Guatemala Reflection: Part 2 - We are a Family

By Barbara Thomson

This is part two of Barbara’s reflection on the youth pilgrimage to Guatemala this July, on which she was one of the three adult leaders. If you missed it, you can read part one, "Witness", here.

My family grew as I attended this year’s visit to Guatemala. Being a St. Martin’s member has already grown my family to include the other adults and St. Martin’s youth. This year it grew to include the Guatemalan families that our group of 11 (plus 3 - our driver, guide, and interpreter) met as we plowed through the Highlands from churches to homes and missions in our packed red van.  

Our wonderful translator, Melvin. Photo by the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel

It takes a leap of faith to be an adult leader on these youth trips – especially one who gets on board at the last minute! I have chaperoned twice to South Dakota, but I was asked just a few weeks before this trip to join and didn’t fully realize all of what I’d be getting in to! We know before we leave where we’re going and what we’ll be doing, and we trust that we will get along while we’re there. As soon as we go through security, the magic of being in a family – my new family –  kicked in. We were not the traditional household of parents and children, but rather a group of people with certain roles who watch out for, take care of, and love each other during our time together and thereafter. 

Photo of the youth at the chocolate factory. From Clare's camera.

Our group started every day with breakfast, piled into the van, took on a new experience, sat down for lunch, took on another experience, sat down for dinner, and ended with compline. We quickly knew who positioned for the window seat, who carried the soccer balls, and who loved fancy coffee and pink drinks. At the end of the day, we all asked God to “Keep watch with those who work or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep…”

Compline by flashlight. Photo by the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel.

Ground transportation in San Lucas. Photo by the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel.

Kate balancing a tub. Photo by Gavin.

While our youth group became a family as we walked through security at the airport, we met our extended St. Martin’s family as we walked into their churches and homes, and then played soccer. (We found that our St. Martin’s kids were better prepared for their cold showers after a hot and sweaty soccer workout.) With each new family we met, each new story we heard, these people became family to us. We were welcomed into homes and churches where they fed us, taught us, and shared time and company. 

Guatemalan church family. Photo by Gavin.

Youth with a Guatemalan family. Photo by Clare.

Hospitality. Photo by Clare.

Playing fútbol. Photo by Clare.

At the end of the day, we would talk about and try to understand what we saw, felt, and learned that day. Every day someone talked about how he or she was touched by the children’s love for learning, communicating despite language gaps, how welcome they felt at the homes and churches we visited, the care from our guide, driver, and interpreter, and the gap in wealth. We also spent time thanking our St. Martin’s kids for showing so much appreciation and respect to the families they met. We were proud of them and appreciate their individual contributions.

Home visit near Chichicastenango in Sepela. Photo by the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel.

Dinner with the Bishop of Guatemala. Photo by the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel.

Within our own group, we took care of each other. There were moments of concern as some were overwhelmed with emotion and some had digestive issues. When asked to help get the sick ones packed up so we could get the group to Antigua, they helped out without flinching and the sick ones were given preferential treatment for the 2 hour ride. When we arrived back in Miami, the first ones at baggage claim collected all the bags and had them waiting for the rest of us as we made our way through Customs. 

Kate holding a baby. Photo by Clare.

The St. Martin’s folks and the Guatemalan folks became a group of people with certain roles who watched out for, took care of, and loved each other during our time together. I’ve also found that the love doesn’t end. We may not see each other regularly but our care for one another lives on so that when we see someone, like Leslie who we recognize from a story from years past, we make sure she gets her new glasses. We are connected. We are a family.

We're on a boat! Photo by Gavin.

The family returns home. Photo by the Rev. Jarrett Kerbel.

Guatemala Reflection: Part 1 - Witness

By Barbara Thomson

This is part one of Barbara’s reflection on the youth pilgrimage to Guatemala this July, on which she was one of the three adult leaders.

Rooftops, Mountain, Sky in Guatemala. Photo by Gavin.

Honestly, I was not totally prepared for what we experienced in Guatemala. 

As we traveled to different places, such as Xela to Pachoj or ChiChi or San Lucas Toliman, we shared what we were going to see, who we were going to meet, and what we were going to do. Just as you prepare yourself and/or your children for new experiences, the adults tried to prepare the youths for the people and environment they were going to encounter. It was often head-spinning to hear:

They will be living in a place that looks like a shack to us. The whole family lives in one room. There is no indoor running water. There is no bathroom. There are no windows. They use wood to cook in their stoves and heat their homes.

Kids typically leave school around 6th grade so they can work and earn money for the family. One family recently got a solar panel and has electricity that allows them to work later into the night to embroider their piece-work garments. There’s no school bus. The families can’t afford school supplies such as notebooks and uniforms without our help. The families depend on us at St. Martin’s to send their kids to school.

For those over 18, you will meet women in the prison and see many children. Their children live there with them until they are 4 years old. The women cook for themselves in the prison kitchen. Their families and Father Roberto bring them food. They wash their clothes by hand.  

The Mission started out with Father Greg who saw malnourished children over 50 years ago and it has grown to a thriving school, coffee coop, women’s center, and hospital. 

Father Stan Rother was an American martyr who was killed at his church during the 30-year Civil War.

I especially related to the education and medical issues. As a mother and wife, these are my primary concerns for my family. I could feel how hard and what a hardship it was for children to go to school. Many of the families can’t help their children with their schoolwork because the families don’t speak, read or write in Spanish. They speak K’iche’, their native Mayan language that is mostly spoken. The parents may not be able to read or write because they didn’t go to school. Education is not an expectation for everybody. It is only for those who can afford it. 

This is true for healthcare, too. There is no government assisted healthcare. Emergency rooms exist for those who can pay for them. And when someone has no money, it means no ibuprofen, no antibiotics, no allergy or asthma medicine, no well visits, no eyeglasses, no high blood pressure medicine, no chemotherapy, no x-rays, no anesthesia for delivering babies, and no dialysis. Simple afflictions that we take care of with doctor visits or trips to our medicine cabinets in our bathrooms, could potentially be life threatening.  If you need special surgery, you wait until a group of surgeons comes to the mission hospital and hope you get operated on during the week they’re in town that year. Birth control is not discussed although many girls have babies in their teens and it is not uncommon for someone to have 10 children. 

We arrived at their churches, missions, and homes and we were welcomed with open hearts, food to eat, and gifts. They all made us a special meal. The women taught us to make tortillas. We heard about the difference St. Martin’s has made in their lives. We heard from the young adults who were children a few years ago talking about getting jobs in schools and teaching the next generation or becoming bookkeepers and earning more money for their families. One scholarship student is now at the University and wants to be the President of Guatemala. We met the young boys who are being raised by their grandparents because their parents abandoned them to work in Guatemala City but were not heard from again. We heard from a family living with HIV and luckily receiving medicine because of St. Martin’s support. 

Making Tortillas. Photo by Clare.

We met the women who run the chocolate coop. We were told that we were visiting a chocolate factory. Upon arrival we learned that the chocolate factory consisted of a room with a wood burning stove and a small table. The women make the chocolate at home and sell it door to door or in the market. They divide up the money at their meetings and each person receives her share of the money in a Ziploc bag with her name on it. In these better homes, they have stoves with flues, which helps to minimize the smoke from the wood they burn. Otherwise, they cook over open fires.

As we traveled over mountains, around hairpin turns, over Lake Atitlan and between cities, and walked through the cornfields to their homes, we learned about our long-standing relationships with the people we couldn’t necessarily identify before our trip. We met Leslie and her family. Leslie was the recipient of an eye exam and eyeglasses in 2014 because some St. Martin’s youths discovered her condition kept her from going to school. She was wearing her glasses when we met her we recognized it is time for a check-up. Unfortunately, Leslie still does not attend school because she was so far behind when she got her glasses, but we are providing for new glasses and some books to help her learn to read. Leslie speaks some Spanish but is most comfortable speaking K’iche’. We are also sending various inexpensive over the counter reading glasses to the women who work late into the night on their piecework.

Over and over we heard the families explain the huge impact St. Martin’s has made on their lives. The children love to go to school and the parents appreciate it. The older ones are now working in professions thanks to their scholarships. And after we all talked, the American and Guatemalan kids would play soccer together. They’d divide into teams, run after the ball, make some goals, laugh and cheer, cry foul sometimes, and keep going until they got the nod from the adults that it is time to go to our next thing.  

My family grew as I attended this year’s visit to Guatemala. Being a St. Martin’s member has already grown my family to include the other adults and St. Martin’s youth. This year it grew to include the Guatemalan families that our group met as we plowed through the Highlands from churches to homes and missions in our packed red van. 

Watch next week for part two of Barbara’s reflection on Guatemala, "We are a Family".

Of Parenting and Faith

It all became clear to me recently that my spiritual journey has made a pit stop.

It has been getting harder in the last year or so to feel connected to my faith. I've continued going to church, participating in choir and church activities, keeping up on and off with devotionals, but something has felt off.

It all came to a head recently as my church is embarking upon a visitation tour to go and speak to people about their spiritual selves and what if anything they need from the church at this time to help them discern God's call in their lives.  We're hoping just to meet people and get them even thinking more specifically about God's call.  As a leader in my church, I'm part of the team planning to make these visits.  We held a training session which involved the role play of visitor/visitee. I volunteered to be the visitee.

I don't recall the exact question that my fellow members asked me, but I do recall what came out as my answer. "I feel like my own spiritual journey is entirely tied up right now in making sure that my son's will be provided for - or that I'm doing the right things to get him on that path."

It brought tears to my eyes to say this. Because it is 100% true and because it was the first time I had put words to my spiritual block and said it aloud for myself to hear. And because I suddenly felt that the whole thing was backwards.

For a little context, this was unexpected for me. I didn't do the typical "fall away from the church until you have kids" thing that we see so often these days. And I don't think that's a bad or unhealthy thing to do - it just wasn't my journey. I was very involved in my church growing up. Attending worship, singing with the choir, youth group, church school teacher for the preschoolers when I was in high school, I even attended church summer camp.  After high school graduation I did a slight "fall away" by not seeking out a regular Sunday service during college. However, I went to church when I came home on holidays. I took 2 or 3 religion classes that kept me connected; I talked with my boyfriend (now husband) about all the interesting things he was learning at his own Disciple Bible Study, and I longed to go on the mission trips he got involved with at his home church. When I graduated, he and I moved in together in South Philly and one of the first things we did was go and find a church. Suddenly, I was fully involved again and have been since.

So, to now find my own faith journey stalled by what I need for my children - I just didn't expect it. I knew it was important to me, but I didn't realize how disconnected from my own path it had made me. And as soon as I spoke those words in the meeting it occurred to me that I was maybe looking at it the wrong way. I wanted to give my son (and my 2nd on the way) something that I did not have myself. I expected the church to create for my child what I didn't feel capable of providing on my own. It dawned on me that, like so many other things in parenting, perhaps my best route to teaching something to my son was to model it myself and have my life be the lesson.

It seemed so simple to identify in that moment, but I admit I am still unsure how to move forward. I still feel stalled. There are still so many challenges to parenting, especially right now when my first is so young and impressionable and with another on the way. I want them to know God's love, and feel it clearly in our church home. I want them to be welcome in worship while they figure out appropriate behavior there and not only once they have figured it out.  I want them to know the words to the Lord's Prayer the way preschool has taught my son the words to the Pledge of Allegiance - that learning the words and repeating them may let their meaning seep into their bones the way they have mine. I want to not be the only one trying to teach them these things. I want to surround him with a community that takes its baptismal vows seriously to help raise up and teach every member in God's way. And, I don't want to force it in a way that will only cause push back.

Mostly though, I want help with my own journey so that I can be strong for my children and others. I want advice on how to integrate more of Sunday into everyday in a way that is meaningful enough for me that something is obvious to my children.  People to share my struggles, questions, hopes, excitement, and thirst for justice with. I want for the faith to trust that it will all be all right. I need it for me so that I can live it for them, that by my living, they too will be drawn to life in faith.

Have you ever felt this way? What ways have you found to fill this need? Or, are you too still searching yourself?

- Natalee Hill

Burnt Buns and Gratitude

Brown ‘n Serve rolls, slightly charred. Two varieties of cranberries (even though there were only three people in my family and I didn’t partake in the cranberry consumption): sliced jellied and whole, both straight from the can. Tablecloths and goldware in the formal dining room with the grandfather clock ticking away.

There are certain traditions and foods - prepared in very specific ways - that we associate with holiday meals. I’ve come to realize that these things are different for everyone, and that we tend to hold onto them rather tightly. Hence the sweet potatoes prepared in three different ways at some family feasts. When I think of Thanksgiving, my senses are immediately filled with memories of everything mentioned above. But I also think of my family’s tradition of going around the table before the meal and saying what we are thankful for. An unsuspecting guest at our table might get caught off guard by this practice, but it was always included, right before the prayer. In the past few years through social media, I’ve noticed that people have extended this practice of naming gratitude to the entire month of November. On Facebook, many people post something that they are thankful for each and every day. I believe this helps people intentionally focus on gratitude and go beyond the “I’m thankful for my family” or “I’m grateful for this bountiful feast” that usually come up when people are excitedly awaiting their first bite of gravy-laden turkey.

At St. Martin’s many of our children learn the basic prayer form of thanking and asking prayers, wherein we begin by naming things we’re thankful for - blessings that God has bestowed upon us - and then name things we’d like to ask God for (which often range from “a new rocket ship” to “my neighbor who is sad because her cat died.”) My family has started using this practice at home before meals and at bedtime. It’s not just a simple practice that my nearly-3-year-old can grasp; I’ve found that it’s also a helpful discipline for me. Sometimes in the midst of a difficult week, I am challenged to articulate something for which I’m grateful. Having to do this on a regular basis opens me up to experiencing and acknowledging gratitude more readily.

On Saturday morning, I awoke before the sun to drive my husband to catch a 7 a.m. train out of 30th Street Station. As I drove home, I was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude: the sunrise was casting pinks and purples over the city and creating unique lines in the sky; a single rower was silhouetted against the Schuylkill River; and as I navigated the curves of Lincoln Drive, a gust of wind sent hundreds of leaves swirling around me. Instead of grumbling about not getting to sleep in or anticipating the potential complications of three days of solo parenting, my heart was bursting with joy and appreciation that I got to be me, seeing what I was seeing and feeling what I was feeling at that exact moment. I thanked God for opening my eyes and heart to Her abundant and beautiful presence all around me.

This Thursday, as I reminisce over the burned biscuits of Thanksgivings past and take stock of my blessings over the past year, I pray that I am overcome with this same gratitude. I pray that I remember not just the obvious and expected thanksgivings but the many small moments that fill me with the Spirit each and every day. 

What will you thank God for?

- The Rev. Callie Swanlund

Wobbly Walk with God

Stepping Stones by Maria Keays on Flickr

A couple of weeks ago, I was picking up produce from our farm share at our local garden. This weekly ritual - shared with my toddler - often falls in the midst of multiple errands that get squeezed into the post-naptime/pre-dinnertime window on my day off with her. On this particular afternoon, as we were walking through the garden, my daughter asked to walk along the wobbly stones bordering one of the plots. I helped her step up on the first stone and held her hand as we walked along.

At least, that’s what I thought I was doing. I suddenly realized that I was directing her by grasping her elbow tightly and setting the pace. I took a deep breath and made the choice to let my child take the lead. Wouldn’t this be so much more enjoyable, I thought, if I simply trusted her judgment to go at a pace she was comfortable with rather than hurriedly pulling her along?

I realized that my walk with my child was much like my walk with God. When I pray, I often do it on my own schedule and forget to stop and listen in the process. I come to God with certain expectations in mind and find it difficult to have the patience necessary to make space for the Spirit. To trust God to take the lead.

Why am I always trying to call the shots, to take the reins? When I let my daughter set our pace that afternoon, I had to let go of a few things. I had to let go of my sense of urgency and my sense of security. Slowing down meant that we wouldn’t get our vegetables as quickly and be on to the next errand on our list. Loosening my grip meant allowing for the possibility that my child would trip and fall.

But I also allowed for something else: joy. Our weekly ritual had become a task rather than an opportunity to be in nature together, exploring the world. My toddler helped remind me how to breathe and take it all in.

How can we slow down and relinquish control, not just in our relationship with others but in our relationship with God? How can we let the moment happen rather than making it happen?  How do we leave room to be surprised by joy?

- The Rev. Callie Swanlund

Hospitality Lessons from a Preschooler

It was a typical evening coming home with my son. It was a day that we were headed home just the two of us, my husband working a late shift. As we approached home, the initial request came, "I want to go see Alex." Alex is the high school freshman girl who lives across the street from us and with whom my son is enamored. "Okay," I say, "let's go home, put our things down, and we can go say hi for a few minutes while dinner cooks in the oven." He agreed, and he very cooperatively waited while I got out the fish sticks, sweet potato fries tossed them on a cookie sheet and into the oven. I set a timer on my phone for a couple minutes shy of the oven, and off we went across the street.

We spent a lovely 12 minutes in our neighbors' home, he on the sofa chatting and watching some TV with Alex, me by the door chatting with her mom. When my timer went off and I declared it time to go home for dinner, he was ready. But we exchanged that "we should do dinner sometime" thing that you do. You know that - you mean it, sort of. But when I got home, suddenly I was called to account.

"I want Alex to come over for dinner."

"Yes, sweetheart, I said we'd do that sometime soon."

"NO. I want Alex and her family to come over to dinner right NOW!"

I began thinking how unreasonable his request is. The house is a mess; I haven't vacuumed up all the cat hair. Do they have allergies? I only made enough fish sticks and fries for two, maybe with preschool sized leftovers. Nate isn't home. I don't know what their dinner plans are. I don't know what they eat. 

I offer a perfectly reasonable alternative. "How about Friday?" Yes, Friday is perfect. Several days to get ourselves together. Nate will be home. No choir rehearsal or other things on the evening agenda.  Perfectly reasonable.

"But I want them to come over for dinner TONIGHT."

Now, I know there was some typical preschool impulsiveness at play here. But I was suddenly struck by the insistence for radical hospitality that he demonstrated. I heard Gospel in my son's frustrated words.

I actually stopped in my tracks and considered for a moment: Isn't that what we're called to - relationship, in the here and now, immediate? Isn't that part of what Jesus was trying to tell Martha when she complained about her sister Mary not helping to get ready for the guests? Come. Sit. Be with people. Yes, it is important to have food. Yes, it would be great if the floor was cleaner. But don't let it get in the way of the relationship that is so much more important. Why also should I worry about the food? Did not the loaves and fishes multiply to feed everyone the two times in the Gospel that the crowd needed feeding? When we are together in Christ, there is enough to go around and all are fed. Fed not only by the food, but by the gathering and the sharing of the meal.

Jesus showed us how to invite anyone, everyone to our table; tax collectors, fishermen, the poor, the rich, the sick, the healthy, sinners, and saints. Jesus showed us how to sit with them; to be with them. It is amazing how presence alone is healing. And, indeed, Jesus invites all into his presence and to the table each Sunday morning.

So, why should a little cat hair in the carpet and a handful of fish sticks stop me from inviting over people I already know a bit? What's stopping me from showing a tiny fraction of the radical hospitality that I've been taught?

Flowers from our neighbors.

I failed that night. I failed as an example of Christ to my son, and I failed my call. I heard it, but I ignored it and did the "reasonable" thing. I invited them over for dinner on Friday. My son was thrilled - he told everyone he saw on Friday about our dinner plans. Our neighbors came, and we had a lovely time. Just the other day, Alex's mom came over to deliver flowers in thanks for dinner. I'm glad we had them over. I'm glad we were all there. It was a blessing and I hope I made up for not following when first called.

I'm blessed that I'm forgiven, and that I have a chance to try again anew.

So, what's your hospitality challenge? Do you have a story of failure or success of your own? What tiny fraction of a difference could you add to your faith journey? Add your thoughts below!

- Natalee Hill

(cross-posted to NataleeOnShuffle.blogspot.com)