So I find it super ironic that many people told me to “be careful” in Guatemala, whatever that means, and when I come home, I find out that there’s been a shooting near my suburban house and of course the terrible bombing at the Boston Marathon yesterday.
We are never safe, and we are always safe, cosmically speaking. I am Lutheran because these two realities exist side by side, and to favor one over another is to tell a lie.
The pastor in Guatemala said it like this: “No one is safe; we just can’t be in denial in Guatemala as much as in America.”
Anyway, my response to tragedy when they keep hitting is the same. Pray. Then put on your shoes, and go do some good in the world.
The night after we went to the school, we visited a family in their home who we had visited the last time we were in Guatemala. They live in an average home for this area, on a street that’s between the territory of two rival gangs. Their home is a kitchen area with a couch and two bedrooms, shared by two teenage girls, their brother in his early 20s, and their mom. They served us tostadas and a warm drink made from plantains, which sounds bizarre but was very enjoyable. We talked about our lives, and the pastors (and I) shared scripture and prayed. Pretty much one of those holy moments.
We had a whole day of school children, even though it totalled only four or five hours. It was intense and wonderful. The children are lovely and so, so affectionate. One of the teachers told us that they don’t get much attention or affection at home, and so it takes them a little while to figure out what it means. Once they figure it out that we’re there basically to love them and play, they are SO in.
More Guate-Blog tomorrow!