Viva Guatemala

Humbling, isn't it? I think that's the best word to describe our trip to the villages of Patzun, Guatemala. The people were humble and they loved with great abundance. It's so apparent that God is in the heart and soul of every person that crossed our path. You could feel God's presence each time we passed people on the streets and they greeted us with hearty welcomes and smiles. Seeing children take on the chores of adults, but they still had a childish innocence about them. It was all so amazing.



Saturday, when we arrived at the convent, we had the best guacamole in the world. Not even kidding. I think I ate three guacamole tostados. The avocados there are about the size of a softball. So yummy. After lunch, we set up our pharmacy and got ready for a clinic. I had the job of passing out the toys and candy Orant donated, it was a very rewarding job. Little girls loved getting hair clips and the glow-pads. And the little boys were thrilled when they saw the dinosaurs and sea creatures. Their faces would light up when we brought out the soccer balls.


This one girl, who was about 16, came up to me and asked me in Spanish to teach her words in English. Molly, Esteban and I tried to think of good words to teach her. We taught her easy words: brother, sister, cousin, mom, dad, baseball, soccer ball, shirt, hair, eyes, mouth. All easy words. She would say them back to me in Spanish, but I already knew the words I told her, so it was more a lesson for her. It was fun though, and a very interesting interaction.

One prominent observation I made was that language can be a barrier, but only if you let it stop you. There were so many people I was able to communicate with without actually saying anything (or at the least, very little) and still have a general understanding. A hug, a reassuring pat or smile, all so simple and taken for granted in our society, but I noticed the effect of the non-verbal more than I did the verbal.

Sunday we went to Mass and the sermon lasted about 45 minutes, in Spanish, while we stood the entire time. I tell you what, I don't ever want to hear anyone complain about the length of a Mass in my life. The crazy part was I loved the Mass, it was a feeling of home, even if I didn't understand the homily.

After Mass we made the long haul up and down the winding roads in the mountains to get to Lake Atitlan. It's a beautiful lake surrounded by three volcanoes. Check out my picture site for awesome scenery pictures. http://picasaweb.google.com/abigailrenee

The next five days were spent going out to the villages via trucks with all of our meds and packed lunches. We usually set up our "office" in old churches and made use of the space. Molly and I were in charge of vitals and got very use to saying certain phrases in Spanish. "Abajo de la lengua" (under your tongue, talking about taking their temperature) and along that same line, "cierra la boca" (close your mouth.) By the end of the trip I was reported as saying these phrases in my sleep. :)




Our first day in the villages, I fell in love with the kids. We colored, they all colored pictures for me, they are perfect!

One day, Molly and I were sitting outside with our two drivers waiting for more patients, when we noticed our driver's (his nickname is QuiQue) dry hands. We slathered his hands with lotion and when we turned around, there were about 6 kids wanting lotion on their hands. It was like watching a lotion commercial. Their skin soaked up the lotion so quickly, even the little boys liked having soft hands.

Throughout the day we would pass out toys to our patients, and by the end of the day, we would have about 20 kids standing around waiting for us to pass out toys to all of them. That was always entertaining. We were mobbed every time by the kids. It was cute.

When we were at the school in El Sitio, Mari and I went around to a few of the classes and had the teachers hold a singing contest, and the kids that sang the loudest in front of the class would get a toy. It was so cool to see the similarities between American kids and the kids we were with. They all act the same. :)

I could write a million words about my experience, (like I did in my journal I kept on the trip) but I think most people would stop reading. I have many more stories and observations, so I will try to write more later or periodically tell stories in other posts. But for now, check out my pictures. There are over a million words for you to see there. http://picasaweb.google.com/abigailrenee

To sum up my experience, it awakened my soul to the goodness that God has all around His world.

Peace,
Abby

Passport Woes

After reading this blog, you will want to go and apply for your passport, even if you aren't planning to leave the country for 5 years.

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There's a new law out that requires every person leaving or entering the U.S. to have a passport. Yes, you have always had to have a passport to leave North America, but now, even if you are traveling to Mexico or Canada from the U.S. you must have a passport.

This new law has caused quite the influx in passports for US Citizens. I happen to have a story to share about my most recent and terrifying passport experience. Go pop a bag of popcorn, I promise this story (even my shortened version) is entertaining.

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It all began on a sunny Friday on the 26th of January when I learned I was going to Guatemala with my church's Medical Mission Team. I called my mom and told her to send my certified copy of my birth certificate, she sent it out that day. One month later, it finally arrived in my mailbox. Apparently there had been a miscommunication between my momma and I and my apartment number wasn't on the envelope. After floating around the well-ran postal system it got back to my mom where she put my apartment number and a few days later it was in my possession.

On February 22nd, I knew I was cutting it a little close, but I had read over all the passport information and I was sure that if I paid the extra money to have it expedited in 10-14 business days I would have my passport. Twelve business days later, no sign of it. My sister-in-law told me that I could check its status online, so I did. But the online system couldn't find my information. That was weird. So I kept checking it, hoping something would change with each click. No luck.

On Monday, March 12th, I called the National Passport Information Center (NPIC) about 100 times before I finally got through to be put on hold to speak to someone. They checked my information and couldn't find me.

My passport was stuck in limbo between the bank that deposits all of their money and the place that inputs all data. It was easy to tell that it wasn't at the data place. So where the heck was it? "It's probably in our lock box."

WHAT? I paid for speedy service and its sitting locked up where you can't get to it?

I have never claimed to be brilliant, but even to my small brain, that didn't seem very smart.

(For future reference in this blog and all other blogs that I write, I'm a crier.)

Tears streamed down my face as the sweet lady on the other end of the line began to tell me my options for getting my passport.

I had to go to Houston and bring all of my information to re-apply for my passport. I was told by the lady at the NPIC that I would leave that day with my passport and reimbursement in hand. So I made my appointment for 1:30 on Wednesday, March 14th and was told not to be there more than 15 minutes early. I have never been to Houston (unless you count running through the airport trying to catch a connecting flight) so I was a little nervous to make the 4-5 hour drive. But I did and I got there about 11:30. I found the passport place, went to get something to eat, and just sat in my car waiting for 1:15 to roll around.

I went to the office expecting a reception area with a person asking about my appointment time, maybe a few chairs with a few other people. But no. There was a long waiting line just to get a ticket number. I waited for an hour and a half. Once I got my number, I sat down and waited another 30 minutes. They called my number and I went to window number 8.

I slipped my papers and ID under the window slot and waited to tell my story. After the clerk checked my information with my birth certificate she said I would get my passport at 10:30 the next morning.

WHAT? I began to sob. I drove from Dallas at 6:30 this morning to sit here and wait, I couldn't stay the night in Houston I had to work and pack and not too mention my flight leaves on Friday from Dallas.

The clerk found me a tissue and asked me to stop crying, and I tried, but I began to hyperventilate. It was awful.

She must have felt sorry for me because she went to check on what strings she could pull to get me my passport by the end of the day. Someone else had come in with a "Life or Death Emergency" and I got tacked on with their passport order. (Is it bad to be happy about that?) But still I didn't get my reimbursement for the money I had paid for my original passport, instead I was told it would be about 6 months. I cried a little bit more.

"You're still crying?" the clerk asked me. "You got your passport. One out of two isn't bad. Most people don't get their passport. You are very lucky."

I tried to stop crying again as I wrote out another check to pay for my stinking passport.

One hour and thirty minutes later the security guard called my name for me to pick up my passport. I think I might have cried a little.

As if from nowhere the large burden that was beginning to crush me was lifted off my chest. Outside was a little brighter (even though it was pouring) and my world was better. I'm leaving for Guatemala in less than 31 hours and my excitement is getting more difficult to contain.

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My mom said that she thinks I have a large blessing coming my way in Guatemala for all of the trouble I went through to get there. To me, just getting to go on this trip is blessing enough. But I will keep you informed on anything that comes my way.

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Lesson learned from my troubles? Get your passport now to give bureaucracy enough time to keep your passport in a lock box.