Stories from Guatemala
A Trip of a Lifetime
Panajachel, Guatemala
July 17, 2018 – Panajachel, Guatemala
Cultural Night
Patricia lead this like she does year after year and we took turns making tortillas with quick, flip-flopping motion on our palms. Mine ended up jumping wildly from my long-fingered hands onto the floor. Every year that’s my traditional tortilla.
The new members of our group tried the traditional back-strap weaving, a work reserved for women in the culture. We would sometimes see women weaving like this when we looked into shaded parts of yards and homes as we traveled.
Members of our group dressed in the traditional Mayan dress tonight. The colors have meanings of deeper hue than their English description told. “Red is for the blood of our Mayan ancestors,” she said. There’s more to it, I’m sure.
Trinity Guatemala Mission
Then you prayed. Some of you stood; others sat. I kneeled, wanting to be flooded by your words, your blessing. You prayed all at once, some of you in Spanish, some in Caqchiquel. Your prayer wove together into a rhythm, almost singing, almost gentle chanting. I knew in that moment that the Lord knew your voice, your voice that comes together into that song, very well. That is why we came.
Chuchupaca, Guatemala
Sweet Mothers
Dear Children
San Antonio, Guatemala
We stepped into your church at the top of the path, ascending into the heavens above Lake Atitlan. When we descended toward the lake, our boat ride was bumpy. I loved the feel of that wind, and hoped and remembered that Jesus stood above such waters, step by step.
Remembering
Lake Atitlan, Guatemala
Iximche, Guatemala
The guide, Alex, said when the Spaniards came and destroyed everything, the surviving Mayans of this area, Iximche (pronounced: “eesh-eem-chay”) fled toward Lake Atitlan and the high regions by the lake. That’s you and those were your ancestors.
I’m sorry you had to go through that—to carry that chapter in your people’s story, your story. I’m sorry… I don’t want to see those chapters for anyone again…
I am sorry that even now some of you flee to find a refuge, a home, a safe place. I know there’s talk of fear of you, but you and I have made many chapters together now and I don’t believe those who say otherwise. You are beautiful and kind. You are able to see time in a way I cannot yet grasp, but want to learn. You know an art to life that would benefit so many of my friends at home who feel harangued by things of little value.
Let’s continue to write better stories together, you and me, you and us. Peace fills the heart!
Finished Projects
Antigua, Guatemala
We Return Home
Tonight we will embrace loved ones we left behind. We’ll see them with eyes still glowing, still pondering the beauty we saw.
What will come of this? What will come of me?
We’re coming home to you, Kansas City. We love you and miss you. There are so many stories. There are so many decisions. Peace overflows the heart.
I have run out of words. Here, in Houston’s airport, I try to write, but there are no more words. Just this photo till I’m home. This is everything, really. There are a thousand words here somewhere. Maybe you can see them written.