Guatemala Reflections 2

(stories..continued)

2. Thursday morning, we loaded about 35 youth into a school bus and went to the Guatemala City zoo. We had done the same routine the previous morning with another group of younger children. As we waited for the okay to enter, we waited in the parking lot outside the zoo, I with at least 4 girls crowded around me, requisite hugs, smiles and giggles. Excitement was in the air, and a strange attraction to me from these girls. Soon, I had a bangled bracelet being attached to my wrist...it belonged to Genesis, a slight of frame, long-haired, beautiful girl. I had complimented her on the bracelet earlier, now, in sweet yet awkward exchange, it was mine. I kindly said "no" and "you don't have to do that" but it was not to be heard. She held my wrist with sincerity and said she wanted me to have it. As I weighed that interaction, a few of the older girls that I'd befriended on the bus ran up to me holding a necklace they had just purchased from one of the roaming tchachke vendors in the parking lot. A simple black rope held a small, white rubber dog. I had shown them pictures of my dog on the trip over, they saw that and thought of me. Still reeling from the generosity of these impoverished zone 18 kids, another few girls approached me with a necklace: okay, now this was getting awkward...it was like kissing another guy with your boyfriend watching or something. Wide-eyed, I accepted this new gift, another simple black rope with a shiny, red "E" charm. They excitedly explained that "E" was for Elizabeth, my middle name. I had perhaps mentioned my "nombre secundario" to them in passing once, maybe twice, and they remembered? I have so much to learn from their kindness. But, the truth is, my newly gifted "bling" adorned my neck and wrist, I wondered if there was subtext to this loving display. Were they trying to win me so I would become their "Patrona" (sponsor) like their friends or siblings have. Did they just want to charm a gringa to make a lasting impression, a "connection."? Again, I cannot answer to their motives, and I want desperately to have simply accepted those gifts as love. Christ's love is without condition, no matter how much I want to disbelieve that, too.

3. A few hours after the "zoo bling" incident, we landed back at the ministry center to drop off the youth and say our final goodbyes to them. I accompanied David and Laura upstairs where we had planned to present a gift to one of the youth, Ericka, from her Patrona, Patty G. Earlier in the day, her dark eyes glittered as she asked me questions about "hermana Patty." "Did she cut her hair?....why didn't she come this year?...Are her eyes still blue?" Now, we presented Ericka with a small gift from Patty, and the sparkle I had seen earlier exploded into unabashed joy. As she tore through the red tissue paper to reveal a small blue purse, she was already squealing with glee "Oh...hermana Patty!!! Its so beautiful!" Her fingers moved quickly to unzip the bag and reveal more goodies inside, meant just for her. I was so moved by her uncontained smile and appreciation. A letter was enclosed from Patty, so I tried my best to translate it for Ericka, and when I was finished, I was surrogate Patty, recipient of Ericka's joyous hugs and kisses. "Oh thank you, thank you. I love you!" I hugged her back, held back tears and promised her I would pass along a message to Patty: "Tell her I love her and that I think of her all the time."

Child sponsorship at its most beautiful..no denoument needed.

Guatemala Reflections 1

I had a handful of trailmix yesterday and thought of Guatemala.

I had a banana this morning with breakfast that wasn't nearly as sweet and fresh-tasting. It'd probably been picked 5 days before I bought it, ripening to some moderate sweetness on my kitchen counter.

I had a few thoughts and frustrations this week and wished I had my wonderful teammates to process with.


Not even 2 days after my arrival in Atlanta from a week in Guatemala, I was whisked away to steamy Athens, GA for a work project, given hardly any minutes, hours or space to think and reflect on what I had experienced in Central America. Only those late hours when my boss had finally found rest on her pillow was I able to sit at the computer in the dark silence of our hotel room. But then it was too late, I was too tired, and the lure of keeping up with emails, facebook and news was too great to give pause for reflection.

Now one week past our first day of VBS at the Hope for Guatemala ministry center, memories and impressions sweep through my head, streaks of gladness in what has already become the ho-hum of everyday here in Atlanta/Athens/Savannah. I memory through pictures posted, souvenirs unpacked (yes, I just unloaded the last vestiges of Guate from my big black suitcase), dirty clothes now clean, folded in my closet that once bore the smells, sweat and sticky hugs of dozens of adorable children.

As I cleaned the kitchen this morning, I discovered the crumbled brochure about Hope 4 Guatemala's child sponsorship program. '...help bring HOPE to a child today..." This wonderful program works like other sponsorship programs such as Compassion International - with $32 a month you pay for their meals at the ministry center, school supplies, clothes, special activities, tutoring, etc. I've never done one of those programs, and even now I wonder why, and I speculate as to why I hesitate with the HOPE version. The brochure shows smiling faces, many of which are familiar, maybe that's what makes this one harder.

As a team we would discuss this opportunity on occasion when we'd landed back at Tina's during the evening. Tired feet and grease-streaked faces, we would lounge in her living room and ask each other, "Have you picked a child to sponsor?" or "got any thoughts about whether you'll sponsor someone?". Maybe that's why I'm ambivalent, it seems a tad like an oddball marketplace where I'm to be looking for the "cutest" or the "neediest" or just that right "connection." Yet, as I look at this brochure and these faces, I know how great the need is, and I reason that I must put aside my skepticism and hesitation, for the sake of one of these little ones having school supplies. Bearing in mind this struggle, I will share 3 stories in this, and perhaps a subsequent post that relate to this matter. Two of which feed my tendency toward cynicism (which I'm not proud of), and one makes me smile...really big. Here's hoping the muscle memory of my joyous smile outweighs that of my crinkled brow.

1. I have some friends stateside who sponsor a child through Hope. I asked Tina about this girl and how she was doing because I had not seen her at any of our activities. "She doesn't really come around the ministry center much lately." This gave me pause, after all, my friends are faithfully sending their $32 and gifting her with nice things above and beyond the "basic need" stipend. Are there repercussions for her absence from the ministry activities? Should my friends be alerted? ....Should I be the rule-keeper and arbiter of whether she should receive this gift of love? ...Is it not filled with so much more grace then if she is a prodigal? I don't know the right answers, but here is one reality of sponsorship - our gift may not have strings attached.


Check out some more of my pictures from our first few days in Guatemala

Guatemala Journals 4

After all that tiredness, learning, etc....when I wanted to pass out and rest...God had something else in mind - another home visit. We went to visit Erik's family.

Before relating what we encountered, I should give you background on Erik, one of the Hope 4 Guatemala students. Here is an excerpt from a recent H4G Newsletter:

13 year old Erik is one of 12 children in his family. Now Erik has been diagnosed with Cirrhosis of the Liver and was hospitalized with liver failure the 2nd week of July. He is dire need of a liver transplant.

Doctors are asking us to help them find a hospital to perform his transplant. We have made many calls in the US and Mexico without success, though we continue to seek the Lord for direction and open doors. Please pray with us for the Lord's healing for Erik, for a hospital to perform the transplant surgery, the necessary resources and peace for his family.

We went that day to bring Erik's family some food and encouragement. We showed up unannounced and the "man" of the house, Moises, greeted us at the door. He is 13, though he appears to be about 10 with his small stature and moppy head of black hair. As the oldest son, Moises is in charge of the home for much of the day while his parents work, or stay with Erik at the hospital. With a slight smile, a firm jaw and an air of pride, he led us into his home. One by one we ducked through the rusted metal door frame and into the dark, dirt-floor abode.

His other siblings were inside. The youngest was held by a small girl, about 5 years of age. The baby in her tiny arms appeared to be a newborn. Actually, the baby, named Katarina is 4 months old. She cried from hunger, unable to be fed until their mother returned from work.

In another area of the house, a girl, about 6, went about changing the diaper of a toddler: they smiled as Jose (H4G's leader) joked with them. Where can they find such joy when they have so little?

This family, while appearing to be in the depth of pain and squalor, inspires hope in Jose. They are one of the few families involved with the ministry where there is a father present. He has not fled to prostitutes or alcoholism; rather, he loves and works hard for his family. Jose was encouraged after our visit because he saw the progress that has been made on their home. Yes, progress. The condition was worse on his last visit. Their masonry-skilled father is steadily working, as funds are available, to make their place a livable, multi-level home fit for their group of 14. The work has been slow...Erik's father is deaf and mute so he is not very hire-able. Hope 4 Guatemala has provided him with some work, and given him references for other jobs, which he so desperately needs to provide for the family, and slowly but surely work toward his dream of a "real" house.

We set their crate of food on a rickety table, unpacking its contents to show Moises: beans, sugar, coffee, fortified meal for the children and some fruits and veggies. Around the home we saw the wood plank loft level where the two oldest, Moises and Erik have slept (pictured). We saw the concrete slab, draped with a blanket where several more of the children sleep. Outside of the main walls was a barrel with charcoal for cooking - typically tortillas and beans. Chickens roamed amidst piles of trash and laundry, and around the corner was a dull red curtain. I looked behind it for only for a moment, guessing that it must be the bathroom. With no running water or sewage and a family of 14 it was a pretty drastic picture.

I had a feeling not unlike that which I experienced several years ago at the wake of a friend who committed suicide. I was angry, confused by how unfair it all seemed and all I could do was grit my teeth and clench my fist, as if gripping to hold on to my emotions. Yet, unlike that funeral wake, there was life in this dark room in Zone 18, Guatemala City. There were smiles of children who are loved, who have that unflappable joy only kids seem to have. There was hope: that their home will one day see completion, that they will grow in wisdom and stature from the instruction and hearty meals they receive at Hope 4 Guatemala, that their father will continue to find work and stay with his family...and of course we all have hope, tempered with utter dependence on God, that Erik will live.

Before we left, I had the un-enviable, yet joyous task of praying for this family. With my clenched teeth and my arm around one of the girls, I knew that controlling my emotion while speaking understandable Spanish was too lofty a goal. I asked Jose to translate, and I prayed something that I don't now recall. And I choked back tears.
Please continue to remember Erik's family in your prayers.

Guatemala Journals 3

7:20:07
The week with the children is over. We will spend today with the youth then go to Antigua. Yesterday we had a birthday party / "goodbye Americanos" party. A small group of kids sang in heavily accented English "Happy Birthday to Paul" (one of our team mates) then they swarmed him like bugs giving hugs. It was a sweet, sweet moment. (then they smashed cake on his face..pictured here) The kids were so elated to have cake and ice cream. They pounded down their food - green beans and eggs (sounds strange. tastes good), arroz y tortillas, of course, just so they could treasure that sweet birthday pastel.

We repeated the drill for the afternoon students, after the team dined on the same yummy meal...plus fresh-made Guacamole. I mean, a giant VAT of it. mmmm. (Since avocados grow in Guatemala - there's a big tree outside the ministry center - they are not such a pricey acquisition as in the US.)

As usual, the afternoon class wore me thin. A bunch of kids in one room with our mediocre Bible lessons... thank God for Rolando, our translator. He knew the ropes with these kids and led them through some songs that were tremendously more fun and hip than those 70s kids songs I strummed on the guitar in days previous. The kids loved the one about how Jesus is like hot bread and chocolate - once you get it, you can't help but share! There was another one about penguins...not sure about the theology, but the kids dug the dance moves.

So, as I stepped back to the front with a sore throat and tired voice to yell the memory verse 5 times and trudged through reading another lesson, I felt a little...useless? Then I realized again that regardless of what I do, I'm loving these kids...that's the impact. My task-oriented self has been rocked and God has been merciful to let me see His grace and love...in ways I do and do not understand.

I think of a comment Hermana Sara's (the regular Hope 4 Guat. teacher) made to me one of the first days. I stressed about the schedule and when to start and kept asking her if we needed to gather the kids or at what time...meanwhile students were being loved and hugged by our team and all I cared for was getting the "real stuff" started. Ha. Sara leaned to me and in her broken English said with a big smile, "Is okay! Reeelaaxxx". It made my shoulders go limper and the muscles in my face tense into a genuine smile. Ultra-efficient, control-freak American girl leveled by love. Awesome.

Guatemala Journals 2

WEDNESDAY
Two days of class already.
Two days of kids' huge smiles and confusion.
On one hand, this VBS thing feels like a joke..that we're reading from a script: a very boring script read in a bad Spanish accent. But then, I'm glad they're here, even if they're bored. I'm glad they're here and not on the street with gangs. And I'm glad we're here.

There's so much to reflect on..what's happening in and outside of my heart, but even now I'm torn by needing to plan today's VBS lesson!

We went to homes yesterday...the home of 2 of the program participants. We prayed before we went as the area is unsafe (yet these girls walk there very day). We journeyed through what seemed a labyrinth of narrow passages leading steeply down, then steeply upward, passing ladies in traditional Mayan dress carrying large bundles on their heads. We past a place where several people have been killed. The 12 of us journeyed, not the least bit out of place, I'm sure. We carried crates of food and supplies for the family: items like rice, coffee, sugar, fruits, vegetables. We got strange looks from neighbors and gang boys, "maras". Their imprint is unfortunately on this community we ventured through, where families are looking for protection and hope amidst near squalor.

The father of the home we visited is a fledgling pastor - he has a church of 17 which is very close by. I gather that more than a third of the congregation are his family members. The family is living on the mother's meager $250 /month salary she earns at a clothing factory. This can hardly support a family of 7. We did not get to meet her, I believe that she works until about 3 am.

The family welcomed all of us so graciously, directing us to sit on their neatly made beds in the living room: One double bed, fit for the 3 boys and a set of bunk beds, presumably for the girls. A few steps beyond in the concrete block home with steel sheet roof was another "room" which seemed to double as kitchen and master bedroom, as I noticed a small bed in the corner and had not yet accounted for where the parents might sleep. The girls served cold cola to us..likely a rare treat for them. It was a treat for us on that hot day in the stuffy confines of their humble home. The father spoke to Sara, one of the ministry staff, about their struggles as a family, about his story, past, reasons for lost job, but most of all about how good God has been to him and his family, and how he trusts the vision that God has given him for a church. I translated when I could, and strained to hear the words of this man who has experienced so much in life already.

The eldest girl showed us a family album - maybe the only pictures they have. The collection, carefully placed in a tattered, old 3-ring binder also contained certificates and diplomas belonging to the various children for school awards, baptism, etc. The pride with which the eldest girl she displayed the worn album to me was truly delightful. I gazed at the aged photos of her father in "el campo" with his field-working buddies, her baptism photos, a few mugs family and friends and was thankful for that insight into their world.


I'm so glad to have gotten a small taste for the very difficult, yet genuine lives of this family. To accept their graciousness was humbling. We prayed for the father, for his strained relationship with his wife, for his church, and for the children to be good students. They are a lucky number to actually have their father around. Most families in zone 18 have only mom's or grandmothers, and the men who are present in most children's lives would be better off not around, based on the heart-wrenching stories of violence, alcoholism and prostitution that I heard.

*Photos Courtesy of Lynn Henry*

Guatemala Journals

Firstly, I am back safely, and now that its Thursday evening (well, Friday morning really), I have no excuse but to be quite well-rested by now. My only souvenirs are a small wooden cross I bought in Antigua and the cold I picked up about mid-week. Not to be outdone, most every other member of our team got the same soar-throat, congestion melange. Its no surprise really that we all got the same illness, considering the 2 hours of quality time the 15 of us had together in a small van, and our fates were not bouyed by those collective trail mix bags that we all shared.

I can safely say that I got no other (you know the one I'm talking about ) illness while there. And, despite a few days of doing lice removal (see image above), or shall I say "de-lousing" on several children in less-than-ideal conditions, I don't think I got those little critters either.

The trip was a wonderful, challenging, changing experience. I loved our team, I was impressed with the community outreach that Hope 4 Guatemala is doing, and I am SO thankful for your prayers and support. Here are a few journal entry splices, and a link to my photos. Feel free to browse as you feel:


We are here. We have passed many hours in a small van, playing silly car games, asking Jose questions about this and that.

My hearts condition has vexed me. This place seems familiar, so the newness is not, well, a novelty. My heart and mind have changed perhaps becoming harder since the last "true" mission trip I took. I'm not sure how to name it really. I'm not sure how to blame it really.

Maybe it's okay...Maybe one answer to this tension is that I have approached this trip with a role in mind: My job is to help with Spanish and VBS classes...I offer this THING and thus I have worth. I think my reasons are skewed. Do I want God glorified or Katie?

The second tension... I have generally low esteem for short term mission outreaches. It seems like such a show, so much work for so little ...but as I see more and more, that is a lie. We are part of something bigger here. Jose Armas, the leader of H4G, is so deeply encouraged by our presence, its very exciting. Its amazing to see what has been built up from this ministry..what God has done. I'm excited to participate in that, even if for a short spell.
-----

Casa de Waffles ...oye!

Yes, its just like Waffle House, but they have Pollo Ranchero, fried plantains and other Guatemalan specialties. Of course, they have Waffles, too. Its the "brainchild" of a Guatemalan pastor who toured the US and fell in love with the Open-all-night yellow and brown wonder that is da Wa-Ho. Como se dice "Scattered, Smothered & covered" en Espanol?

CLICK HERE FOR MORE PICTURES

Various and Sundry

Hi friends -
Time has ticked by, and so has the appropriate-ness of my planned blogs about the Gold Cup, Fathers Day and other life events that are suddenly tucked away into the past. I did feel it timely to give a brief update on life and ask you to keep me in your thoughts and prayers as I head out bright and earlier tomorrow morning for Guatemala. I'll be joining a team of 15 others from my church to work with an outreach in Guatemala City called Hope 4 Guatemala. We'll be doing things like building a library, marking and cataloging books for said library, and teaching about 150 kids a day Vacation Bible School-type lessons and encouraging then to dream big things for their lives. We'll help feed them...for many of the kids, its the only full meal they get in a day. Plus, each team member is hauling down an extra suitcase full of things like shoes, toothpaste, paper, and other vital supplies for the outreach to these impoverished children and their families.

I'm excited about the opportunity. Its definitely kicked my Spanish practice into high gear having to translate Bible lessons, learn Spanish songs, etc. needless to say, I've been watching more Univision than usual...and not just because they're the only ones showing good futbol matches.

I hope to do some on sight reporting from Guatemala City, but given the patchy internet service, my best bet is good ol' pencil to paper journaling and pictures. Here is our team.

Before I part, I must also mention that I have just returned this evening from seeing The Decemberists at Chastain Park Amphitheatre. I regret that my review will be brief, for the music merits more than a few passing adjectives, however, see above for my raison du brevity. The show was at Chastain, a daunting enough venue for any serious musician as you must compete with yuppies gleefully chatting, the crunch of Carr's water crackers and cheese and the clinking of $10 chardonnay (people spend a few extra when its a concert night...).

Note that I say none of the above to belittle such traditions. I sat happily listening to the Crane Wife, a Decemberist title track, while munching on Gouda and sipping a mediocre white wine. That's what Chastain is for..your inner Yuppie.

Anyway, open-air ambience aside, the music was the main event. I regret there were not more people there to enjoy a marvelous set by the musically diverse quartet from Portland. Of course, the drama was enhanced a few degrees by their back-up band - the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. While for some artists, this summer-stock fare can add more cheese than have 6 Chastain tables (read: when I saw Peter Cetera a few years back). However, the Decemberists worked well with the accompaniment, their songs were bigger, and still enjoyable.

All for now, I must rest before tomorrow's long day. Hasta luego amigos. Espero que pueda escribir mas despues del viaje. Et pour mis amis Francaise....Bonne Fete du Jour Bastille!! J'espere que vous bouverez un Pastis pour moi et Jeff! Allez les Bleus.