer if you take a block of ice with you to float on.  It became a customary ritual to check the thermometer when we were in the car to see if it was hot enough to make a worthy picture of the dashboard thermometer to send to family and friends so they would know of our fearlessness in enduring this hellish environment. The monsoon season, which occasionally brought hot drenching rains, and the worst part....a steady flow of soaking humidity to mix with the oppressive heat, making simple breathing a labored and unfulfilled routine.  This next adventure of ours had certainly chosen an isolated and grueling location which would keep us focused on the essential thing in life, surviving!

It may seem a bit ironic, but Yuma Arizona is actually closer (as the bird flys) to San Diego California and the idyllic weather there, rather than the desert cities of Phoenix and Tucson.  Our first of many trips into Yuma required us to fly into San Diego and drive eastward up through the coastal mountains which eventually drop into the Imperial Valley  and onward into the desert and sands of Yuma.  San Diego would become a second home and escape for us.  But home would be found among those hardy souls and creatures who are able to make the best of their environment and find personal advantages in their surroundings. 

As any pioneer heading into a new land well knows, if you carry pride and comfort in your abilities and strengths, feeling that you can make it on your own, knee bending humility will not be far behind.  In my earlier years I should have paid more attention to the stories about Moses and his Hebrew followers wandering through the desert. Here I thought I was being saved (a new and future career opportunity), but I had some serious humbling to go through and vital spiritual lessons to learn before reaching the promised land. 

Lesson #1: Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
Gonzalo Castillo is a man born south of the border, raised in small and poor towns of western Mexico. In the struggles and poverty of the region, he was raised by parents who instilled in him a love and respect of God, and teachings of the bible.  At a young age, Gonzalo was required to work to help support the family.  No conveniences of life were enjoyed,  but love, appreciation, and gratitude were values instilled in him from his youth.  From the humility of his early life, he gained an understanding of how best to love and provide to others what they so often needed.

My reason for moving to Yuma was to take a position at the Hospital (the only major medical center between Phoenix and San Diego) overseeing some of the facility services.  Gonzalo was a manager who reported to me as he oversaw more than 70 employees at the hospital.  I had begun working in Yuma 5 months before my family would be able to move there, returning on weekends to visit them.  During the week, my life consisted of work, and returning to a condo in the evening by myself.  One day a couple of weeks after starting, Gonzalo asked me if I would like to go to dinner with him.  I was thrilled at the opportunity to break up my evening boredom and get a good meal for a change.  We headed to a local Mexican restaurant and shared a great meal and evening.  To my shock, he grabbed the check for the meal before I could get it.  This was against all protocol, and I protested, but to no avail.  Though I appreciated his kindness, my mind was wondering if he was trying to take advantage of our relationship.  A few days later he repeated the request to do dinner.  Thinking I could even the playing field and pay, I accepted. 
Another local Mexican restaurant (I was finding that Mexican food here was nothing like I had ever had in Utah!).  As we and talked, I asked him where his wife and family were. I assumed they must be busy and the reason he was having dinner with me.  I was a bit shocked to hear him tell me that they were at home having dinner.  I retorted back asking him why in the world was he with me!  He commented that he knew I was alone, and his family would be fine.  He had given up being with his own family to be with me.  This was not a behavior I was used to.  I gave him some grief that he should be with his wife, not me.  Once again, he beat me to the check for the meal and paid it.  Hmmm, he is really trying hard to take advantage.
The next day he brought us homemade tamales and other assorted Mexican food for lunch, and insisted I eat with him.  His wife had made it for us.  Of course, he paid for drinks.  After telling him his wife was a great cook, he asked if I would like to have dinner with them.  So that night, I was treated as a special guest in his home with his wife and daughter serving us.  I had never been treated like this in anyone's home...ever.  There was something different about this man.  As the weeks went on, I would turn down additional offers of dinner (I wanted him to spend his time with his family, not me), Gonzo would then bring dishes and packages of food to my condo, most of it homemade.  He was concerned that I have enough food to eat.  This behavior went on for the next few years we lived in Yuma.  It was not just a brief ploy to get my appreciation of him as my manager, but even continued after we left Yuma. No manna from the wilderness ever tasted this good.  I was humbled to accept the gifts of a man who wanted no more than to help me endure the life of my new home in the desert.
I soon learned that I was not the only "special" person Gonzalo did things for.  Almost weekly he was involved in some event or another that would raise money for various needs either among his staff, or others whom he had become aware were suffering. 
A story typical of his love and empathy for those struggling would leave me wondering who this man really was.  We had decided to put on a hospital barbecue for our staff.  Barbecue in Yuma usually means Carne Asada tacos.  We needed about 3,000 tortillas and so Gonzo decided to get fresh ones from a little tortilla factory across the border in Mexico.  "Fresh  tortillas" I learned was really a way of helping the struggling families in Mexico by supported the factory.  On a particular Saturday, Gonzo headed over to Mexico to put in the order.  San Luis Rio Mexico is typical of small border towns.  The first few blocks have paved streets, but quickly they turn to dirt roads and humble homes.  He had warned me several times not to wander too far from the main roads.  As he drove looking for the factory, he became lost and stopped at a home to ask directions. 
Now home to us is not necessarily the same thing as home in some parts of Mexico.  So many of these good people live in homes we might more refer to as sheds, cabins, or a menagerie of materials put together to keep the heat at bay, and rain off their heads.  It never ceased to amaze me how a line on a map, becomes a border between blessings and struggles.  The Mexican people have a strong spirit, a deep sense of love for family, and carry a respect for God.  However due to political and governmental differences, one group literally struggles to survive while the other doesn't even know how blessed they are.
Gonzallo knocked on the door of the home and a lady answered.  They stood at the doorway speaking about the location of the tortilla factory, when Gonzo noticed a young girl around eight years old sitting in a corner on the ground in the home.  The home had some wood floors, but half of it was dirt.  He inquired about the girl and the lady told him the girl was paralyzed from the waist down.  Gonzo thanked the lady for the directions and said good bye.  He then turned his truck around and headed toward the border crossing.  It takes at least 2 hours to cross back into the United States due to the border checks, but Gonzalo waited it out.  After finally crossing over, he headed up to the hospitals Home Health location.  Dashing inside before they closed, he was able to purchase a wheelchair for $150.  He put it in the back of his truck and headed back for the border crossing again.  When entering Mexico with a vehicle, you have to watch the traffic light monitor.  If it's green when you cross, you don't have to stop.  However if it is red, you must pull over for an inspection.  As Gonzo crossed, it turned red and he pulled into the inspection area. 
The Mexican border officers told Gonzo that he was bringing in a medical device and would have to pay them a tariff or fee.  Gonzo protested that it was for a person that lived in the small town.  However, the border officers were not going to be softened by his story and demanded payment.  Gonzo handed them $150 cash, knowing it was only going into the officers pocket, and off he headed back to the humble house he had left hours before.  He pulled up to the now familiar home and knocked.  When the lady opened the door and saw the wheelchair she was overcome and couldn't speak.  Gonzalo pushed past her and went in a lifted the young girl still sitting in the dirt, and placed her in the wheelchair.  As he went to stand up, the young girl wrapped her arms around his neck to thank him.  The lady apologized that she had no money to pay him.  He told her he would bring back food from time to time to help out, and gave her his phone number in case she needed anything.  Then climbing back into his truck, he was off.  A man who takes literal the call to Love One Another. 
Not all know this, but Gonzalo is a very wealthy man who could live in the biggest home in town, and drive the most expensive car. Yet he lives in a very modest home, and drives a used truck.  Most would be surprised to find out he owns businesses, condominiums, property, and homes.  He received a very large sum of money from a claim in a accident where his son was injured, but the money remains in a trust to take care of his son when Gonzalo is gone.  If anyone ever needed anything, Gonzalo was there to help, never worrying if he would be repaid or reimbursed. 
I thought I knew what being a Christian was all about, and indeed felt like I could help bring this knowledge to the people of Yuma.  However, this man of the Catholic faith, this humble man of the desert, did more to teach me about being a Christian, than I had ever known before.  It wasn't that he could explain it to me so I could understand, it was that he SHOWED me each day by how he lived his life.  I tried for much of the time I was in Yuma to bring Gonzalo to a better understanding of who God was and to persuade him to join my religion.  By the time I left Yuma, I knew that I could offer nothing to him that would make him a better person.  He lived the gospel far better than I ever had.  Organized religion had not saved Gonzalo Castillo, but his pure love of God and his deep desire to live the  teachings of Jesus Christ.  He attended Mass each week, but he had gained salvation thru his faith and good works. I might have been able to offer him a clearer understanding of his relationship to God, but nothing I could offer would make him a better person.  The answers I looked for as to why we came to Yuma may not have not been clearly visible early on, but clearly they came.  I have worked with or been around good men and women much of my life.  But true Charity I discovered in the quiet and rugged character of a man from Yuma Arizona.  Who's abundant strength was the gentle care he offered to others at their time of greatest need.  Perhaps the Good Samaritan still lives and breaths among us.   I will always be grateful for the days that I ever knew Gonzalo Castillo.

Our time in Yuma lasted about three and half years (or as Michele puts it, 4 summers), and then it was time to move on.  We had discovered good friends and neighbors, and uncovered where the real beauty of this desert lives, in it's people.  The feelings of loneliness that the desert can sometimes bring were forgotten as our neighbors filled our life and home with friendship and love (and one of their sons that we think is still in the kitchen somewhere).  Finally, we sold our home, and headed off to Phoenix to continue on that ever upward tilting career path.  New adventures would lay ahead, and more life lessons would be learned.  Similar to those nomadic Hebrews, we still had some desert wandering to do, lessons to learn, and humbling to understand.  Appreciatively, we were on good footing because of the rich blessings provided in Yuma Arizona.  Chapter 2, The Phoenix Years to follow soon.