Day 5 – A Fire Lit Forever
Faith in Practice – Team 860 Robinson | May 15, 2025
Today was our last full day in clinic, Day 4 of 4. While it began with the same rhythm we’ve grown familiar with; breakfast at 6:30, bus departure at 7:30, and arrival at the school around 8:00, it carried a different kind of weight. It was the final day we would walk through those clinic gates. The last time we’d greet patients under the morning sun. And we all felt it.
The line outside the clinic was shorter than the days before, as we expected. But what the day lacked in volume, it made up for in depth, in emotion, in love. Teams huddled for the last time to discuss their plans for the day, knowing that these patients would be the last they see on this trip. There was a quiet, sacred energy in the air, one of focus, of fulfillment, of heartfelt intention. Everyone gave it their all.
I spent the morning working as a scribe with Dr. Ana in pediatrics, where a very long line of children awaited care. Ana moved with grace and determination, refusing to stop for lunch, determined to see every child before the day ended. And it wasn’t just physical care she was offering, it was emotional presence. She saw each child fully, acknowledging their fears, their hopes, their humanity. Watching her work was nothing short of inspiring.
As I floated through the rest of the clinic in the afternoon, I witnessed the same selflessness and passion at every station. The general medicine team handled a steady flow of patients, offering everything from diagnoses to long-overdue reassurance. Gynecology experienced a early surge of patients and then a early end to the day for the first time this week, and the team stayed strong, extending the day to ensure each woman was seen. In orthopedics, bones and muscles were examined and pain eased by David and his team. At mobility, lives were transformed as walkers and wheelchairs found their way into the hands of people who had lived without them for years.
I also want to give deep thanks to our ultrasound and lab station, where Andrew, Christy, and Cindy worked side by side. Many don’t realize that beneath every scan and diagnosis, there’s the essential work of lab testing—blood draws, urinalysis, diagnostics—all handled with care, speed, and unmatched professionalism. Their teamwork made quiet miracles possible.
In the afternoon, I returned to the pharmacy, where Dorthea, Beth, and Leo were moving quickly to keep up with a steady line of prescriptions. As the last stop for many patients, the pharmacy team worked against the clock, ensuring that each person walked away with the medications and instructions they needed.
And then, just like that, our clinic began to close.
We broke down tables, packed up boxes, stacked equipment into the same truck we had unloaded four days ago. What was once a vibrant pop-up clinic inside an elementary school returned to an empty set of classrooms. It was bittersweet—an ending, yes, but also a celebration of everything we accomplished together.
And so, we celebrated the best way we knew how: with a dance party!
A live local Guatemalan band filled the courtyard with music, and together, red hat local volunteers and American team members, we danced, laughed, and let the joy spill out of us. The clinic was over, but our spirits soared. In a moment of collective gratitude, we gathered in a massive circle to give thanks. Then, we formed two circles, our U.S. team in the center, surrounded by our red hat volunteers. Each of them handed us a beautiful, handwoven basket with inside an image of the local church where this week’s clinic was held. A reminder of this sacred week, and the community that welcomed us so openly. In return, we gifted them small tokens from the U.S., passing around hugs, words of thanks, and a flood of emotion we could barely contain.
Back at our hotel in Jalapa for the final time, we gathered for devotion. Tonight, it was led by Cindy, one of our beloved lab nurses. With tears in her eyes and Dr. Ana by her side, translating, she shared that this would be her final year volunteering with the Robinson team after over 20 years of service. She spoke of her first trip two decades ago, saying, “It set my heart on fire.” That fire, she said, has never left her—and she hopes it now burns in each of us.
And for me, it does.
I came into this week not knowing exactly what to expect. But what I found was a group of people who give so much of themselves, with no expectation, no ego, just love. After dinner, we gathered once more as each team was called up individually. We cried. We laughed. We told stories—funny, moving, unforgettable. Each person was recognized, honored, and held with the kind of appreciation that most people never get to feel in their daily lives. It was one of the most emotional, beautiful moments of the entire trip.
Before the night ended, I wanted to share one last thought, but I didn’t quite get the words out the way I had hoped. So here they are, now.
I’ve been one of the only people who have had the privilege this week of truly seeing it all. Floating between rooms, watching people at work, quietly witnessing what makes this team so extraordinary. And what I saw was not just medicine or mission. I saw love in motion. I saw compassion turned into action. I saw what happens when people come together with a shared purpose to lift others up with skill, humility, and heart.
And in that, I saw something awaken in myself.
To the entire Team Robinson 860, thank you. You’ve shown me the beauty of service and the power of presence. You’ve taught me that healing isn’t just something we give—it’s something we share. My heart is full, and on fire.
Miya Macnew, Team Blogger
