Loma de la Cruz, El Salvador

Where to even begin? It has been 4 days since leaving Loma de la Cruz, Jucuapa, and this is really the first time I have sat down to think about everything that happened there. But here I go, letting thoughts and feelings flow as they come…


About ten minutes left, someone had said. The seemingly long drive from San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador, was reaching its end as our microbus drove down a bumpy dirt road through the jungle heading towards a small village outside the town of Jucuapa called Loma de la Cruz. The van was quiet, everyone immersed in his or her thoughts while taking everything in. I was busy doing likewise. I was excited, I knew I had to be- this is what I had been looking forward to for our whole trip. Two weeks in the middle of nowhere, engaging in a small community, doing manual labour, hanging out with the kids, and maybe even getting some English classes in there. What was there not to be excited for- not to mention the fact that we would be sleeping in hammocks every night? I was pumped, and I knew that this is exactly where God wanted me to be, yet thoughts of longing to be home with my family were overpowering at the moment. I had just talked to mom the day before, and Jordyn, my youngest sister, was really sick. I had known she had been not feeling well over the past month, but it wasn’t until then I found out that this was bad. I knew it was going to be an ongoing battle for me to be able to focus on where God had placed me in each moment and not have my thoughts and mind back home.
As we drove over the final hill, we saw the school to the left, and a road with houses scattered down it. We turned right and pulled up in front of a small little house hidden amongst the trees and bushes. We all jumped out, grabbed our bags and ran over, ready to inspect each room. But that didn’t take too long, we all stopped as soon as the door was opened-there was only one room. Around back was the bathroom, a cement hole in the ground surrounded by three brick walls and a sheet to cover the door, and a shower, a wall, large pila filled with water and a bucket to dump the water over your head. This place was going to be awesome.
The first few days went by, relatively in similar routine, wake-up after multiple people have tried their hand at getting me up (apparently I am a really deep sleeper…), eat breakfast, head to work, then later in the afternoon partake in different activities people invited us to. Many of the families (there are 30 families total within this village) wanted to teach us how to make something new (papousas, tamales, atoll, cashews), or have us try a different kind of fruit, the names of which I will never be able to remember. It was a lot of fun, and I was thoroughly enjoying getting to know the people, feeling so welcomed by everyone. It was somewhere around this time that English classes started taking place on our front porch every night. I’m not even sure how this happened, but it did. Shayla and I started out teaching a small group of about six aging from around 13 to 21 years old. By the end of the first night, the faces I had just seen for the first time seemed to be faces I had seen all my life. I found out rather quickly this place had a way of pulling your heart in fast and making you feel as if you had been there a lifetime. I looked forward to these night classes each night, even though dirty from working all day, and drained from the heat, this time meant a lot to both Shayla and I. It had been one of our goals in going there that we didn’t want to feel separated from the town, spending a lot of time in our house and for it to be an off-bounds type of a place. This class opened up the perfect opportunity for the people to feel welcome coming to our house, and I think we were both able to engage in these individual’s lives in a way we would never have been able to do otherwise. As a few nights passed, more people began coming out, and Shayla took the older group, while I hung out with the younger group. I remember in the midst of one of these classes, just looking into the eyes of all these kids, hungry to learn, excited to just be close to you, I was for the first time awestruck with where God had brought me. How did I get here?
So many times over this past year I have found myself stopping to ask this question. So many things I never could’ve planned for, so many things I couldn’t have even begun to dream. A year ago I would never have envisioned myself sitting on the dirty front porch of a house in a tiny village in the middle of the jungle somewhere in El Salvador, gazing into the eyes of these children calling me ‘enseñar’. Even a month ago, a week ago I never could’ve known. But God knew. That simple fact has continued to blow me away time and time again. No matter how much I feel the need to plan things out, or make sure I am ‘ready for the future’, no matter what I do, He always has a way of bringing me right back around to where He wants me. I can run, I can try and hide beneath a thousand carefully laid out plans recorded in my trusty black agenda, and yet it all seems so empty, so meaningless. It wasn’t until the beginning of this year that I began truly understanding the power of faith and jumping out, tossing away my own agenda and submitting to whatever plans God had for me (read Hebrews 11). And so, for the thousandth, no millionth time this year I found myself again in this place, a moment in time I ever could’ve planned to be in for myself, and I felt so at peace, this was exactly where I was meant to be.
Practicum for me was so many things, and I know that as time moves on more things will uncover themselves, and I will continue going through life tangled in these moments of unpredictable peacefulness. I am so thankful for this continual reminder that He has everything in control and that He above all else knows the path set before me. As I continue my journey down this path, and prepare for returning home, I am able to finally reflect back on time spent in Loma de la Cruz, right down to the final glance out the back of the van window, a mental picture of people I had grown so close to standing in the middle of the dirt road, understanding His faithfulness, and then turning to face the road ahead, buckling in for whatever it is He has planned next.

Practicum Begins

Tomorrow morning we are leaving to head for Panajachel. We are spending a week there, the first days being a Spiritual Retreat, and the last few days are times for classes, and hanging out with each other, preparing ourselves for the craziness of Practicum in El Salvador. In El Salvador, my team, Los Ochos, will be staying in a town called Juequapa. It will be the first time this village hosts missionaries, so we are super excited, but also nervous. Our actions and the impressions we leave will shape their mindset on future groups. Since we, the students, are in charge of ALL the planning, it has been a lot of work getting everything arranged, but so far so good. We will be staying in a small hut back in the jungle, sleeping in hammocks out on the porch, and eating beans 3 times a day! : ) haha. They have us building a wall for them at their local school, and installing new toilets in the bathroom. Also we are running a four day kid's day camp which i am really looking forward to. Today marks the last time i will have access to a computer for the next few weeks until we return from El Salvador, so I'm sorry, I'll be behind in posts for a while, but I will try and give a full update when I return. Please keep us in your prayers as we begin this new adventure!

Teaching English

During weekend ministries in Patzun, Janelle and I had the opportunity to teach two English classes at the school Alpha y Omega on Fridays and Monday. These kids were so much fun, and had an honest desire to learn. I loved this experience. In this class, over the 3 weeks we talk simple phrases, greetings, jobs, time, foods, etc. For the last class we did a scavenger hunt in English with the kids, which they loved. Not only did they have to find the objects, they had to decipher what each word meant. Then at the end of the class, they surprised us with cards they had made for each of us. It was so hard to leave, I really enjoyed my time teaching.
Our first class had 5 students, ages 15-18. Evelyn, Karen, Gladis, Hosea-Luis & Mary (not in photo).

Our second class had 6 students, ages 14-16. Claudia, Ingrid, Ruth, Rosa, Kevin, & Domingo.

When the World Seems to Stop

Today I felt the world stop. It is Tuesday March 4th, the day that would mark our final day in Patzun. This morning held many treasures, yet in that many challenges as well. It was our second day running a kid’s program at the school, and both days turned out to be huge successes. The children here have a way of grabbing your heart right from the first moment… and for three particular little boys, they did just that on day one. Alex, Edgar and Louis have been such a gift from God on this trip. If our time here were meant for nothing more then to just be here to play with them, each of us would’ve been fully content. But in the midst of this precious gift, came the challenge of saying good-bye. As our time at the Church this morning came closer and closer to its end, our group began to somber, knowing it would soon be time to part with these three friends. We gathered around to say goodbye, and Alex, the oldest, burst into tears. I watched helplessly as he went around to each of us, clutching onto our shirts and occasionally taking the time to brush the tears away from his eyes with the back of his hand.
As we walked away, all I could focus on was the sight of my feet, walking down the dirt road for the last time, the bright purple nail polish on my toes, and the sound of my flip flops as they smacked against the dirt. Everything else was silent. I no longer could hear the sound of cars honking their horns, or the business of people walking, yelling, and whistling. For one little boy the world had stopped, and somehow, mine had as well. I disagree with Elenor Roosevelt when she said "Many people walk in and out of your life, but only true friends leave footprints on your heart". Some people have a way of leaving their mark instantaneously without you even realizing. I will never forget this time in Patzun, the people, and especially those three little boys. As I leave on the bus in a few hours, I will take my final glance at Patzun, but forever I will carry it’s footprint on my heart.

Simply no words... (written March 1st)

Today I witnessed the most hilarious situation. I will try and recount it as accurately as I possibly can, but I fear nothing I could write would ever do justice the odd amusement our group found today in Patzun. We were sitting out in the field at the school, playing guitar and learning to sing some songs in Spanish. The three boys, Alex, Edgar and Louis live in the house on the school property, which was in plain view of where we were sitting. All of a sudden, a few of the girls sitting in front of me, facing the house, burst out laughing. We all turned in the direction they were looking and to my utmost surprise saw Alex bolt from his house, stark naked, across the field and behind the church. Out of the door comes his mom, broom in firm grip, marching after him. Soon, Edgar and Louis followed, running after Alex with big sticks in their hands. They continued to chase, attempting to whack him whenever they came close enough, around the back of the field. Soon we were all rolling on the ground, clutching our stomachs from the pain of continuous laughter. I don’t believe that I will ever again in my life witness a sword fight quite as amusing as this one today. Even now, I can hardly make out the words being typed through the tears of laughter rolling down my cheeks… words cannot even describe.

Ministry Weekends

As I write this on a scrap of paper, I am eating a piece of juicy delicious ‘sandia’ (watermelon) at the house of one of the teachers at the school Alpha y Omega in Patzun. It is the final day of our second weekend of ministries. But before I write another word, I must back track…

Each weekend my Discover team, Los Ochos, has been working in a small town up in the mountains called Patzun. The forty-five minute chicken bus ride is pretty crazy, almost completely uphill, driving incredibly fast up switch-backs. This weekend there was only standing room by the time we got on (at least 180 people, we counted haha), so all of us squished in the aisle. By the time we reached Patzun everyone was pretty nauseated.

Our first weekend ended up being mostly prep work and getting supplies, etc all set up for the next two weekends. Although at first we were all a bit discouraged with the amount of activity we were doing, in the end God blessed the time we ere able to spend there. You see, there is something you must understand about latin culture. Time means nothing. If they tell you to be ready to paint at the school for 9 am, but don’t show up until 5pm, this is not out of the ordinary. And so that is exactly how we spent our Saturaday. While we were upset from waiting around in the sun for hours, most of us were able to make the most of this situation I ended up playing soccer and basketball for hours that day with some of the kids that were hanging around the school. That was so much fun! Two of the boys, Alex and Edgar are always around the school becaue they are the schools janitor’s children and live on the school property.

On Friday afternoons I teach English in two of the older classes, to students aged 14-18. I absolutely love it. I don’t even know how to describe it, I think I’m still getting used to the idea that after so much time of talking about teaching English, I actually am. The students are a lot of fun, and I am grateful for the little Spanish I do know because it definitely helps.

This Friday, while I was not teaching, we actually started painting! That was really exciting, to finally be able to see some progress happening. They chose to paint the school an almost peach colour with white trim. It looks very umm… well Guatemalan. At least they love it.
The final project we are helping out with is papermaking. The youth group is being taught how to make different paper products out of recycled paper (journals, cards, etc) to sell in the tourist markets to generate some income for the Church. We are simply helping them get this started while we are there. It’s a lot of work, but its really interesting to me how incredibly resourceful people can be. I’m excited for this project to grow and to be something that continues to benefit them long past when we leave.

Kelsey and I are living with a family from Alpha y Omega while we are in Patzun. They are both doctors, which proved to be a God- send last weekend when my sickness suddenly worsened. Axel was able to give me a higher dose of medications (I got sick in Antigua with Giardia and an intestinal infection. The medications I was given there were not strong enough for how severe my case of it was). I have just finished these new medications and feel a lot better. Thanks for all your prayers, my mom told me she sent out emails to some of you, updating you about this and asking for your prayers. Thanks again! Please continue to keep us in your prayers, people are being hit in every which direction, and it is becoming really difficult to be down here. Please pray for protection also.

We return to Patzun on Thursday for our final weekend, which will last this time until the following Tuesday. I am really looking forward to a few days of rest and classes inbetween…

Oh Chicken Buses... What Would Guate Be Without You

Right now I feel like I have kind of hit a bit of a lull, which would account for my lack of posts recently. It’s not that there hasn’t been much excitement on my end, simply lack of ability to put it all to paper. So, to break this I have forced myself to take the time to simply sit down and focus on nothing else. Here goes nothing…

Since all of my traveling around Guatemala lately has been by chicken bus, I feel like I should explain first of all what this is, and some crazy instances that have occurred in transit. Basically, a chicken bus is an old school bus that is unfit to be driven in the United States or Canada, and has been driven down here to be used as their main method of public transportation. As is typical for this culture, the buses are completely decked out with lots of bright colours, tassels in the windows, and if your lucky… fur on the dashboard. That’s right, it’s the most pimped out looking bus you will ever set eyes on. If that doesn’t startle you or catch your attention the ‘Jesus Cristo es mi pastor’ printed in huge letters right next to a silhouette of a woman, or the extremely loud reggae tone beats, is sure to cause a double take.

These buses are packed to the absolute max. One morning while taking this bus into town for Spanish class, I literally had to climb over the shoulders of two women who were sitting in the two front seats (at least 3 people in each seat). They were simply heavier set women, which is just the norm in this culture, and together they blocked the entire isle. So, typical green-go me sees no other option here then to climb right on over. There was standing room only that morning, so I stood near the back next to the speaker blaring Guate beats at 7 in the morning clinging to the ‘oh crap bar’ overhead for dear life. The drivers of these things are insane, its that simple.

On the hour bus ride from Antigua to Chimaltenango, Evelyne and I actually got to share a seat. Having barely pulled out of the ‘bus depot’ (field at the back of the market packed with chicken buses going in every direction), the lady sitting in front of us wiped her screaming child’s diaper off and flung the dirty thing right out the widow. I couldn’t help but imagine an innocent bystander, walking down the street to the market only to get this pleasant surprise package right in the face. How traumatizing that would be. Ev and I silently gave each other a look, knowing what must be going on in each other’s head at that exact moment. A few stops later, we had a guest come to share our seat, sitting right beside me on the outside. He was a large Guatemalan man, complete with a large gun to match. Recently, since the election in Guatemala, there has been a lot of rebels holding bus drivers at gun point, and in this area alone in the past few weeks there has been around 18 drivers who have been killed. Needless to say, because of this information I was a little freaked out inside, but managed to keep that to myself, and remind myself to keep breathing, for the duration of the ride.

Stepping up onto a chicken bus is always an adventure, and there are few things that excite me more then to be apart of some crazy adventure… I am so glad for the ones I have already been a part of, and look forward to the ones to come.

** pictures are completely random... taken on the times when we had the school's bus to take us to various places. Chicken buses aren't the safest places to whip out your camera...