Every year I am sure that I have written about Holy Week – Semana Santa.  And yet every year it has not changed.  There is this darkness, this oppression, this heaviness that comes with this time of year.  I spent the weekend before Holy Week traveling and was in Antigua on Palm Sunday.  This is the day that Jesus came into Jerusalem.  It ushers in the Easter celebration.  For Christians around the world, Easter represents hope.  And yet even as I traveled, even as Holy Week came and went here, there was a heaviness that evaded us.  It is a mixture of many cultures, many traditions here and many gods.  As one of my friends who endured much festivity for days directly in front of her house of darkness put it…. it is more like unholy week here than holy week.  As the time for Easter approached, I decided that I wanted to try and gain an understanding of what was on the minds of those around me.  And so the question I asked to many of the Guatemalans that I interact with on a daily basis was…. Which day of the most important day of Holy Week?  Or which day should we celebrate the most?  Most of them said Friday is the most important day.  Some of them said no day.  But none of them said Sunday.  And when I explained to them the significance of the resurrection, I still am not sure that they understood why Christians celebrate the resurrection.

And even as Easter came to pass here, it was so weird.  It was as if they missed the celebration.  During the week there was definitely an air of happening in town.  As Friday approached the stores shut down, there were less people in town and the celebration was happening.  But Saturday came and they cleaned up the streets and resumed normal life.  As we celebrated Easter on Sunday, I went into town and had an eerie feeling.  I was celebrating a day that didn’t exist to those in town.  The shops were open again and life had resumed.

As I write this, Easter has passed, but let us not forget that we have reason to celebrate Easter – the Resurrection – each day.  I am thankful for the community of believers that are here.  That we can still celebrate together and that we live in a country with the freedom to celebrate when and how we want.  Christ is risen.  He has risen indeed.  Les we not forget that we are all on this journey – and each day counts!

Traveling with friends over Holy Week.

Antigua is known for their carpets that they lay throughout the streets as they have processions daily.  A lot of work for a short period of time…. but definitely something to appreciate.  There are pagan roots and the Easter Story isn’t quite reflected correctly, but I have an appreciation for the art.

Our sunrise service – the highlight of Easter for me each year since I was little… imagining I was Mary walking to that tomb…. and realizing that He was the Messiah and has Risen!  What excitement!

Traditions.  22 kids.  All in one place.  And only a few tears.

I dreamt of rain last night. And each day it is impossible to not hear conversation about rain. Right now the valley is covered by a heavy haze from burning fields along with gusts of dust from then the wind picks up every speck of dust and blows it across the land. It is hot. It is dry. It hurts to go barefoot as the ground is mostly thorns and crunchy grass. Sweat is inevitable.  Just sitting.

Yet I remind myself daily that many others areas of the world are more desolate than this. At least we have trees and mountains. At least there is a breeze. At least we have sunshine. And an occasional cloud. I find myself searching more for the things to be thankful for than not thankful about. I want a heart of gratitude.  Even when it seems like the land is parched and I am parched of life.  I want that grateful heart that sees the good.

Often we find ourselves parched, or at least I have. Where I want to have that drop of rain, or drop of the Spirit, or drop of peace where I would feel not as dry. Thankfully these times are not constant. Thankfully when we call upon God and ask for rain, he brings it. Not in physical form, but in spiritual form. And with the first drop of rain, we find ourselves desperate for the next one and the next one. There is nothing greater than a shower of God to remind us of His faithfulness and refreshment.

Last night I dreamt of rain.  And today I felt a raindrop.  And saw the trace of precipitation on the ground.  The rains will return.  The freshness will return. Just as God brings refreshment to the ground.  He brings it to all of us… and so… we press on.  With the hope of what is to come.  Day by day.  Parched or full of life.

Hebrews 6:7

For ground that drinks the rain which often falls on it and brings forth vegetation useful to those for whose sake it is also tilled, receives a blessing from God.

Here is a contrast in the difference in the grass.   The green area received water from the canal for an hour and immediately was green the next day.  The brown grass is what it looked like the day before.  This brown patch was elevated too much and the canal water never touched it.  Soon we will turn all brown areas green.

As the holiday season comes and goes, the word that I’ve had on my heart more than thankful, is grateful.  I spent much time around Thanksgiving explaining to the Guatemalans what this holiday means to us…. And then in personal reflection over things that I was thankful for this month.

There are many changes that living in a third world country has brought about to me – in changing my perspective. When you grow up surrounded by safe, or relatively safe, there are many things that we often do not consider. But as I see suffering all around me. As I spend time questioning customs or beliefs or ways of doing things… I realize that I have been beyond blessed. I have suffered minimally. I do not know injustice. I have not had to truly live without. In everything that I have done I have had a banquet before me – I have had options. What activities do I want to participate in? Where do I want to go to college? What do I want to study? Where do I want to live? What kind of house do I want? What car will I drive? What will I eat today?

And so grateful is the word that I focus on. It is easy here as there are few things to compare to. Few things to actually want. And the life in the states is shut off in your mind. Then there are those days that are hard. There are those days when what should have taken an hour took the entire morning. There are those days where the sun is setting and you think, I was just beginning. I often find myself wondering, why is it so hard here. It is emotionally draining. It is spiritually draining. It is time draining. If I didn’t have a clock here, I would think that the days were 18 hour days here and not 24 hour days. But in the midst of living through the hard, I think about the people around me – often. They do not know the difference. They do not think about a life that could be different. Because they do not know different. They do not know that not everyone in the world prepares all of their food from scratch , or that to me it is odd to eat the same thing, every day. They have never seen a closet stocked with clothes arranged by color or seen a grocery store where you can buy food already prepared for you. They do not know what it is like to travel on a super highway to multitask. Likewise though, they do not know what it is like to not be cold, to have plenty of food and more clothes than you can imagine. They do not know what it is to have a house large enough that each person has their own room and can make it whatever temperature they want. Or to be able to choose whether they want ham, turkey, bacon or chicken on their sub sandwich. Or that hot water is an expectation along with carpet on floors. And so I am grateful. I am grateful to know the difference and to have lived with conveniences most of my life. I am grateful to have another perspective and to have seen beyond this tiny town here. Yes it is hard to be stripped of the conveniences that we often as Americans think are our rights…. But there is freedom as well in having little, living on what you have and not having to make choices – because there is not other option.

Grateful. That is what I am this holiday season. Even though I live simpler than I lived while I was in the states. Even if my skirt has a hole in it or my sweatshirt is faded. I am grateful. When I am slowed down by this culture. When something takes all day that in the states would have taken a minute. I remind myself to be grateful. I have come into a different culture. And I need to live by the cultural guidelines that are here…. And I am grateful to have known something different.

Yes…. I tell myself all of these things today because I am about to do a cultural hop again and be in the states for Christmas… and so I mentally prepare for the culture shock of convenience.

Heading to work….. and the most “convenient” way to get good beef around here….

There are days when I forget that I am living in a foreign country, and days where I cannot feel like anything around me is home.  Differences often make things feel foreign, and there are so many of them between my country here and my home country.  Some differences I notice daily, and others are so subtle that I don’t notice until I go back to the states.  Differences are not always bad.  They often mold us and cause us to grow in areas that we would not have done without being forced to do so.

One of the differences I am reminded of daily is that my culture raised me to always be in a hurry – and now I live in a culture that is not time sensitive.  I am often on my motorcycle driving and I pass cars and other motorcists in the street and think – am I driving fast?  The truth is that I am actually driving at a slow speed, but there is not hurry or rush to anyone’s lives.  This is seen when I am at a corner store buying a water or waiting on something.  In the states the goal is customer service and speed.  Here both are defined very differently.  I have adjusted to some of the speed of the culture, yet there are other days that I am not sure if I will every adjust to this speed.

Friendliness and Hospitality are two parts to this culture that I really enjoy.  Although Guatemalans are not extremely emotional, they do greet each other when they walk into a room, or a store, or on the street to pass each other in a car.  I am a person that lies to go unnoticed, but I have learned that if I walk into or out of a room without greeting everyone, that it is considered disrespectful.  I also really like the willingness to help out – whenever and whomever.  If I am stopped in the road, people will stop and ask if I need help.  If I am asking about directions to someone’s house, I often get an escort there to make sure I find the right place.  Often it is out of my comfort zone, but the difference is one that I will embrace.

Leisure activities.  Often we say that there are none here.  Because it is different.  There are no malls.  There are no movie theaters or restraunts or parks to visit.  Travel is slow and the process can be painful.  And so simple is usually what happens.  A motorcycle ride around the same roads that I always travel.  A walk up the mountain.  An ice cream cone.  Or a trip to the river.

Community.  In the states there were places that you could disappear.  You could disappear in your own house for a day and no one would notice.  If you were gone 24 hours, most people would not ask where you were.  Community has possibly been the most difficult adjustment that I have had since I have lived on my own for many years and am an independent person.  Sharing a house, and a room and a car.  Sharing meals, and responsibilities and decisions.  Sharing frustrations, and trials and answers to pray.  My life has changed from one where I made decisions on my own and didn’t have to answer to many other people in my life, to sharing everything that is done.  At times it is suffocating.  At times it gives me a head ache.  But most of the time, I have embraced it as there is nothing I have to do alone.  The greatest support comes from the community that is experiencing the very same trials and joys.

There are so many differences that give my life here a feel that I am out of my culture, out of my norm.  The longer I am here, the more people I recognize though.  The more people I know.  The more conversations I have in the streets and the more brown I become… the most Guatemalan I become.