The Stickers of Faith & Love Left on My Heart

 The Stickers of Faith & Love Left on My Heart 

A week has passed since I returned from Guatemala, yet my heart is still in the clinic. Every morning, I wake up wishing I were back there, doing work that felt truly meaningful and transformative. I miss greeting new patients, bringing laughter to children, and offering comfort to those in pain or fear. Now that I’m home, I feel a sense of guilt for no longer making a difference in the same powerful way I did at the clinic. Still, I remind myself that this was just the start. Those experiences are now part of me, and they motivate me to do everything in my power to pursue a healthcare career that fills me with the same purpose and passion. These memories also give me hope that one day I will return to the clinic and offer more of myself, including my privilege, my love, and my education, to the people of Guatemala. 

Among the many memories and things I’ve learned, one experience continues to resonate with me. On Thursday morning, the third day of the clinic, I was on the glasses rotation and met a 10-year-old boy and his father. The family first stopped at the glasses table to get the little boy a pair of reading glasses. Antonio and I were able to find him the perfect pair of reading glasses, which was a rare occurrence, especially for kids, because of their need for smaller frames. After choosing a grey glasses case, he started coloring with some crayons and a Paw Patrol coloring book at the table. 

About thirty minutes later, I noticed he was still sitting there, fully engaged in coloring. Curious, I went to triage to learn more and discovered that his father was there for internal medicine and physical therapy appointments. Realizing the family would likely be at the clinic for most of the day, I decided to sit with the boy, talk to him, and color alongside him to help pass the time. I was even more grateful I had done so when I later found out why his father had come to the clinic. Respecting their privacy, I will only share that his father is a recent amputee who was injured while trying to build a better life for his children in the United States. He didn’t come to the clinic for his well-being, but to learn strengthening exercises and begin exploring options for a prosthetic so he could eventually return to work and provide for his kids. 

As he attended his appointments, I learned that he was able to genuinely open up with our team—something that may have been difficult had his son been present with him the entire time. Spending time with the boy, I saw that same warmth in his eyes and in the way he engaged with me. At first, I was nervous about having a deeper conversation with him since my Spanish is limited to basic greetings and medical terms, but I’m thankful I didn’t let that hold me back. As we colored, he began to tell me about his family and favorite hobbies. He shared that he loves to draw, and when I told him I did too, I showed him the tattoos I had designed myself. His eyes lit up, and he began identifying different crayon colors in English. I was amazed. He then asked me to teach him more colors in English, and in return, he taught me the Spanish names for animals I hadn’t known. We spent nearly an hour coloring and talking, and I could tell he was beginning to open up to me. Later, Kat and I came up with the idea to braid some string into a DIY glasses strap so he could wear his reading glasses around his neck when he wasn’t using them. Throughout the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon, I made sure to check in on him every chance I had. I could sense his comfort in talking to me, and I wanted to

provide that safe space as much as I could. Just before lunch, I spoke with his father in the waiting area and told him how talented his son was at drawing, which brought a huge smile to his face. The family didn’t leave until mid-afternoon, but before they did, the boy returned to give me two stickers and say goodbye. That simple gesture meant the world to me and made the entire day unforgettable. 

Among the many unforgettable stories I could share from this trip, I feel compelled to focus on this family's story, along with the experiences I shared with them and the medical team, because they reflect many of the lessons I’ve learned and the values that guide me as I strive to become the best healthcare provider I can be. This experience reminded me how essential communication is in healthcare and how powerful it is to make patients feel heard, understood, and cared for. I realized that language is just one of many barriers that can arise between providers and patients, but it should not be a reason to give up or hold back. This realization also confirmed my decision to pursue a Spanish minor. As someone who dealt with medical challenges from a young age, I often felt judged or dismissed by healthcare professionals who didn’t believe what I was going through. That disconnection shaped my desire to become the type of healthcare provider I needed when I was younger. While learning Spanish is only one way to achieve that, I have determined that for my goals, it's an essential step in making sure my patients never feel unheard or excluded. I also came to understand how crucial communication is in creating genuine connections with patients, which helps providers care for the entire person rather than just focusing on physical symptoms. In addition, I realized the value of a strong, collaborative medical team and how it directly enhances the care patients receive. The permanent staff at the clinic and the team I traveled with are truly outstanding individuals. They are intelligent, dedicated to teaching, compassionate, and committed to both their patients and each other. I witnessed how this type of team made patients feel welcomed and comfortable, which helped build trust between patients and their doctors. Being part of that dynamic was a privilege and helped me serve patients more empathetically. 

There are so many takeaways from this trip, just as there are countless memories, that I simply don’t have the time or space to put them all into words. But I will conclude by saying this. In the smallest acts of kindness at the clinic and within the community of La Ciudad de la Esperanza, I 

saw a kind of love that was selfless and constant. It strengthened my faith in what humanity is capable of and confirmed for me that there is something greater guiding us all. I saw firsthand how God’s love embraces and connects people of all spiritual paths, while also gaining a deeper appreciation for the importance of understanding and respecting each patient's unique beliefs and cultural values. I felt the love many patients gave to me through kind words or gentle hugs, and I expressed my love back through simple gestures and sitting together in prayer. On the last day of clinic, just before closing, I met a sweet little boy named Henry. Some of us students played with him for about an hour, and his joy was contagious as he smiled and lit up with his new toys. During his appointment with Dr. Lauri, he had covered his face in stickers and then began putting them on all of us so we could match. As we were getting ready to leave, he put on his Lightning McQueen hat, opened an umbrella, and packed his toy car full of the toys he had collected. He gave me a huge hug, and I hugged him right back. I had to get ready for Shabbat dinner, but it was hard to say goodbye. I walked away in tears, careful not to smudge the

stickers he’d put on my face. Wearing those stickers, I didn’t just carry a child’s joy—I carried the weight and warmth of a community’s love. Being chosen for this trip was a gift. While I was able to make a difference in others’ lives, I was equally transformed by the experience and all it brought into my life. It almost feels self-centered to focus on what this journey has brought into my life, but I trust that the love it gave me will help me become a better source of love and support for others. Thank you for letting me be part of a memory, a journey, and a purpose that reminded me of who I am and who I hope to become. 

Con amor, 

Ava DeBell