I have been visiting Granada, Nicaragua for the last 15 years, starting when my father chose to make his home in this beautiful colonial city. But outside the colorful city center is the La Hoya municipal garbage dump, the workplace for 80 families. They pay the dump owner for the right to be there and labor every day amidst towering mountains of trash. Several hundred men, women, and children scavenge and sweat for hours in the dump’s toxic stink in an attempt to merely survive, scouring third-hand leftovers for anything of value in the hope they can gather enough to sell, make some cash, and buy food. But the pickings are meager and their earnings even less.

In Granada, the municipal garbage trucks come by three mornings a week. On those mornings, neighborhood people walk the streets to pick plastic and other items of any value from the garbage sitting by the curbs. Then, when the hardworking and poorly paid garbage men come by and collect the trash, they too go through it in search of things the first scavengers overlooked. It is from this material, already twice picked over, that the people of the La Hoya Dump attempt to scrape a living. Those 80 families do not live at the site but hike in for up to an hour from their ramshackle homes, buildings that often don’t have an adequate roof. Over the last few years, due to the dedication and hard work of a few in the Granada expatriate community, monies have been raised to buy pieces of tin and nails, so that families could build simple but effective roofs on their houses. Additionally, every year at the holidays, baskets of food staples, toys, and clothing are gathered and delivered to bring necessities to those most in need.

This year, something sacred unfolded in the Granada dump community. More than 600 men, women, and children gathered to celebrate the holidays. Families who have received homes. Parents who are learning to read. Children who are beginning to believe in a different future. And then — the music began. Marvin Amador Junior lifted his violin and opened with Hallelujah. The crowd fell completely silent. For a few breathtaking minutes, the sounds of hardship faded, replaced by beauty. In a place where people sort through garbage to survive, music rose above it all. You could see it on the faces of the children — wonder, stillness, hope. Moments like this remind us why we do this work. But more importantly, they remind us why you give. Because of you: families now have homes, adults are learning to read and write, and over 600 people experienced a Christmas filled with dignity and joy.

After the concert, Marvin asked, “What if these children had instruments in their hands instead of garbage?” And now, a music school opened on March 4 in La Joya. So far collected for the school are four guitars, a set of bongo drums, and one violin. Still needed are a keyboard and additional guitars as well as the finances to support the music program. Your support will help put instruments in the hands of children who need hope and opportunity. Thank you for not just giving money. Thank you for giving safety. Thank you for giving dignity. Thank you for giving possibility.