(Note: Kathy was the "tour guide", translator, and amiga for the Partnership trip to Guatemala in November 2000.)
This morning dawns clear and crisp and cool, the rainy season having given way to harvest time and the coming dry winter months. As I make my way into another day, I am greeted by the sights and sounds of life in Guatemala. The mountains and volcanoes rise up, surround Quetzaltenango, and look down on its teeming life. As I step out into the street to walk to work, life is already well underway. Volcano Santa Maria frames the sky, a noble witness to the centuries of life that have passed beneath her gaze. A bus rumbles by, loaded to the brim with people and chickens, and thick diesel fills the air. Three boy chase each other in the street, shrieking the language of friendship, language that is still young enough not to have learned to hate or notice differences. I turn the corner, and the day is well underway. The world is moving; creation is alive; life is happening. A baby is tucked onto it's mother's back, wrapped snugly in bright cloth woven by her loving hands. In the market, the crowds press in close, and a woman calls to another about manzanas. Children too young to have to know work do the jobs grown-ups couldn't and wouldn't do in the grand country north of here where prosperity reigns. Horns honk, and humanity moves forward. I step carefully on the uneven stones of the calle and wonder where I fit in this grand scheme, and if the boundary lines really have fallen in pleasant places (Psalm 16) in this beautiful but tragic land...where, for most folks, every day is a struggle to keep food on the table...where the export money crops of bananas, pineapple and coffee leave daily to grace the shelves of our vast grocery stores...where children lack for good nutrition, basic education and proper health care...where women have few options, save for having babies, raising a family and keeping what little house there is in order...where "hand picked by Juan Valdez" takes on a new meaning as men, women and children-entire families-engage in back-breaking work on the coffee fincas, hauling out 100 lb bags of beans - all for scant pay ($2-3 a day), little "job security" and no benefits - to satisfy our rich tastes and to fill the cups in the increasingly popular coffee houses in the U.S....where breathtaking landscape and brilliant colors of the weaver's loom are around every turn in the road, hallmarks of this noble people...but where justice is never guaranteed and the reality of peace is tentative, like someone holding her breath...where the echoes of a history of violence and oppression reverberate loud and clear through the corn fields and mountain villages. And so, I find myself here, walking in the midst of this, with Guatemalans, trying ever so hard each day to seek out a path to life.
My time here began 3 months ago with 6 weeks of Spanish language school: the difficult but worthy task of assimilating and understanding a new and different tongue. Little by little, amid the routine of 5 hours of class a day, one on one with my very own teacher - amid vocabulary words, verb conjugations, homework, sentence construction and lots of conversation (yes, quite a challenge for this introvert!), the building blocks of a new way of communicating slowly took shape. I quickly discovered that Spanish was not just something I needed to get out of the way before the "real work" of life and ministry could begin; indeed, those six weeks in language school were a lesson in grace and humility - fertile ground in which new seeds of faith, understanding and insight could begin to grow.
Many of you know that I'm someone who loves to write, someone who loves words, and someone who tends to choose then carefully. So, in the beginning weeks, I faced the internal challenge (and still do at times) of having thoughts, feelings, ideas, even a sense of humor - only to discover that the new words to say it all "just right" were not yet there. But there is a simple yet profound lesson learned in the struggle to speak, in the effort to try desperately to form new words out of old ones, to feel this strange new thing on my tongue, to sometimes be awash in a sea of words that I hear but don't understand. The lesson I've learned is this:
- that mother tongues can be different, but the human heart and the bond shared between children of God transcends grammar and verb tenses
- that I (and we) have to be willing to make mistakes, to ask for help, to admit we don't understand, to risk looking like we don't have a clue about what we're doing, to allow ourselves to be taught, and to give up being in control with our language
- that genuine smiles and honest eyes and faces can often communicate just as much as words, and that sometimes, just the effort to communicate is all it takes
- that I, or what I say, doesn't always have to be perfect, because it is possible to be grammatically correct and completely miss the meaning
- and that there is hope, as well as light for the way, in that God, in Jesus, the Word made flesh, takes all our words and efforts at speech, in whatever language they are spoken, gathers them together, and ultimately makes them make sense.
I live with a Guatemalan family in a part of Quetzaltenango (Xela) called Colonia del Rosario. I share life, meals, laughter and a home with Cathy, my "mom," and with Oscar ("Coco"), age 10, and Mary Cathy, age 6. Oscar, Sr., their husband and father, lives in the USA, having made his way there about a year ago in search of work. Life at our house is rarely dull or quiet, what with two exuberant children who absolutely love the Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears! My room is simple, but I have everything I need, and this modest house adorned in turquoise paint is home for me: a place where I'm always greeted with a smile, where I can lay my head and rest in peace, a place where I've already come to know love and joy.
I worship at a small Presbyterian church here in Xela - Iglesia Presbiteriana Jehovah-Jireh - a community of 70 or so faithful saints who live, work, worship and serve together in day-to-day life. The church building itself is not that big: one room for adult Sunday School and worship, and another small space for the children's' class. But, each Sunday this body of believers makes real the adage we all learned in Vacation Bible School: "the church is not the building or the steeple, the church is the people." We have no organ, so hymns are sung a capella (with gusto, and usually quite loud, might I add!). We have no sound system; we don't need one because the place is so little. The offering plate is plastic, and the communion ware is made of simple wood. The pews are rough hewn and hard (with no cushions). But folks come each week, ready to learn and to share their faith, and they come to worship, to hear God's Word and to pray. And it is here, among the witness of faithful saints, in the company of the congregation, where more than once, the good old familiar hymns of faith-though in Spanish-have brought tears to my eyes...and it's here that I remember and know that I am home, and among brothers and sisters in Christ and fellow Presbyterians, a new part of this family of faith.
My "job," as it is for all the other PC(USA) Young Adult Volunteers this year, is simply to be with Guatemalans: to learn from them, to live with them, to worship with them, and to walk with them amid the blessings and challenges of life. I work with PRESGOV (PRESbyterian Groups, Obreros fraternales [mission workers], and Volunteers), the branch of the National Evangelical Presbyterian Church of Guatemala (IENPG) that receives and facilitates visiting groups and delegations from U.S. Presbyterian Churches (e.g., for mission trips, presbytery partnership gatherings, etc.). Although I am still relatively new to this task, it has been a privilege to witness and be a part of significant moments of worship, reflection, insight, study and dialogue as Presbyterians from the U.S.A. and Guatemala seek to be and to stand with one another - as together we are a larger part of the body of Christ.
I know the adventures and new insights will continue to grow, for we expect to receive 10-15 more groups before the summer is over. I look forward to sharing more of my experiences with you as time goes on.
Again, I cherish your love, your support and your prayers, and I ask that you remember the people and the church of Guatemala as well - as we are all brothers and sisters in Christ.
Grace and peace,