Guatemalan Mornings, Day 318 (Guat story)

Each morning in Guatemala I’d awake before the sun. Eager to partake of the new day in that mystical place I would climb right out of bed without resting further. I should have been tired, I needed additional sleep. But once my eyes had opened I was much too excited to close them again. I crawled out of bed in the dark, trying not to disturb any of the others in the room. I’d feel around through my things for a sweatshirt, my Bible, and a notebook. I wanted desperately to meet with God each morning, just the two of us. I’d tell Him of my gratitude for the wonderful experience and ask Him to help me get through another day of the complete unknown. I thanked him for my family and the amazing world I’d come from, a world full of luxury and food.

I spent each morning in the garden just before the sun awoke. I could smell the rich Guatemalan coffee brewing as I creaked down the stairs all wrapped up in my sweatshirt. After pouring myself a dark steaming cup of my new favorite beverage I’d slip outside into the cool morning air. I’d take a seat on the courtyard furniture and eagerly await the new day and the sunrise that would bring such vibrancy and life to it. I’d sit sipping; listening to roosters crowing in the neighboring courtyards, holding my Bible and reveling in the peace and overwhelming excitement I had stumbled into. I’d begin to read. I read so slowly those mornings in Ron’s courtyard, planted in that heavenly garden. I felt like God himself was sitting next to me speaking each word into my heart. There was such life in the words I’d read so many times before. It was as if I’d never heard them. Each word was new. Each sentence painted a vibrant portrait of life full of meaning.

On the second morning of my first week in Guatemala a cool morning chill caused steam to rise from my mug. The stars in the deep blue sky were brilliant. The blue of the sky just before the morning light of the sun creeps up on the horizon is the most beautiful blue I know. The sounds of birds in the distance and cars in the streets made me feel that I was in no way alone. The building next door had a dog living atop its roof. Ron said he was a guard dog. I’m not sure how a dog on a roof can prohibit a thief, none the less his bark was identical to a dog I’d had as a kid. The world I sat in was entirely foreign and new but I felt so very at home. I was home, peacefully, pleasantly home in that garden with the roosters crowing, the delicious hot Guatemalan coffee, my familiar Bible and God speaking everything anew sitting just next to me. 

That was the sanctuary at Ron’s Casa de Oracion. I read from James the entire week. Ron had quoted a verse, possibly 5 times already since we’d arrived, about caring for orphans and widows. His entire ministry was based on this verse from James. I felt he was over doing it a bit, continually quoting that verse. But I read it myself that morning under the stars, surrounded by flowers, inhaling the smell of ash and coffee, a cool wind rushing past me, warmed by the dark beverage in my mug, and delighted by sounds of animals all around. I wondered what purpose my life had served up until this point. What had I been doing up until now? For the first time ever I was practicing pure and undefiled religion, meeting orphans and widows in their distress. I’d never known a feeling so fulfilling before.