Guanajuato is a colorful, vibrant university town in the mountains ofCentral Mexico offering concerts, good food, street performances, and strolling bands of student troubadours who lead mostly Mexican vacationers in song through the town until late into the night. On a previous visit, we’d discovered a Carmelite convent that serves as a weekday home for thirty-plus schoolgirls—daughters of single mothers who are struggling to raise them alone—as well as a separate shelter for women victims of domestic violence. 
Wanting to give something back to this lovely town, we decided to visit the sisters and ask what they might need that we could provide. Our taxi wound through underground tunnels then up steep, narrow, zig-zagging streets to the convent. A young girl showed us into an immaculate, old-fashioned looking parlor to await Sister Maria Julietta. Putting us at ease with her calm, forthright manner and (thankfully) slow, clear Spanish, Sister Maria Julietta graciously told us about the girls’ situation. What they needed most, she explained, were hygiene products and cleaning supplies. When we asked about clothing, she praised the generous people of the town and said they donated so many hand-me-down clothes that the girls couldn’t use them all. I had a good feeling about Sister Maria Julietta. A young girl came up and embraced her affectionately as we walked along touring the convent.
Large shopping trips are right up our alley, and we enthusiastically compiled a list of items to donate—from shampoo, toilet paper, and sanitary pads, to large cooking pots, a microwave, and a variety of balls for the girls to play with. Eventually we split up into teams of shoppers and filled nine shopping carts to the brim, loaded the bounty into a large taxi-van, then retraced our route up to the convent. The girls, who had finished their homework, were thrilled to take part in carrying the items inside.
As soon as they saw the balls, the girls raced out into their walled playground. Our carefully thought-out plan was out the window, and we found ourselves playing catch, shooting baskets, kicking and fetching balls, and generally turning into kids again. After a while we decided to try something organized and taught them a line dance, which they learned easily and repeated multiple times.
After much fun, we got them to sit down while Dillon, our dental hygienist friend, got 3 volunteers to help demonstrate while talking to them about brushing their teeth. We sang a song we had made up (in Spanish) about toothbrushing to the tune of Cielito Lindo.
We might as well have been rock stars! They loved it, and wanted to hear it again. There was lots of laughter and clapping all around. One of the most poignant moments for me was when they heard that we had bought them each a new toothbrush—they were so excited. With a little sadness, I thought how hard it would be for a child in our affluent society to be that happy about something as small as a toothbrush.
Too soon it was time to leave. Our time with the girls was heart-warming and fun, and full of very sweet connections—just as much a gift for us as it was for them.
