Guatemala Journal
January 30, 2006

Although I have been home from Guatemala for a week, there is a part of me that is still in suspense. What feels natural to my body does not necessarily feel so natural to my soul. Being in my own room, seeing old friends, preparing for classes and reading all the mail that has stacked up since mid-December does feel good and grounds me in the life in which I have been working so long. But the part of me that came to love life in Xela has not been integrated into my American life. It’s the part of me that notes in Spanish how late it is when I wake up and have to hurry to get ready. It’s the part of me that is ready to greet the people I meet on the sidewalk with a smiling “Buenos Dias.” It’s the part of me that doesn’t care how well put together my outfit looks because we are all just wrapping up against the cold and every colorful outfit seems appropriate. It’s the part of me that still forgets that you can flush the toilet paper and brush your teeth in the water from the tap. It’s the part of me that misses the everchanging, always interesting sky of Guatemala, and the constant reminder on the faces of people around me that the world can be a dangerous and difficult place.
I suppose I have been changed by what I learned about life in Guatemala. People are careful there when they talk about politics. Even though the Peace Accords of Jan 1996 ended the bloodbath of the civil war, the rich and powerful still are free to act with impunity, and one must be careful not to offend someone with powerful and influential friends. Corruption is so blatant, the rich so privileged that people are always careful about what they say and do. The damage from Hurricane Stan in October 2005 is largely unrepaired because the money that comes in for aid rarely makes it to the farmers and villagers who have suffered losses. So cornfields are washed out, streams eroded up to the front doors or houses. It is hard to look at. It is not just that I have not forgotten what it looks like. Just knowing how hard life is for so many of the people in the villages that I passed through has changed the way I understand life. It hurts in a place that wasn’t there before I went to Guatemala. The question still remains for me: what will I do with this new understanding? If I feel as if I stand in solidarity with those who struggle for the necessities of life, if I have come to think that Jesus would be organizing the poor of Guatemala and healing their sicknesses, how will this change what I do with my time and my resources? As I reconnect with academic life and the studies that are shaping my skills as a pastor, how will I keep alive this experience of Guatemala and its strong and beautiful people?