Arriving in La Guaira, Venezuela yesterday evening was overwhelming. Everywhere we looked there were stories. Families searching. Orphans. Tears. Rubble. Tents. Camps. Digging. Shock. Loss. Yet in the middle of unimaginable heartbreak, we witnessed something just as powerful: people. The resilience of this community is difficult to describe. In the darkest moments, people move closer together. Neighbours become family. Food and water are shared without hesitation. Strangers ask if you need anything. We have been welcomed with gratitude simply because we came. “Gracias por todo” was written on the food we received. Such simple words, yet they say so much about the people here.

Today we walked towards one of the hundreds apartment buildings in this area that had completely collapsed after the earthquakes. An eleven-storey building, now reduced to layers of concrete. A father was searching for his beloved daughter. On our way there, one of our team noticed a young girl standing by herself with tears in her eyes. He simply walked over and offered her a bottle of water. That small act opened the door to a conversation. Through her tears, she shared that her two little brothers were no longer missing, they had been found, crushed beneath the buildings. There were no words that could make sense of such pain. Only a listening ear. Only a hug. We kept asking ourselves: What would Jesus have done?

When we arrived at the collapsed building, we found the father digging through the rubble with his own hands. We offered to take over for a while, knowing how physically exhausting the work is. He quietly stepped aside. His eyes were red. One of our volunteers handed him some water and a granola bar. He pulled out his phone and showed us pictures of his daughter, the daughter he had planned to travel with this summer. Now she lies somewhere beneath the concrete. Again, there were no words. The language barrier left us with little to say, but perhaps words were never what he needed most. Sometimes all you can offer is your presence, a hand on someone’s shoulder, and the assurance that they are not carrying their grief alone.

Just a few metres beneath, another effort was still underway. Another father. Still digging. Eleven days after the earthquakes. He had already found his young son and his mother-in-law. Both had been crushed beneath the rubble. Yet he kept hoping to at least get them out to be able to bury them.

Throughout today we kept returning to the same question: What would Jesus have done? We believe He would have been here, walking through the dust, sitting with those who mourn, offering water to the thirsty, and bringing hope where darkness seems overwhelming. That is what we desire to do. Not because we have the answers, but because we trust that His light shines brightest in the darkest places.

We will continue to be present on the ground and support where needed the most. We would be grateful for your prayers. For strength, wisdom, and comfort for grieving families.