So I went to Guatemala

Two months ago t oday, I spent my first day in Guatemala. It feels as if a lot has changed in those two months. At the same time, I cannot believe it has been that long already! My experience in Guatemala is still fresh in my mind. I love those experiences when I look back on them and think “I can’t believe I did that!” That’s what I think when I think of Guatemala. I can’t believe I woke up at four a.m. to fly—alone—to Newark, and to Houston, and I can’t believe that I sat beside someone on the plane from Newark to Houston without getting to know them. That person turned out to be part of the team I was going to Guatemala with, and we ended up spending a lot of time together on the microfinance site. I also cannot believe that the first time I met my team members was at the Houston airport, minutes before boarding to the plane to Guatemala City. I am a pretty reserved person, and I am not a big fan of going to parties with people I don’t know well, let alone a foreign country! But somehow, I trusted these people. First, I guess, I trusted God. I felt peaceful. I let God worry about everything, and enjoyed the ride, eager to see how I would be used and how God would use this trip to teach me something.

I am not yet sure if I made any difference in the Guatemalan people’s lives. Mostly I was an observer of the microfinance process. I asked questions, sometimes, and prayed, sometimes, and once or twice I played soccer with the kids. I had never felt particularly called to Guatemala, and I still don’t, but God gave me a love for the country and its people. I love the colour of the buildings and clothing, the mountains and volcanoes, and gummy worms from a certain tienda. I love the smell of the coffee and I love hearing Spanish being spoken all the time. I love all the people I got to know, even for a little while- my host family, various farmers and carpenters, young mothers and strong women. I love saying “Buenos dias,” “Buenos tardes,” or “Buenas Noches” to each person I see on the street.

God sure taught me a lot in Guatemala, and before and afterwards too. Before the trip, I learned that if God wants me to go somewhere, I don’t have to worry about the finances. During the trip, I learned so much. We read 1 John and the phrase “perfect love drives out fear” just kept on coming to my mind. I am still ruminating what that means. But at missions conferences I often go to, I hear the phrase “The safest place to be is in the middle of God’s will.” So I think that is true, because when I know something is God’s will, and know that His love is there, I feel a wonderful kind of peace. And I had felt since about six months ago that I should go into missions. Things just kept on popping up to confirm it. Finally, I came to Guatemala, and I realized that is exactly what I should do. It’s exciting to feel called to something. Right now I only know I want to tell someone about Jesus who has never yet heard of Him. But that is OK. Some people who are missionaries in Guatemala full-time shared their testimony during the time I was there. They spoke with vulnerability and honesty about all their struggles and how God had used them. It was very powerful because they were honest and they did not feel very special. But God used them anyway. I was encouraged knowing that even if I feel inadequate, anything I can give is completely adequate to God. I sometimes feel like I have to be a super holy person to be a missionary, but after going to Guatemala, I realized all I need to do is follow Jesus. He said go.

Photos courtesy of SI Guatemala

My Grammy

My maternal grandmother had dementia.

My paternal grandmother has dementia.

But I think it would be more true to say dementia had them. I find it hard, now, to remember when Grammy was not like this. She is a world-traveler, a strong woman who raised five children on a farm, besides working as a teacher and taking night classes. She lost her husband about 35 years ago in a car accident. She is a smart woman, with a love for reading, teaching, and music. She played the organ at the church. She spent time in Greenland and the Czech Republic, and traveled extensively in her retirement. She is an amazing cook. She loves opera music, she is a shrewd businesswomen and she has an impressive collection of books. She has only four grandchildren, and she made us each a quilt. To defy her arthritis, she would swim each day, for about five months of the year, in the frigid Bay of Fundy. I force myself to remember these things, because this is who my grandmother is.

It is funny how fleeting these things are. We treasure things in our minds but in the end, our minds just end up being shrivelled away until we become like Grammy. Lots of people, blessed people, do not have dementia in their old age, staying sharp until the end. But for some people, like Grammy, her brain is the first to go. I miss her. I love her the way she is, but I miss the way she used to be. I tend to be nostalgic and it’s easy to be nostalgic when it comes to Grammy. I miss the days when she would read to us from Swiss Family Robinson, even though at the time we thought it was a silly book. Now, she struggles to read the margarine container. I miss the days when the relatives were all gathered together- a fiddle or two, and Grammy on the piano. I miss the days when she knew my name, for goodness sake, and my gender. Now she calls me a “lovely little boy.” Sometimes she tries to chew on her fingers, even though she used to scold me for sucking my thumb. Grammy cannot form coherent sentences anymore.

But it does no good to be nostalgic. I find it hard to find the balance between helping Grammy with everyday things like getting out of her chair or just holding her hand, and treating her with the dignity and respect she deserves. It’s hard to remember, when I am trying to get her to stop spitting at her helpers, that this is probably the strongest woman I know. I do not know if I will get the opportunity to meet another woman like her. Here’s the other thing: I think she may have sacrificed her sanity for her children and grandchildren. She worked so hard her whole life and I see her influence and her genetics in her children and grandchildren. Both of her daughters became teachers, like her, and both shared her musical talent. Her sons, as well, are multi-talented. As for her grandchildren- my cousin has inherited her business sense, I have inherited her love for literature, my brother has inherited her musical talent and my sister has inherited her sewing and teaching talents. Sometimes I wonder if it was from working so hard that she got dementia. On the other hand, it could be just genetics.

It scares me that I might get dementia in my old age. There is also early onset dementia, which comes as soon as middle age. That frightens me a lot, because I know it is in my genes. But I guess I could have a whole new way of looking at life. I watched a TED talk once about happiness, and the difference between remembered happiness, and happiness in the moment. Even though remembered happiness is great, the knowledge that I may someday forget the events and people of my life spurs me on to appreciate everything. Remembering and thinking seem like such normal things to do, but I am thankful for my brain every day. I may not always have it.

My vision for a better world

I suppose I have all these ideals that have to do with the church in Acts and the pastoral life of the Waltons and some Wendell Berry poems. But I think a better world is possible. I only see glimpses of it, though, here and there. I see it in the Community Shared Agriculture (CSA) operations that are popping up all over the place. I see it in the Farmers Market in Tatamagouche, where hundreds of people gather each Saturday morning, even in such a small community. And in the places I least expect to see a better world, there it is: in the slums of Guatemala where women are given loans to buy a chicken or pig; by the waterfront in Halifax where people of all nations gather for a celebration of their cultures; at 16 Linden Ave, where a group of students live in community. I see it in the bright shiny faces of young people as they volunteer, spending time with disabled adults, young children, or sick or lonely people. I taste a better world when I drink fairly traded coffee or eat a tomato from the Acadia Community Farm. I read about people making the world a better place when I read books like The Irresistible Revolution, Radical, or the cookbook Simply in Season. I am thankful that business is being redeemed for the Kingdom, through things like TOMS shoes or microfinance. I hear the world becoming a better place when I gather with a thousand others to celebrate missions, and hear the sound of a thousand voices worshipping, and listen to the amazing stories of what Jesus is doing. Every time I see another bicycle on the road, I rejoice because that means a better world is on its way. I think we, as a society are growing up, realizing what the world was meant to be. I believe we as humans were meant for relationships, meant to care for the earth, meant to love God and spread His love to everyone. Yes, I suppose I am an idealist, but just look—just look at the way things are going. God is at work in the world, sometimes through people who do not even know they are doing God’s own work. For all that is good is His.

“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”

-Arundhati Roy

“yes, I believe in love. yes, I’m a dreamer. but I’m not alone, there are more of us than you suspect, and we’ve got bombs, truth and beauty bombs.”

-a softer world