A Week Today

4.2.13

Fue un día loco. My short amount of time in Guatemala feels like weeks, not in a bad way, but like I’m beginning to be comfortable here. I have already lived in two different cities – kind of anyway. Saturday, our “troop” moved to Magdelena, a small town built into the side of the mountain. (Each day brings about sore legs, tired from constant climbing use.) Upon arriving – which involved a terrifying bus experience – we were placed into our host families.

The people here are incredible. It’s unbelievable to be in a place so full of generosity with a people who, materially, have so little. It’s been a strange experience to experience a really different way of approaching being part of a family – and my roommate and I are definitely a part of the family. Immediately upon bringing us into their home, both my “mamá” y “papá” made it clear to us that we were part of the family. My goal for the end of the week is to absorb the lessons I am learning here about how to be a generous and loving person – even to people I don’t know. Tonight we all played cards – “Uno” – a favorite game of my two hermanitas. The girls are very shy, but absolutely adorable and sweet.

I love it here in Magdelena. It’s small, the streets are crowded, the walks are steep, and the view leaves me in awe. I love walking down the streets and greeting each person I see – “Buenos Días!” “Buenos Tardes!” “Buenos Noches!” I love waking up in the morning to the sound of birds and the songs of my host family. I love the children playing soccer in the streets, the vendors behind their stands of fruit, and the intimate sense of connection between everyone who lives here. I wish I had the words to express the beauty of the tradition and the power of love that is found in this place.

My internship, unlike most here, is not in Magdelena; I travel to Antigua (only a few pueblos away) to work. Esta semana esta mi primer semana en Hermano Pedro. Hermano Pedro is a center – a huge center – for those who have a disability, either physically or mentally. The organization is run completely off of the generosity of those who donate money and time. It’s connected to a church and has a clinic, as well as a home for those who have been abandoned or whose family can’t afford to or don’t want to care for them. Housed in a old yellow building, crowned with creamy-white decoration – it’s huge. Nineth – my incredible supervisor who, Monday, became my hero – started our time on Monday at Hermano Pedro with a tour. We walked the huge rectangle, a space of many rooms filled with various gardens and open spaces, and stopped in each “part” to talk with whichever group was there at the time. There are spaces for the older men, the younger men, the older women, the younger women, and the children – the “children.” The children are, for the most part, actually young men and women around the age of 20 who simply haven’t developed and are therefore in the developmental stages of a baby. They can’t communicate, but they can understand their surroundings really well. I can’t explain what it’s like to see a room full of these people lying in their cribs for almost 18 hours a day and reaching out to simply hold a hand. Equally, I can’t explain the beauty of the smiles on their faces from a mere touch on the shoulder or a simple joke. I’m still a little unsure of what our role is there (I think primarily to provide stimulization and to be as their mission statement says – to be the hands and feet of Christ), but I should know more by the end of the week. When my friends and host-family asked me about my day on Monday, my only response could be to say that I had a good experience, but that it was very hard on my heart.

When I think about my experiences in Guatemala, I am reminded of one of the flowers that grows in the middle of the cracked sidewalk or in the road. Not a dandelion or a weed or anything like that, but one of those simple, beautiful flowers of a bright color that makes you stop and admire this product of nature for its beauty and strength. There is so much brokenness. There is pain and things happening that make me want to weep. Everyday I am overstimulated and my heart is already tired and I am exhausted from trying to comprehend all of this in a language that is not my first understanding. But everywhere I turn, there are flowers popping throughout the city. Everywhere I look there are brilliant spots of incredible beauty that make my heart swell. There are volunteers and workers like Nineth who commit their time to pouring out as much love as possible on those who have been dismissed. This place is beautiful – the trees, mountains, sky, buildings, and literal flowers. There are people like my host-family who truly understand the meaning of a gift. There are teachers and pastors and laborers and citizens who are working to clear out the cement weighing down the possibility of an incredible garden.  Guatemala is a place that fosters its beauty and possibility and waits for its people to grow into all that awaits it.