mi corazon chapino

soy estadounidense pero tengo un corazon chapino que continua crecer entre este pueblo hermoso. hoy visitemos una aldea indigena que fue afectado en serio por la guerra civil que termino hace doce anos. se puede ver las resultados en los ojos de los huerfanos y viudas como las escrituras de isaias. de verdad el evangelio es para servir y amar los humildes como ellos pero de nuevo jamas he visto gratitud y gozo como este pueblo. tambien anoche para ver los estudiantes guatemalteco de prepar por la viaje con mucha comida, juguetes, y ropa por mas de 45 familias y todo fueron donativos de sus familias y amigos. que un bendicion para aprender un poquito de todos sus historias y los razones del corazon de levantarse muy temprano para visitar un pueblo extranero y muy lejos de la ciudad. fui en el baul de un camion hace tres horas para llegar y me encanta a ver el paisaje en la detras de un pick-up. me gusta mucho las palabras como pick-up en espanol. deseo que podria a quedarme para unas pocas meses. les ensenemos sobre las planes del desanos naturales como terremotos y inundaciones. todavia no puedo a decir los letros de rr como carros o churrascos y la unica persona que habla ingles puede decir todos de las lenguas Juguemos varios juegos con los ninos, ellos se pueden a hablar en ingles pero la mayoria de los adultos solamente se hablan quiche. lleve muchas playeras de la universidad de maryland, pero casi nadie las quisieron. que mala honda. despues de los dones, nosotros almorcemos y ellos nos cocinaron muchos. fue una experiencia de mucho humilidad y nunca lo olvidare. cenemos con blellca, fernando y lindsay y no quiero a despiderles. la familia de fernando es demasiado amable y me encanta mucho que los hombres las disfruta a la musica rock. claro que si debora esta celoso de mi de pasar tiempo con fernando. quiero a escribir mas en ingles. voy a regresar a los eeuu y ojala que continua practicar mi espanol.

yo come tres chocos de banana y son muy ricos.

nos vemos.

ciao

Oh Can't You See What Love Has Done!

"La paz justa y democratica no es simplement el cese de la guerra, implica exigencias basicas para la existencia del ser humano como la dignidad de la persona su promoción humana y desarollo integral."


~Comandante Rolando Moran

(A just and democratic peace is not simply the absence of war, it demands fulfillment of the essential needs of humanity through dignity, empowerment and development.)


I was in a U2 mood today. I suppose that happens quite often. I was wearing a U2 shirt too, which makes that even easier. We spent some time in the centro de Guatemala City and it's rather beautiful with the cathedral and the palace. Guatemalan history is so beautiful and so painful, which fits well into the juxtaposition of nearly everything in my life these days. I really enjoy learning more about the process of peace in general and how it plays out in different areas of the world, particularly through the eyes of people from different cultures. I also bounce my thoughts of peace off my thoughts of love and how it plays out in me in my anger, care, frustrations and faults. I really liked that quote above regarding peace. It was part of the peace treaty in Guatemala from 12 years ago. There was a bloody and excruciating 36 year civil war that still impacts the country today in so many ways. I would encourage anyone to read about it or ask your favorite Chapino to share with you. (As usual the United States muddied the water, and I'll leave it at that for now)


Anyhow, what's important is the pursuit of peace. "Seek peace and pursue it," as David wrote. All throughout the Scriptures and pages of speeches and works of my favorite peacemakers, there echos this sentiment that peace is not a vacuum, it is not empty, but it is a term that implies fullness, wholeness and presence, not absence.

As I was reflecting on peace, I was feeling "Window in the Sky." I was singing it throughout the day, I tried to traducirlo a Espanol and sing it in Spanish, that's always fun, a combination of bad linguistics and a poor voice. It's rather freeing though to embrace my imperfections and enjoy the best that I can produce and just make a joyful noise and not worry about what others say. I don't really care what you think ;c) I should be able to imbed the video, but alas, I'm technically challenged ahorita, so you can just click on the title to see the video. Higly recommended!

Window in the Sky

The shackles are undone
The bullets quit the gun
The heat that’s in the sun
Will keep us when there’s none
The rule has been disproved
The stone it has been moved
The grave is now a groove
All debts are removed

Oh can’t you see what love has done?
Oh can’t you see what love has done?
Oh can’t you see what love has done?
What it’s done to me?

Love makes strange enemies
Makes love where love may please
The soul and its striptease
Hate brought to its knees
The sky over our head

We can reach it from our bed
You let me in your heart
And out of my head, head…
Please don’t ever let me out of you

I’ve got no shame, oh no, oh no Oh can’t you see what love has done? Oh can’t you see? Oh can’t you see what love has done? What it’s doing to me?

I know I hurt you and I made you cry
Did everything but murder you and I
But love left a window in the skies
And to love I rhapsodize

To every broken heart
For every heart that cries
Love left a window in the skies
And to love I rhapsodize

Michael Freakin Phelps

I got to watch some of the Juegos Olympicos en Espanol tonight. Man, I love Michael Phelps. I'm not sure which is more artistic, watching Rafa slide about the clay hitting ridiculous backhands or witnessing Phelps jet through the water in an elastic porpoise manner. Both are so beautiful and amazing to watch. I could watch them for hours. What a beast Phelps is. Do work Baltimore, do work, son! I wish I could have watched that relay race live. That was freakin unbelieveable. Jason Lezak is totally responsible for that one. That was a different type of swimming than I have ever seen. (I wanted to put a picture of Phelps reaction to the U.S. squeaking out the Gold, but it is a touch homoerotic and so I went with a more conservative one.)

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men...

I'm in Guatemala ahora. God has a sense of humor and my plans here have already changed half a dozen times. I love Guatemala. My spanish is so rough, but I love this country. Tonight Vinicio sat down with me and we worked over a map of the country, planning out possible trips as the conversation evolved into a discussion about Guatemalan history, human rights, war, injustice, sorrow suffering, the church and God's love in all this. Perspective is so cool. There are so many problems in this world, with the church, governments and people. I mean this place is pretty F'd up, but times like today sharing food and fellowship over the dinner table, sprawled out on the floor perusing a map of Guatemala or singing praises to God with the congregation at Nueva Generacion and the guys from Boston send chills down my spine as I think about the beauty of the Kingdom of God. Sometimes it is but a whisper, but the taste of the Kingdom is sweet and sustaining. Flying over Guatemala, I read Henri Nouwen's "On Solitude" and I go back to that book so often. He closes the book in a way that makes me wait expectantly to see how God reveals himself to me in the midst of a hurting world, including me. He is present and working and I want to patiently wait. (Cursing the luggage conveyor belt at Guatemala's airport is not patience, repeating "With patience, you can cook stones" did not work)

"Is God present or is he absent? Maybe we can say now that in the center of our sadness for his absence we can find the first signs of his presence. And that, in the middle of our longings, we discover the footprints of the one who has created them. It is in the faithful waiting for the loved one that we know how much he has filled our lives already. Just as the love of a mother for her son can grow while she is waiting for his return, and just as lovers can rediscover each other during long periods of absence, so also our intimate relationship with God can become deeper and more mature while we wait patiently in expectation for his return."

Por Los Calles Viejos Del Barrios Mexicanos

I love architecture, I love structure in general. I suppose that's the engineer in me and a childhood built upon Legos, Constructs and Brio trains. I love textures, colors and lines. New cities are giant playgrounds to me. I could just walk around neighborhoods and take pictures for hours. I suppose I do that too. I love taking pictures, but my favorite way to capture beautiful architecture is to run through neighborhoods. Running through Mexico has afforded me the opportunity to experience some beautiful and culturally significant areas as well as traditional and commonplace areas that most would deem unworthy of the limited schedule of a foreigner. I love running because it is a core value to me. I will get up early to run. I will run when I'm tired and feel like taking a nap because it is important to me and because I know that it's not everyday that I can run through a beautiful city. Even when I can't run and have to walk, I love exploring the city.

On Thursday when we visited Andrew's family in La Presa, high in the mountains (on the side of a mountain in realidad) I realized why sandals are for eating Huarache's and not for wearing. We were caught in a downpour and his family was so hesistant to let me leave wearing sandals. Ana took some comfort from the stories I shared about how I would wear sandals in high school in the middle of Winter to board the bus for ski trips in rain/sleet or snow. The rain was pouring and the street from which we had to catch the bus resembled a white water rapids ride at Six Flags. Of course we had to cross the street to catch the bus. My sandals and jeans are still wet and their odor did not improve from this incident. I took pictures which I will post later. Side note: I violated my no umbrella rule twice so far aqui in Mexico.

Mexico City is so huge. 27 Million People. Sit on that number for a minute. I have such little sense of perspective and geography in the whole city. I crave control and understanding. Even in the little tiny blocks where we stay, I want to know everything and I feel confident in small pieces, but the city is comprised of hundreds of areas like this and my task of direction seems beyond reach. I pretty much gave up, which I think is good, especially for a visitor. I can just enjoy where I am without knowing the larger picture. I know this is part of God's purpose for me being here. I focus too easily on things that occupy my entire worldview and I lose sight of the Kingdom of God. I can't grasp God's will without knowing His Kingdom.

The past few days we've been staying in Andrew's summer apartment, which is really just a concrete block with a bathroom on the roof of a real house. You have to climb this rickety spiraling staircase just to get there, of which I am no fan. It's actually somewhat exposed to the elements, which makes for chilly sleeping, but I am not one to complain about living simply or without much semblance of American comfort. I almost prefer this place to the fancy apartment we had been staying in, for the simple reason of the view. Last night I sat out on the roof and eventually stood on the wall and just looked out over the city. I couldn't do anything for several minutes. I was moved to read through Jeremiah and hear of his passion and compassion for the Cities of God. I stood and sang as I prayed and just entered into God's arms. I disappear and am empty that I might know God and His amazing love for me. I still know so little about His vast and perfect love for me.

The city folds up like a taco resolving the temporary obstacles the ridges of the mountains provided. The city surrounds you with even more people than you can imagine could possibly live in such a confined area. The houses go up too, layer stacked upon layer like duplos or toothpick bridges. There is something so humbling and overwhelming to see so many houses stacked upon each other, so many stories so tightly packed together invariably tied together regardless of desire. I'm sure the majority of Mexicanos don't stop too often to consider the existential consequences of living amongst so many, in seeming insignificance in the municipal, much less the cosmic scale. I was fortunate to observe the Big Dipper and a few other constellations through the lights and pollution of the city.

Who am I that God is mindful of me and with all the people, problems and issues, how can I waste so much time fretting over things that I allow to expand and dominate my thought life. Today as I walked out of an amazing church service, I was greeted by another hill side village nestled into a massive green mountain and with the Spanish alabanza musica still in my head, I shook my head in wonder as God continues to open my eyes to His world around me and how much grander and greater it is than that which I can fathom.

Saturday

I grabbed a donut on the way to the Metro this morning. I generally don't partake in donuts, but I suppose Mexican donuts aren't as sweet and fattening as those from the states.

We actually got to sit on the train, which was a welcome change. Mexican trains are insane. You can't get a seat at midnight and the cars are still packed. I was sitting down reading my trendy bilingual youth Bible when two people approached me and asked me "Eres Cristiano?" I started talking to them in my drawn out deliberate Spanish and we had an interesting conversation on the church, missions and ministry, American government and Biblical views on war. People are so patient with me, and I know enough Spanish to have in depth conversations, but at fragmented and inconsistent pace. I tend to think they find this endearing and impressive, but that might just be me.

We went to an art museum, which is actually just someones house. She was really wealthy and best friends with Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Rivera is one of my favorite artists and the museum had an eclectic collection of his works from all the stages of his career. I was not real familiar with his early and later works and I spent most of my time in his rooms, although she had an extensive collection of pop art, Kahlo, sculptures and statues, beautiful Jade, Crystal and rubies, Asian art, and much more. (Hundreds of elephants died for this woman to have an elegant house)

I spent a lot of time on a lithograph by Rivera whose translated title was Dreams, Night of the Poor. I pasted the color version, but the black and white lithograph was breathtaking in it's style as well as subject. He conveyed so much pain, hope, sorrow and reality in this work. I don't know what it was exactly, but I had such a hard time removing myself from this piece.

Jim's Mexican family met us at the museum and we headed off to the Market in Xochimilco to grab lunch. I love markets so much. So many colors, smells, sights, people and excitement. We got some barbecoa, carnitas, tortillas and other fixings and headed off to eat lunch. Xochimilco is built on a canal and hundreds of people ride on canoas to enjoy a meal, some marimbas or mariachi music, shop the markets on the islands (or the floating markets in the boats on the canal) or just relax. It was so beautiful and relaxing. The food was amazing tambien and I could have stayed there all day. I read a bit, caught some sun, practiced my spanish and just enjoyed a beautiful town. I thought I had to go to Italy to experience such an extended system of canals. I took lots of pictures, but this cheap Google picture will have to do until I have my camera cable.

We went out for some cheap Mexican beer and amazing tacos to celebrate one of Andrew's friends Birthday. Good times.

Today on the train I read two books. They are very different, one being about families and fly-fishing and the other about praying the Lord's prayer, and yet they share many surprising similarities. I approached my trip to Mexico and soon to Guatemala, with hope and expectancy for God to work in me, reveal something to me or challenge me. I always carry at least two books with me because sometimes I want to read about God and sometimes I need something lighter because I'm fearful of being convicted or challenged by God. I find prayer not to be so convicting because it's a time to empty ourselves of ourselves and seek fullness from God, to bring nothing and seek nothing, but Him. Sometimes I have a hard time praying, I drink too much coffee, I can't sit still for too long, there's too much noise around me, I get bored and my headaches also make it very difficult for me to pray. I mean, I went a seriously long time without consistent prayer and it took a season of pain and a lack of understanding to force me to prayer. I'm ashamed of this, but grateful that God operates and loves His children in such a manner. It reminds me of the Gibran poem On Pain,

"Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility."

I have been thinking a lot about pain, joy and sorrow lately, particularly as I walk and breathe Mexican history in the streets, ruins, cathedrals and museums of this amazing city. Yesterday, I visited four churches and spent some time in each of them praying. We settled on going to the Cathedral instead. There is so much gold in the church, it's rather overwhelming. I generally don't appreciate ornate churches, but this one really boils my blood. White Europeans came and stole gold from the indigenous folks and then built this fancy temple to God from the abundance of their stolen goods. Something tells me that God does not delight in that. I suppose we continue to do similar things today as the church, in more inconspicuous manners, but I have a hard time understanding why God lets such things happen.

The next place we visit is the Basilica, which is the second most visited Catholic holy site, behind only the Vatican. It's a rather breathtaking place, but again there is pain, idolatry and contradictions. Jesus is almost an afterthought to the Virgin of Guadelupe. From the moment you step off the metro and rise to the streets, the markets are filled mainly with icons of Guadelupe. There is more zeal for her than for any sports team I've ever seen in the States. The markets cover the street and stretch for nearly a quarter mile on the pilgrimage to the Basilica. On the one hand, it's amazing to see so many people buying religious items. There's no way you would ever see anything like this in the U.S. although I've never visited that Holy Land Bible theme park. There are some crosses and Jesus artifacts, my favorite being the pictures of Jesus with a lowrider in the background, but the overwhelming majority are of Guadelope.

My favorite one was at the plaza de tres culturas and the church was really old and fairly simple with plain stained glass windows and some rock construction including a dome made of stone that was so impressive. We sat there for a while and both spent some solid time in prayer. I love churches, but generally ones that aren´t too fancy and this one was really peaceful and inviting to me.

Out of time on the computer...