These months have been marked for me by a deep gratitude, just to be here. I've never been this close to so much pain, joy and struggle before. I´m living in town that was greatly affected by the more than 30 year long civil war ening in 1996, and then suffered a huge mudslide in 2005 from Hurricane Stan which killed hundreds and of people and destroyed a section of the community, including the only and newly completed hosipital. There are still over 200 families living in temporary housing which are 1 or 2 room structures with a roof, plastic sheets draped down as walls, and dirt floors. In the time I've been here, 2 special needs children who recieved services from the organization I work for, ADISA, have died. One of them died in the hospital from malnutrition 5 minutes after I was sent to check on her. Alcoholism and domestic violence are all too common. All that I've read in statistics about education, health, poverty is now the woman at the store in front of my house, my coworkers father, my neighbor, my friend... And people, unlike statistics aren't static. They are working, playing, making jokes, worrying, praying, going to church, cooking, washing clothes, sweating, sleeping, feeling cold, getting soaked in the rain, hoping. All of this has been a daily challenge of what does it look like to be a part of their lives, to see how God speaks to those most in need.

Here are a few pictures, a little bit of what I've been up to the last few months:

ADISA youth and young adults were invited to the Palacio Nacional (something like the Guatemalan White House) for the iniatiion of a new governmental job training program for youth with limited opportunities. It was exciting for everyone to take a field trip, see the president up close, and most of all to eat Pollo Campero or Guatemalan KFC afterwards.

Some of you know I tutored a Guatemalan family living in Oakland, CA in English for a year. Only half the family lives in California and the other half still lives in Guatemala. And I was recently able to visit them for a couple days. Above are the parents, their three youngest children and 2 grandchildren. The boys (along with about 5 other neighbor kids) spent the whole night asking me how to say things in English. The most repeated phrase was "Come on, hit me!" which I suppose is important if you're a ten year old.

Painting a local building to look like the indigenous woman's blouse, the guipil with a group of friends who organize community projects.

Learning to weave on a backstrap loom with my teacher Maria. Almost all the women here still wear all hand woven clothing.

Eating elotes with Hanna and Jane, fellow Young Adult Volunteers. I have to say most the street food is deeelicious.

My first time dressed in the indigenous clothing of my town, with two of my host siblings. My host sister doesn't like to wear the skirt called a corte because its uncomfortable. After trying it myself I understood why, but it is certainly beautiful.

Helping make one of the street carpets from died saw dust during Holy Week in front of the Catholic church. There were carpets on about 8 blocks total to be admired for a few hours only before an all night street procession passes through.

Making chuchitos, literally translating "little dogs" with my friend and her mom for her dad's birthday. They're similar to a tamale and delicious.