Returning to My Birthplace: Joy Rising from Ashes

Me in front of Stabroek Market - Georgetown, Guyana

have returned to my birthplace after thirty-five years, here on vacation, walking land that once shaped me. The typography is the same—the names, the cadence of speech, the familiar rhythms that live deep in the body. Yet, Guyana has changed in ways I do not fully recognize. What once felt small and constrained now moves quickly, confidently, shaped by inevitable growth and global attention.

This return evokes the profound resilience that sustains each of us through challenging times, reminding us that renewal is not only a possibility for individuals but also for entire nations. It highlights the strength we draw from our shared experiences and the collective hope that drives us toward growth and transformation. As we navigate the complexities of life, both personal and societal, we come to understand that every setback can pave the way for a new beginning, fostering a sense of optimism about the future.

The last time I stood here, Kevin was four and my daughter was nine. I was younger then, too, carrying children and responsibilities, unaware of how much life would eventually ask of all of us. I came back now hoping, in part, to relive my childhood. But memory does not sit neatly on top of reality. I search for what was while standing firmly in what is.

Guyana’s story helps me understand this sense of disorientation. In the late 1970s, life here was characterized by scarcity and endurance. The economy was struggling. Daily life required patience, creativity, and community support. Survival meant learning how to wait, share, and make do. Recovery was slow, achieved not just through strength but through persistence, humility, and the willingness to accept help and incorporate support from outside. Growth was not immediate; it was earned through years of adjustment and resilience.

Now, decades later, Guyana remains one of the world's fastest-growing economies. New buildings sprout where modest homes once stood. Opportunities have increased, but disparities still exist. Prosperity and poverty live side by side. Progress hasn't eliminated struggle; it has just changed its shape. This, too, feels familiar.

Today, I visited Stabroek Market, the place where my mother worked, and my heart grew heavy in a way I had not expected. I stood where she once stood, a woman raising seven children without a husband, carrying responsibility that left little room for rest. I imagined the long days, the physical labor, the quiet worry, and the sacrifices she made so her children could survive. I see now what I could not fully understand then. Her strength was not loud or celebrated, but it was relentless. And yet, standing there today, I also see how much has changed. The market is still alive with movement and voices, but the world around it has transformed.

In contrast, my grief softened into gratitude. I feel a newfound appreciation and love for my mother, whose life was shaped by hardship and dedication to her children, but she has now gone home to be with the Lord. Her endurance is woven into who I am, and her love continues to shape me, even though it was expressed more through action than through words.

As I walk these streets, I reflect on Kevin’s visit here, where his fascination with simple, everyday moments revealed a deeper faith and appreciation for life's small blessings, illustrating how hope can be found in ordinary acts and shared experiences.

It was Easter when Kevin visited. That day, we took him to the beach to fly kites, a tradition deeply rooted in this land. At the time, it felt playful and light. Only later did I understand its deeper meaning. Kites rising into the sky, lifted by unseen wind, symbolize the Resurrection, hope soaring, life beyond death, and Christ’s promise that suffering doesn’t have the final say, reminding us that when we open ourselves to hope, it can lift us beyond our struggles.

That memory now feels bittersweet. I cherish it even as it causes pain. Kevin’s fascination with the moment on the beach, the wind tugging at the string, the vast, open sky—faith was expressed not with words but through movement. A child looking upward, trusting that what was held would not be lost. That image remains quietly with me as I navigate this new normal, both here and within my own heart.

While here, I attended a local church. What struck me most was not how different it felt, but how familiar. Despite economic growth and visible progress, the need was the same. People carrying weariness. People are longing for kindness. People seek love more than answers. Jesus came for the poor and the tired, for those burdened and overlooked. That truth has not changed with time or prosperity. Faith remains a steady anchor, offering hope amid ongoing hardship, inspiring hope in all who listen.

I felt a renewed sense of calling as I listened to the teachings and watched the congregation. The Great Commission isn't just about going far, but about showing up fully. About embodying compassion in a world moving too quickly to notice suffering. About loving as Christ loved, especially when it feels quiet, unseen, or inconvenient. Growth without love leaves people behind. But love, lived faithfully, becomes a testimony.

Guyana’s journey reflects something deeply personal. I, too, have experienced seasons of survival followed by slow rebuilding. Healing, like Resurrection, does not happen all at once. It occurs gradually, often invisibly, shaped by integration, grace, and support. Faith does not erase pain. It offers a sense of direction. Joy can emerge from the ashes, quietly but steadily, grounded in Christ’s promise. This serves as a comforting reminder for those seeking solace that healing unfolds in its own time, according to each individual’s journey.

As I navigate these changed streets, I hold onto cherished memories and a deep sense of purpose, feeling the weight of both loss and hope within each step. A child’s wonder. A mother’s grief. A country reborn. A faith that sustains it all. I cannot change the past, but I can honor it. I have a deep belief that God is at work in the midst of everything that's unfolding, even when it takes on shapes that feel new and unfamiliar.

Even in this new normal, in a country undergoing significant change, hope continues to emerge. Sometimes, we can see it clearly, like a kite soaring against a vast sky. Other times, it remains hidden, a gentle feeling that truly resonates within us. Yet, hope rises regardless, steadfast and reassuring, sustained by Christ’s promise.

This quiet hope serves as a reminder that renewal often unfolds softly but powerfully, rising from the ashes of our struggles. By joining forces and supporting one another, we can uncover a profound sense of strength and comfort as we navigate the diverse journeys each of us is on. Together, we’ll face our challenges, celebrate our victories, and find solace in the shared experiences that shape our lives.

May I continue to walk forward with open hands and a faithful heart, trusting that God is at work in both what I can see and what is still quietly rising.