June 27, 2006

The community and Church of Machaquila, Poptún, Petén, Guatemala welcomed me in extravagant ways. The Latin culture revolves around the community of family and friends, a culture in which I hope to embed myself and from this bring back apart of their community into my own. As the only one with a fair complexion in the town of four thousand, not only am I the only “gringa” but I am also the only one who speaks English, and therefore have a distinguishable accent. I rarely go unnoticed; receive many blank stares of confusion but many of a kind love. However, the Church that sits just to the right of the Pastor’s quant house where I reside has a wonderfully loving congregation that knows me. The Pastor’s family took me in and made me apart of the family. The two hundred some children of the Compassion Project welcome me with screams and embraces.

The Nazarene Church of Machaquila has been overwhelmingly welcoming. They not only hosted my team of thirteen, cooked breakfast, snack, lunch and dinner, and washed our clothes in the river. They shared their lives, hearts and families with us. Now that I am here alone, many have invited me into their homes, and to the River to wash clothes. They are constantly embracing me, telling me how grateful they are that I am here. Many have brought over food; I believe someone brought us a chicken today. They have all been so kind and welcoming, I wish I could give and help as much as they say I do.

The Pastors family has been more than amazing. They honestly make me feel right apart of the family and right at home. Elsy, the Mother, calls me her daughter. They prayed over where God was leading me when my previous plans in Panajachel with Guatemala Youth Rescue Center were not working. They then offered to take me in and allow me to work with the Church and Compassion Intl. or find whatever other organization they could for me. Elsy then offered her parents house as a place to live and I would be able to work in Rio Dulce at an orphanage called Casa Guatemala or at Ak’ Tenamit. She offered to come and pick me up in Antigua so I would not be alone or get lost, an eight hour bus ride, just to turn around and come right back. When I left Antigua, she had every bus arranged for me to take each with specific instructions, and when I finally arrived in Machaquilá, their son was waiting to carry my bags. We left the next day for Rio Dulce, where we found her amazing family, I had not expected to meet all of her five brothers, their wives and their families, but it was a wonderful surprise. When things fell through with the other organizations, there was no problem, because I was welcomed into their house. When I arrived Ramiro their son, gave his room up for me, I was given curtains and the freedom as if this was my house, to come and go as I pleased (while I knew that culturally, it did not mean much). When I was sick, just like my mother, she held my forehead as I knelt by the toilet and held me tightly. She sat on the side of my bed praying, and I knew I was never alone. She rushed me to the doctor, was worried sick about me, and made sure I received the best care. She continues to make me a special soup while I am sick, and still checks to make sure that I have taken all my medications. Miguel, the Pastor and Father, constantly goes out of his way to converse with me and pray over me. Not to mention, he will not let me pay for anything. Ramiro 14 years old and Lizbeth 3 years old, have done nothing but make me feel at home, they even call me sister. I have the privilege of praying with the family every night and being apart of everything they do. I consider myself beyond blessed in abundance to receive this amount of love and care from such a God fearing, faithful family.

The two hundred children of the Compassion Project never cease to make me feel welcome. Groups of little girls and boys huddle around me as soon as I appear tugging on my shirt, poking at my sides along with ceaseless giggling. Mumbling questions such as, ‘Como te llamas,’ ‘Adonde eres,’ ‘Como me llamo,’ ‘Cuantos anos tiene,’ ‘Quiere jugar?’ The little girls adorn my hands with their plastic neon jewelry. There is a large soccer field that sits directly in front of the Church property. After classes, all the little girls beg me to join them to play, I always seem to be attacked from every side, I usually cannot move without fearing that I will tip over onto their little bodies. The joy that comes from seeing their little faces light up when we play tag or sing songs cannot be expressed in words. Their very beings are filled with the most contagious joy and peace that radiates from their smiles.

Undoubtedly, I trust the genuineness of their greetings. I would be completely blind if I was not aware that there are some, who seek my sympathy and look for generosity in my pocket book. There is one family in particular that has sought to befriend me, clearly only seeking help. However, their have only been a scarce few who have spoiled the generosity of others.

The hearts of the majority have been sincere and open. The hospitality I have encountered, deeply founded in the unconditional love of these God fearing people. This is the only explanation that even touches their generosity. The Latin Culture is weaved around the center of community, the foundation for which all interaction takes place. If ever such a loving community existed, it is within the hearts of these Guatemalans. Their respect and love for all is a clear representation of their lucid and defined culture of community. I do not know of any single Guatemalan that I would consider selfish, they are admirably a truly friendly people of course with exceptions. I am sure that a good amount of curiosity, gratitude, humanity, and love plays its part. Nevertheless, as for these people that long to serve God with the little they have, their loving kindness reflects their walk with Christ.

The sincerity of their welcome, begs the question, why do we not show this kind of agape love to others? In the country, that claims its freedom and independence in the name of God, there is complete lack of community. The American Culture screams its identity in the individual self, in all its purely selfish desires and wishes. Many among our American Culture claim to be Christ followers while there are many who are not. Is there even a relative difference between those who claim their stake as followers of Christ and those who claim any different? The Christ we claim to follow speaks of love, compassion, dying to our selfish ambitions and in everything thinking of others as better than ourselves. Where is the love of Christ expressed in our nation built upon the sufferings of many men so that only a few would thrive? It is no wonder that our Capitalistic Society and American Culture have a lack of love for others, when our sole foundation revolves around the self.
It is by this Society that we often exploit and use those who are different from us. It is by our idealism founded in the self that we discriminate against guests in our country by their language, color of skin and even the clothes they wear. Many come searching for the opportunity for a better life, and in their search, we beat them down and use them as cheap labor. It is here that we have twisted the very ideals of our so-called Christ Centered Beliefs. I was welcomed here regardless.