MINORITY REPORT

As a white, middle/upper-middle class American man, there have been very few times in my life when I have not been in the majority or in a position of "power." I first started to realize this when a college professor of mine did a little experiment in class one day to help us understand what it felt like to be the minority. She asked everyone who wasn't white, conservative, heterosexual or male to go stand on one side of the room. Moments later, I realized I was the only one left at their desk. Although it was an uncomfortable feeling, it only lasted until the class ended.

Today I live in Guatemala, where I am, for the first time in my life, truly "the minority." It's a strange feeling to walk through a village and be the only white person, the only one in Western clothing, the only one with a high school degree. The reaction has been mixed. In some places, Guatemaltecos are used to foreigners and think nothing of my presence, but at other times, in smaller, more remote areas of the country, the people have stared at me like I'm an alien. I guess it's possible that they've never seen a white man before, at least not one in person.

Despite being the minority wherever I go, I don't believe I'll ever truly know what it means to be a minority. I say this because most minorities in the world share one thing in common: they have little to no power. As an educated American man, however, that's not true for me. Even though I am often frustrated by my inability to fluently speak or understand the Spanish language, I am STILL in a position of power here:
- People often assume I'm a doctor even though I don't know the first thing about medicine.
- I have more money than just about everyone I've ever met here.
- I'm assumed to be a "boss" because of my color, education, and position.
Contrast my experience here in Guatemala to a Mexican immigrant (legal or illegal) in the United States. He or she has little to no power, they are rarely assumed to be the boss, and they are publicly disrespected if they can't speak English fluently (whereas I'm patted on the back for being able to speak Spanish at the level of a 1st grader). I have felt great embarrassment on several occasions when one of our volunteer teams from the States come into this country like they "own the place." This doesn't happen very often, but I can't imagine a Latin immigrant coming into the U.S. and acting like that! Only the "powerful" can act in such a way.

I think it's important to experience being "the minority" at some point in our lives, if only in some small way. This experience has helped me understand the great responsibilty I have as an American citizen in a foreign country, and also to be more aware of the minority and those without power in my midst. In many ways I think the best measure of a society/person is how it/we treat the powerless minorities in our midst.

GRINGO?
I have been called a "gringo" many times in Guatemala. I don't take offense to it. It's nothing like the "n..." word for African-Americans. It's basically come to mean any person from the United States (or an European who is mistaken for an American.)
I always was told that the term developed during the Mexican-American War, when the Mexicans would cry out to the uniformed American soldiers, "green go," meaning "leave our country." But it turns out that the Americans actually wore blue uniforms during this war, so it probably came from the Spanish word, "griego," which means "greek." Or I could be wrong. It's all greek to me.

Peace,
Jay

Street Life is Ruff

Panajachel has a perro problem. There are wild dogs everywhere in Guatemala. Most people here do not consider dogs pets, nor are there resources available to prevent strays from multiplying rapidly. Sadly, the only thing that has prevented them from multiplying faster is that many of them starve to death.
Until now, Carey and I have resisted the urge to adopt one of these pups. Recently, however, we found an organization (Mayan Families) in the town where we live that gives out free, already spayed/neutered and vaccinated dogs to good homes. So...we brought home a very rare breed called the Panajachel Street Terrier (as my father-in-law calls her, without the slightest hint of sarcasm) on Monday. This came about because a) I am away from home a lot traveling with teams, b) Carey doesn't like being home alone (I don't blame her), c) Carey is very convincing, and d) Carey's mom, Linda, and stepdad, Tom (who's like the Dog Whisperer), are visiting and can help train her.
She was found a few months ago on the streets looking starved and scared. We have her right now on a "trial basis," but are hopeful that it will work out. Her name is Ati, after the lake we live on, Lake Atitlan.

By the way, the director of Mayan Families says that they are in desperate need of donations for spaying/neutering (the procedure costs about $20). If you are interested, you can make an online donation through their website (http://www.mayanfamilies.org/) or search for them on Facebook. Be sure to designate the donation for animal welfare. And even if you don't make a donation, check out all the incredible work this organization is doing for Guatemalan families (both human and canine)! Salud y Paz often collaborates with them to find patients and rural towns in need of doctors/dentists.

Be Happy You've Got Yours
I blame Coke. Many rural Guatemalans have lost quite a few of their teeth. When they come into one of our dental clinics for some work, you can see where the soda has literally eaten a whole through the front 2 teeth. Our dentists do what they can for them, which usually means pulling 2-4 teeth. The Salud y Paz record so far for teeth pulled on one patient is 11. Ouch.This denture is called a "placa." They are very common in Guatemala. Once your front 4 teeth have rotted out, you go to a little store to get your placa made. It's popular to get fake gold teeth and stars on the false teeth. It's very strange to see a 16 year-old girl take out her dentures, but I see it a lot. In the picture above, a woman came in with severe ulcers in her mouth b/c her placa was rubbing her gumline. In true rural clinic fashion, we took a metal file and filed down the placa to make it fit. Another happy customer!

Carey and I hope you and your families are well.
Love,
Jay

Bad Religion?

Last year I read a couple of the top-selling, so-called "Atheist Manifesto" books: The God Delusion, by Richard Dawkins, and Letter to a Christian Nation, by Sam Harris. I read them because I'm interested in why someone would choose to be an Atheist, and also because I want to know what the current arguments are against Christianity and belief in general so I can see how my faith stands up.
Atheists used to argue that belief in (a) God/god was simply irrational, but today their argument has changed somewhat. Now many Atheists such as Dawkins, Harris, and Christopher Hitchens (god is NOT Great) are taking a new approach. The argument today goes something like this: not only is belief in God irrational, religion in general is downright harmful to humankind and "poisonous" to society. They site obvious examples from the past, such as the Conquests and witch-hunts, and more recent examples such as Islamic extremism in the world and Christian Pro-Lifers who murder abortion doctors.
For some reason I had these books on my mind this past week as I was with a mission group from West Texas. As I watched them work in the scalding heat and humidity in coastal Guatemala I could only think about one thing: THE reason 20 people, young and old, have come all this way and spent all this money to bring much-needed medications and health care to the poorest people in Central America is because they love God and desire to serve in the Way of Jesus. Watching them work simply made the argument that religion is "poisonous" seem suddenly really lacking. Even though I'm sure religious people (read: human beings) will continue to do really dumb and even evil things at times, believe me when I say that there are those in our world today that will continue to be the hands and feet of Christ. They won't be highlighted in best-selling books or even make the footnotes. They'll simply continue to try their best to be "religious" in the best sense of the word, the way God defined it, "Religion that God accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress..."
20 West Texans made me proud to be religious this week.
Peace,
Jay

Back to School

My favorite part of the day is seeing all the children walking to school in the morning. More than any other thing I experience each day, this is the one that seems to represent the hopeful future of Guatemala. I recently brought a team of college students from the Univ. of Alabama-Birmingham to several local schools for the week. It was quite eye-opening to see the state of the public primary schools in Guatemala.
I would describe the schools we visited as "bare-bones." There are basic tables, chairs and very limited supplies. The teachers I spoke with seemed a little overwhelmed by the size of their classes and the lack of resources available to them. The kids, however, for the most part still seemed very eager to learn.
Our job at the schools was to apply fluoride to the kids teeth and teach the students how to properly brush their teeth and maintain good hygiene. We gave them all toothbrushes and toothpaste. The water in Guatemala does not have fluoride in it like our water does in the States, and so cavities, etc. are a big problem. Of course it doesn't help that the water isn't safe to drink; most Mayans prefer to drink sodas.
We went to each classroom to teach basic brushing and flossing skills. The children in this picture have now officially flossed their teeth more than I have in my life.
The fluoride we apply (imagine cherry-flavored clear, super-glue) helps strengthen and protect the kids teeth. In total, we applied fluoride to over 1200 students teeth this week. The south will rise again!

We also tested students vision. This is the kind of eye chart we use at our clinics. Since many of the people we see can't read, we use this rotating "E" chart. You just have to tell us what direction the "E" is pointing.

We tested all of Carey's students at the preschool too. Mary, here in this photo, is one of Carey's 19-year old teachers. She is one of the most natural teachers I have ever met.

Stickers are like gold in Guatemala. I think the current President actually won by just handing out stickers to the people.

Here is Carey's class covered in stickers, with several of the Alabama team members.

Back to Jersey:

Carey and I are in the States right now for a wedding and to do some fund-raising for our project. It's weird being back, but has been so great to see our friends and have a Dr. Pepper (and pseudo Tex-Mex in Jersey).

In other news, Carey and I have decided to stay another year in Guatemala. There is still a lot of work to be done with Salud y Paz and we like the changes that are happening in our lives.

More later...

Love you guys,

Jay

Twenty-Two Tongues

Guatemala is roughly the size of the state of Louisiana, but that's where the similarities end. In Guatemala, there are 21 recognized indigenous languages spoken by the people. Last I heard, people in Louisiana speak just 1 language, something resembling English, but this hasn't been verified.
Carey and I work in a region where most of the people speak K'iche (gringos spell it Quiche, but that makes me think more of breakfast). In Panajachel where we live, however, the people all speak Kakchiquel. And just across the lake from us they speak at least two completely different dialects.
This is the craziest thing. There are literally places here where there are 2-3 different dialects within a mile or two of each other. But a mountain divides the communities and back in the day there was no reason to go to the other side of the mountain....so presto...the people developed two very different languages.
Spanish, of course, is the one language that seems to unite the whole country. It's ironic that the language of the conquerors (the Spanish) is now the thing that unites Guatemala as one. Carey and I find that it's much easier to speak Spanish with a native K'iche speaker than a native Spanish speaker, because it's their second language too.
I try to speak the few words I know in K'iche with our Guatemalan staff when I can. My name, "Jay" means house, which would be cooler if I were a football player and not a skinny white kid.
If you want to hear what K'iche sounds like, listen to this short video below...(you'll notice some Spanish words thrown in there too)...

Pretty cool, huh?

Offensive Driving Update:
Things Jay has hit so far with the car in Guatemala:
1. a tienda
2. a chicken bus (jerk-face ran me off the road)
3. a man on a motorcycle (yesterday). I promise the man wasn't hurt, probably just needs therapy for a while.
Things Jay is aiming to hit:
1. roosters

Have a great week.
Peace,
Jay

Honey, I Blew Up the Kitchen

When Carey and I moved into our apartment about 7 months ago, the first words out of our landlord's mouth were, "Don't leave the gas on too long before lighting the gas oven."
Oops.
A few days ago my life literally flashed before my eyes as I clicked the fire starter and was blown back onto the counter in our kitchen. The sweet smell of the cinnamon toast I had just prepared and was putting into the oven was quickly replaced by the stink of my arm hair smoldering. Carey screamed. I stared blankly. Neighbors searched for the source of the explosion.

It was kind of cool, actually. The force of the explosion literally blew off the cabinet doors and split the wood in half.
After I came out of my daze, all I could think was, "That could have been a lot worse."
Perhaps men shouldn't be in the kitchen : )

Proud Husband Note: If you read Carey's blog below this one you'll understand why I'm so proud of her. She really modeled to me how to truly help someone. Typically it's easier for me, when confronted with someone who needs help, to either a) throw money at them, b) offer to just "pray for them," or c) ignore their needs, or d) try to avoid them. But Carey did none of these things with Lety. She entered into a friendship with her, has come to understand Lety's dreams and needs, and has offered to help in ways that empower her to take steps toward achieving those dreams. And as a result of spending a lot of time on the computer researching different grants and scholarships, Carey has opened an amazing new door for Lety to walk through. Lety called Carey her "angel." (Note: Carey will try to delete this but I will continue to post it.)

Bad Driver Note: Last week I paid off my first Guatemalan policeman after making an illegal U-Turn. He asked for Q500 and I drove off after slipping him Q100! Bo & Luke Duke got nothin' on me!

Deep Thoughts by Carey Cooper

The rain is here again, but my mood couldn't be sunnier! Some of you may remember our Spanish teacher and friend, Lety, from earlier blogs. Lety is a remarkable woman, and I'd like to share a bit of her story with you... When Lety was nine years old, she was forced by her father to drop out of school and work at home with her mother. Fifteen years later, at the age of 24, she made the difficult decision to leave home so that she could finish school. For the next six years, she worked days and attended night school to finish her high school degree. Lety now has the desire to continue her education by studying social work at the university level. Her goal is to become a licensed social worker so that she can help children and women in her community. For the past few months, I have been helping Lety apply for scholarships, and we just got word that she received a full scholarship to study at a local university! She is thrilled, and so are we! Happy days!

"Un dia mas, un dia menos"

Occasionally I'll hear an American from one of our work teams say with a deep sigh, "One...more...day." The implication, of course, is that the work they're about to do is considered somewhat of a burden, even if they did fly thousands of miles to do it, and they're looking forward to it being completed and the day over.
I love when I hear someone from the States say this, because I instantly look around to see if there is a Guatemalan standing nearby. If there is, without fail the Guatemalan will reply, "Un dia mas, un dia menos," which means "One more day, one less day."
This reply underscores an interesting difference in the way Guatemalans perceive life. As an American, I usually assume that I've got countless days left to live - at least until I'm well into my 70's or 80's. I know I've got plenty of food, a permanent place to live, and many opportunities (even if I never take advantage of them) to live my life to the fullest. I can say with a sigh, "one more day," because I know I probably do have many more days ahead of me. Today just doesn't feel like that much of a gift.
The Guatemalan, however, doesn't appear to understand life this way. His society is set up in such a way to support life just for today, and that's it. Every town here has a local market twice a week where people buy only what they need for the next few days. The markets are held so often because, besides the fact that there's no Sam's Club to buy a 5-gallon jar of mayonnaise and no refrigeration to preserve things, the people here simply live day-to-day. Why would I buy groceries for more than 3 days? Who knows if I'll have income in 3 days? Who knows what will happen in 3 days?
The upside of this way of thinking, despite the daily difficulties associated with it, is that it gives one quite a different appreciation for the word, "today." The American knows he's promised 40 more years, and so is capable of sighing at the mere thought of "today." The Mayan, however, sees "today" differently. It's one of her few promises, in fact. Perhaps that's why she can smile at the visitor and reply, "...yes, it may be one more day for you, but never forget, it's one less day, too."
One of my most important goals while here is to leave this country with that same mentality. Today may not be just what I want it to be, but it's also all I have. I wonder how different my life would be if, instead of counting my days forward, I started counting them backwards? What would today become, if I actually were able to wake up each morning and say, "...one less day...?"
Peace,
Jay

"Praising All Alike, Is Praising None"

"Our greatest strength as a human race is our ability to acknowledge our differences. Our greatest weakness is our failure to embrace them."

Peace,

Jay

A Day in Prison

While hosting a team in Zacapa last week (Zacapa is Spanish for "hot as !%@*"), I spent a day in a Guatemalan prison. If men serving time in American prisons thought they had it bad, they need to check this place out.
Anyway, we ran out of patients one day at a local church, so I naively asked a local, "Hey, where else can we go to pull some rotten teeth?" An hour later I'm sitting in a room surrounded by steel bars waiting for our first patient, moments after being told by the guards, "Don't let the prisoners anywhere near your dental tools" (I can laugh now at the thought of my eyes being plucked out with a pair of forceps).
So, the first patient lays down on our "dental chair" and our gutsy dentist decides to ask him what he did to get in here. The dude says, "I killed two guys. On accident."
Classic!

Waiting for the guards to give us gringos the okay to enter the Zacapa funitentiary.

Highlights of the week in Zacapa:
- While inside the prison, a prisoner took the time to pray for us (he's praying for us?)
- The family who hosted our medical/dental team very lovingly prepared meals for all 15 of us everyday, not to mention invited us into their home and made us part of their extended family.
- Getting to know Israel, the kind-hearted man who arranged our stay in Zacapa. It deeply touched me when he described the plight of some of his poorer neighbors. His tears were as authentic as I've ever seen.
- Israel took me into one of the poorer neighborhoods around Zacapa, called La Plancha, and there I was able to pray for a woman who was absolutely overcome with joy that doctors from the States had come to help her and those she knew. Afterwards, she gave me a huge melon as a gift. Only the poor can be this generous.

Later in the week at one of our rural clincs this little guy beat me in a game of tic-tac-toe. He was feeling pretty proud of himself until I took him out back and gave him an atomic-wedgie.
Is this not the cutest little chica you've ever seen in your life? Having so many kids hanging around playing while we're with the patients is one of the perks of the job.

Lowlight of the week:
- Witnessing the extreme poverty in La Plancha. That may be the poorest place I've ever been. Most people had some sort of infection around their mouths because they drink out of the same canal where they bathe and use the restroom.
A "home" in La Plancha. It's just not freakin' fair.

Some of the community leaders in the meeting hall where we saw patients led the kids of the community in songs each day. It's just a thought, but how is it that very poor people can sing with more joy than people with so much? Hmmm...

In other news...
Our good friends Chris & Tausha came down for a week to visit us. We all took an overnight bus (10 hours - yee-haw!) to Tikal (super cool site of Mayan ruins in far north Guatemala.) Tikal was like the New York City of its day - skyscrapers and all...
See what I mean. Not too shabby for people without cranes.
We made a great climb to overlook Lago Atitlan to finish our week together.

We're 6 months into our journey today and are feeling extremely grateful to each of you for supporting us. We are so thankful to be a part of some amazing work here in this beautiful country.
Thanks for checking in!
Peace to you,
Jay

Prayer Concern: Our Guatemalan staff and American administrator were in a bad accident this week. They drive 2 hours to Camanchaj (where Carey and I are based) every Monday and Tuesday and on the way home Tuesday they were hit by a truck and their van flipped. I honestly do not know how none of them were seriously injured. Beside bruises and a possible fractured arm, they're all okay. I would ask that you please pray for our travel to and from the clinics and for the "psychological" recovery of those involved in this accident.

Deep Thoughts by Carey Cooper

Fighting FEAR in Guatemala

I'm a scaredy cat. A really big scaredy cat truth be told. Oh sure, I may look brave moving to Guatemala, but it's just an act. I thought I would be able to leave at least some of my fears in the States, but no, those pesky fears must have snuck into my luggage because here they are. And oh boy, are they showing their ugly faces this week. From smallest to biggest, here are my top three:

1. Fear of getting lost

I know, this sounds a bit silly... But if you've ever been in a car with me and I had to make more than one turn, then you probably know what I'm talking about. I have a bad sense of direction. I mean really bad. When we moved to NJ, and I had to commute from Toms River to Princeton, I got lost at least a dozen times before Dad and Donna gave me an early birthday present. Some people call it a GPS system, but I call it a gift from God. :)

Well, today, I had to drive from Panajachel where we live to Camanchaj where we work BY MYSELF. Jay is out of town with another medical team. The drive is long (at least 45 minutes), and detours are common on market days and during the dry season because it's the only time road work can be done. Having a GPS here would be pointless, but a map would be helpful, or how about street signs? And I'm pretty sure I haven't seen a 7-Eleven where I can stop and ask for directions. If I got lost, I could call Jay or someone at the clinic, but the conversation would probably go something like this -- "I'm not sure... I see corn, and umm, more corn... Can you come get me?"

2. Fear of the dark

Maybe I watched too many scary movies or read too many scary books when I was a kid, but I've always been afraid of the dark, or better put, the stalker lurking in the dark. For the past several years, when Jay was working as a youth minister, I would dread the long nights when he was away on youth retreats. I'd put a chair under my bedroom doorknob, keep mace under the bed, take tylenol p.m., and pray to make it through the night. I know. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm really not.

Well, Jay is gone this week, which means... I'M BY MYSELF. In GUATEMALA. And umm, no one told us that traveling was going to be part of Jay's job when we agreed to come here. Granted, our boss, Phil, lives in the apartment downstairs. But hey, I can't think rationally at 3 a.m. Especially in Guatemala.

3. Fear of disappointing others

My first two fears affect me every now and then, but this one... Well, it runs my life. In the States, I was terrified of disappointing my bosses, my friends, my family, God. I felt that I was never a good enough student, employee, friend, wife, sister, daughter, etc... And I spent a lot of nights worrying about this. When I wasn't worrying about the stalker that is. :)

More than any of my other fears, I had hoped to leave this one behind. But unfortunately, it followed me to Guatemala, and it has been harrassing me ever since the preschool opened. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, we had a rough start with the septic system problems, but it's not just that. Several children have dropped out, and one of our teachers quit last week. Now, I'll readily admit that most of what has happened is not under my control, but the truth is that I can't help but feel like a failure at times. I can't help but worry that I'm disappointing my boss and the preschool sponsors, not to mention the students and their families....

So, in summary, this week is tough. And yet, here I am, getting up every morning and fighting my fears. If I can do it here, I can do it anywhere, right? But I couldn't do it without the love and support of my friends and family. So thanks to you all for your encouraging words and prayers.

Love, cc

Things I Did NOT Learn in Seminary

The clog in our blog over the last few weeks is due to lots of long work days preparing for and working with one of our biggest and most important teams this year - a surgery team from Canada. I'm totally drained, but it's been an awesome experience seeing them in action. In the past 6 days they have completed 25 or so plastic surgeries (cleft lips, finger/toe repair, amputations) and 20ish gynecological surgeries (hysterectomies, tubal ligations, ovarian cyst removals).
I've learned so much while coordinating the trip for this team, but it has also exposed just how ill-trained I am for certain aspects of this job. I seem to find myself in unfamiliar situations daily, and as I do, one thought continues to come to mind: I definitely did NOT learn how to do this in seminary!

IN SEMINARY, THEY DIDN'T TEACH ME HOW TO...
1. ...answer the question, "My baby hasn't fed in over a day and my breasts are full of milk. Can you help me relieve the pressure?" Ummm...a little help over here please!
2. ...speak Ixil, K'iche, Kakchiquel, Mam or Tz'utuil - just 5 of the indigenous languages spoken by our surgical patients this week. Somebody find me a translator.
3. ...watch a big toe be amputated without feeling a little woozy. Totally worth it : )
4. ...drive 3 hours to an unfamiliar, dangerous city with said toe sitting in the passenger seat next to me bouncing around in a jar full of formaldehyde so it can be biopsied. Don't worry though, sucking in fumes from chicken buses over the past 6 months has killed my sense of smell.
5. ...speak in Spanish with patients about their irregular menstral cycles and other "female problems" without blushing.

Fortunately, however, somewhere along the way I did learn how to comfort a woman who had just been informed that she had cancer, hold the hand of a man who was having his toe amputated, and spend some time listening to and encouraging a friend whose husband is an alcoholic. I guess when it comes down to it I'm really just a pastor at heart - a pastor posing as a volunteer coordinator/pseudo-nurse guy/wanna-be translator in Guatemala.

The first group of patients arrive at the clinic. I don't think they understood a word I said, so I just kept smiling.

I'm in there about 6" from the big toe. I didn't touch it, but kind of wanted to.

Team Canada at work. I've found a whole new respect for our neighbors up north. Can you believe they can do something like this in what used to be an abandoned building?

Shout-out to our friend, Dr. Candice, from Austin who came down to help Carey with the preschool. They spent the week brainstorming ways to improve the school...and were able to work a little free-time into the visit too.

Carey with the kiddos one day at school. They're watching several of their classmates act out "The Three Little Pigs" as the teachers read the story. So cute.

Just to leave you with a unique cultural experience, check out this 70-second video I took of the Sunday market in Chichicastenango (the biggest market in Central America). Note the local's traditional dress, the incense coming from the church, and the indigenous language (K'iche) being spoken by the man near me...

Peace, Jay

ps. Carey and I feel so thankful for your love and support. How can we ever repay you for supporting us in this work?

Hell, Revisited

I have once before referred to Guatemala as "hell" for those with Type-A personalities. After a week of having my own Type-A buttons not just pushed but jammed, it's clear that I was right. However, I feel that things are starting to happen in me that just may end up changing the type of person I am.
Last week I hosted a large and "complex" team here from San Antonio, TX. By complex I mean 2 eye surgeons (they performed around 35 cataract surgeries), 4 doctors (they saw 500 patients), 1 dentist (100 patients - around 200 teeth pulled), and a vision group (200 patients with new glasses). To say I was in hyper Type-A controlling mode would be an understatement (I was even scaring myself!)
One morning before I left with the team for Cunen (about 4 hours north of here), I woke up, and realizing that something in me needed to change, said a very simple prayer: "God, please remind me that I...am...not...in...control." Although I don't want this to be true, I now recognize that it is. I am not in control. And it's time to start being okay with it. I've been reminding myself of this very simple truth every morning since, and to be honest, I think there may be something to it.
Here's what I mean: my job is basically to help keep the teams safe, happy, and busy while they're here. The most important aspect of my work is to ensure that those with a need (surgical, dental, medical, or vision need) get hooked-up with our doctors while they're in the area. So, of course the worst thing that can happen, after months of advertising in rural areas that American doctors will be in town on a certain day, is that no patients show up. When this happens, manic Jay comes out to play.
Well, this happened. We show up to a town called Los Trigales with 2 doctors and a dentist ready to do some great work, and there is literally not one patient there. I instantly feel every team member's eyes on me, thinking, "I just spent how much money to come to Guatemala to visit a desolate rural community?" I freak. But then remember my stupid little morning prayer, "Jay, you are not in control," and start saying it to myself. See what I mean by "hell?"
Faith, Revisited
So we're all sitting there in our gringo-mobile, at a desolate rural community in the middle of nowhere, staring at each other (mostly at me, wandering, "now what, leader-boy?") And then one of our doctors says something I'll never forget. He says, "I can't wait to see what God does next." What!? This dude (a dude with Harvard education, by the way) and I couldn't be more different. He must be like, Type-Z personality. And apparently, he's the master of this "I am not in control" thing.
This is him (the smart dude) pointing at numbers with our vision team at a clinic. Oh by the way, we ended up leaving Los Trigales after waiting 45 minutes for patients to show up and went to a town named Chiul for what turned out to be a great day (with tons of patients). Later that night, the doc pulled me aside and said, "No offense, but I sure am glad that we ended up following God's plan and not Jay's plan."
Now I'm not really on-board with those who believe that "everything happens for a reason," but there just might be a reason why it's not very healthy (mentally or spiritally) to continue trying to force our own plan and control every situation in life. Instead, what if I learned, like the wise Harvard doc, to just do my best in every situation and kinow with full confidence that "I am not in control...and I sure can't wait to see what God ends up doing next."

This is Bob. He's the man. I worked with him and his wife Barbara all week as their translator. I hope I heard all the patients right when they told me which tooth they wanted pulled. Oh well, having one less tooth never hurt anyone, right?

Peace to you,
Jay

Deep Thoughts by Carey Cooper

Guat happens.

Yes, I'm thinking of another four-letter word, but it's probably not appropriate for the director of the Susanna Wesley Preschool to use that word. I'm pretty sure Susie wouldn't approve. :) So, Guat happens. And it covered our school playground/clinic waiting room the first week of school. I won't pretend to understand our septic system and can only say that it wasn't sufficient for 24 preschoolers who use the bathroom...well...a LOT. And so, we were forced to close the school eight days after we opened and have been scrambling to find a solution ever since (all while hosting two volunteer medical teams from the States). Again, I won't pretend to understand what's being done, but I'm pretty sure it involves digging a very big hole until $7,000 can be raised for a new system.

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers this week. We're reopening the school (Tuesday/Thursday only for now), and I really hope I won't be telling the students, parents, and teachers that we have to close the school again.

Yes, Guat happens. But it sure seems to happen over and over again to the people of Guatemala.

The Honeymoon is Over

They warned us this would happen. One of the final stages of culture shock, the one right before acceptance, is rejection. I am so there. We're 4 months into our mission here in Guatemala and I find myself in the proverbial valley.
- Things I once found exotic are now just annoying or weird.
- The Moshito I eat on most morning is starting to taste like part of its name.
- The original relief I felt upon realizing that I wouldn't be sweating 24/7 while living here has been replaced by the harsh reality that it is just really, really cold here (how is it possible to feel colder inside a building than outside one!?)
- I find myself humming the tune "It's a hard-knock life" from Annie more and more (Note: Yes, I recognize how strange it is for a grown man with a receeding hair-line to be projecting his life onto that of a young, orphan girl with a red afro.)
- I'm secretly angry at Carey for somehow managing to escape meeting my new pet friend, the amoeba.
- Eating home-made Guatemalan food is no longer a life-enhancing, cultural experience. It just brings lots and lots of pain (especially the ones that start with "Ch-," such as Chicharrones, Churrascos, or Chuchitos.)
- I've become more fearful of water than the Wicked Witch of the West in Oz.
- Is it wrong to put an elderly Mayan woman in a head-lock if she persists on trying to sell me a rubber chicken on a string? (I promise I haven't done this...yet)

On the bright side, I find it somewhat comforting that I'm so predictable that I seem to be following the expected order of the stages of culture shock. I've got one prayer right now: "C'mon Acceptance Stage!" Oh, actually two: "...and protect me from the evils of the Chicharrone!"
Paz,
Jay

Susanna Wesley Preschool, Camanchaj

Yesterday was our first day of school, and it was so much fun! We started our day with a warm breakfast of scrambled eggs, black beans, tortillas, and oranges made by the Salud y Paz Amigas. Afterwards, Seño Mary (one of our teachers) helped us brush our teeth, and this took quite some time because we have 24 students and one sink! Next, we had morning circle, where we sang songs and learned that the day is Monday, February 2nd. We also looked outside to check the weather and decided that it was a sunny day in Camanchaj. Then we played a game to learn everyone’s names and even got to draw a picture of a new friend. After snack, Seño Josephina (our other teacher) read us a story about school and asked us lots of questions along the way. Next, we talked about the rules of our classroom and then played outside with our teachers. After a delicious lunch of spaghetti, green beans, tortillas, and milk, we brushed our teeth, and then Seño Mary told us a story about her first day of school. We were really tired by then and glad that it was time to go home. But we couldn't wait to come back tomorrow!

Morning Circle with our teachers

Shelvin, the doctor, taking care of a "sick baby"

Karenlin and Jhoselyne

Astrid


Story Time

Brushing our teeth after lunch

Deep Thoughts by Carey Cooper

I can't remember the last time I felt so tired and so fulfilled at the same time. It was probably a mission trip. :) And now my life is one big mission trip. And sometimes it's hard. Some mornings, I dread the long drive on Guatemala's windy, treacherous roads to the COLD mountains of Camanchaj. (Remember last year when I was complaining about my commute to Princeton? Ahh, those were the days...) And some nights, when I'm especially tired and frustrated, I wonder if I'm really strong enough to do this work long term. But other mornings, I wake up thinking about the children of Camanchaj and am filled with a deep sense of purpose. The feeling is new and sometimes I don't recognize it for what it is. I just know that I feel happy and at peace. And when that sense of purpose stays with me 'til night, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for my life with Jay in Guatemala.

As most of you know, since we arrived in October, I've been preparing for the opening of Camanchaj's first preschool -- meeting with parents, buying materials, planning a school menu, hiring teachers and cooks, recruiting sponsors from the US, and hundreds of other little things that a graduate degree in education didn't prepare me for! Well, the first day of school is finally here (Monday, February 2nd), and it wouldn't have been possible without the support of a lot of people (including you)! Above all, I am grateful for the help of a team of 21 volunteers who worked tirelessly the week before our community-wide celebration last Saturday. Jay has posted some photos and videos of the big week below. And I'll blog again soon about the first week of school. Wish us luck!

La Directora in front of the school - obviously still a work in progress at this point...

...but a few days later, with the help of countless volunteers, it all came together.

Setting up for the big opening celebration on Saturday morning.

Check out this 100-second video of the opening day celebration and school classrooms. It's not a party until the mariachi band arrives.

With our two teachers, Mary and Josefa. Carey and I are giants in Guatemala (I love it here).

Carey's speech on video - 2 1/2 minutes of dominating in Espanol!

It's all about the ribbon-cutting. Carey doing the honors with Salud y Paz director and founder, Dr. Phil Plunk.

One of our students, Diego, wearing his new school hoodie, his mother, Candelaria, who works as a receptionist in our Camanchaj clinic, and Inge, who is sponsoring Diego's education. This was Inge's last day in Camanchaj, and she was honored at our celebration for the work she's done at Salud y Paz the past two years.

Ready or not...24 eager five and six-year-old Mayan children are showing up at the school at 8 a.m. Monday morning. Dios mio!