We woke up yesterday morning to rain. In fact, we went to sleep the night before under the same circumstances. This rain put a damper on our plans for our last day in Chirraxcaj – we had planned to go down to the school we worked at and play with the kids one last time. Though it was a bit of a bummer that we no longer could follow through with that plan, I took it more as a blessing than anything – for we were then able to have one last relaxing day at our home with Pastor Luis and his family.
I was able to make breakfast and barista it up one last time for my teammates and Luis’s family.
We were able to clean up our stuff and pack without having to rush.
We were able to chase and play with Luis’s girls one last time.
We were able to relax and watch movies together.
We were able to write letters to people we care about.
We were able to gaze out over the mountains we dwelled in and breathe in the air that surrounds them one last time.
We were able to simply just BE.
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Last night after dinner I found myself sitting in the smoke-room with Pastor Luis’s four beautiful daughters. This easily became one of my favorite spots in Chirraxcaj. Sitting around the fire they keep going almost 24/7 (endless bonfires, what what?!) I found myself to be blessed and extremely nostalgic towards the memories I had created in that place. With Monica laying across my lap, making weird faces to and giggling with me; Daisy on my left, finally allowing me to hold her hand after weeks of pretending to be shy; Brenda on my right fanning the fire and asking me questions about where we’re traveling to next, when I’m going to come back to Chirraxcaj, and how to say certain words in English; and Bianca sitting by her side, giggling non-stop and repeating most of the things her older sisters said – I found it hard to leave. So I stayed for a while. Though I heard the sounds of church beginning, I couldn’t bring myself to move. You know what I’m talking about… it was one of those moments in life that you want to last forever, and that you desperately try to soak every second up because you know that it really can’t last forever.
It wasn’t until I heard the sound of Christine’s voice preaching and Jah-Jah’s voice translating that I was able to allow the moment to end. Grabbing Monica and Daisy’s hands, I got up and encouraged them to walk over to church with me, and they did for a time.
Christine gave an amazing sermon about the harsh experiences we go through in our lives and why God would allow them to happen. In summary, she shared that we need to be broken in order for God to use us most effectively… because it’s through our being broken that we are then made able to go out and help others who are also broken. It’s through our being broken and then being redeemed that we can then go out and share the joy of Christ with others. God knows what He’s doing.
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After church I found myself right back where I was beforehand – in the smoke room with the girls… but this time being joined by their mother, Maria, and little brother, Marlone. Chelsea also joined us for a bit. I was happy to have a repeat of the moment that, hours ago, I had strongly wished could last forever. Monica was back to laying on my lap, playing with my hair and making faces at me; Daisy was again on my left playing with the fire and challenging me to see how slowly I could run my hand through it (she hands down was the winner of that game); Brenda was fanning the fire on my right; and Bianca was passed out sleeping by her mother’s side next to Brenda.
Maria, who is maybe one of the quietest women I have ever met in my life, asked us to pray for her – for she hadn’t been feeling well. Chelsea, Chaney, and I jumped at the opportunity. I grabbed her hand and held it tight, for I felt that it was the only way I could really communicate with her through the language barrier (we’re pretty sure she only speaks Kekchee). Through holding her hand I tried to tell her that she is beautiful, she is loved, God is big, and that everything will be okay. I mean, I struggled in Spanish to tell her those things afterwards, but… sometimes non-verbal communication is more powerful than words.
We then continued to sit around the fire, with myself being mostly silent. I wasn’t really feeling the need to use words in that moment. I was perfectly content just sitting with these girls (and the precious snoozing baby boy Marlone). Though the smoke in the room was making my eyes (and Daisy’s) sting and water like crazy, I forced myself to sit through it until Maria got the girls up to walk over to the house for bed. Again, I wanted that moment to last forever.
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This morning we woke up at 5 am to the sound of the rain continuing to pour down upon the tin roof of our shack and the mountain surrounding us. “Shit…” was my initial thought – for it was in a mere hour that Emily, Jake, Jonathan, Jeremy, and I would have to hike down the mountain with all of our possessions on our backs to begin our descent to Lake Atitlan for our month 3 debrief. We had been hoping that the rain would let up overnight, thus giving the dirt paths a bit of time to soak up all of the precipitation that had fallen down upon them over the past 36 hours. However, Mother Nature decided to bless the mountains with more rain instead. Regardless, we got up, rummaged around in the dark for our things, got our lunches ready, gave each of the family members hugs and loving goodbyes, and headed out the door with Chelsea, Jah-Jah, and Josh by our sides to help us carry our things up and down the slippery, muddy, steep trails of the mountains. The hike actually wasn’t as treacherous as I was expecting – I mean, I slipped a few times and my sanuks ripped a good bit, but overall, it was a breeze compared to what I had built up in my mind. I believe it’s because we prayed before we began our descent – God blessed us with sure footing, balance, and strength.
The five of us then piled all of our possessions into the bus (that is really more like one of those old school Scooby-Doo Volkswagen vans) that goes from Chirraxcaj to Coban. We pretty much took it over… seriously… we had to pay extra for all of the space we were taking up.
Once we arrived in Coban at 7 am, I snagged a cup of coffee from a street vendor (which, by the way, I’m convinced that Guatemala has the best street vendor food out there) for 1.50 Quetzales (which is probably like a quarter in USD) and we hustled to the Monja Blanca bus station. Yes, I spilled my coffee all-over-da-place… yes, it was worth it.
We then immediately hopped on the most ridiculously curving bus ride of my life through the mountains of Guatemala. Jake and I inevitably ended up in each other’s space around each turn. Jake even fell out of his seat into the bus aisle at one point. Our stuff slid all over the place on the floor… and now I’m giving you too many details.
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To sum it up, the five of us are now almost to our final destination at Lake Atitlan. We haven’t showered in at least a week. We’ve been wearing the same outfit for days. We smell. We are dirty – I mean dirty, we have dirt caked on our skin. Seriously, Jake told me earlier that he looked at me and thought to himself, “Man, that girl needs a shower” when he saw all of the dirt chilling on my face… but we’re blessed.
God has done so much for us over the past few days. He has given us so many blessings. Giving us smooth, easy, affordable, safe travel. Giving us solid goodbyes with the people we have come to love in Guatemala. Giving us sure footing as we hiked down the mountain in the rain. Giving us laughter. Giving us love.
I’m excited to have a few days to relax at the lake before we move on to Albania on April 2. I’m excited to have time to dwell on my time in Central America. I’m excited to see what I come to learn through that process. I’m excited to see what’s next.
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So… that’s how my past 24 hours were… how were yours?
