The frustration that consumes my very being overwhelms my every thought and even proceeds to enter into my encounters with people. It cannot be possible to be anymore discouraged, and irritable than I am now. I am lonely, confused, tired and exhausted. An array of emotions swarms within me; so much that I feel the craze physically wearing upon my body. What I desire now, I cannot decide, as my wishes collide in confliction. If only just for one day I was to just be.
I cry for doors on my walls instead of curtains, for even just a little bit of privacy. I just want to be alone, to not be touched, smothered or hugged. I desire, what is to me, a normal human contact, one that respects boundaries and is sadly somewhat distant. I crave the company of my family and closest friends. Nevertheless, a companion who speaks my mother tongue, really anybody would do. I desire to run far away, where no one can find me. I wish for no special treatment, to walk down the street without people staring. I dream of not being any different. I dream of solitude. I am lonely, but I want to be alone.
Everything within my body aches of confusion. Why is this anxiety just now rushing through my system? A little context will help you to understand. I am living with the Pastor’s family at the Church, I live, eat and breathe what is good, right, just and holy. I attend service one or two times each day (except for Friday). The Church is not only Nazarene but is also influenced by Latin Culture and is therefore, extremely conservative and legalistic. The affects of this continually religious lifestyle and a legalistic and conservative church system have drained me. Every service is preached in a different tongue than my own. Yes, I do speak some Spanish, but I am by no means fluent. The praises, songs, prayers and sermons are spoken so quickly that it is hard to catch little more than the general idea that is purveyed. You then wonder why God put me here. He placed me in a Church and this constant religious lifestyle, to do what… allow me to grow in my walk with him. Then why is it that I cannot seem to benefit from these spiritual disciplines, songs of praise, the prayers, nor even the sermons. Is this a cruel and unusual punishment? It is then that you wonder how I could feel this spiritually unfulfilled.
For me, each service is little more than times in which I must show up in a skirt, stand and clap and then sit. You must wonder why I cannot use this very time to sing songs of praise in my own tongue, read my bible during the sermon or pray in my thoughts. If only it were that easy. The Guatemalan culture asks for songs of praise to be belched from the stomach, leaving your ears and mind no room to block out their unison praise and focus on my own words and songs of adoration to God. I have at times managed to get some very prosperous Bible reading done during this time, but with the constant threat of the congregation wanting to see the text in English; it is hard to read from where I last left off. I have however, managed to use the kneeling prayer altar as my place of prayer, this, the only spiritual discipline that I have managed to repeat without fail or obstacle.
Being religious is something that I will never strive to be. In fact, I struggle with what religion has done to spirituality. Religion has placed and trapped God in a box. Legalized what is good and bad, right and wrong in forms of worship, intimacy with God, and even lifestyle. It is so often that the Church completely misses the point of Christ’s words by burying what should be the lifestyle of a Christ follower in repetitious forms of worship. Rare is the Institution of the Church what Paul describes in Acts or even close to living the life that Jesus proclaimed. Who has the authority to declare what is and is not worship, to limit and categorize our spiritual life?
I am tired and exhausted. More than anything, my head hurts from a constant need to translate Spanish to English and English to Spanish. I am the only person who speaks English, at least within ten miles. I attend Church service and am required to follow along, as even I am asked trivial questions that assure an attentive audience, during the sermon. I have even been hassled about how I do not yet know all the words to enough worship songs to lead worship, alone. Not only does my head hurt from translating, but also it as if I cannot turn off the inquisitiveness that lies within every pending thought. Sometimes I just wish that I left well enough alone, and did not have this need to go deeper beyond the surface. I just wish I could somehow drown out my thoughts and let my brain just rest in tranquility.
What brought all of this horrid emotion to engulf my soul? I am at a Youth Camp, a weekend of non-stop Spanish church service, to top them all off. Except I am a twenty one year old, rooming with thirteen year olds, listening to purity ‘sex talks’ with young teens. I am not the only young adult here, but I feel like it. The culture’s mixture of the ages and stages of life is quite drastically different from back home. If I am asked one more time if I have any questions about sex or purity I might just break out screaming. If I have to sit and listen to one more worship song or sermon in Spanish, these people are not going to like what is going to come out of me. I am about to have a nervous breakdown, I have held all of this in for way too long. I need an outlet.
This is the epitome of it all. This is my wall, and I too will climb it, but only after I am allowed to retreat. My one weapon against the craze and rush of frustration is to retreat, which takes forms such as relaxation, sleep and a time to just be alone, silent and often meditating. My host family, God has truly blessed me; they encourage me to rest, relax and take time to myself. While they encourage me to do so, there is not much time for privacy to enter into solidarity between God and me. While the Church congregation has curiously probed as to why I am not always free to play, roam around or join in constant work. My host family, the Pastors, have taken to explaining to others, without my ever needing to explain to them, that the culture, food and lifestyle is one that I am not accustomed to and that I therefore need time alone to rest. However, at this ‘Campamento Juvenil’ or ‘Youth Camp’ I was left without my host family, in my greatest time of need. I knew then that my needing to flee the premises of the Camp, away from the blaring Spanish worship and presence of the youth, would truly offend many of them. It was either I stay, have an anxiety attack and show them a very unchristian side of me, or I retreat to the very touristy poolside hammocks. When I was found wandering back, I had to gently and quickly explain that the language barrier was hard for me to deal with. As soon as I explained, by the look on their faces, I was quickly forgiven and even encouraged.
As I reflect on the anxiety and emotions that once took me over, they allowed me to reflect on my view of the world, how our culture and socialization defines who we have become. Different cultural behaviors and expectations are perceived and regarded differently in each culture. I am placed into a lifestyle and culture where there are little to no boundaries and relationships take the utmost priority. As there is no privacy, everyone knows everything about everyone, little is held back, and there is little to be embarrassed about. In Machaquila, this community shares their lives, experiences, struggles and their triumphs together. When a neighbor prepares a special meal or pastel, a good amount is without question brought to the neighbor to share in the joy and celebration. When a neighbor has marital problems and is left with no bed to rest, without question, he is given a home with the neighbors until all is resolved. When one needs prayer, he is prayed over. When one needs food, he is given food and so much more. This community lives in what might be a pure and simplistic solidarity. The love and community of Christ manifests itself within their unity. In a place where there is little privacy and little to hide.
I now realize that for so long I have hesitated from living in true community. Whether it is how I was socialized or life experiences that have cause me to withdrawal from truly sharing my life with others, I have hardened my heart. However, it is a life in true community that reflects the unity in which Christ calls us. The light shed on this matter here in Guatemala has left me with a new concept of how a lifestyle of unity is simple. We build walls around our houses to keep others out, and doors on our bedroom and bathroom walls. We build walls around our lives, our minds and even our hearts. When we let someone in that only hurts us, we automatically retreat and harden our hearts to others as a form of defense. As a result, we have hardened ourselves to the joys of life found in simple and authentic relationship.
It is my admiration and my belief that infusion will allow me the opportunity to adapt to this culture. At times it is hard and others refreshing. There have been times that I have taken to feeling sorry for my situation. It is only then that I am awakened to the truth. I asked to be here and I still want to be here. I continue to believe that it is where God wants me, to learn and serve. There is so much that he still has to teach me from this people and this place. This is my journey and I will cling to the healing power of Jesus to refresh my soul and awaken a new life of true and right relationship with friends and family. While at times I am forced to retreat, I cling to times of meditation to refresh and energize my will to proceed. I look forward to the day, when I am strong enough to apply all I have learned at home, a very different society.
Friday, August 17, 2007
July 5, 2006
Last October fifth Hurricane Stan hit the Coasts and Highlands of Guatemala and other parts of Central America. This devastating event destroyed lives, land, homes and the health of many. Specifically in Lake Atitlán, Stan hit hard. Surrounding Lake Atitlán lay three large Volcanoes, large towns and villages; these saw the bulk of the devastation. The rivers that lead to the Lake all flooded and caved in, destroying every house that had lied within a mile.
In Panabaj, a small village behind Santiago Atitlán sits directly between two large Volcanoes. Panabaj is where two thousand of its people lay buried in there homes. Stan hit at three in the morning, without any warning, there was a hug crash and with that, the Volcano’s soil ran crashing through two pathways and covered the village, fifteen feet high in most areas. It buried sleeping families in their homes, shops, schools and Municipal facilities. In this specific village, not much Government and International help was given. Internationally they claimed that this event could easily happen again and there was nothing stopping it, as there was grave danger in living in between two Volcanoes. Therefore, they would not give any aid to rebuild this hurting village. Many did not understand why they would live there in the first place, volcanic soil is extremely fertile and Lake Atitlán, by the Mayans, considered ‘the center of the universe.’ Internationally, minimal assistance was given to the rebuilding of Lake Atitlán and its infrastructure. The Guatemalan Government continues to send relief and construction workers to build cement barriers around the outskirts of the rivers.
I had the chance to visit Panabaj last May, the destruction and death beyond overwhelming. I clearly remember that October fifth when the Hurricane hit, I remember my heart breaking as I sat watching the news. Drawn to these people and their pain, I could do nothing but pray that God would heal their hearts, families and their land. As I had the opportunity to come and witness with my own eyes their pain, a rush of emotions entered me. I walked onto one of the two ‘Campo Santos,’ ‘The Holy Fields,’ words would not form from my mouth; I stood in silence and in awe of the destruction. I was standing on a massive burial site, where people lay in their homes, forever sleeping. I was standing five or six feet above their roofs, on soil that drenched their lives both inside and out. I stared at the sides of the volcano, there stood one of the massive trails where the landslide had occurred, and it stood a wide gap between the lush trees. This now desolate place a grave, holy field, lay silent since then, I could not help but notice, the tiny sprouts of fresh greenery that began to form from misery. With death, God brings new life and thus heals the hurting hearts.
Throughout the Rainforests of the Petén of Guatemala lay a fragile and diverse ecosystem. A large part still lays untouched, while cattle ranchers, timber merchants and migrants have settled within other parts of this jungle. The jungles are an extension of the southern Yucatan, where 40% is still primary forest. The largest environmental problem in Guatemala is the deforestation of the jungle, for the last thirty years this has been evolving. The Government has implemented a new Reforestation Act, where the people are reimbursed and paid to reforest the land when they are done farming. However, this Act is highly ineffective.
The Land Distribution problems lie deep within history. According to the history recorded in Schlesinger and Kinzer’s Bitter Fruit: The Story of the American Coup in Guatemala, during the Colonial Era, the land was taken from the Indigenous Mayans and distributed between, roughly, forty prominent Ladino families. In 1945 as Juan José Arevélo took office the ware of these Colonial Times continued to gravely effect the Guatemalans. At this time, the population growth continued to force the people to live off the same amount of land. While “Two percent of landowners held seventy two percent of available land, and ninety percent of the people together owned just fifteen percent of the productive acreage” (38). Indigenous Mayans were forced to work the plantations by an old system that required 150 days of ‘debt labor’ each year “in lieu of taxes.” Land reforms while written in law did little to give the people land. This combined with Dictators and War that followed Arevélo’s reign in 1945 to 1956, left Guatemala, still now, suffering from fierce discrimination and many without enough land to farm.
This history of indifference and war, combined with population growth has left families fighting for land, using the steepest mountains as fertile terrain, and clearing massive amounts of the forests. Lack of education and awareness has lead to poor crop rotation, and therefore a struggle to find fertile soil, resorting to the most inconvenient and extreme resources. The Rough Guide to Guatemala mentions…
Once the trees are removed the soil is highly vulnerable, deprived of its main source of fertility. Exposed to the harsh tropical sun and direct rainfall, an area-cleared forest soon becomes prone to flooding and drought. Recently cleared land will contain enough nutrients for four or five years of good growth, but soon afterwards its usefulness declines rapidly and within twenty years it will be almost completely barren. If the trees are stripped from a large area, soil erosion will stilt the rivers and parched soil will disrupt local rainfall patterns (483).
In Machaquila, the town has seen the toll deforestation has taken within the village. Just a few years ago, the climate and temperament of the town was quite drastically different. Covered in trees of the jungle, Ceiba, Mahogany, Aguacate, Ebony and Sapodilla, the town had shade that protected against the fierceness of the tropical sun. After an infestation of an insect destroyed many of the trees, many of the trees had to be removed and the sun and heat of the tropics attacked. As the amount of trees reduced, there was an abrupt realization of their vulnerability to landslides and flooding. Unstable soil does not only affect Machaquila, but is very common in within all of Guatemala. News reports are constantly showing flooding or landslides of villages, as the rainforest is just that, often a constant down poor. The roots of the trees and plants and large boulders stabilize the land.
Guatemala’s mountainous highlands, forests, jungle plains, volcanoes and climate often act as if they are an enemy to the people. It is as if there is a constant struggle between the inhabitants and the land and climate. While the people have adapted to their land and climate, it is not a life easily and comfortably lived. The rain is always fierce and spontaneous as if the clouds are angry, even when the sun is shining. The land, muddy but often dry and infertile, temperamental in nature. Rivers are constantly working, giving productive energy to the people, a constant and reliable friend to the people.
In the rainforest, it is always raining, hot, and humid. There are tarantulas, snakes, scorpions to say the least, not to mention the ‘Sanqudos’ and Mosquitoes that bite. In the morning, it is hard to sleep past seven or eight as the Roosters are constantly crowing, often beginning at three or four in the morning. When in Machaquila, there are always large puddles from the constant rain. If it starts to down poor then you are stuck wherever it left you, until it passes. I often wonder if it is even worth taking a shower, as you never stop sweating, and they are always freezing cold, even when it is this hot the cold hurts. When the sun goes down, there is no going out as there are no streetlights. There is always the ‘Pavillon,’ or ‘Bug Net’ that has to be draped across the bed perfectly before you can fall asleep.
This new world and way of living has taught me what it is to live simply and flexibly. The environment has not been hard for me to cope with; it is only different from what is normal to me. Yes, it is less uncomfortable, as you must work harder and fight the environment to do the simplest things. It is only the larger sized versions of insects that occupy my room, the house and the outside world that have taken some accustoming to. It is only after watching the people who live with them everyday that I am able to mimic their reactions, and I am able to relinquish my fears. The jungles of Guatemala have allowed me to realize how interdependent the people are on their environment.
In Panabaj, a small village behind Santiago Atitlán sits directly between two large Volcanoes. Panabaj is where two thousand of its people lay buried in there homes. Stan hit at three in the morning, without any warning, there was a hug crash and with that, the Volcano’s soil ran crashing through two pathways and covered the village, fifteen feet high in most areas. It buried sleeping families in their homes, shops, schools and Municipal facilities. In this specific village, not much Government and International help was given. Internationally they claimed that this event could easily happen again and there was nothing stopping it, as there was grave danger in living in between two Volcanoes. Therefore, they would not give any aid to rebuild this hurting village. Many did not understand why they would live there in the first place, volcanic soil is extremely fertile and Lake Atitlán, by the Mayans, considered ‘the center of the universe.’ Internationally, minimal assistance was given to the rebuilding of Lake Atitlán and its infrastructure. The Guatemalan Government continues to send relief and construction workers to build cement barriers around the outskirts of the rivers.
I had the chance to visit Panabaj last May, the destruction and death beyond overwhelming. I clearly remember that October fifth when the Hurricane hit, I remember my heart breaking as I sat watching the news. Drawn to these people and their pain, I could do nothing but pray that God would heal their hearts, families and their land. As I had the opportunity to come and witness with my own eyes their pain, a rush of emotions entered me. I walked onto one of the two ‘Campo Santos,’ ‘The Holy Fields,’ words would not form from my mouth; I stood in silence and in awe of the destruction. I was standing on a massive burial site, where people lay in their homes, forever sleeping. I was standing five or six feet above their roofs, on soil that drenched their lives both inside and out. I stared at the sides of the volcano, there stood one of the massive trails where the landslide had occurred, and it stood a wide gap between the lush trees. This now desolate place a grave, holy field, lay silent since then, I could not help but notice, the tiny sprouts of fresh greenery that began to form from misery. With death, God brings new life and thus heals the hurting hearts.
Throughout the Rainforests of the Petén of Guatemala lay a fragile and diverse ecosystem. A large part still lays untouched, while cattle ranchers, timber merchants and migrants have settled within other parts of this jungle. The jungles are an extension of the southern Yucatan, where 40% is still primary forest. The largest environmental problem in Guatemala is the deforestation of the jungle, for the last thirty years this has been evolving. The Government has implemented a new Reforestation Act, where the people are reimbursed and paid to reforest the land when they are done farming. However, this Act is highly ineffective.
The Land Distribution problems lie deep within history. According to the history recorded in Schlesinger and Kinzer’s Bitter Fruit: The Story of the American Coup in Guatemala, during the Colonial Era, the land was taken from the Indigenous Mayans and distributed between, roughly, forty prominent Ladino families. In 1945 as Juan José Arevélo took office the ware of these Colonial Times continued to gravely effect the Guatemalans. At this time, the population growth continued to force the people to live off the same amount of land. While “Two percent of landowners held seventy two percent of available land, and ninety percent of the people together owned just fifteen percent of the productive acreage” (38). Indigenous Mayans were forced to work the plantations by an old system that required 150 days of ‘debt labor’ each year “in lieu of taxes.” Land reforms while written in law did little to give the people land. This combined with Dictators and War that followed Arevélo’s reign in 1945 to 1956, left Guatemala, still now, suffering from fierce discrimination and many without enough land to farm.
This history of indifference and war, combined with population growth has left families fighting for land, using the steepest mountains as fertile terrain, and clearing massive amounts of the forests. Lack of education and awareness has lead to poor crop rotation, and therefore a struggle to find fertile soil, resorting to the most inconvenient and extreme resources. The Rough Guide to Guatemala mentions…
Once the trees are removed the soil is highly vulnerable, deprived of its main source of fertility. Exposed to the harsh tropical sun and direct rainfall, an area-cleared forest soon becomes prone to flooding and drought. Recently cleared land will contain enough nutrients for four or five years of good growth, but soon afterwards its usefulness declines rapidly and within twenty years it will be almost completely barren. If the trees are stripped from a large area, soil erosion will stilt the rivers and parched soil will disrupt local rainfall patterns (483).
In Machaquila, the town has seen the toll deforestation has taken within the village. Just a few years ago, the climate and temperament of the town was quite drastically different. Covered in trees of the jungle, Ceiba, Mahogany, Aguacate, Ebony and Sapodilla, the town had shade that protected against the fierceness of the tropical sun. After an infestation of an insect destroyed many of the trees, many of the trees had to be removed and the sun and heat of the tropics attacked. As the amount of trees reduced, there was an abrupt realization of their vulnerability to landslides and flooding. Unstable soil does not only affect Machaquila, but is very common in within all of Guatemala. News reports are constantly showing flooding or landslides of villages, as the rainforest is just that, often a constant down poor. The roots of the trees and plants and large boulders stabilize the land.
Guatemala’s mountainous highlands, forests, jungle plains, volcanoes and climate often act as if they are an enemy to the people. It is as if there is a constant struggle between the inhabitants and the land and climate. While the people have adapted to their land and climate, it is not a life easily and comfortably lived. The rain is always fierce and spontaneous as if the clouds are angry, even when the sun is shining. The land, muddy but often dry and infertile, temperamental in nature. Rivers are constantly working, giving productive energy to the people, a constant and reliable friend to the people.
In the rainforest, it is always raining, hot, and humid. There are tarantulas, snakes, scorpions to say the least, not to mention the ‘Sanqudos’ and Mosquitoes that bite. In the morning, it is hard to sleep past seven or eight as the Roosters are constantly crowing, often beginning at three or four in the morning. When in Machaquila, there are always large puddles from the constant rain. If it starts to down poor then you are stuck wherever it left you, until it passes. I often wonder if it is even worth taking a shower, as you never stop sweating, and they are always freezing cold, even when it is this hot the cold hurts. When the sun goes down, there is no going out as there are no streetlights. There is always the ‘Pavillon,’ or ‘Bug Net’ that has to be draped across the bed perfectly before you can fall asleep.
This new world and way of living has taught me what it is to live simply and flexibly. The environment has not been hard for me to cope with; it is only different from what is normal to me. Yes, it is less uncomfortable, as you must work harder and fight the environment to do the simplest things. It is only the larger sized versions of insects that occupy my room, the house and the outside world that have taken some accustoming to. It is only after watching the people who live with them everyday that I am able to mimic their reactions, and I am able to relinquish my fears. The jungles of Guatemala have allowed me to realize how interdependent the people are on their environment.
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.
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.
June 22, 2006
The time in which I am to leave and venture off into the unknown has been a long time coming. Each step I seem to take brings me closer to departure, and the more I felt like God has preparing me my whole life for that moment. This is the beginning of new life. In a time when everything inside me screams and aches to change, I know that soon enough that time will befall over me. There will be no more second-guessing; my ceaseless questioning will be long entertained. I know that what awaits me on the other side is peace, a peace only found in truth. For when I am reunited with home and the dear American tale I will forever be changed.
I sensed crossing the “Rubicon” of my journey as I led my team of thirteen to the airport in Guatemala City. The team had only been there a month, yet days and weeks prior, the excitement to return to life at home and everything that was comfortable and familiar withstood what was in front of their eyes, the jungles of Guatemala. An adventure that God had for them to take and the chance to open their eyes to new life. There stood the road less traveled, was the road less traveled even considered? What could I have done to change their minds? The griping, grumbling and complaining not only wore on them but it was almost like an evil substance that sought to overtake my belief. Never the less, I tried to not be shaken.
There the doors to Guatemala Cities’ Aurora International Airport stood wide open. As the team poured in through the doors without looking back, with one deep breath I marched in. I stood in line as the bags were checked, and again listened to the excitement and joy found in home, family and friends that I would have yet to see for another three months. A piece of me knew how easy it would be to run, all I would have to do is get in the plane and leave all my fears behind but I would be leaving my heart. When it came time to depart, we exchanged embraces, but very formally, I had to force myself not to feel, hoping the extent of what was happening would not hit. Hoping that reality of life in Guatemala now alone, and every type of comfort torn away from me, would later slowly sink in. After my last embraced, my breathe slipped out from inside me and tears began to stream my face. I quickly regained the conscious vision, my belief that this is everything I wanted and where I was supposed to be. I took another deep breathe, sucked every fear back in and mustered up the courage to turn around and look back at the doors wide open. Outside the doors displayed a bustling city that lay behind, but further out of the city held a much simpler and quiet life of Guatemalans. I took one-step towards the door and each one that followed became easier. I marched out the doors into the unknown, my heart pounding…
Everything inside me was screaming the very words of a song from Switchfoot,
“I dare you to move, I dare you to run…Welcome to the fall out. Welcome to resistance. The tension between who you are and who you could be, between how it is and how it should be…Where you can run to escape from yourself...Maybe we’ve been living with our eyes half open…We were meant to live for so much more, if only we lost ourselves…”
I forced myself into the Cab, while an overwhelming sense of pride rushed over me. I had finally embarked upon my journey that was a long time coming…I was finally here. I was off to experience the unknown and venture off into a future that would leave me forever changed. As the cab found its way out of the Airport and off into Guatemala, there was no turning back, my new life awaited me.
There have been many willing and eager sojourners that have treaded before me, and many that follow. Each giving me a new and different inspiration to venture. One dared to soar on wings like eagles across the world. And another dared to fly where no one else had gone before. Journeys that took a whole lives preparation. To fulfill dreams and ambitions, in strength and courage. I too am ready to fight the joys and trials of the unknown. Leaving my old self behind, knowing that through this journey; I too would only find the restoration of a new woman, one only found in faith, trials and time.
I sensed crossing the “Rubicon” of my journey as I led my team of thirteen to the airport in Guatemala City. The team had only been there a month, yet days and weeks prior, the excitement to return to life at home and everything that was comfortable and familiar withstood what was in front of their eyes, the jungles of Guatemala. An adventure that God had for them to take and the chance to open their eyes to new life. There stood the road less traveled, was the road less traveled even considered? What could I have done to change their minds? The griping, grumbling and complaining not only wore on them but it was almost like an evil substance that sought to overtake my belief. Never the less, I tried to not be shaken.
There the doors to Guatemala Cities’ Aurora International Airport stood wide open. As the team poured in through the doors without looking back, with one deep breath I marched in. I stood in line as the bags were checked, and again listened to the excitement and joy found in home, family and friends that I would have yet to see for another three months. A piece of me knew how easy it would be to run, all I would have to do is get in the plane and leave all my fears behind but I would be leaving my heart. When it came time to depart, we exchanged embraces, but very formally, I had to force myself not to feel, hoping the extent of what was happening would not hit. Hoping that reality of life in Guatemala now alone, and every type of comfort torn away from me, would later slowly sink in. After my last embraced, my breathe slipped out from inside me and tears began to stream my face. I quickly regained the conscious vision, my belief that this is everything I wanted and where I was supposed to be. I took another deep breathe, sucked every fear back in and mustered up the courage to turn around and look back at the doors wide open. Outside the doors displayed a bustling city that lay behind, but further out of the city held a much simpler and quiet life of Guatemalans. I took one-step towards the door and each one that followed became easier. I marched out the doors into the unknown, my heart pounding…
Everything inside me was screaming the very words of a song from Switchfoot,
“I dare you to move, I dare you to run…Welcome to the fall out. Welcome to resistance. The tension between who you are and who you could be, between how it is and how it should be…Where you can run to escape from yourself...Maybe we’ve been living with our eyes half open…We were meant to live for so much more, if only we lost ourselves…”
I forced myself into the Cab, while an overwhelming sense of pride rushed over me. I had finally embarked upon my journey that was a long time coming…I was finally here. I was off to experience the unknown and venture off into a future that would leave me forever changed. As the cab found its way out of the Airport and off into Guatemala, there was no turning back, my new life awaited me.
There have been many willing and eager sojourners that have treaded before me, and many that follow. Each giving me a new and different inspiration to venture. One dared to soar on wings like eagles across the world. And another dared to fly where no one else had gone before. Journeys that took a whole lives preparation. To fulfill dreams and ambitions, in strength and courage. I too am ready to fight the joys and trials of the unknown. Leaving my old self behind, knowing that through this journey; I too would only find the restoration of a new woman, one only found in faith, trials and time.
June 14, 2006
As I pack for this journey, this adventure, what is difficult is that I have only a very faint idea of what lies ahead. However, returning to a place where I have once been does help. Once known as one who always “over-packed,” I have to conquer my fear of leaving an item, however so slight. Instead I force myself to understand, that wanting something and not being able to indulge myself in it, is half the journey. The more I ponder the idea the deeper it grows.
If I am so used to having everything, right at my fingertips, then how is it that I am to relate to the people and the lifestyle of the Third World, to a people that often do not have access to what we have labeled “basic necessities.” What if I was to try to undo who I was socialized to be? What would happen? Who would I then become? If ever my previous visit to Guatemala helped me it was in this respect. The Indigenous, more often than not, hand wash every article of clothing in the river, and hang it to dry. When I say wash, I mean they scrub with bare hands against a wooden plank until there knuckles are beaten and slashed, believe me…I have tried.
Yet, this is normal, this is life, when the women wash clothes; they do not have an envious attitude, longing for the modern convenience of a wash machine. More or less, they have made it into a time of fellowship of being. Like-minded, when cooking, every item is not merely pulled out of the refrigerator and thrown into the toaster, microwave, or even the convectional oven. They cook it over an open flame heated by wood. They do not even buy the dead packaged and sealed chicken, in your choice of boneless, skinless, wings, thighs, legs, breasts, or any combination of your choice. The chicken is killed, with just enough time for it to be ready by dinner. First, you must use a knife and slit a single vein in its throat, rapidly submerge its lifeless body in boiling water, quickly pluck every feather out, then run its skin through an open flame. Then you must burn and peel the skin of its feet off, the texture you will not forget. Next come the insides, yes you take them out by hand, off comes the head, the legs and the feet, and then you cook the lifeless body that you killed. So much for modern conveniences that have entrapped and stripped our lives into emotionless machines, counting every second, searching for a faster and more strategic way of doing things, leaving us to resort to talking with family and loved ones by phone or email. What have we become? What have we done?
All of that to say this, my hope is that I forget things, and leave them behind. I want to come back to the essence of life, something that precious time has stolen from me, relationship. I want to challenge myself, and this will be one of those purposeful journeys for me.
With me, I have packed a large backpack filled to the brim with enough clothes to last one week, hot weather, cold weather, for water and even the rain. I also have a suitcase filled with my books, and a small backpack for my few personal items. I have packed one pair of flip-flops, sandals and some running shoes. As far as toiletries, I seemed to have packed a lot. I guess my one comfort item would be a travel size flat iron. How pathetic. What does this say about me, that I care about how I look or that I am self-conscious? I am sure there is a much deeper explanation, but over this, I will have to ponder. Not that I will even use the flat iron that much but at least I know it is there for the days that I have to look descent in the city. I also have my laptop, cell phone that I brought for my parents sake, ipod, my Bible, books and materials for school, and some watercolors to paint.
There is not much that I wished I packed or did not pack. Sometimes I wished I did not have my cell phone, it is a comfort knowing that I have it in case of emergency, but should I have told my parents no when I am sure it calms there nerves extremely. It is debatable, but I do not think it is going to work when I am in the village, which makes it a good compromise! I think the one item I wish I had bought and taken here with me, is some pepper spray. I have already had a few bad incidents in the streets at night, that it would have calmed my own nerves greatly to at least have something at all to protect me. Its is such an interesting feeling, having such a horrid history with men, lacking trust in them because of what has been done. Adding my history to the present, being alone in a country with machismo culture, in a place where not even the police can be trusted. Excuse me for exposing my fears, but that sense of fear and mistrust is real. Knowing I have nothing on me to stop anyone, but only my legs to run is terrifying. Whether or not I ever used it, at least I knew it was there if I had to.
It is hard to depict what I brought says about my expectations, assumptions and needs because I have been here before. However, my cell phone is not only a security for my parents, it is my security against loneliness. Knowing that it is there if I need it is such a comfort, I often wish it fell in the river. My ipod, I only use on occasion, is the quiet to much to handle for me? I brought it for a few reasons, I have Spanish music and it helps me learn and understand Spanish, as well as vocal praise and worship is a big part of how I worship God. Should I have taken this time to learn to praise Him in other ways? My prayer is that none of these items would become a hindrance to building relationships, talking and learning from others.
The two items that have caused my embarrassment is this laptop and my ipod. I find it beyond embarrassing to have such things in this culture. When most cannot afford to go to college, let alone their parents providing them with not only an education after High School but also a laptop. I will not bring this laptop or even my ipod in front of anyone. There have been many times that I have wished to show someone pictures of my family that are only on my laptop, but felt so ashamed of owning an item that costs what is equivalent to years and years of their total combined family income. Whether or not is a norm in our culture, does that declare it right to own such an item? Is it even necessary to have one at school or is it just such an accessible convenience that we claim it as such? I have a laptop, when most of the children, whose every year after sixth grade is known as a luxury, do not even have their own books in school. Most of the time teachers or students have to copy the books by hand from one or two shared books for the entire class. Most of the learning in the elementary schools is done by memorization. Do we have any idea as to the extent of our privilege?
Have our modern conveniences that we have claimed necessity strangled everything pure, true and right? Or are these material comforts merely sucking the life out of our culture?
If I am so used to having everything, right at my fingertips, then how is it that I am to relate to the people and the lifestyle of the Third World, to a people that often do not have access to what we have labeled “basic necessities.” What if I was to try to undo who I was socialized to be? What would happen? Who would I then become? If ever my previous visit to Guatemala helped me it was in this respect. The Indigenous, more often than not, hand wash every article of clothing in the river, and hang it to dry. When I say wash, I mean they scrub with bare hands against a wooden plank until there knuckles are beaten and slashed, believe me…I have tried.
Yet, this is normal, this is life, when the women wash clothes; they do not have an envious attitude, longing for the modern convenience of a wash machine. More or less, they have made it into a time of fellowship of being. Like-minded, when cooking, every item is not merely pulled out of the refrigerator and thrown into the toaster, microwave, or even the convectional oven. They cook it over an open flame heated by wood. They do not even buy the dead packaged and sealed chicken, in your choice of boneless, skinless, wings, thighs, legs, breasts, or any combination of your choice. The chicken is killed, with just enough time for it to be ready by dinner. First, you must use a knife and slit a single vein in its throat, rapidly submerge its lifeless body in boiling water, quickly pluck every feather out, then run its skin through an open flame. Then you must burn and peel the skin of its feet off, the texture you will not forget. Next come the insides, yes you take them out by hand, off comes the head, the legs and the feet, and then you cook the lifeless body that you killed. So much for modern conveniences that have entrapped and stripped our lives into emotionless machines, counting every second, searching for a faster and more strategic way of doing things, leaving us to resort to talking with family and loved ones by phone or email. What have we become? What have we done?
All of that to say this, my hope is that I forget things, and leave them behind. I want to come back to the essence of life, something that precious time has stolen from me, relationship. I want to challenge myself, and this will be one of those purposeful journeys for me.
With me, I have packed a large backpack filled to the brim with enough clothes to last one week, hot weather, cold weather, for water and even the rain. I also have a suitcase filled with my books, and a small backpack for my few personal items. I have packed one pair of flip-flops, sandals and some running shoes. As far as toiletries, I seemed to have packed a lot. I guess my one comfort item would be a travel size flat iron. How pathetic. What does this say about me, that I care about how I look or that I am self-conscious? I am sure there is a much deeper explanation, but over this, I will have to ponder. Not that I will even use the flat iron that much but at least I know it is there for the days that I have to look descent in the city. I also have my laptop, cell phone that I brought for my parents sake, ipod, my Bible, books and materials for school, and some watercolors to paint.
There is not much that I wished I packed or did not pack. Sometimes I wished I did not have my cell phone, it is a comfort knowing that I have it in case of emergency, but should I have told my parents no when I am sure it calms there nerves extremely. It is debatable, but I do not think it is going to work when I am in the village, which makes it a good compromise! I think the one item I wish I had bought and taken here with me, is some pepper spray. I have already had a few bad incidents in the streets at night, that it would have calmed my own nerves greatly to at least have something at all to protect me. Its is such an interesting feeling, having such a horrid history with men, lacking trust in them because of what has been done. Adding my history to the present, being alone in a country with machismo culture, in a place where not even the police can be trusted. Excuse me for exposing my fears, but that sense of fear and mistrust is real. Knowing I have nothing on me to stop anyone, but only my legs to run is terrifying. Whether or not I ever used it, at least I knew it was there if I had to.
It is hard to depict what I brought says about my expectations, assumptions and needs because I have been here before. However, my cell phone is not only a security for my parents, it is my security against loneliness. Knowing that it is there if I need it is such a comfort, I often wish it fell in the river. My ipod, I only use on occasion, is the quiet to much to handle for me? I brought it for a few reasons, I have Spanish music and it helps me learn and understand Spanish, as well as vocal praise and worship is a big part of how I worship God. Should I have taken this time to learn to praise Him in other ways? My prayer is that none of these items would become a hindrance to building relationships, talking and learning from others.
The two items that have caused my embarrassment is this laptop and my ipod. I find it beyond embarrassing to have such things in this culture. When most cannot afford to go to college, let alone their parents providing them with not only an education after High School but also a laptop. I will not bring this laptop or even my ipod in front of anyone. There have been many times that I have wished to show someone pictures of my family that are only on my laptop, but felt so ashamed of owning an item that costs what is equivalent to years and years of their total combined family income. Whether or not is a norm in our culture, does that declare it right to own such an item? Is it even necessary to have one at school or is it just such an accessible convenience that we claim it as such? I have a laptop, when most of the children, whose every year after sixth grade is known as a luxury, do not even have their own books in school. Most of the time teachers or students have to copy the books by hand from one or two shared books for the entire class. Most of the learning in the elementary schools is done by memorization. Do we have any idea as to the extent of our privilege?
Have our modern conveniences that we have claimed necessity strangled everything pure, true and right? Or are these material comforts merely sucking the life out of our culture?
June 13, 2006
As I have begun pondering my reasons for embarking on this journey, a rush of emotions, questions and excitement is taking me over. This journey has been a long time coming, I am ready…I have been ready. There are many reasons as to why I choose to leave the physical, intellectual, and emotional comforts of everything I once knew; my home. The very idea, that this ‘home,’ this way of life is all I know, and knowing there is so much more to life hidden deep within the secrets of this world and its people. There is so much more to life than our belief in the ‘American Dream,’ material possession, and our selfish ambitions and vein conceit. Our vanity has swallowed us whole; who and what will pull us out if we do not begin to crawl on our own?
When did we start believing everything we heard and take it as truth? Moreover, I ask you to understand that by claiming “we” I include myself. Why is it that, we believe we are “blessed” to live in America, that we are the elite of this world, because our money and heritage claims our stake? Then I beg to challenge our notion of “blessings.” Why is that we put a tag on our wealth in money, material possession, access to education and healthcare, that states “Blessing from God.” A journey back, to the context of why some have our definition of “wealth” and others do not, would have roots solely planted in the dirt of injustice that begins and ends in privilege, power and difference. Have not we then trapped God in a box and slapped on an ignorant statement of God’s character. Do we really believe God intentionally denies access to the bare necessities of life to the multitude yet grants a surplus to others, because of His undying favor for those in power? Do not misunderstand me! I am not condemning persons but rather the capitalistic system in which we live and are entrapped in, for who am I to judge? Have I not bound myself in its chains, the very chains I am struggling to crawl out of?
Oh how ignorance is both our bliss and our destruction. These very thoughts eat me alive and all I am left to plead is …forgive us Father, for we know not what we do…for we are lost.
I choose to leave as I choose to take up this journey into a world that allows me to question absolutes. By leaving, I am choosing to take off the chains that bind me to this complex society, and liberate my soul into a world where life appears to be simple and concrete. I leave to seek truth. I want to live the life I no longer have to take for granted, to see, hear, taste and smell the richness and extent of God’s creation and beauty. To seek, search and find a part of His character that He left dwelling within a people and their lives. Whether these beliefs are apart of the baggage, that follows me into lands unknown, or a mere stepping-stone in my journey to seek truth, we will soon find out.
I have once experienced the life and love found on the streets of Guatemala. Why Guatemala you ask, well the story begins in my childhood dreams and passions. In the year of 1995, fifth grade began. It was this year that Arizona curriculum placed the study of the Ancient Mayan Civilizations, and it was then that I feel in love with their architecture, their lives and their story. It had been my dream to one-day venture off the discovered paths of Mayan Temples, Plazas and Great Ball Courts, in search of discovering more of who the Mayans were. For their Civilization fell and no one really knows the truth in what had happened to a people group who were so highly advanced in Astronomy, Mathematics and Science then the rest of the world. For I somehow had the staggering belief that very few Mayans remained on this world. I recall fearing that by the time I grew up, and was able to venture into the jungles of the Yucatan, the people would all be gone and their secrets in turn all discovered. Little did I know that God would later send me to a place where over sixty percent of the population is of Indigenous Mayan ancestry, with twenty two Indigenous tribes speaking twenty two Indigenous languages, with twenty two ways of life. Little did I know that God would send me, to learn about their life today, their struggles and triumphs of fighting against a Colonized world that continues to oppress and strangle their traditions. Little did I know that my dreams and passions as a child foreshadowed all that I am today.
Last year, God sent me to Guatemala, through Azusa Pacific University’s Office of World Mission’s Focus International Team. I applied for the team in the fall of 2004, looking back on the steps of faith that I took that year I still wonder how I managed. Let me explain, I went to Biola my Freshman year of College, something about it did not seem to fit, for my previous major and many other reasons I decided to leave, in search of what God had for me. That fall of 2004, I decided to get an apartment in Fullerton with an amazing friend who also decided to leave, and we attended Fullerton College, lived on our own that semester, not having any idea if we would be accepted to APU. It was an amazing time that semester, for the road was full of twists and turns, but through them, I grew. It was during that semester that my friend and I accidentally made it into the Office of World Missions, we marveled at every option and country they had to offer. Guatemala did not stand out to me, I wonder if it should have, if I was blind to the idea. Both she and I applied to teams; Guatemala was on each of our lists, but certainly not on the top of mine. We had no desire to go together, for we each knew that this would be when we would be able to make friends in a new place. It just so happened that when I had my interview for Guatemala; I knew the man that would lead the team, we had met during a Mexico Outreach trip to Cuernevaca last spring, he had been apart of my journey in trying to transfer. We had an amazing time talking in that interview, and it was then that I felt a glimpse of my passion for these people, not only the Latin Americans, the people of Guatemala but the Mayans. The only team I was accepted to was Team Guatemala, my friend even managed to end up on the team as well. At this point, I still had not received my letter of acceptance for APU, but I already had the whole semester planned. I soon received the call of good news from my Admissions Advisor and the journey began. Last year the trip ended up being an amazing adventure, it is where God started making me question things. The trip left me with new ideas to wrestle over, but in the end when I left Guatemala, in no way did I ever intend or think for a minute that I would ever return.
Little did I know, God had something very drastically different planned for me. In the fall of 2005, I began the year working in the Office of World Missions. It was on September 5th that I dealt with a lot of my anxieties about the trip last year, it was then that my mind would not stop thinking of new ideas for the trip next year, as our prior trip was nicknamed ‘the guinea pig.’ I would get so excited about the trip and what could be done with it, but after I would let my mind run off, I would have to come back to the realization that I was not going back to Guatemala, I had not even wanted to. My desire was to run off to some exotic country in Africa or even to India, so I could add to my list of places I have been. I came to realize what a selfish ambition this was. I sat at my desk in the office one day, and the idea of my co-leading the team with an old team member was brought up. I remember being scared half to death to admit that I was thinking about it. If I said it aloud, it meant I had to follow through but somehow, I mustered up the courage to tell them truth. This was the beginning of another rocky and long road God had me on, but it was how I got to where I am today, Guatemala.
In Guatemala, they have faces that have captured what it is to love and be in true relationship, seen by their smiles. I want to be with and learn from those who have built this into their spirit, or ‘sea’ in their being. It is for this that I return. To throw every expectation to the wind, to try and have an open heart and mind as to what God has for me. For in giving up our hopes, dreams and expectations is where true life is lived, and truth is found for those who care to seek.
How can I feel nervous or scared to venture off from a place where I do not feel I belong? How is it that the recollection of Guatemala feels like home, where I am supposed to be, to live, to learn and to love? The only things that it seems Guatemala is missing is my family and friends, neither of whom, I will venture to state; feel the extent of my passions. I will miss their company dearly, but will always know that they are found in my heart and I in theirs, despite the different paths our lives take. I have always feared, that if I ventured off on my own for too long into a land far away, that I would fall in love and never return. It is still my fear that I will not return in September for school. However, I believe I must… I have recently learned the importance of education, even in the midst of the Third World, and how shocking this was, for it went against all my prior beliefs. But even then, how refreshing, that not only am I graduating in one years time, but that I have not wasted the last three years of studies, of which have only secretly encouraged my knowledge in the areas related to my passion.
As I embark on this journey in the midst of only myself, contradicting emotions engulf me. For I know that I will never truly be alone, for God is with me, while physically it is only me that travels ahead. I am eager to find out how I will react, when the team thirteen, that I am leading leaves on June 11th. Being alone is something new to me, something I have never done, but all the more reason to venture off into the unknown. I have this small addiction to taking my fears and anxiety and using them as a foothold to climb into everything that scares me, to conquer my fears. Antigua is a beautiful colonial city, with many travelers passing through, and to where God takes me after, rural Guatemala is home to some of the friendliest and welcoming Christ Followers. I only fear they will misinterpret why I have come. However, I know that the
people of the Guatemalan Church, which is where I will go, to get a foot in the door with the children and the men and women of Guatemala.
When did we start believing everything we heard and take it as truth? Moreover, I ask you to understand that by claiming “we” I include myself. Why is it that, we believe we are “blessed” to live in America, that we are the elite of this world, because our money and heritage claims our stake? Then I beg to challenge our notion of “blessings.” Why is that we put a tag on our wealth in money, material possession, access to education and healthcare, that states “Blessing from God.” A journey back, to the context of why some have our definition of “wealth” and others do not, would have roots solely planted in the dirt of injustice that begins and ends in privilege, power and difference. Have not we then trapped God in a box and slapped on an ignorant statement of God’s character. Do we really believe God intentionally denies access to the bare necessities of life to the multitude yet grants a surplus to others, because of His undying favor for those in power? Do not misunderstand me! I am not condemning persons but rather the capitalistic system in which we live and are entrapped in, for who am I to judge? Have I not bound myself in its chains, the very chains I am struggling to crawl out of?
Oh how ignorance is both our bliss and our destruction. These very thoughts eat me alive and all I am left to plead is …forgive us Father, for we know not what we do…for we are lost.
I choose to leave as I choose to take up this journey into a world that allows me to question absolutes. By leaving, I am choosing to take off the chains that bind me to this complex society, and liberate my soul into a world where life appears to be simple and concrete. I leave to seek truth. I want to live the life I no longer have to take for granted, to see, hear, taste and smell the richness and extent of God’s creation and beauty. To seek, search and find a part of His character that He left dwelling within a people and their lives. Whether these beliefs are apart of the baggage, that follows me into lands unknown, or a mere stepping-stone in my journey to seek truth, we will soon find out.
I have once experienced the life and love found on the streets of Guatemala. Why Guatemala you ask, well the story begins in my childhood dreams and passions. In the year of 1995, fifth grade began. It was this year that Arizona curriculum placed the study of the Ancient Mayan Civilizations, and it was then that I feel in love with their architecture, their lives and their story. It had been my dream to one-day venture off the discovered paths of Mayan Temples, Plazas and Great Ball Courts, in search of discovering more of who the Mayans were. For their Civilization fell and no one really knows the truth in what had happened to a people group who were so highly advanced in Astronomy, Mathematics and Science then the rest of the world. For I somehow had the staggering belief that very few Mayans remained on this world. I recall fearing that by the time I grew up, and was able to venture into the jungles of the Yucatan, the people would all be gone and their secrets in turn all discovered. Little did I know that God would later send me to a place where over sixty percent of the population is of Indigenous Mayan ancestry, with twenty two Indigenous tribes speaking twenty two Indigenous languages, with twenty two ways of life. Little did I know that God would send me, to learn about their life today, their struggles and triumphs of fighting against a Colonized world that continues to oppress and strangle their traditions. Little did I know that my dreams and passions as a child foreshadowed all that I am today.
Last year, God sent me to Guatemala, through Azusa Pacific University’s Office of World Mission’s Focus International Team. I applied for the team in the fall of 2004, looking back on the steps of faith that I took that year I still wonder how I managed. Let me explain, I went to Biola my Freshman year of College, something about it did not seem to fit, for my previous major and many other reasons I decided to leave, in search of what God had for me. That fall of 2004, I decided to get an apartment in Fullerton with an amazing friend who also decided to leave, and we attended Fullerton College, lived on our own that semester, not having any idea if we would be accepted to APU. It was an amazing time that semester, for the road was full of twists and turns, but through them, I grew. It was during that semester that my friend and I accidentally made it into the Office of World Missions, we marveled at every option and country they had to offer. Guatemala did not stand out to me, I wonder if it should have, if I was blind to the idea. Both she and I applied to teams; Guatemala was on each of our lists, but certainly not on the top of mine. We had no desire to go together, for we each knew that this would be when we would be able to make friends in a new place. It just so happened that when I had my interview for Guatemala; I knew the man that would lead the team, we had met during a Mexico Outreach trip to Cuernevaca last spring, he had been apart of my journey in trying to transfer. We had an amazing time talking in that interview, and it was then that I felt a glimpse of my passion for these people, not only the Latin Americans, the people of Guatemala but the Mayans. The only team I was accepted to was Team Guatemala, my friend even managed to end up on the team as well. At this point, I still had not received my letter of acceptance for APU, but I already had the whole semester planned. I soon received the call of good news from my Admissions Advisor and the journey began. Last year the trip ended up being an amazing adventure, it is where God started making me question things. The trip left me with new ideas to wrestle over, but in the end when I left Guatemala, in no way did I ever intend or think for a minute that I would ever return.
Little did I know, God had something very drastically different planned for me. In the fall of 2005, I began the year working in the Office of World Missions. It was on September 5th that I dealt with a lot of my anxieties about the trip last year, it was then that my mind would not stop thinking of new ideas for the trip next year, as our prior trip was nicknamed ‘the guinea pig.’ I would get so excited about the trip and what could be done with it, but after I would let my mind run off, I would have to come back to the realization that I was not going back to Guatemala, I had not even wanted to. My desire was to run off to some exotic country in Africa or even to India, so I could add to my list of places I have been. I came to realize what a selfish ambition this was. I sat at my desk in the office one day, and the idea of my co-leading the team with an old team member was brought up. I remember being scared half to death to admit that I was thinking about it. If I said it aloud, it meant I had to follow through but somehow, I mustered up the courage to tell them truth. This was the beginning of another rocky and long road God had me on, but it was how I got to where I am today, Guatemala.
In Guatemala, they have faces that have captured what it is to love and be in true relationship, seen by their smiles. I want to be with and learn from those who have built this into their spirit, or ‘sea’ in their being. It is for this that I return. To throw every expectation to the wind, to try and have an open heart and mind as to what God has for me. For in giving up our hopes, dreams and expectations is where true life is lived, and truth is found for those who care to seek.
How can I feel nervous or scared to venture off from a place where I do not feel I belong? How is it that the recollection of Guatemala feels like home, where I am supposed to be, to live, to learn and to love? The only things that it seems Guatemala is missing is my family and friends, neither of whom, I will venture to state; feel the extent of my passions. I will miss their company dearly, but will always know that they are found in my heart and I in theirs, despite the different paths our lives take. I have always feared, that if I ventured off on my own for too long into a land far away, that I would fall in love and never return. It is still my fear that I will not return in September for school. However, I believe I must… I have recently learned the importance of education, even in the midst of the Third World, and how shocking this was, for it went against all my prior beliefs. But even then, how refreshing, that not only am I graduating in one years time, but that I have not wasted the last three years of studies, of which have only secretly encouraged my knowledge in the areas related to my passion.
As I embark on this journey in the midst of only myself, contradicting emotions engulf me. For I know that I will never truly be alone, for God is with me, while physically it is only me that travels ahead. I am eager to find out how I will react, when the team thirteen, that I am leading leaves on June 11th. Being alone is something new to me, something I have never done, but all the more reason to venture off into the unknown. I have this small addiction to taking my fears and anxiety and using them as a foothold to climb into everything that scares me, to conquer my fears. Antigua is a beautiful colonial city, with many travelers passing through, and to where God takes me after, rural Guatemala is home to some of the friendliest and welcoming Christ Followers. I only fear they will misinterpret why I have come. However, I know that the
people of the Guatemalan Church, which is where I will go, to get a foot in the door with the children and the men and women of Guatemala.
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