A QUIET STORY OF GRACE
MARIKITA
A moment of friendship, faith, and gentle conversation that brightens her day as some of her children visit by her side.
At 82, Doña Marikita lives alone along a dusty road outside Guaymas. Her vision is fading, but her faith never has. Because she can’t see well, she walks barefoot to feel the earth beneath her feet and know where she’s going.
Each month, when the Mission team arrives with a box of rice, beans, flour, oil, and sometimes a precious chicken, she smiles and says it is “God’s reminder that I am not forgotten.” Her small home is shaded by trees and surrounded by clay pots of herbs and flowers she tends with patient care.
Though she has an air conditioner, her pension won’t cover the cost to run it, so a single fan hums softly against the heavy desert heat. With care and creativity, she turns one chicken into four meals—stretching the Mission’s gift to last nearly two weeks.
Once a midwife and healer for her neighbors, she now lives quietly among memories of the many lives she touched. “Tell them,” she whispers, “they feed me not only with food, but with love.”
Father Martin visits Doña Marikita at her home outside Guaymas, sitting with her beneath the shade of her trees— A moment of friendship, faith, and gentle conversation that brightens her day as some of her children visit by her side.
At 82, Doña Marikita lives alone along a dusty dirt road. Her vision is fading, but her faith never has. Because her sight is poor, she walks barefoot to feel the earth beneath her feet and know where she is going.
Each month, when the Mission team arrives with a box of rice, beans, flour, oil, and sometimes a precious chicken, she smiles and says it is “God’s reminder that I am not forgotten.” Her small home, shaded by trees and surrounded by clay pots of herbs and flowers, is a haven she tends with patient love.
Inside, the desert heat and humidity hang thick in the air. Though she has an air conditioner, her small pension can’t cover the electricity to run it, so a single fan hums softly in the corner, offering the only relief.
Still, her eyes—clouded by age—shine with humor and warmth when Father Martin visits. “She is one of those treasures,” he says. “That box gives her more than food—it gives her dignity.”
With care and creativity, she turns one chicken into four meals—soup, rice, shredded meat with potatoes, and crispy bits for the next day—stretching the Mission’s gift to last nearly two weeks.
In her younger years, Doña Marikita was a midwife and healer when there was no clinic. Now her world has narrowed to a few quiet rooms and the memories of the many lives she once touched. Still, she asks for little—only prayers. “Tell them,” she whispers, “they feed me not only with food, but with love.”
