Bringing it all Home

I’m sitting here, trying to figure out how to accurately convey the experiences I’ve had at the Orphanage.

But I can’t.

No matter what I say, how many times I say it, or how many pictures I show, unless you have been here for yourself, you will never be able to fully understand or appreciate the love, joy, spirit, heartache, and tragedy that we’ve all witnessed. 

What I write is merely empty words on a page to most people.  The pictures I show are just “poor, Guatemalan orphan kids.”  But to all of us who have been here, the stories and pictures we have, mean so much more.  They represent a profound spiritual uplifting that has occured inside each and every one of us.  We know the personal stories behind the pictures.  We’ve laughed and we’ve cried with the kids.  We’ve prayed, eaten meals, hugged, and played together.

So as I continue to write, and you continue to read, know that you are only experiencing one miniscule fraction of the emotions that we have all had. 

Nonetheless, I share these stories with an open heart, and in turn I hope you will be able to take away a small slice of the experiences I’ve had and bring them into your own lives as well.

With love,

~Melissa : )

The Background

March 21st-28th 2009.

Six of us 20-somethings and one trip leader participated in Orthodox Christian Fellowship Real Break 2009.  Our particular trip was to the Hogar Rafael Ayau Orphanage in Guatemala City, Guatemala.

The Hogar is located in Zone 1, the most dangerous part of Guatemala City.  It was founded in 1857 and is run primarily by three Orthodox Christian nuns (Mothers Ines, Ivonne, and Maria).

 

About 30 minutes away from the Hogar sits the site of the new Orphanage and the Lavra Mambre Monastery (where Mothers Ines and Maria live).

  

There are currently 75 children at the Hogar.

Aerial view of Guatemala City

Like much of Central America, Guatemala is still struggling to recover from long standing dictatorships, coups, invasions, and a 36-year civil war resulting in the deaths of 200,000 innocent civilians. 

Guatemala is rife with violent crimes, narcotics, gangs, poverty, legalization of prostitution, and a corrupt government and law enforcement.  

In the 2007 elections, 50 of the 52 candidates were shot and killed.  Of the two remaining candidates, Alvaro Colom, a drug lord, was chosen to lead the country.  Under this new leadership, adoptions in the country have nearly ceased.  The entire per capita GDP of Guatemala is approximately $4,700 USD (compared to $48,000 in the US).

The Players

 

Fr. Apostolos Hill: aka “Padrecito” (little Father en Espanol): Trip leader, parish priest of Holy Assumption Cathedral in Denver, Colorado.

 

 

Gina: UCLA graduate, pursuing a Master’s in education from San Jose State.

 

 

Scott: senior in journalism at Ohio State, recent convert to Orthodoxy

 

 

Olivia: freshman in elementary education at Kent State

 

 

Mariam: Pursuing a Master’s in education, Lives in Knoxville, Tennessee.

 

 

 

Paul: Stanford graduate, Software engineer for Google

 

 

Melissa: KU graduate in humanities and microbiology.  Lives and works at a homeless shelter in San Francisco, CA

 

 

Colleen: unofficial Real Break member, 1st year law student, making 7th trip to Hogar

 

 

 

Isabel: child at the Hogar being adopted by Colleen’s family

 

 

 

Mother Ines: degree in architecture, abbess of the Lavra Mambre monastery, directing the construction of the new Orphanage

 

 

Mother Ivonne: degree in microbiology, lives full-time at the Hogar, conducts research on the medicinal uses of mushrooms

 

 

 

Jorge: Mother Ivonne’s brother.  Does “everything.”  protector of the Americans, body guard to the Hogar children, chauffer, facebooker, picture taker, web site keeper-uper, computer guru, maintenance man.  And oh, he’s also a firefighter and paramedic.

We Laugh, We Cry, We Carry On

We laugh, we cry, we carry on.

Posts about “psycho birds” slapped right next to posts containing the words “shot” and “murder”.  That’s how this blog is written.

Happiness next to sadness.

Awkward as it is, that’s what characterizes not only this blog, but life itself.  

At some point or another, we are all confronted with life’s sufferings.  We cannot escape it.  But instead of turning our backs, we should take the opportunity to really experience our suffering, feel it, hold  it, and learn from its lessons. 

But in order to confront the tragedies of life, we also have to relish in the simple humor of our everyday experiences.  We have to constantly laugh, joke, and smile…..at everything possible.

Some things in life are no joke.  In those moments, it’s okay to cry and be sad.  But after we’ve wiped our tears and blown our snot noses, then we should find something to smile about.  And then we should move on.

So, like this blog, in life, we laugh, we cry,

and then we carry on.

Why am I here?

Sometimes Life, and the Powers Above, take us where we never intended it to, but sometimes that path is a much better one than we ever could have fathomed by ourselves. 

To me coming here is a “test” meant to see if I can not only survive, but also thrive in work of this nature.

In both the immediate, and the distance future, I don’t necessarily see myself living the typical “American Dream.”  Rather, I see “something else.”

What that “something else” exactly is, I’ve been trying to figure out for the past 7.5 years, ever since I went to Project Mexico.  In that time, intentionally or not, at every fork in the road, I always seem to wind up on the road less traveled. 

Nothing more, nothing less, I’m trying to blaze a new trail in life. 

That’s why I’m here.

Day 0, Packing & PBJ: Friday, March 20th.

Start time: 7:15 a.m.

Packing list:

• –infant formula 
• –baby diapers
• –little boy’s underwear
• –little girls socks
• –toothbrushes, toothpaste, and other items  people have donated.

• –fleece blankets and balloons brother Steven and I have donated.
• –work clothes, church clothes, shoes, towel set, toiletries and everything else I need for the week all crammed into my bookbag.
• –3 jackets layered over my t-shirt to keep warm (important lesson learned from the homeless : )   

After dinner and dish team at Raphael House, I was dropped off at the airport at 9:30pm, where I sit eating peanut butter & jelly sandwich #1.

Fourteen hours later it’s already been a long day,

but the day, and the trip, are just beginning.

Traveling and more PBJs: Saturday, March 21st.

• 12:35am–boarded San Fran to Houston overnight flight
• 6am–arrived in Houston, but don’t know who any of my fellow group members are. 
• 7:15am–it’s only morning, but I’ve already been up 24hrs straight.
• 8:30am–eating peanut butter & jelly sandwich #2. 
• 10:30am–met my group, all are nice.
• 10:50am–boarding plane.  In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m poor…….eating peanut butter & jelly sandwich #3.

By afternoon we arrived at the Hogar.  It’s on a compound covering one city block.  The Orphanage is completely surrounded by high brick walls, and from the outside it is completely unmarked.  There is an armed guard on duty 24/7.

Entrance to the Orphanage. The green gate to the right is always kept closed except when people need in or out of the building. After that there is a second gate that has to opened. The rest of the orphanage is completely surrounded with high brick walls. No one can see in, none of us could see out.

 

 

That truck is filled with all of our luggage--mostly items to be donated to the Hogar

 

 

 

Our only glimpse of the outside world

 

After settling in, we had orientation and gave our donated items to Mother Ivonne.  Then played with some of the girls for awhile.

One of the first things I’ve noticed here are the sounds.  There are loud booms quite often.  Mother Ivonne says they are “firecrackers” (Firecrackers seems sorely inadequate a word.  The noise these things make sounds like it would come from the likes of a cannon ball).  

We also hear small planes flying overhead rather frequently.  All of them are drug planes–headed for Mexico, and eventually, the United States.   

At 7pm we had vigil, but I was so exhausted from being up so long I kept nodding off and seeing double.

9pm– thirty-eight lonnnng hours later, I am finally going to bed. 

Buenos noches.

A Day of Relaxation: Sunday, March 22nd.

9:15am–Had Divine Liturgy.  For Communion we each got to carry a baby.  I held little Dora.

The rest of the day was spent playing tag and soccer with the kids and eating.

Gettin’ some good soccer action:

For lunch we had tortillas with sauteed mushrooms and salsa, rice, tomatoes & onions flavored with lemon, cooked carrots, a slice of lime, mango for dessert, Kool-Aid, coffee, and tea to drink.

After that we had Vespers, and attended a party that some local people were throwing for the kids.

The boys with their soccer balls

.

.

The little ones

.

.

Me, Mariam, & Olivia at the party

After that we had a dinner of black beans, bread, some kind of unidentifiable (but good!) veggie, watermelon and oranges.

Then off to play more soccer.

At 9pm us missionaries ended our day with a long discussion.

Painting & Playing: Monday, March 23rd.

Today we painted the comedor (dining hall) “fresh mint green”

Little worker bees

.

.

Olivia painting away

.

. 

Scott

.

.

 .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

 

Padrecito workin' hard

 .

.

 

The boys not workin' so hard

 

The cleaning process...very complicated

 

After dinner we played activities with the kids. 

.

.

Reality. Monday, March 23rd

During our evening discussion we heard a gun shot.

In the middle of the night there was another gun shot, followed by a woman’s screams.

It is a sound that you might never hear in real life before, but the instant you do, a searing chill runs down your spine, because somehow, you know exactly what it is.

It is a sound that punches a hole in your gut, dripping with the realities of what the world is really like.

It is a sound that you will never forget.

It Comes with the Territory: Tuesday, March 24th.

Psycho birds R’ Us:

Guatemala has “psycho birds” as Padrecito calls them.  Indeed, where I come from the birds either chirp, quack, or gawk.  But the birds here, they SCREAM the most awfully piercing noise you have ever heard.  Not only do they SCREAM, but they particularly love doing so between the hours of 3-6am.

A side of ear plugs please:

I thought the Tenderloin in San Fran was loud, well, this place is much worse.  Imagine 10 semis, 6 garbage trucks, hundreds of men in brothels, 50 honking cars, a disco party, and a Carnival cruise ship all parading right outside your bedroom door.  That’s how this place sounds well into the wee hours of the night.  Thanks to my time in the Tenderloin though, I’m the only member of my group who has been able to survive the nights without using earplugs. 

Make that a double on the Benadryl: 

Poor Padrecito has been plagued with allergies, a half swollen eye, and nursing funky lookin’ and hopefully not poisonous bug bites

I’m okay….really:

Oh Lord have mercy, I am so sore.  Between playing soccer for a couple hours last night, running around the Hogar playing tag with the kids, picking up babies, painting walls, and making an average of 100 prostrations during the 3hrs we spend in church everyday, I am so sore.  But I’m okay…..really.

I just can’t seem to put my finger on it…

There is a sign in the bathroom that reads: “Please do not use the electric shower for more than 3 minutes.”  For some reason, there is just something about the words “electric” and ”shower” that makes me a little nervous.  Hmm…I wonder what it could be?

Painting & the Nursery: Tuesday, March 24th

We finished our painting  job today!

A job well done!

 

 

 

 

 

Paul, Scott, & Gina getting in to mischief

 

 

Olivia & me

 

After that, we went to the nursery and played with the babies!

Little Dora.....It's lunch time!

 

  

 

 

 

Cuteness on parade

.

.

.

.

.

.

Poor baby Miguel, learning the hard way that only the superior of the two species has nursing capabilities

Red Tuesday: March 24th.

The city is unraveling right before our eyes.

Before we sat down to lunch, Mother Ivonne announced that since prayers earlier today, 5 people had been shot and killed in the streets. 

For a minute or two I just sat there, poking at my food.  It’s hard to stomach something like that right before lunch.

Within a matter of hours our situation went from, “We might not be able to take a sightseeing trip to Antigua tomorrow.”  to  ”Is your group registered with the U.S Embassy in Guatemala?” and “If the State Department orders U.S. citizens out of the country, then we should try to be the first to the airport.”

Mother Ivonne kept telling us American missionaries over and over that everything was going to be okay, but you could tell there was a particularly heavy burden hanging over her shoulders.

Today the National Palace was locked down, for reasons not entirely clear yet.  The Ministry of Education canceled classes.  The president made a televised statement to the public and has asked people to stay inside their houses.  Mother Ivonne decided to let all of the staff go early because it was not safe for them to be driving on the streets.  The younger kids got to swim in the pool so that they would not know what’s going on.  The oldest girls are full aware of what’s happening, and they are nervous.

As the day wears on, more people are being killed.

After dinner at 6:30pm, Mother Ivonne asked us to be in our rooms for the night.

**By the end of the week, because so many people had been killed on this day, it was being known as “Red Tuesday.”

Life is not fair: Tuesday, March 24th.

Today evening Vespers started 30 minutes late.  We sat in the chapel waiting in silence.  Eventually Mother Ivonne came.  With tired eyes, but a strong spirit, she talked to us for a long time about the situation happening outside and how we should be praying for the people who have been killed.  As she was talking, little Andrea sitting next to me fell asleep on my shoulder.

A lump clogged my throat and my heart pounded furiously in anger and frustration.  Here was this precious, innocent life sleeping peacefully as we sat in the pews of a beautiful church, while just on the other side of the Orphanage walls, husbands, sons, brothers, uncles, and even women and children are dying, needlessly,  in cold-hearted killings.

It’s not right.  It’s not fair that the wicked ways of the adult world have to taint the pure souls of children.  It’s not fair that precious kids like Andrea have to be marred by the words  “kill” “shot” “dead” and “murder” as just a part of everyday life.

Andrea

An Eerie Night: Tuesday, March 24th.

It was so quiet out tonight you could hear crickets chirping.

The normal raucous noise levels have been reduced to  pure silence.  The disco parties have vanished, the brothels are deserted, the streets are void of honking cars.   The air is thick with tension.  For as much as we’ve all joked and complained how loud it is, suddenly, we all want that noisy familiarity back.  The silence is putting us all on edge.  It’s eerie. 

“I don’t like this,” one group member whispered as we all layed in our beds.  “It’s like the quiet calm before the storm.”

Tuesday night none of us slept well.

Making Do with What’s at Hand: Wednesday, March 25th.

–The dorm that us girls are sleeping in, used to be a bakery.  Right on the other side of our wall is the street, littered with narcotics, gangs, black markets, wild discos, and brothels. 

Aside from the wall, there is a glass door on our side of the wall.  At night, the wind keeps slowly blowing the door open. 

With all the shootings outside, it’s making fellow group member Gina paranoid.  So, putting her hard earned UCLA problem solving skills to work, she decided to block the door, with none other than little red plastic chairs.

Way to go Gina! I'm sure a stack of little red plastic chairs is sure to deter any would be intruder!

    

 –Colleen, a fellow traveler, making her 7th trip to the Hogar now, says she’s never experienced anything like what is going on now. 

She was staying in one of the dorms by herself, but with the recent events, has moved in with the rest of us girls and has become our unofficial 8th member of “OCF Real Break Guatemala II trip.”

The Situation: Wednesday, March 25th

In short terms, here is what’s happening in Guatemala right now. 

Bus drivers are required to pay a fee to the government.  Youth gangs, known as “maras”, are being hired by criminal organizations to demand this fee from the drivers.  If the bus drivers cannot pay it, they are shot and killed by the gangs.

As a result of these violent crimes, many bus drivers are now protesting.

Life Outside, Life Inside: Wednesday, March 25th.

The Hogar church

We were supposed to go to the monastery today to celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation, but because of the situation outside, it was not safe for us to leave the Hogar.  One of the killings this morning happened on the road from the monastery to the Hogar, so the nuns weren’t able to leave either.

 This morning there have been more killings outside, but within the walls of the Orphanage, life at the church was so beautiful, the kids were so joyous.

Hanging out at the church bells

 .

.

 

venerating the Cross

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

.

censing during the Liturgy

 

.

.

.

Holding the bread during Communion

Tough Stuff: Wednesday, March 25th.

After church, Mother Ivonne wanted to sit down, have coffee, and talk with us missionaries about what’s happening in the country right now.

She said the situation in Guatemala is not good.  She said she didn’t see any of the typical signs of a coup, but that was still a possibility.

She told us her own personal stories.  She told us how she has survived 36 years of civil war in Guatemala, coups, and unstable situations such as the one were are in now.

She told us of when she was in the University, and guerillas with bandanas covering their faces and carrying shot guns rushed into one of her microbiology classes one day. 

She told us how the University students would not be allowed to leave campus for days because things were so bad.  She told us how her best friend in college (whom she said I reminded her of ) figured out a way to undo the barbed wire surrounding the campus and then put it back so that no one would notice it had been touched, so that her and her friends could escape, and go to someone’s house and all call their parents to tell them that they were still alive and ok.

Mother Ivonne talking to us about the situation

She told us of how hundreds of people would go missing, only to have their dead bodies turn up later.

She told us that it was important for the kids here at the Orphanage to know what was going on now, because they need to know what their country is truly like.

She told us how lucky we are in America, and that we should be mindful of our policies, politics, and morals, or else we will end up in a state similar to Guatemala’s.

A Feast: Wednesday, March 25th.

Despite the situation outside, to celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation, we got to have (of course) a feast.

For lunch we had fresh caught tilapia from the monastery, rice, vegetables, tortillas, Coca-Cola to drink and marshmallows for dessert!  

 

Let the fish fun begin!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .

.

Franchesca Before

.

.

Franchesca During

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

Franchesca After

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

Just in case you're wondering, that's a fish tail Andrea is crunching on.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Me eating the fish eyes. FYI: Fish eyes are VERY chewy and VERY fishy! But the fish were so good I ate two of them.

State of Emergency: Wednesday, March 25th.

Wednesday Evening.

The president has declared a State of Emergency in Guatemala City.  There are protesters on strike and soldiers in the streets.

We’ve been trying to look up information on the Internet, but all Guatemalan news websites are blacked out.  One of our group member’s parents called the Guatemalan Embassy in the US, they said everything was fine, nothing was happening in the city and “by the way come visit Guatemala!”  Her parents then called the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala, and they in fact confirmed that things were happening here.

One of our other group members is pretty nervous right now, and is even packing her bags as if we’re going to be ordered out of the country in the next hour. 

But the rest of us are surprisingly calm.  Although inside we are all a bit on edge, I think we realize, that what ever happens…..well……happens.  There is nothing we can do about the situation, worrying is a waste of energy.  If things get worse, then we’ll start to worry a bit.  But for now, as long as we are on Orphanage grounds, we all feel pretty safe.

The Monastery Part I: Thursday, March 26th.

Today has been the first time we’ve left the Orphanage since we arrived five days ago.

We went to the monastery where two of the nuns currently live, and where the new Orphanage is being built. 

On our way we saw soldiers in the streets and we had to pass through a military checkpoint.  Our driver/”protector of the Americans,” Jorge, showed the armed Guatemalan soldiers his Fire Department badge, and we passed with no incident.

 

 

 

The monastery is about 20-30 minutes away from the Orphanage and sits a little bit outside of Guatemala City, nestled next to a beautiful lake against the backdrop of a nearby volcano.  

 

 

 

.

.

 

.

.

 .

.

.

.

.

Inside the church

.

.

Iconography

 

.

Iconography in the process--the church isn't completely finished

.

 

 We climbed up and around the domes of the church.  At that moment I felt so blessed to be part of a religion that has such beautiful churches, where church is life and life is church.  I felt so privileged to be “playing” around the church domes. 

 

 

Teamwork in action--you can do it!

 

 

.

.

Colleen and Scott up top

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Paul taking a deep breath...he's afraid of heights.

 

Scott helping Batman.....er, um.....Padrecito

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Padrecito: "Ahhh, just another beautiful day watching over Gotham City." Paul: "Oh my gosh, this is SO scary. I am so....heyyyyyy.....WAIT-a-min-ute!!! What ARE these things?!?! Melissa: "Dude. Paul, chill out. ...Hey Batman, what's up?

 

.

.

 

 

 

Isabel ringing the bells!

Me hanging out

 

Mother Ines playing it safe on the ground

We waved down to Mother Maria.  “Ohhh my gosh!”  She exclaimed in her cute Spanish accent.  I yham so glad to see you up there!!!”  

“Look at us!”  We said, proud of our accomplishments.

 

 

Mother Maria smiled.  I’ve been even higher that that!”  she yelled up to us.  She, had apparently been on top of the domes.  How she got all the way up there I don’t think any of us will ever know for sure.

The Monastery Part II: Thursday, March 26th.

Getting a tour of the grounds

 

 

Where the new orpahange is being built

 

The monastery has fish farms where they raise tilapia for the kids to eat

 

When the Hogar took custody of a number of infants in a government orphanage, the nuns found the infant orphans living in these cribs.  The cribs were so horrific they knew they couldn’t even give them away.  So, they turned them into rabbit cages, which are being raised for food

  

The oldest boys must pay their own boarding school tuition.  To raise the funds, they make and sell a number of things.  They also grow, pick, and sell their own honey and coffee beans.

Coffee beans

 

 

With Madre Ines, saying goodbye

Our group with Mother Ines

Eating Out: Thursday, March 26th.

After the monastery, we came back to Guatemala City. 

We saw a good ol’ American Applebee’s (“You’re Neighborhood Grill!”).  Standing right outside the door was an armed guard with a really big shotgun.  It all kinda looked like this guy again….except in front of Applebee’s:

I wouldn't mess with this guy if I were you

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We ate at a nice restaurant for lunch

Going clockwise around the table: Jorge, unofficial RB member Colleen, Isabel (who is being adopted by Colleen's family), Mariam, Paul, Padrecito, Scott, Gina, Me, Olivia

 .

.

.

Pretty candles at the restaurant

 

 

 .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

 .

.

 

 

 

 .

.

.

.

.

 .

 

For lunch I had a traditional Guatemalan soup, corn tamales wrapped in banana leaves, rice, and a fruit smoothie

.

As if we weren’t stuffed enough from the main course, after that, Jorge ordered two of every single kind of dessert on the menu, and most of us washed that down with a cup of Guatemalan hot chocolate.

.

Bottoms up boys!

Hanging Out: Thursday, March 26th.

We spent the rest of the day waddling around back at the Orphanage, stomachs so stuffed we all nearly exploded.

We served dinner to the kids.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And spent the rest of the evening hanging out. 

 

Look at Padrecito go. ....But we still lost

 .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Learning how to make prayer ropes

.

.

Extra Work, Extra Play: Friday, March 27th.

This morning we found out that someone was shot in the touristy town of Antigua yesterday, where we were originally supposed to be.

Since we couldn’t go to Antigua, we have an extra day at the Hogar, we picked up some extra work (painting the side of the church) and spent extra time in the nursery and hanging out with the kids.

.

.

. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Sick: Friday March 27th-Saturday March 28th.

Sometime Friday night/Saturday morning.

I woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.

I lurched to the bathroom.  My clothes clung to my skin like a sticky goo.  I was so hot my glasses fogged up.  My face was as yellow as the minature bananas we ate for breakfast yesterday.  My heart was beating so fast and furious I thought it was going to plop right out on the ground in front of me.

Knowing full well what was coming next, I thought, “alright, let’s just get this over with.”

I lied down on the bathroom floor and waited less than a minute.

First I started vomiting.  “Welp, here we go again,” I thought.  (This now being my 9th and 10th puking episodes in the 3rd sickiness wave of the past 3 months.  But at least this time, the suspected culprit was pretty clear–unpasteurized milk from those desserts at the “nice” restaurant on Thursday).

And to be sure, what wasn’t spewing out the front end was surely destined to come out the back.  All hail to the mighty porcelain throne, man’s second best friend, and faithful lifesaver.

I layed back down on the bathroom floor and eventually made it to the nearest empty bed where I layed on the bare mattress, now shivering with chills.

I picked off one of the folded blankets I was using as a pillow, wrapped it around me, and curled up in a little ball until one of my fellow group members found me a few hours later, and brought treats of water and Imodium AD.

Saying Goodbye: Saturday, March 28th.

First, my gastrointestinal apparati got a good kicking.  Now, my heart is being ripped out.

I skipped breakfast and layed in bed through most of morning prayers as well.  During the last few minutes, I dragged myself to church.  After prayers, the little kids gave us each a colored picture and thank you note in Spanish, as well as a prayer rope made by one of the older kids.

Then, Mother Ivonne made us line up in the park.  One by one, each and every child at the Hogar gave us a hug.   The kids started crying, some in our group started crying, but I told myself I wasn’t going to do that.

Then I saw Yonni, one of the kids I spent a lot of time with.  Tears were gushing down his face.  He was so extremely upset.   In that moment, I realized, that although the kids receive all the love in the world from the three nuns and all the missionaries who come, they have still been terribly and deeply deprived of the love that should have been given to them by their own parents. 

My heart melted.  I blinked hard to push back the tears.  My voice quivered as I tried to say goodbye to Yonni and all the others.

As the littler kids came by, they wouldn’t let go of their embrace.  All they wanted was to savor every last hug for as long as they possibly could.  It was heartwrenching to have to pry each one of them off of us so that the next kid could have their turn.

The love in that moment was so genuine, so real, so powerful.

 

Me and Yonni

Flying Home, Scattering Away: Saturday, March 28th.

Continental Flight 459.  Guatemala to Houston.

The most awfully turbulent flight any of us have ever been on.   (If getting sick was the icing on the cake to this already crazy week, then the massive turbulence definitely were the sprinkles on top). 

Barf bag at the ready, eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, and pleading with my poor, ravaged insides, “pretty please dear stomach, could you spare me these next few hours and not regurgitate??”  At one point the turbulence was so jolting I popped my eyes open and looked to the left, where I found group member Gina on the edge of her seat, repeatedly making the sign of the cross while saying the Jesus Prayer.   

******************************

Houston International Airport.

Upon landing, we scattered like flies to make connecting flights.  After a week with these people, suddenly I was all alone in the big bad world.

Cell phones, laptops, ipods, blackberries, and blueberries.  Lattes, fast food, and designer hand bags.  The Wall Street Journal headlining billion dollar bank bailouts, mortgage failures, skyrocketing unemployment, and foreclosures.  Like slamming into a gargantuan wall, reality–American reality– came crashing down upon me like a ton of bricks.

I sat silently at my gate, eyes absorbing the bustling scene around me.  My mind went numb, overwhelmed with this so familiar, yet strangely foreign scene.  My heart felt lonely.  Like the littlest ones back at the Hogar who wanted nothing more than to hold on to something near and dear, I clutched my new prayer rope,

And didn’t let go.

Tears of Sadness, Tears of Hope: Saturday, March 28th.

Continental Flight 361.  Houston to San Francisco. 

In row 22 sits a group of UC Berkeley and Stanford students, sunkissed from Spring Break in Panama.  They brag about how hammered they were this week.  When their conversation turns to school, they say f* this sh***.”  School is so f*ing stupid.

One row ahead, in seat 21F, there sits a 23-year-old kid, with her head burried in her hands, softly crying in the window seat. 

She is crying, because while she was able to leave Guatemala, the kids there don’t have that luxury, they are stuck in a hell of a country. 

She is crying, because when she just got off the phone to tell her parents that she was ok and back in the States, her parents said, “we’re so glad you’re back, we were worried about you, we love you.”  The kids in Guatemala don’t have parents of their own to love them.

She is crying because those kids come from such horrific backgrounds, yet they are so grateful, so loving.  She is crying because American kids have such privileged lives, yet they are so disrespectful, so uncaring, so indifferent towards another human’s suffering , so ignorant of the ways most in this world truly live.  

She is crying because so much happened this week, it is a lot to take in.  She is crying because, she “survived the test” and looks forward to continuing the exploration on the road less traveled.

She is crying tears of sadness, but she is also crying tears of hope.

Welcome Home: Saturday, March 28th.

Coming back from the airport, fellow Raphael House live-in, Tim, and I came across two homeless men sitting at the corner of our street.  One was rocking out on an electric guitar.  The other was happily bobbin’ his head to the tunes.

“Haha.  Welcome back to the good ol’ Tenderloin,” I chuckled.

Tim and I exchanged glances, laughed and said hello to the men. 

“Hey!  Thanks for smiling tonight! ” one of them remarked.

 

We walked into Raphael House.

“Welcome home!”  Sophia at the front desk exclaimed.

 

Yes indeed,

Welcome home.

The Post-Trip

–Tuesday, March 31st:  When I signed the Real Break Liability Form back in December, I laughed as I read this sentence,

“I understand and acknowledge that my participation in the Real Break program will expose me to risks and possible dangers including, but not limited to, risks of accidents, disease, war, political unrest, injury from construction projects, and other calamities.”

Looking back now, little did I know then, how the events of the week would eventually unfold.

–¨Guatemalan Disease¨ turned out to be a doozie.  It took about 10 days to get over all that sickiness.

–Coming from Guatemala, back to the Tenderloin, sometimes I still feel overwhelmed by the things I see on the streets.  Like a thick and heavy burden blanketing the earth, the suffering and sadness of this world is everywhere.  In Guatemala, it was all around us.  Back in San Francisco, I trip over and confront it every time I walk out the front door.  After a while, without respite, it starts to wear on a person.  So, I would say my emotions since the trip have been a bit on the up and down side.  I’m looking forward to my two week break in June.

–Recently, there was an article in the San Francisco Chronicle about the violence in Guatemala.  I cut it out and tacked it up on my wall.

–It’s been a month since the trip, but in that time, I have hardly let go of the prayer rope the kids gave me.  It´s a constant reminder of the kids and their situation.