Nourishment & Grace

We arrived in Honduras Saturday afternoon and made our way south to the MAMA Project center in San Fransisco de Yojoa, located on a beautiful mountainside in the western region of the country. Our plan for the week was to reconstruct a termite-damaged rabbit factory, replacing a crumbling cage for breeding rabbits with a new, stronger habitation.

The MAMA Project's mission is to improve the nutrition of children in Honduras through education. The project works by removing malnourished children from their current living conditions and relocating them along with their mothers to the MAMA center, where they are taught and shown ways to improve their child's health and nutrition. All financial expense for the families coming to the center are graciously covered, and they can stay for months if necesssary, receiving food, health care, and learning sustainable ways to live safely and healthily.

The purpose of the rabbit factory is to provide each family with two rabbits (as well as a rooster and a hen) that they can take back to their homes and sustainably produce protein for their families. When we arrived on the site, we realized that the rabbit cage was more like a rabbit farm and much larger than our original mental picture. We also realized that it would be unrealistic to complete the project in the four days we had in Honduras. Also needing more funds for presure-treated wood, the MAMA staff thought it would be best to wait for help that could build it all in one shot.

So instead, we filled our time doing various things to support the MAMA effort. We spent two days working at repainting some of the doors and windows of the existing rooms where the families were staying, one day going out to mountain villages, and a lot of time playing with the children and getting to know the staff. Most of the rooms at the center were empty, and the project was working with maybe 20% of the space that it had available to house the mothers and children. Our goal for Tuesday was to go out to some remote villages and see if we could fill some of that space with new children that needed care.

The children that are currently living at the center seem to beam joy and happiness to everyone around them. When we arrived, the started chanting, "Gringos! Gringos!," and immediately came out smiling to hug us, wrapping themselves around our legs until it was difficult to walk, touching our hair, and all of this while constantly cheering the entire time. They would continually ask for their photos to be taken, and once the flash would go off, they would burst into laughter and applause. After nearly going through the program, these children had been completely transformed becoming healthy and new, and vibrantly alive. We also saw the other side of this transformation when we went out to the villages on Tuesday.

After sleeping through a night of steadyrain, we boarded the MAMA van with three other staff members and headed south and up to try to find some more children to fill our empty spaces. As we continued to ascend the roads meandered from paved to dirt to almost nothing. The water from the night before left a lot of mud ahead of us, and we often had to try to build up speed to slide our way to the next dry patch. At one steep bend in the road, we even had to get out and push the van up through a slippery spot. All this time I was still wondering what it would be like coming down these mountains with van full of children and their mothers.

The houses became smaller and more primitive as we made our way up into the heart of the mountains. You could see people visibly stuggling to stay healthy, some who were crippled, many children who were filthy and sitting in the mud, and many makeshift homes looking like they were about collapse at any moment. We eventually arrived to a point where the road disappeared into a foot path, and here we got out to see who we could find.

We approrached a couple of families, asking them questions about their children, if they had enough food, what their lives were like, generally trying to assess their conditions. We had a hanging scale that we would tie up to a tree and weigh the children to see how their weight fit their age. Most of the children we weighed were at least partially undernourished, looking about 2 or 3 years younger than they actually were.

After one family turned us down, we headed up another road and encountered a family with a badly malnourished little girl. This girl's arms and legs were thin as a stick and she had small red dots covering her entire body. She appeared too weak to even hold her herself upright, just sort of sitting there, limp in her mother's arms. There was an almost empty bottle nearby, setting upon the worn window sill. Elena, our nurse, talked with the familiy, explaining that we could give them free food and lodging if they would agree to come to the center. The father talked with her for a while, explaining how they didn't have enough food right now, but that he thought things would get better. More or less, Elena was telling them that their daughter would die if she wouldn't get medical help and more food, but yet the family still didn't agree to come. And they didn't come with us, and their gaunt little girl will probably be dead by Christmas...

So why didn't they want to come? Was it denial that their situation was this bad? Was it a sort of pride that they didn't need our help, that work would come and they would have the money to buy the food that she needed to fill that bottle, for her survival? Or were they just apathetic about their living situations, and didn't want to make the effort for improvement? My mind was wandering through the options, trying to find a way to make sense of why someone who had a child that was dying, and was offered free help and nourishment would rather have that same child die than be saved...

And I'm still not sure. At the end of the day, no families came back with us. We went to a different region and talked in depth with two other mothers about their malnourshed children, some who were more than 20 lbs under the normal weight for their age. And yet no one came with us...what was going on?

Knowing the probable outcome of this situation, it seems ridiculous that someone would deny grace that provided a costless chance to save the life of a dying child. It seemed like an obvious choice to me; we gave people the option of chosing life or death, and they denied the option. And yet, we often do a very simlar thing many times throughout our lives, if not with our entire life. We also have many options allowing us to choose or not choose the acceptance of grace, and we often have similar reasons for why we deny a lifefstyle of joy and hope in exchange for our own pride. And there is always a God out there seeking us out, offering us a chance to be saved from a lifestyle of death, an option for choosing a perspective of hope.

We spent most of our Thanksgiving Day in transition from Honduras to El Salvador, going once again back up into the mountains to cross the border and then descending towards San Salvador. We have so much to be thankful for, as we have the opportunity to live in a way that seeks to seize each day as a learning experience. And we too struggle through our own opportunities to accept grace throughout each day, but we are thankful that we do have that choice. And we are thankful as we see our faith being sustained when we deny our pride and seek out the grace that is always there, waiting or us.

We will spend the weekend passing through southern El Salvador, through Tegucigalpa, and into Managua, Nicaragua for the first part of next week. We are planning to spend the next two weeks in Central America, flying into Bogota, Colombia from Panama City most likely on December 10th.

What Happened to Belize?

To the east, the sparkling blue waters of the Carribean stretch infinitely towards the distant horizon. To the west, dense jungle creates a near-impassable barrier with the Guatemalan highlands. Nestled somewhere in between is the small country of Belize. Often forgotten amidst the intriquitely complex political and social situations of its neighboring countries, Belize mantains a culture and identity all its own...

After a memorable morning exploring the Mayan ruins of Tikal (in northern Guatemala), Dave and I hopped a bus and made the dusty trek along dirt roads towards the Belizian border. As we crossed, we grudgingly paid our first bribe in the form of a $3 "exit fee" to the Guatemalan officials and were quickly on our way. A few hundred yards down the road, we filled out the necessary paperwork and were successfully granted entry into Belize. What we encountered on this side of the border, however, made those several hundred yards to Guatemala feel more like several hundred miles. Loud American rap music was now the music of choice, English the preferred means of communication, and fried chicken the featured item on every menu in town. I began to wonder if we had somehow managed to cross the Carribean by accident.

Despite my initial feelings of shock, I have grown increasingly fascinated by the incredible ethnic diversity that is crammed into such a small place. A large percentage of the population are black Creoles of African descent. There are also significant numbers of Mayan Indian groups, mestizo refugees from the surrounding countries, Asian immigrants, and of course the Garifuna (of mixed Carribean and African descent). And surprisingly enough, as a percentage of the population, Belize has the highest concentration of Mennonites than any country in the world. In this particular country, the Mennonites are widely known for their woodcrafts and cheese-making abilities.

Unfortunately, because of time and financial limitations, we have not had the opportunity to travel around the country to a great extent. Our time here has been spent in the small coastal town of Dangriga, at the home of Noah and Loretta Hochstetler. The Hochstetlers arrived here as missionaries nearly twenty years ago, and have since dedicated their energy into converting their house into a sort of children's home. Under normal circumstances, around 6 children actually spend the night at their house. However, throughout the course of the day, up to 20 more may pass through their doors to hang out, watch TV, and receive food. As you can imagine, it is a loud and often chaotic environment. In the midst of this difficult situation, it didn't take long for Dave and I to recognize the many needs that are present. With adequate funding and a few more hands, the children's home certainly has the potential to provide a nurturing environment and be a place of hope for the many children in the surrounding community. The genuine love and generosity of the Hochstetler's has laid a strong foundation...now others are also needed to help build the structure and framework for this ministry.

As it turned out, we couldn't have chosen a better week to get a true taste of Belizian culture. November 19 is Garifuna Settlement Day, a holiday marking the arrival of the first Black Carribeans to Belize in 1823. To commemerate the event, people from all over the country descend on Dangriga for several days of non-stop partying and celebration of Garifuna culture. The highlight of the weekend is a re-enactment of the boats loaded with people arriving into town from the ocean. I have never seen so many people attend a 6 AM historical re-enactment in my life. I'm still trying to figure out if people actually woke up early for this event, or if it was merely the final stop on an all night party circuit.

As we wandered the streets of town during this holiday weekend, Dave and I commented repeatedly about feeling strangely removed from all that was going on. Nearly everyone we talked to was in a drunken daze, probably having spent more than they could afford on drinks during the previous couple days. The stores in town, all owned by Asian immigrants, were no doubt turning in huge profits. Our bewilderment was only deepened when we stopped along the road to sample a traditional Garifuna dish, Huduk (half a fish served over mashed plantains and warm coconut milk). After serving our food, the vendor sat down beside us, whipped out a bag of marijuanna leaves, and proceeded to wrap himself a joint. What was going on here? Where was the Latin American culture that we had grown to love so much?

Fortunately, we were able to regain our bearings and sense of perspective in a place that has become familiar to us on this trip...the solitude of nature. And this is something that despite it's small size, Belize has a whole lot of. Dave and I both took seperate day trips up the Hummingbird Highway to Blue Hole National Park, located just south of Belmopan. This small park contains wonderful hiking trails through dense, overgrown jungle and tropical wetland. St. Herman's cave is also located here, which provided a peaceful haven to withdrawl to for a few precious hours.

The further I continue on this journey, the more I find myself being drawn to these places of quiet, majestic beauty. There is something comforting and familiar about settings such as these... they provide a dependable landmark on a road packed with diversity and change. It is here that I find strength and stability to face the world that awaits me. In settings such as this, perhaps it's not so much about the location that I'm in, as it is the Being that I encounter while I'm there...

On Saturday morning we left Belize via boat, which gave us a beautiful view of the Carribean and several of the popular Cayes that dot the coastline. Four hours later, we arrived in the port city of Puerto Cortes, Hondurus. We will be spending most of this week working with the MAMA Project in the mountains south of San Pedro Sula. From there we will most likely spend the weekend in El Salvador before crossing into Nicaragua early next week.

It?s Tough to Say Goodbye, Eh?

As we continue on from week to week, sometimes we know exactly what's coming next. Other times, we are thrown into something completely unexpected. This past week was an excellent example of the latter. And as is typically the case, this unexpected change of plans provided some of the most enjoyable and fulfilling memories from our trip thus far.

Early into our planning for this trip, we had received word of a mission group that would be coming to Guatemala to do construction work in some remote mountain villages. Arlen King, who lives with his family in Guatemala, regularly organizes groups for a mission organization called Missionary Ventures. As the time drew closer, we learned that this particular group would be working in the small village of San Pedro Necta, nestled someewhere in the rugged mountains between Huehuetenango and the Mexican border. So last Sunday, through a series of five different pickup trucks and buses, we made our way from the peaceful haven of Lake Atitlan up to the town of Huehuetenango, where the group would be passing through.

As we waited for them to arrived, Dave and I briefly discussed what we might be getting ourselves into. I was expecting a large group of older folks, perhaps out to do some sightseeing and throw in a bit of service on the side. Dave was thinking maybe an energetic group of young people, on a break from high school or college. We really had no idea what to expect. Turns out, the group was a wonderful mix of age groups, personalities, and backgrounds, with an added bonus...they were Canadian!

Everybody likes Canadians, right? After a week of getting to know this group and serving alongside of them, I have even more reason to agree with this statement. Right from the beginning, they warmly welcomed us into their group and included us in many of their activities. Even if they may have thought it somewhat odd to randomly pick up two dusty American backpackers along the road and include them in their service trip, they certainly didn't show it.

Once again, never knowing quite what to expect, our arrival into the village of San Pedro Necta was another very memorable event. After climbing the dusty, one-lane road up the mountain, we were greeted in the village by hundreds of smiling adults and children, many of them waving Canadian flags and shouting greetings as our bus passed by. At one point, we were all told to get off the bus, and we were presented with an impressive homemade fireworks display right there in the street. It was a classic example of Latin American hospitality, although i quickly assured my new Canadian friends that that this reception was indeed a bit out of the ordinary... at least for us Americans.

As the week began to unfold, Dave and I began to find our niches within the group. Having some experience in construction (and just wanting to get out and work some muscles), I joined the construction crew in helping to build a church camp down along the river. In defiance of traditional building methods, the structure is being built on the side of a steep mountain overlooking the valley. When finished, it will provide a perfect location for church retreats and childrens' camps. Until then however, there will be plenty of work to be done. I spent much of the week digging out rock to level the floor, and mixing mud for the concrete block walls. Although difficult work, it provided great opportunities to get to know some of my fellow volunteers, as well as a few of the local church members who were also helping with the project.

In addition to the construction work that was happening, others in the group from Canada were involved in a setting up a medical clinic in the village. Having more of an interest in that area, Dave spent most of his days working alongside doctors and nurses, helping out with translation and also screening patients as they entered the clinic. The line of people hoping to be seen by the doctor often spilled out the door and down the street. It was incredible to witness the sheer number of patients who were cared for each day. The medical team saw it all....body aches, rotten teeth, poor vision, rashes, stomach problems (lots of worms)...and the expertise with which they handled each complaint was nothing short of amazing.

Initially, Dave and I had only planned to stay for a day or two, and then travel on towards northern Guatemala. After our first day, however, we were both already thinking about changing our schedule and staying through the end of the week. It seems that we both wanted to take full advantage of this opportunity to serve the local people and build some deeper relationships with the people we were working alongside of. After talking together about our situation, the decision became obvious...we would stay until the end of the week.

Looking back, we are both glad we stayed the extra days. Being on the road isn't always easy, and one of the things we find ourselves missing the most in our travels is a certain depth of relationship. Staying in a location only for a day or two rarely provides opportunity to take a new relationship to a level of deeper trust and understanding. It is becoming more and more evident as we travel that relationship is indeed something we all need. Not simply somone to say "Good morning" to, or to have a meal with....but people to share an experience with and get to know on a real, down-to-earth level. Over the past week, being with the group from Canada provided this opportunity in a way that we'll never forget.

Naturally, the goodbyes were a bit more difficult as we left San Pedro Necta on Sat. afternoon. Having taken the time to get to know people on a deeper level, the connections were that much more difficult to break. Sometimes, it seems that this trip is simply about saying "hellos" and "goodbyes". But it is also in developing these relationships that joy and fulfillment is discovered in a way that cannot be achieved otherwise. As we travel on, we must remind ourselves of the sacredness of each relationship that is built along the way. It is a blessing to share even a moment of our lives with another...no matter how quicky that moment may pass. Saying goodbye, even in a moment of sadness, can become a recognition of the importance of relationship. And these are memories that we will take with us throughout the remainder of this trip, and our journeys to come.

Following our time in San Pedro Necta, we traveled north through Coban and into the large state of Peten. On the way, we were able to spend an afternoon in San Pedro Carcha, a small village where my mom served many years ago. We are now in the humid jungle town of Flores, anticipating an exciting trip to the Mayan ruins of Tikal in the morning. From there we plan to travel east into Belize, where we will spend the remainder of the week.

Guiding Lightning

Last Monday morning we crossed the border into Guatemala after a swerving overnight bus ride from San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico. We were thankful that the border crossing went smoothly, and all of a sudden we were thrown into a new country, with all of its culture, color and warmth.

Guatemala is beautiful. The landscapes are rugged and vibrant, with lush shades of green painting the hillsides, rivers and streams providing sustanance, and sporatic volcanos rising in the distance. The mornings are crisp and clear, and throughout the day clouds begin to drop as the sky warms up. There are many native people living in this country, and the spectrum of color in their dress is as diverse as their distinct languages and cultures.

Our first stop in Guatemala was in Mazatenango to visit Janine Bergey, a friend that had worked with me last summer at Spruce Lake Wilderness Camp. It had been over a year since I had seen Janine, and some of the last conversations at the end of that summer were about stepping out of our cultures, reaching out in faith for wherever God might guide us in this grand world of possibilities. And now we were once again together in Guatemala, living out that conversation...

Spruce Lake, a Christian camp in the Pocono region of Pennsylvania, is a place that I have grown up with over the years. It started when I was young and my dad was a camp pastor, continuing through my years as a camper, and later when I returned as a counselor and expedition guide. This was one of the places where I learned how to fall in love with the wilderness and how it nurtures our spiritual development and guides us with an undeniably genuine reality.

Spending some time with Janine brought back many memories from my summers working at camps, of the friendship, the learning, and the growth. Working as a wilderness guide teaches you a lot, about how to find the best path through each week, and how to walk along it with and through others.

We have discovered that transportation in Guatemala is very different from Mexico. The primary way from town to town is on "chicken buses," which are old school buses that have been hooked up and customized to each driver's preference. People are packed into the seats like sardines, sometimes eight across a row, and the buses rarely leave until every possible space is full. We often have to take 3-5 buses to get to our destination, asking people along the way which bus will get us to which town. With a decent map and a little trust and patience, we eventually arrive at our destination.

Traveling in Guatemala is somewhat similar to trekking through the wilderness because many aspects of getting from point A to point B involve factors that are beyond your control. One day we had to wait for over 8 hours until protesters disassembled their roadblocks, allowing traffic to resume. Many times we feel like we are on a treasure hunt, with an address of our destination, and we need to put the pieces together to get there. This is a place where you start to come alive and learn how to find your way through a more challenging and difficult, yet more rewarding path.

After Mazatenango, we traveled through the busyness of Guatemala City and Antigua, getting a taste that was enough to once again remind us of how ready we were to leave the cities and tourist towns to themselves, and continue on into the wilderness. We moved on to Lake Atitlan, hoping that it might point us towards what we were looking for.

Lake Atitlan is the descended crater of an enormous ancient volcano which has since filled up with water. Around the lake are various villages with slightly different Mayan ancestry, each with a culture and feel of its own. We caught a ferry from Panajachel towards San Pedro on the western shore, a place known for its relaxed atmosphere, hippy culture, and is named for the volcano that towers above the town.

On the boat across the lake, we met Jack, originally from Zimbabwe and had lived most of his life as a vagabond traveler, settling wherever caught his fancy and working until he was able and ready to move on. Jack gave us a little background on the town of San Pedro, where he had just opened a restaurant called "Arte Libre." He also connected us to a dirt cheap hostel and told us how we could hike the volcano behind the town.

Ever since we arrived in Guatemala, I have had my eyes on the volcanos, hoping to climb one as soon as possible. Every travel guide book recommends that you hire a local person to direct you up the mountains, assuming that you would get lost or robbed or just be plain confused. It's often dificult to know how much to trust these recomendations, and I often wonder what type of person they are intended for. Sometimes I can understand why these warnings exist, but at others they seem completely unnecessary. After the advice of various people in the town that the mountain was safe and easy, we decided to climb it the next day, camp up top for the night, and the catch the sunrise in the morning before descending.

We started cimbing around noon, and as we went up the mountain with our packs full of camping gear, we passed a lot of other hikers coming down, and most of them made some sort of joking comment about how much farther the trail climbed and how big our packs were. Most of the other hikers had some sort of Guatemalan guide, and in the back of my mind I had this idea that some bandito might lurch out of the woods towards us. Along the path, two stray dogs befriended us and as we walked, they took pride in barking at anything or anyone that would even come near us.

One thing that we learned quickly is that volcanos are steep, especially with large backpacks. As we quickly rose above the town, every once in a while the trail would break our of the thick vegetation, and we would catch a glimpse of our surroundings, providing a perspective for how much more we had to ascend. After a long and somewhat painful hike, we arrived at the summit of the east side of the crater and we discovered that we were richly rewarded for our work.

Our trail had wrapped us around the volcano as we climbed, and when we came out on top, there was a picture-perfect view of the surrounding lakes and volcanos. We stopped for a little rest and pitched our tent right on the side of the crater and waited for dark. As night came on us, the clouds formed, often blowing up from the lake over the mountain. Every once in a while, the clouds would lift with a huge gust of wind, opening up a view of the dusk light on the lake. It was absolutely perfect.

We laid down to sleep, and noticed a few flashes in the sky. I got out and checked to see what was going on. I was curious because Guatemalans love fireworks, and you might catch some here than at any odd time of day or night, but we soon realized that this was lightning. Our campsite was a textbook example of where not to pitch a tent in a thunderstorm, and after deliberating for a short while, we decided to pack up and move camp part way down the mountain.

An hour and a few thousand vertical feet later we arrived with our two dogs on a lookout platform that was definitely going to be our campsite for the night. Dropping in elevation took us back under the clouds and provided a clear view of San Pedro, the lake, and the surrounding hills. Without the lightning to worry about, it was easy to fall asleep.

It's difficult for me to describe how much I love being out there, in places that are tough, rugged, and extreme. These places force you to find a combination of your own skill and intellect with a variety of unknown factors that may or may not guide you. Spending time in the wilderness again reminded me of my time working at camps, when I was guiding groups of young people through similar locations, doing what I could to walk along the sides of others who were also being tested and challenged.

Guiding seems to comes in many forms: from with within ourselves, from the help of others, and from gut feelings that I believe come directly from God. Throughout this trip so far, we seem to have been influenced by a combination of all of these. We rely a lot on our planning and research, but often realize how things change as we enter into unknown lands with customs and expectations that we could have never completely prepared ourselves for. Without the guiding help of others along the way, we would be lost here daily. Traveling teaches the necesity of trusting others, because often there is really no other way to get by. And some days, when our opinions and the suggestions of others still leave us wondering what to do, we just get a feeling which choice or path is the one that is intended for us.

As we make our way around the world, I am starting to seem how many different people and factors are influencing our path. Things continue to work out, day by day, and I'm amazed as to how this all fits together. Each day and experience brings different types of learning from many different guides, all incorporating themselves into this journey of faith. It's incredibly exciting to see a puzzle being put together, knowing that the final product is shaping your future, but yet still not being able to quite know what is going to come out of it. Day be day, we get glimpses, and that is about all that it is fully possible to handle anyway.

Some days we climb to the highest point around, only to realize that we need to come back down. During some of these insane bus rides, we wonder if our bags are really going to be held to the top rack by such a thin string when we can barely stay on our feet inside of the bus. And some days things perfectly work out the way they were not supposed to, and in this new way they open up an opportunity that is exactly what was meant to be all along.

We woke up from our platform on the volcano to see shades of blue dawning on our surroundings. The dogs started to wake up, the lights on the town below started to fade with the coming day, and we packed up and descended the mountain, passing others as they began their trip up. We got back to town just in time to catch a ride up and out of the crater, towards another day and another path that we were just beginning to discover.

Since leaving Lake Atitlan, we have been working with a mission/service group from Canada in San Pedro Necta, a small village tucked up in the mountains northeast of Huehuetenango. In the middle of next week, we will travel on to Belize, and the continue south through Central America during November.

November 2: Election Day or Day of the Dead?

Throughout every village in Mexico, the streets are lined with vendors selling bundles of beautiful orange flowers. In the supermarkets, prominent displays have been set up, showcasing a variety of breads, drinks, and assorted candies. And in many homes, candles have been lit and carefully arranged among other festive decorations placed throughout the house. Sounds like typical preparations for Thanksgiving, right? In reality, this is all part of the celebration for one of Mexico's oldest traditions, Dia de Muertes (Day of the Dead).

Dating back to the time of the Aztecs, Dia de Muertes is a festival in which the spirits of the dead journey back to the land of the living. During the six-day celebration, which commences on Nov. 2, cemetaries come alive with decorations, rituals, and offerings of food and water to the spirits who return. These offerings are provided to the dead spirits to guide them and to give them strength for their return journey to the land of the dead. Although the tradition takes a variety of forms depending on the people and region, in essence the Dia de Muertes is exactly what it is called...a day to celebrate death.

On the surface, any tradition that celebrates death seems quite strange and perhaps even morbid. However, a recent experience at a small village in southern Mexico provided me with some new perspectives on death, tradition, and ritual. Located in central Chiapas, the town of San Juan Chamula has long been associated with resistance to governmental and spiritual authorities. In the mid 1800's, the villagers kicked the Catholic priest out of the church and began to adopt their own strange mixture of Catholic and indigenous faiths. According to Chamulan belief, the sun is the most sacred figure in the religion, followed closely by John the Baptist. Jesus Christ, who they believe never rose from the dead, lays in a small coffin at the front of the church.

Several days ago, while visiting the small village with some fellow travelers from our hostel, we had the opportunity to enter this well-known church. As we walked through the dimly-lit sanctuary, we took note of the many patron saints lining each wall. In front of many of the figures, local shamans made offerings and performed rituatlistic prayers. Hundreds of candles cast an eerie glow on the walls of the church, which we covered with decorations of flowers and other greenery. Even the floor was spread with a soft tapestry of pine needles.

However, in the midst of this fascinating celebration of nature and the power of the sun, there was something missing. There was no life! This "church" had become nothing more than a place of fervent ritual and ceremony. Instead of experiencing life, my spirit became heavy with a sense of emptiness and despair. As i exited the church, I thought of Jesus and the Pharisees, and pondered whether this might be the kind of spiritual death that Jesus so frequently warned against.

In reflecting upon this experience, I am reminded of the need to closely examine our rituals and traditions. Are they life-giving? In our celebrations, are we embracing life or simply becoming entrenched in empty ritualism? Unfortunately, like the Chamulans, so often we mindlessly go through the motions of life, leaving the true Giver of Life laying in a coffin.

Today is election day back home. In this tradition of patriotism and civil duty, the question arises... are we celebrating life or death? Although answers are not easily reached, the need to pursue a lifestyle that eminates life becomes apparent. This applies not only to our spiritual lives, but to the decisions that are made on an everyday basis (and those made once every 4 years). Although making a wise decision about our next president is important, keeping a proper perspective is even more critical. The world goes on, and once again we will need to pursue a dynamic lifestyle of purpose and meaning. Through proper reflection and staying focused on the ultimate source of Life, our traditions can become a source of fulfillment and hope.

Like the rest of the world, our travels also continue on. On Monday, we bid farewell to Mexico and moved on to Guatemala. After spending a few relaxing days here in Mazatenango, we plan to make our way through the mountains towards Guatemala City. From there, our travels will take us north towards Flores and eventually into Belize.