Tuesday, April 28, 2009

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!

Friday, April 24, 2009

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!

Friday, April 17, 2009

"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

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

"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

Thursday, April 2, 2009

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.