Marlon presenting a talk about the NPH’s work in Latin America during a gathering earlier this summer at Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church at 3700 Canyon Road. Courtesy/Bob Fuselier

By BOB FUSELIER
Los Alamos

Editor’s note: This is the second of a three-part series about the NPH’s work in Latin America. Please see (https://ladailypost.comfuselier-a-visitor-from-the-past/) for the previous part of the series.

NPH was founded unintentionally in 1954 when Fr. William Wasson provided a home for a young boy who had been caught stealing from the collection box at R. Wasson’s church in Cuernavaca, Mexico. By the end of that first year, thirty-two abandoned and troubled boys were under his care. As the home grew, Fr. Wasson eventually established a set of five principles that would guide how the children were treated and the home would run, which were the values I referenced earlier in my question to Marlon during my interview with him.

Within the homes of NPH, all children would be given unconditional love and security, they would be educated so that they could be self-sufficient when the left their homes, they would learn to take responsibility for their actions and their lives, they would have to do their share of the work needed to keep a family and home functioning, and they would be required to share what they had with those more in need.

Marlon came to NPH Honduras when he was sixteen years old. His father had raised him and his brother and sister alone after his mother died when Marlon was just three years old. When he was twelve, his father told him he could no longer afford to send him to school, so Marlon set out on his own, living off the streets of Tegucigalpa.

A kind woman, who had given him an opportunity to earn some money by doing household chores, told him about a new place called NPH that would give children like him a home and a chance to continue his education. Marlon recalled becoming suspicious when he heard NPH was run by people from outside Honduras. He decided not to go, but not without doubts about his choice.

When his younger brother told Marlon he was looking for a home and a chance for education, Marlon confessed, “I decided to tell him to try NPH. I figured if nothing bad happened, I would join him.”  Within a few months, he joined his brother at NPH. The year was 1985.

Three years later, we met at the water purification tanks on the hill above the homes. Marlon recalled that is was I who taught him how to maintain the system. My recollection is that someone else taught us both. Either way, I remember thinking Marlon seemed responsible and mature for his age and that I could count on him to maintain the system without much direct supervision.

I wasn’t the only one who saw Marlon’s potential. Reinhart Koehler, the then director and one of the founders of NPH Honduras, realized long before my arrival that Marlon could be trusted to take on more responsibilities at the home than most. Marlon recalled that, from early on, Reinhart also saw that he needed more than just a stable home, that he needed some help to learn, as Reinhart would say, “to love yourself.”

It is hard for me to imagine what it would be like if my Mother had died when I was three years old. It takes a lot of parental love to help a child establish a healthy self-mage. Most of the children entering any of the NPH homes come from situations that were, if not damaging towards, at least not helpful in establishing a positive self-image. Fr. Wasson understood years ago that unconditional love was the most important gift that anyone could give the children of NPH; that it is unconditional love and acceptance that allows a child to develop a positive understanding of him/herself, especially when their self-image is already damaged.

Reinhart eventually gave Marlon a paid position at the home, which almost backfired in its result. Marlon recalled that as the school year approached and Reinhart mentioned that he should get prepared to go, Marlon replied, “I don’t need to go to school; I’ve got a paying job.”

Reinhart replied, “Well, you have “two” options. You can go to school or you can go to school. What’s it going to be?” Marlon went to school.

Not long after Susie and I left Honduras, Marlon was invited to join others with Fr. Wasson in Arizona to learn English and prepare to get a secondary education. When Fr. Wasson asked Marlon what he’d do with the education, Marlon said he wanted to be an engineer and work at Boeing so that he could get a lot of money and be rich. Marlon recalled Fr. Wasson’s reply: “Marlon, you’re a bit of a narcissist; you love yourself too much.”

Marlon heard what Fr. Wasson was saying. He gave up his engineering idea and went on to get a degree in psychology with a minor in social services. After his degree, Marlon stayed with NPH, working at the homes in Guatemala and El Salvador before becoming the director of NPH Nicaragua. It was in Nicaragua, while working with a group of “problem” boys, that Marlon had his Road-to-Emmaus moment.

We all have had those moments when we find ourselves running from our problems, from situations that arose during times we failed to do what we knew we should’ve done, or times when we did something we soon regretted, or times when we felt too inadequate to handle the situation. We leave because the feelings of fear, shame, and guilt overwhelm us to the point that we see nothing left but to leave, to escape. We’re leaving, heading anywhere but here, failing to see the wisdom in the old saying: no matter where you go, there you are.

If we’re fortunate, somewhere along our journey we run into someone, perhaps a wise elder, who’s willing to listen without judgment to “our” story.  He or she may ask a question to guide us along our story, helping us to see more of the whole picture. They may offer some advise, but in such a compassionate way that we feel neither threatened nor forced, for they know they can’t solve our problems. As we end our “conversation” with that wise elder, we still can’t sense a solution to that which haunts us, but we do feel a change of heart; we feel hopeful for the first time in quite a while.

Then, at some point further down the road, something happens that completes the picture. We realize what we must do, are filled with the courage to do it, and return to that place we had fled with a new purpose, one not created from fear, obligation, or anger, but from hope and love.

Our lives, if we’re fortunate, are filled with Emmaus moments. Most are small and, although they may seem insignificant and have left our memories, are still important. Others, perhaps one or two, are life-changing moments. Such was the moment Marlon shared with me during our interview.

Next week: Marlon’s Road to Emmaus.

For more information about the NPH’s work in Latin America, please visit: nphusa.org