Faces of Guatemala

Antigua, Guatemala #2

Glimpses of Antigua, Guatemala

In Line At The Bank: Culture and Personality

Funny what a change in perspective does. I almost laughed. I was at the bank to make a deposit. I stood in line for maybe three minutes. When I got up to the Teller window she thanked me for my patience and apologized for the long wait in line.


My darling wife and I were in Antigua, Guatemala three weeks ago. While there we had to go to the bank to exchange our dollars for Quetzal. It was a Monday and the line went from the Teller counter straight back along the bank wall and then along the back wall until the doorway. We stood in line about thirty to forty-five minutes. When we finally got to the counter we waited another good fifteen minutes until our transactions were completed. Nobody apologized for the wait.

Different personalities as well as different cultures see time and experience differently. Some see everything defined by the clock. Thus one always has to be on time. Meetings start on time and end on time. Get togethers with people are bound by time; “I can give you ten minutes but then I have to run.” Some define life by the experience; by the here and now. Thus when you get to a party is when the party starts. When you stop and talk to someone in the market that is the most important time of the day—not the appointment that you have to be at next.

Guatemalans live much more in the present and the experience as opposed to ‘making the most of their time.’ When you go out for a meal the table is yours until you actively request the check. The waitress doesn’t attempt to shoo you out so the next person can get the table. In my mind it is a more experiential culture which lends itself to person-to-person interaction better than our American culture does.

Since returning I’ve tried to cultivate more of a Guatemalan attitude. I try to not get freaked out by timelines though people push me to do so. That is why I found the encounter at the bank so funny. The wait hadn’t been long. The building was air-conditioned. The Tellers weren’t goofing around—they were assisting other people. Not one of those truly requires an apology. When I got up to the Teller and she apologized I smiled. I told her it was nothing. I was positive and cheery. I hope that gave her pause to step outside of the time pressures of her job and enjoy the moment. That seems the better cultural and interpersonal choice.

Birthday Blessings

A great many people I know have their birthdays in August. My guess is that people with August birthdays are more likely to have celebrated their special day while travelling. Birthdays are cool. Everybody has them. They are unique to families and individuals as well.


During our stay in Guatemala we had opportunity to celebrate with a Mayan family the birthday of their thirteen year old daughter. Juan, the father of this family is discipling many families in the area. The daughter had no idea the celebration was coming. Two beautiful cakes had been purchased in her honor.

I was moved by what followed the singing of ‘Happy Birthday.” Each person in the family, including uncles and grandparents, offered up a pearl of wisdom and a prayer for the young woman. There were deep prayers for her wisdom and counsel for her to heed her parents wisdom. Words were shared regarding having quality friendships and warning was given on the dangers of bad company. The prayers were from the heart and oft accompanied by voices beset with emotion. Tears were shed. Many hugs were given.

It was a sober reminder to number our days ‘that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.’ So often our celebrations are vacuous and hardly worth remembering. This low key celebration was one of the deepest and most significant I’ve experienced.

My heart’s hope is that time can be taken for those August birthdays, and those that follow as does my daughters, is to give thanks to Him who has granted us breath for another year and abundant blessing. Might we learn to give more than a gift card to the ritzy eatery down the street but rather be filled with words which give life to those that give and those that receive.

Taut Muscles And Tan Lines

You may say it’s sour grapes but it’s not. I haven’t seen John in a year. Our paths crossed today. He is looking thin and tan. He said he’s been riding about twenty-miles a day now that he’s moved to the Cayman Islands.


He was one of the top guys running a time-share in Palm Springs. It was bought out by a new company which laid off all the previous management as is usual for takeovers. Apparently John’s new gig is in the Cayman Islands.

If you are like me your first reaction is; “Wow! He just picked up and moved to the islands. Just like that! How marvelous.” But then this thought registered in my brain. How is it that he was able to do that? I couldn’t realistically do that.

My wife’s parents are getting up there in age. We don’t want to be that far from them. My daughter has two years of high school to go. I have a network of people that I hang out with. Even if it were possible I don’t think it would be workable.

I enjoy my present connections. For this season God has placed us in the desert. There’s a great delight in watching my kid navigate High school. There’s hope in watching God lead us in our current careers.

All that is not to say that some day we won’t pick up and move. John’s life doesn’t look like it’s encumbered by these blessings. Mine is---so until God opens the door to Shangri-La our taut muscles and tan lines will be desert gold.

Thinking About Revival

My wife calls it processing. I think about things at work. I think about them on the forty-minute commute in and on the commute home. I started thinking about ‘revival’ today. Revival was mentioned in our small group yesterday which is what got me started.
The dictionary defines it as ‘renewed interest in something,’ and ‘a period of renewed religious interest.’ Spurgeon defines it thusly: The word "revive" wears its meaning upon its forehead; it is from the Latin, and may be interpreted thus—to live again, to receive again a life which has almost expired; to rekindle into a flame the vital spark which was nearly extinguished.

The only Biblical example I could think of is Nineveh. That makes me think that the best way for God to get hold of a people is to have a large fish spew a man onto the beach. Little hope there for the desert city I live in.

Thinking on revival got me thinking on prayer. All my Christian life I’ve wrestled with the way God answers prayer. What if it’s not about the prayer? C.S. Lewis says it’s about the pray-er himself. What if the mix of answers we receive (or don’t) is to keep us on our knees. Maybe the mix is like sandpaper to our thick skin. We are forced to come to terms with the fact that there is no magical formula. We cry out but the result is outside ourselves. If we always got what we asked this would not be so. The same is true if we never got it. So if the answer is to glorify God and draw us to Himself than a holy mix of results is exactly what is called for.

I’m going to keep praying that God spews a man out on the American beach. The hungering and the asking will sharpen me. If there’ll actually be a man heaved up onto a beach or a man dropped onto a farm in Ohio that will be up to God. In some regard the process matters for me. How God gets peoples’ attention is up to God.

Pushing Through The Pain

“ The color of the sky is gray as I can see through the blinds Lift my head from the pillow and then fall again”---Like The Weather, 10,000 Maniacs

And the LORD said unto Joshua, Get thee up; wherefore liest thou thus upon thy face?---Joshua 7:10

I’ve never felt like an overcomer. I’m more the type of person that sees monsters at the door and decides I didn’t want to go outside anyway. It was one of those days as a teenager that I came across this story in the book of Joshua.

The Israelites go out to war with Ai which should have been a simple victory. Due to sin in the Israelite camp, the Canaanites win the battle. Joshua tears his clothes and falls to the earth on his face. God then gives him this rousing speech and tells him to take care of business.

Christians often have a heart verse that embodies something significant for them; Joshua 7:10 could be my heart verse. There is many a day when life seems daunting. Dreams crash and burn. Foolish mistakes yield foolish results. Most of the time good answers are lacking.

There is a positive side to taking care of what needs to be taken care of. The Proverbs tell us that a righteous man falls seven times but rises. Pushing through the pain allows for God to work in my circumstances.

The victory should have been the Israelites. Joshua saw that but gave up when the battle didn’t go as expected. He cast his heart downward toward the earth rather than looking upward for his help. That is why God was upset. He’d thrown the wrong thing. He threw in the towel when he should have been throwing his hat into the ring.

Outhouses and Toilets

Photo courtesy of Nicolas Nova

Nothing is as common to all travelers as the toilet. I’ve been in many different countries and experienced many different toilets and outhouses. Outhouses have different names; latrine, Andy-Gump, honey-pot and in Boy Scouts we called them Kybos. When travelling through Latvia some years ago there was a wide discrepancy of toilets and outhouses which had no relationship to the toilets’ location. In the opera house in Latvia the toilet was simply a hole in the ground. In French speaking countries and in Latvia the nicer holes in the ground had marked places to set your feet. These were often indicated either by symbol or diagram of a foot. The key of course was to set your foot far enough out from the target.

There are of course Bidets as toilets of which I am not overly fond.  My daughter dislikes anything that doesn’t flush.  Though they have come up with some very nice chemical Honey-Pots in recent years she still will not use anything that doesn’t flush unless there is absolutely no other choice.

Why all this talk of toilets anyway?  I was reminded of the various differences in toilets on our recent trip to Guatemala.  Before we even got there we had a discussion about my previous experience as an exchange student in Mexico, where the toilet was a normal flush-toilet but the paper was put in a trash receptacle next to the toilet and not flushed.  I used the toilet in the Guatemala airport and it was wonderfully nice and clean.  The only thing lacking was a toilet seat but you could still sit on it and flush it.  A great delight!

Where does the waste go?  This is an important issue to date even in my city.  We are switching from Septic to city sewage due to concerns with the groundwater.  At Mercy House in Guatemala they just put in a new outhouse.  The design is very practical and deals with all these toilet issues.  The outhouse is built with a wall separating the liquid (aka Number 1) from solid (Number 2).  Apparently much of the issues re smell and seepage in outhouses comes from mixing the two.  If using the outhouse for poop, the poop is then covered with ash.  After a significant amount of time the waste can be dug up as the outhouse is cleaned and used for fertilizer. 

There you have it---a short post on the joys and experiences of toilets which may seem crass to some.  If you’ve ever had to use the toilet in a foreign country or badly kept gas station stateside I think you can relate---and have some porta-potty stories of your own.

Simple Marriage Compromises: Honey Where Are The Bowls Kept?

As a consistent customer, he paid for his coffee everyday with exact change. For months and months, day after day, he always paid with exact change. Then suddenly he began paying only with bills. Today he explained that he had kept all his change in a jar on a shelf which he passed by everyday on his way out the door. One day his wife moved the jar to ‘a better location.’ Now he doesn’t pass the jar en route to the door so---out of sight, out of mind---he brings no change with him.

The same man was painting a room the other day. To paint the wall he had to remove two hooks. He took the hooks down from the wall and placed them on a shelf. When the paint was dry and it was time to put the hooks back in place he went to the spot on the shelf where he had neatly put them. They weren’t there. His wife had taped them together and put them inside a drawer in the kitchen.

These stories illustrate well what most bachelors encounter when they marry a woman. Once my wife moved into what was previously only my dwelling, the whole house was reorganized. Certainly she is talented and logical in this regard. She made more space for our stuff and logically moved plates, pots and pans to cabinets where they fit better. We’ve been married two years now and I still don’t know where some of the stuff lives. My brother-in-law told me recently that my sister moves stuff so often that he finds it easier to consistently ask, “Where does the (whatever) go?” rather than to have to hunt down it’s newest place of residence.

In our house currently there are places for everything and most everything has a place. There are even places for all the hairbrushes. Can someone explain to me why you need more than one? Certainly between the two of us I am the messier one. In part the reason also explains the way the house was previously organized before my lovely wife moved in with me. As a bachelor it was easier to just leave everything out where you could most easily find it. Just saying.