Parent-teacher-student conferences

About a week after the Ike aftermath/runaway/impromptu fall break was over, Vincent and I had parent-teacher-student conferences scheduled with his half a dozen teachers. One of his teachers had also suggested we all meet together, and so early on during this day off from school we also met in a conference room with five of Vincent’s six teachers and the new high school guidance counselor. This 25-minute session – plus meetings later in the morning with a couple of the teachers who hadn’t gotten to say much (paperwork from which is pictured above and far below) – were pretty extraordinary in a way – although they also included some potentially fatal bad information.

A majority of teachers in the meeting were teaching Vincent for the second, third, or fourth year. Several of them know Vincent very well – and have seen different sides of him. The two of them Vincent had as teachers going back to ninth grade were Becky, who had pushed us last spring to look at private colleges for Vincent, and Mary, who had written Vincent a wonderful letter of recommendation that helped make him one of the Brown School’s two nominees for the KY Governor’s Scholar’s program/competition 1 ½ years ago.

By the time of the meeting, we had figured that Vincent was failing four of his seven classes – including the all-important Advanced Placement Senior English class. Passing senior English is a requirement for graduating. In this and other meetings, we had agreed that Vincent taking a number of hard classes, taking an additional class because he wasn’t taking a Senior Seminar, and the school’s shift to block scheduling in which students take an additional class or two and have no class every day were all parts of the problem. But this was just the start. At this point I went into none of the runaway/child out of control stuff, although it’s possible Vincent had shared this (or his version of it) with some of his teachers or classmates.

Given that most of these teachers like Vincent and think he’s very smart and yet were becoming increasingly aware that the academic problems he was having in their classes were not isolated, the big group meeting had the tone of an ‘intervention” family members might set up to confront a family member about, for example, alcoholism. Perhaps the teachers and I were not that hard on Vincent – and Vincent for the most part took this somewhat in stride. Vincent stressed that he wanted his freedom, but the teachers stressed that this was illusory. Teachers’ opinions ranged somewhat – Vincent’s social studies teacher, with whom I’d already clashed, stressed that this was all up to Vincent (remember she’s the one that had stressed that Vincent didn’t need to pass her classes to graduate). Vincent had seemed to despise a couple of his teachers for being willing to cut him some slack and let him turn some things in late, but these two came late and we talked with them more later. Vincent’s English teacher stressed that senior English was the class he really needed to pass (both fall and spring semester, plus making up a social studies class we had just learned he failed last spring). Earlier in the morning this teacher had also mentioned to me that a relatively extreme option was that Vincent could “transfer” spring semester to Jefferson County High School (now a virtual school), which essentially meant taking more on-line classes like he started a couple of years ago both when he failed classes and for math standardized test preparation.

Some of these discussions continued in the three-way meetings, with Vincent’s French and math teachers. It was pretty clear Vincent had been doing almost no homework in some of his classes, in some cases not even in-class work, and had been flunking lots of tests. Vincent’s French teacher said he frustrated her in part because he reminded her a little of herself at the same age.

All in all – it was a pretty extraordinary meeting/set of meetings with some pretty extraordinary women – women who know Vincent well and care a lot about him (see also “Open house”).

One major mistake these teachers and Pam, the guidance counselor, made was something that bugged me they stressed so much to Vincent even if it were true. The argument that Vincent only needed to make up spring semester social studies and pass a year of senior English turned out NOT TO BE TRUE. In subsequent meetings, it became clear that Vincent also needs credits. It is true that he doesn’t have to pass ANY PARTICULAR class – except for those three – but he does have to pass SEVERAL classes, whatever classes they are. It seems to me that Vincent internalized the message the teacher communicated that it really didn’t matter if he passed most of his classes – and so he hasn’t. Back on this parent-teacher-student conference day, Vincent was passing his two social studies classes (Advanced Placement psychology and sociology) and journalism, his easiest class (somewhat ironic given my sociology and journalism background). This is what happened next:

Vincent, it appears, shaped up a little for a couple of weeks. You’ll recall also that part of the agreement with Vincent and Aaron was that we’d get weekly updates from teachers. Vincent never came close to implementing any of that – but I did try hard to keep a little more abreast of Vincent’s school work and we did try to get him to do more of it. But soon after the Danish exchange students arrived, Vincent apparently quit doing homework and studying again. For one thing, we ended having to rely on him ultimately, because he would for example say that what appeared to be math homework he’d already done in class, or it was optional – or such usually incorrect information – or he wouldn’t have brought home a textbook because, he said, he didn’t have any reading. Only a couple of his teachers gave him – I went back to checking his bag pretty much every night – anything close to weekly syllabi. It also didn’t help that the school is so poor that in two of his classes the teacher only has ONE COPY TOTAL of the textbook (students don’t have the book).

Pretty soon after the Danish exchange students arrived, Vincent also went back to being almost impossible to schedule. He came and went as he pleased which means we couldn’t ask him to do homework before going out. There were a few particular hangouts – people’s houses, a coffee shop, other places we probably didn’t know about – that Vincent, some of the exchange students, some of the hosts, and other hangers on – hung out at – but at almost none of these were they doing homework. Supposedly the Danish students had more homework this time, but I’ve never seen them do any. Also, part of what they were supposed to do in Louisville was to brush up on their English, and by hanging out with U.S. students they were doing some of that. But that didn’t help the Americans.

One thing I did work on hard with Vincent in early October – even with the Danes here – was getting him to do some reading for his Senior English class/senior project. For his project, he was supposedly volunteering at the local library, collecting books for the library, and raising money to put together a cross-high school literary publication (with submissions from people in different high schools). You’ll recall that he did a little volunteering in the summer and has volunteered once this fall. He started out working a little on the book collection and literary magazine. But writing the research/reflection paper that was to form a crucial part of that seemed to be particularly pressing. I worked with him to pick and find some books, articles, and chapters – some of them interesting-looking – on young people, reading, and – to a lesser extent – writing too. He started out reading some of these and then writing outlines – but – by the end – when he was racing to be able to leave – he’d do ridiculous things like supposedly read a book in 20 minutes and write an outline (let’s just say he was no doubt skimming a little). He was also supposed to be outlining chapters from his science and psychology textbooks, which we got him to do occasionally. Eventually, I also wrote questions – mainly multiple-choice and true-false – on his science chapters – he’s quit bringing home the psychology textbook – and on one of these chapters he actually earned a C on the chapter text. But even though he ended taking notes on five books and articles each for English, by the end of the second sixth weeks, it turns out he was still failing English badly – in fact, said his teacher, worse than any senior at Brown she remembers ever teaching. Also, whatever little push we had done in math, French (I also got him to do some verb conjugation exercises that I made up by buying and delving into a French verb book – this is something he had scored badly on some of the quizzes), science, and psychology were just a drop in the bucket. There was too much work he still wasn’t doing and were too many tests he was still failing.

Vincent was also staying out late with the Danes. On one of their last weekends here Vincent persuaded me to let him stay overnight at the home of the family that was hosting his Danish host from June – which was an error on my part – because instead of coming home early to go to bed the next night (the original policy was no sleepovers unless he had the whole next 24 hours to stay home and sleep), he ignored us and went to a movie we wouldn’t have let him go to and – after another conversation with a police officer – figured out where he was and picked him up at the movie theater. (We’d called and talked with the police several times and each officer told us something different – but the officer who came out after Vincent declined to come home and skip the movie made it clear that he had experience with the county’s incorrigible teen policy and he said eventually involves setting up a bunch of mediation meetings and no teeth for a long time – Ultimately, he said, don’t call us unless your kid has really been gone for a day or two – and don’t bother with the incorrigible teen process (he didn’t mention taking Vincent to Nebraska) – just wait until he turns 18 to kick him out.) The next week after the Danes had left, Vincent and I also went to a couple of family events and gone home late. All of this contributed to Vincent getting a cough and then after several weeks finally getting sicker and missing three days of school – with the ridiculous third fall break they got for Election Eve and Election Day – he was out again for nine days. This put him further behind in school work – you might recall that at the Open House Vincent’s science teacher had said emphatically: “You cannot miss any more school.”

Vincent had also gotten stuck – in the abstract – doing more housework. In addition to the raking that accumulating leaves was pressing him to do and the usual chores, Vincent had finally complained one too many times about how we always ask him to do stuff and never do anything for him that Stephanie asked him to start washing his own clothes – all of the dirty clothes each weekend like we do. Vincent had occasionally also complained when we didn’t do his day-old laundry immediately and he also complained when I “rotated” his laundry by inserting T-shirts or other clothes items that he hadn’t worn recently or tried to get him not to wear only black T-shirts when it was in the 90s outside. We also in principle paid him an allowance for doing his chores. Increasingly, he hadn’t been keeping up with raking, chores, or laundry. It’s been easy for me to continue rotating his clothes because, if he gets that far, he usually doesn’t get them out of the dryer (he’s usually long gone by that point) and so I end up folding and hanging some of them up and – in the process – go ahead and rotate them.

At some point in here I heard from several of Vincent’s teachers that he had quit doing his homework again – this is why we didn’t end up taking him to another anime convention – this one in KY south of Cincinnati, which we’d gone to last year – and I also stopped in to see the guidance counselor, who gave me some more information about Vincent’s options. Vincent could transfer to the “e-school” Jefferson County High School and take the three required classes and probably half a dozen classes he’d need to earn enough credits to graduate. Brown currently has only one high school student going “co-op” taking several classes and working for pay also (but Vincent might now need too many credits to do this – plus I don’t think he could take several classes and work part-time and still pass his classes.). At that point, I was still asking whether Vincent could just go to school part-time (she said No – the people we think are doing this are also taking some classes down the street at the community college where Vincent went in summer 2005) – (this is now irrelevant because Vincent will need too many credits now). Pam has also now said that Vincent could “repeat” 12th grade but he’d probably have to do this elsewhere because he GPA has sunk too low to stay at Brown next year.

By early November the second sixth weeks was ending. That weekend we had received a note from Vincent’s English teacher that - even with the senior project research paper reading notes he’d apparently turned in on time – he was still failing senior English – in fact, worse than before. On a mid-week day I stopped in to find that Vincent was now failing both of his social studies classes (apparently in part because he wasn’t outlining his psychology textbook chapters and because he’s missed papers partly while he was out sick and hadn’t arranged to make this up – I know he’d read the 1,200-page Stephen King book that sociology students were to read). After school Vincent and I – and, later, just me – met with Pam and Becky, the English teacher. Pam printed off a second sixth week’s report card which confirmed what we already suspected – Vincent was failing six of seven class, all but the (easy) Journalism class. Vincent and we went back and forth some – Vincent said this was all up to him – wasn’t his Mom and my business – I said it was all of our business – and also saying that if he has to leave Brown he wants to drop out of school, go to Ohio, and work as a mover with his father. This is the first time I’d heard him say some of this – when earlier we’d talked about him possibly going to Ohio he said he’d rather stay in KY (where his friends are). Also – when he was mad once or twice he’d talked about wanting to drop out (once – right after the Danes left – when he was sad about this and we were trying to get him to do some work.)

(Keep in mind that Stephanie and I spent probably $50,000 and a good 10 years of her life - to keep Vincent from living with his father and we know – at least in the medium run – he won’t be able to go to college and possibly we won’t see him much if he goes up there – but at times we wonder if that might be the best for him, since we’re not terribly inclined to sign off on him dropping out of school. And if he transfers to the e-school but then does no work, because he wants to drop out, but just sits at home and sleeps, reads, watches TV, instant-messages, and talks on the phone, until his friends get out of school (not counting the ones who have already dropped out or graduated) and then goes out with them – that’s not so great – we wouldn’t even get the baby-sitting service of the school (and whatever learning Vincent is doing that is giving him 40 or 50 percent averages in many of his classes instead of 0 averages). (One of Vincent’s friends is apparently joining the military, and very recently Vincent mused about that, although I personally think Vincent would not last very long in the military, and a big reason why Vincent said he might consider the military – even though he can be militantly anti-U.S. – is so that he can kill people, which doesn’t seem so great to me.)

(I sometimes consider cutting Vincent some slack for two reasons: him going to visit friends all the time is not something totally different than what he used to do when he was younger – except they were neighbors, we knew where he was, and he didn’t necessarily have a lot of homework and housework left undone – plus I know this is the first time in years he’s gotten to stay at the same place for more than a year or two – and that accounts in part for his excitement about spending a good part of his senior year socializing – BUT many of his friends from his first 2-3 years at Brown he is no longer close to – he’s suddenly gone cold turkey on church, but now hangs out with a kid ostensibly from church who he never liked before who has already dropped out and is in fact over winter break going to live with his father (in this case – in California). He also hangs out with some Danish exchange student hosts and hangers on – some of them sophomores and juniors who apparently don’t have much school work or aren’t doing it – and, in another case, a Brown graduate (who did manage to graduate).)

(We took Vincent to those colleges in part to inspire/motivate him to work some at school, but this obviously didn’t work. Colleges are still contacting him, but it’s obviously a waste of time for him to apply for an Honors college (even though he has the ACT scores to get into) or for academic scholarships and even if he stays at Brown I don’t think I’ll waste his or our time or money getting him to apply to any colleges at least until after the New Year.)

But back to the key story. Vincent’s English teacher – at that meeting – laid out a scenario in which he could pass her class – both by completing the work that was already due between then and the end of the year, and completing and turning in a bunch of past due work – most he’ll still fail if he turns it in, but he’ll earn 40s and 50s instead of 0’s – which could help him pass. Vincent actually hedged about this, saying he didn’t really want charity – didn’t want to give him just half credit for late work – but then he said he’d do it. After Vincent rushed off, Becky suggested two other things. Becky said she would e-mail me the same list she would give to Vincent later that week – but she asked me to do one other thing. Having observed Vincent and me at the meeting (she and Pam said Vincent can be very sweet and first they said they don’t recognize this (really just – for him – slightly sullen, slightly argumentative persona) mad Vincent – when I said this was nothing compared with what we see at home – then Becky said – No, I’ve seen Vincent really mad), Becky – who like us – hinted that she feared Vincent was partly failing just to spite us – and Becky and Pam also believed that we might need to let Vincent fail – so he can learn his own lessons (something Stephanie had mused about too – whereas I thought responsible parents would let their kids go out on the town knowing they had lots of school work to make up if they were going to pass any of their classes) – suggested that she give Vincent that list and then we should let him decide whether he wants to do any of that or any work for his other classes over the last month of fall semester. If he worked hard, he’ll pass some classes. If he doesn’t work hard, he’ll probably just pass Journalism – and may be on his way to Ohio. Several days later I got an e-mail message, as promised, from Becky, with the list of projects Vincent could make up.
Two ways in which Bekcy’s pitch was a God-send: Vincent and I had really been clashing and – in practice – her pitch became something more like letting Vincent do anything he wanted – Vincent has only been doing his chores, laundry, or yard work episodically. Also, making up even two science exercises for Vincent – even though I didn’t mind doing it – it helped that environmental science is somewhat interesting – I read a better explanation for a coral reef than I could find when I was doing my Florida book – was pretty time-consuming – and would be more so if I was also trying to outline Vincent’s psychology book.

Vincent and I have gotten along much better now that I don’t try to get him to do much homework and chores. In practice, Vincent has gone out just about every night he could squeeze into – although we’ve also slipped in several family trips that we’ve talked him into that have taken a little bit of time up.

Thanksgiving break was the final D-Day. We spent about 36 hours away, but otherwise Vincent had Tuesday evening and all day Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday to work. He cleaned his room for a few minutes, started his laundry, Saturday worked for about an hour apparently on an English essay, and Sunday for a similar amount of time. He spent two or three minutes starting science homework he has Wednesday. I think this means he’s trying to keep up only with current English homework – not counting the big senior project research paper draft due at the end of the week, which I don’t think he’s started – and has during the past three weeks only done two or three of the nine past due English assignments Becky asked him to do.

We’ll have to figure out what kind of options we want to give Vincent at the end of the semester, since it seems obvious that he will fail all but Journalism, including the required English class (in the area he said he wanted to study – bizarrely, over Thanksgiving, he wouldn’t tell someone in TN a prospective major – but he did mention Wittenberg, an OH school that had fallen off my radar because he said he didn’t want to go there. Of course, it’s preposterous now that he could get in or we could afford it). I personally want to give him a choice – either make up the two classes during winter break, working hard and staying here instead of going to see his father in OH, and take and pass the two final exams by the first day of spring semester (after school) and stay in Brown if they’ll let you – or just finish the World History class before going to OH and come back and shift to Jefferson County High School and take the three required classes and other electives to earn enough credits to graduate early (before his birthday) (but there is no commencement at JCHS) and then get a job.

But it’s ultimately up to Stephanie (Stephanie, whom I somewhat unintentionally goaded into violating the spirit of Becky’s pitch and bugging Vincent a little about his work). I’ve only barely started looking into the OH option. There has to be an official custody change order if Vincent is to transfer to Groveport-Madison (OH) High School – but that’s not really the idea – but to protect Stephanie from any liability – and to protect her teaching license – we’d probably need to figure out how to accomplish this. I’d want to find out if we’d need a lawyer (ironically, we’re just finishing paying off the lawyer who represented Stephanie at the 1999 custody trial) and whether we’d have to suffer the indignities of paying child support for 4-5 months (even though Vincent’s father owes Stephanie thousands of dollars of back child support, having only paid $25 in the last four years) and the court appointing Vincent a guardian ad litem (see “Blast from the past”).

Ultimately, Stephanie may decide that it’s worth it to keep Vincent here with us and supervised to let him keep going to Brown – if they’ll permit it – even if there’s almost no way he’ll graduate and it’s even unlikely pass very many of his classes. The fact that Vincent is doing little work at home and is still being obnoxious even though he pretty much does whatever he wants makes me wonder about this option. But it’s up to her. What happens in April or June – if Vincent is still here despite him saying he wants to be gone immediately and we’re no longer legally required to look out for him – if he’s given up trying to graduate or going to high school, doesn’t necessarily have a job, is doing little around the house, and saying things like “Get the f[deleted] out of my way!” when he runs into us – could become more of sticking point between Stephanie and me.

P.S. Even though Vincent and I have been getting along better, in the back of my mind I don’t forget that – the way he’s been acting – he cares so little about his future and about staying in Louisville with us that he won’t even do a modest amount of work to make it so he can graduate from high school and unambiguously stay here with us – and this is a little irritating/sobering.





-- Perry

Birthday weekend

A week of school - I believe - after Vincent's de facto week away and the Ike aftermath - and the weekend after Stephanie's birthday - we helped celebrate two other birthdays on the same Saturday. Vincent helped his former prom date, Jessi (with whom we had commiserated - along with her family - in the "Reintegration" dinner), celebrate her birthday (Jessi and Vincent hug, above) with a party in lovely Tyler Park, near the Highlands (near where Vincent would soon spend even more time). I stopped by with a visit and wished Jessi happy birthday and chatted briefly with her parents, Lewis and Debbie.



For the second time in three years, we also helped friend Sarah (pictured below) - who's shown up in previous blog entries (including "Pie night" and "World fest") - celebrate her birthday. This time was with a group of friends at a lovely Italian restaurant not too far from her home - not too far from where Vincent's been to a skating birthday party, where we watch games with the Seminole Club, and where we shop for Korean food. Sarah is associate pastor of a sprawling nearby Presbyterian church whom we met when we've visited there for services. She has a fun group of friends whom Stephanie knows a few more of now, now that she's joined Sarah's book club.

Sarah's friend, Kim (below), also an organizer for the bookclub, helped serve as a decoy at a famous worship service at Sarah's church.

Sarah put together a fun trivia game about guests at the party, which forced us - between dinner and cake - to talk with everyone - we had to match each person with a fun fact about them on a card. Wendy (below) and Rich (further below) were people we had never met before, but got to talk with during the game.

The man below and then below below that (Jonathan and Sara) are fun friends of Sarah we met when the five of us plus Vincent went rollar skating. Vincent resisted skating and it turned out it was partly because he had an in-grown toe nail, which we promptly got treated (ow!) early that coming week. After skating (same place Vincent went to the birthday party) we went to Starbucks and closed them out - as - among other things - Vincent and Jonathan talked about video games.

Sarah had a beautiful birthday cake - which Sara had actually baked.

Sara lit the candles.

Sarah - who I believe is several years younger than Stephanie - had no trouble blowing out the candles. Boy (below), did Sarah love that piece of cake!

We stayed around talking for a while, and Sarah and Stephanie posed here with Julia, a friend with whom we went to a concert at a church with a Christian rock band, Newsong, whose leader Stephanie had heard speak way back at Aucilla Christian Academy (FL) when she taught there. (He was promoting an earlier tour and criticizing the theory of evolution.)

As we left, Sarah suffered an occupational hazard - she ran into a parishioner (on a date!?), but she handled that - as with most things - gracefully. I went on to pick up Vincent at Jessi's house. We had all three apparently enjoyed the respective birthday celebrations in which we had participated. Click on the play button below to watch and listen as we finished singing Sarah "Happy birthday."

-- Perry

Blood clot

After a long weekend of resting from my trip to Guatemala, especially since I had a head cold, I returned to work on Monday. While I was in Guatemala our principal and guidance counselor had rearranged our schedules. They were nice enough to give me the morning to do lesson planning and rescheduling before I pulled kiddos. As I sat at my desk trying to figure out what to do next I noticed my leg hurt. I put it off as just being achy from having a cold and possibly a fever.

Tuesday night we had a Veteran's Day program at school so I stayed late and Perry and Vincent joined me. Again my leg hurt, but as long as I walked around (with a slight limp) and didn't sit too long I felt better.

By Wednesday night I knew something was really wrong with my leg. The pain had been getting worse over the course of the week and as I thought back the pain had really started Friday night/Saturday morning. I had tried staying off of it, trying to walk it out, and even taken aspirin. The aspirin seemed to help some, but the nagging pain just wouldn't go away.

Thursday Perry called our doctor. The receptionist talked to Perry about my symptoms and made an immediate appointment. He explained that I had been on a long flight to and from Guatemala--five hours each way-- take birth control and have historically high cholesterol. She thought I might have a blood clot. Luckily, I have a great principal who let me leave work early Thursday to go to the doctors. Sure enough when I went in and spoke to Dr. Haney he was convinced that it was a blood clot and made an appointment for that night at Baptist East Hospital.

The picture above is me registering for the Doppler sonogram at Baptist East. Alicia did my sonogram once we were in the room, but not before she complimented me on my matching shoes and purse (got them in Guatemala).

Alicia first did my right leg to get a baseline even though several years ago I had ruptured my calf muscle in my right leg and so it actually isn't/wasn't my good leg. When she did my left leg she went down the entire leg. When she got to my calf she kept going over and over a particular spot (the most painful spot). She had earlier told us that she couldn't tell us her findings, she would have to give them to the doctor first. She did say that Dr. Haney had given her instructions to call if she found anything significant. At the end of the sonogram she said I could get dressed but I couldn't leave. She needed to make a phone call.

After a rather lengthy wait, Alicia returned to say that I was to go home, stay off my leg, and keep it elevated. I was to return on Monday morning for a second sonogram. Yes, I had a blood clot, but it was not in the deep veins. If it would have been more severe I would have to be admitted and put on blood thinners immediately. I was lucky. On Monday they would be checking to see if the blood clot had moved or changed in any way. If the blood clot moved it could go to my heart, lungs, or brain with pretty serious consequences.

Monday morning came early. Perry drove me to my appointment back at Baptist East. A vascular tech student did my sonogram this time. She was very thorough and willing to show us and explain stuff to us. She said I already knew that I had a blood clot and what kind so she wasn't really telling me any new information. When she was finished she had a vascular tech confirm her findings.

She explained that the veins when pressed will contract. If there is a blood clot they can't contract. Here I believe she is showing us how my upper thigh veins are collapsing the way they are supposed to.

Perry found all of this fascinating, especially since he wasn't there for the ultrasounds with Vincent. The tech student and I agreed that it is much more interesting when you get to see a baby instead of just veins.

She was able to confirm that there was no change in my blood clot, but she did say that there were two blood clots, not just one. They were in the distal/mid calf and go all the way to my ankle. The pain I feel is the blood pooling and pushing on the clot.

After all the testing more calls were made to my doctor to find out what the next step would be. Dr. Haney said I was to continue to stay off my leg, take an adult strength aspirin every day, keep my leg elevated when I'm sitting, and for pain take Darvocet. When I asked about interactions with my other prescriptions I had to talk to my specialist.

I returned to work on Wednesday after calling Dr. Stokes. She confirmed that I can't take Ponstel and aspirin at the same time, but I can still take birth control to keep my Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome in check.

The techs said that calf vein blood clots will go away with time. The aspirin should help since it thins the blood. It will also help with the pain. I've since tried to ween myself from the Darvocet. I first started to only take it at night and now I've essentially gone the whole weekend without it (except Friday night when the chairs at the play were killing me). I don't like depending on pain pills, but if I need it at least I have it. The techs said that the blood clot could go away in a month to six weeks or even longer, but the severity should lessen over time.

--- Stephanie

Singing in Kek'chi

In July 2007 our church, Crescent Hill Presbyterian, went on a mission trip to El Estor, Guatemala. Together we studied Spanish to ready ourselves for our trip. We met once a month and of course I got to speak with my students at school. I tell someone to pull up their pants, tuck in their shirt, and put their gum in the trash can. All good phrases when you teach ESL to middle schoolers like I did in Florida, but not so good on a mission trip.

When all of us arrived in El Estor we were all in for a surprise. I wasn't the only one who didn't have enough language skills. None of our group spoke Kek'chi the Mayan indigenous language that is spoken in this region of Guatemala.

We attended services in two different churches. They sometimes sang in Spanish, but for the most part they sang in Kek'chi. At one church they had modern instruments like drums and a keyboard. At another church they had a more traditional instrument, a marimba. Four men played the marimba perfectly synchronized. The pastor of the later church, Gerardo Pop, taught us gringos how to sing Amazing Grace in Kek'chi. When returned to the states we tried to sing Amazing Grace to our own congregation. We figured no one would no if we made a mistake or not.

On this last trip to Guatemala Gerardo was there to meet me. Again he sang in Kek'chi with some of his fellow Presbyterians. It was beautiful (if you drowned out the talking in the background...we were in a metal roofed dining hall which allowed everything to echo). If you listen closely to the Kek'chi you can see how guttural it seems. It reminds me a lot of Arabic. I studied Arabic in college, but have lost most of it since I don't get a chance to use it.

-- Stephanie

Amatitlan, Guatemala

After our mission trip to Guatemala our church had pondered our next step. Do we go ahead and form a partnership with the newly formed Estoreno Presbyteriano that we had visited? or Do we focus more on mission here at home? Lots of meetings later (and attending the Amigos de Kek'chi meeting in Tennessee...see July entry) I volunteered to go back to Guatemala and represent our church at the Guatemala mission network meeting in Amatitlan, Guatemala.

I got a week off work with only one day without pay. Our church, the Guatemalan national church, Perry (who was a big help), and many others (including Ellen, who was a missionary in Guatemala during our first trip) organized transportation, shelter, and food. I just brought my rudimentary Spanish, notes from the meeting, and willingness and openness to talk to our potential partners about forming a partnership.

I arrived to the Louisville airport only a few minutes later than the recommended hour before my early morning flight. Of course, Perry and I didn't remember our conformation number. Then while trying to use my debit card to check in the kiosk shut down. I went to try the next one and it turned off also. It was a conspiracy to keep me in Louisville. After stressing out as I watched the arrival and departure board (which didn't show my flight at all) I finally got checked in. I had just enough time to kiss Perry goodbye, take my shoes off, rush through security, and rush to my terminal. I didn't even have time to sit down before they were calling to board.

Since it was so early (if I'm remembering right 6:53 am was the official time we were to leave) I slept on the flight from Louisville to Houston. Once I got to Houston I grabbed some breakfast and made my way to my gate. Once I was there I met up with Stan (who works at the Presbyterian Center and helped organize the whole meeting), Becky, Morton, and Jim (who attend a Presbyterian church in Howard County (Maryland) that has a partnership with Boca Costa Presbytery in Guatemala). Stan knew I was coming but we had never met. Since I had my jacket on that mom had made from Guatemalan fabric that I brought home last time, he was able to figure out who I was. Thanks, Mmom!

Once I landed in Guatemala City I was amazed. I was just here in July of 2007, but boy things had changed. The airport that had been under construction last time I was here. There had been cement barriers and rebar sticky out every where. Now the airport seems to be finished. Shiny floors, golf carts to help people get around, and McDonald's now greeted us. I couldn't help but think...is this the same place?

Carlos and Nora, Guatemalans that attend our church, had given me some packages to take to her family. I placed the slippers and tea in my duffel bag while I packed. Nora's brother, who I had met briefly when he was in the states, was to meet me at the airport. I knew he didn't know very much English, I didn't know very much Spanish, and, remembering from my last trip the throngs of people who stand outside to meet you, I was a little nervous.

After checking through customs, retrieving my bag, and meeting up with the others I braved going out into the throng. I hoped I could find Elmer, but was intimidated remembering the oppressive feeling last time I walked out these very doors.

But, to my relief, in the middle of the whole crowd, in front, holding a sign that said "Stephanie," was Elmer. I quickly walked around the metal crowd control barriers and met him to the side. I gave him a big hug and handed over my/Nora's packages. To my even greater delight he gave me a bag with TWO packages of Guatemalan coffee to take home. That was a great thank you gift for taking up a small space in my luggage.

Now I just had to try to meet back up with the group that was attending the meeting. I found them and ran over to the group only to learn that others were coming in also on different flights and we had time to kill before we took off for Camp Monte Sion. While we waited we got to know each other better and watched families being reunited with lots of tears and hugs.

The mix of traditional clothing with Western fascinated me, just as it had last time. I wasn't fast enough with the camera to catch this woman while she was talking on her cell phone. But if you look carefully you can see the white socked foot of her child sticking out of the bundle on her back.

To my surprise and enjoyment, Jose, who drove all of us on our last trip, was going to be our driver again. He still works for PRESGOV. PRESGOV becomes an important entity during the week and I learn much more about it. I was still happy to see Jose. I was even able to show him the small book I wrote/created about our last trip. He found the pictures of himself and laughed since he has lost weight since then.

On the drive to camp we drove through Guatemala City and on to Amatitlan. This is a house we passed as we came into town. I love the colors.

This was my first glance of the lake that I would be seeing every day for the next week. It was beautiful. This ends up being the closest we are ever to the lake since the camp is on the side of a hill/small mountain overlooking the lake.

We arrived at the camp grounds (after Jose went up a one-lane road on the side of the hill and learned that it was under construction. Jose was able to back down the hill and we got to see the lake again from pretty close up) and found our cabins. The Norte Americanas (women) were in one cabin, the mission worker women in another room in the same cabin, the Norte Americanos (men) in another cabin (much larger and much closer to the dining hall), and the Guatemalans in other cabins (I never learned which cabins were theirs).

Our cabin had five sets of bunk beds. We were lucky enough that only one person had to sleep on a top bunk. This is Jane (from Heartland Presbytery in Kansas) in front of her bottom bunk. My bunk is to the left of her. You can see my red Guatemalan bag sitting on my blanket.

This is the road that Jose tried to come in on but wasn't able to because of the construction on the outside of the camp. The whole camp was beautiful but it became treacherous at night. No lights, tree roots, holes (these are important later) and no paths made the road a landmark that said your close to the cabins. Yes, some of us came prepared with flashlights, but did we remember to take them to the meetings? That is the real question.

This is another more decorated cabin. Keep in mind the cabins have no heat, no air, no hot water. Heat is your blanket, air is opening the window. You don't flush toilet paper because the plumbing can't handle it. You put toilet paper in the trash can in the bathroom. Six women were in our cabin. We did have electricity, but this is pretty close to roughing it when you think how old the mattresses really are. The first night we killed cockroaches and sprayed the beds with bug spray, but after that we were just too tired to really care (except for the night I woke up to find a cockroach crawling on the wall beside my head...I slept the rest of the nights facing away from the wall...I just didn't want to know if anything was crawling there).

Once we were at the camp and unpacked, I wanted to explore. I walked around to the front/entrance of the camp and looked out over the lake. Across the lake from the dining hall was a beautiful white building. After asking lots of Guatemalans what they thought the building was we think it was a finca or plantation owner's home. I still am skeptical. It looks so much like an Orthodox church of some sort, but who knows? It was beautiful to see, especially using the zoom on the new camera Perry bought me for the trip.

I found one of the caretaker's homes in my wondering around. It took me a minute to figure out what this was. It is beans drying in the sun. My Grandma Gregory used to do something like this with green beans for the winter. She called them leather britches. She would string them and hang them to dry. In the winter she would boil them to rehydrate them. That way we could eat beans all year round. I'm almost positive that is the same concept for these beans. I wish the lady I saw peeking at me from the house would have come out. I would have loved to speak to her. She was probably busy with children or cooking or housekeeping.

In my exploring I found Pastor Pop. He is one of the pastors from the presbytery we are interested in partnering with. I was excited to find him so early on. Jane helped me talk to him and Pastor Pablo, the presbytery president. Pastor Pop and Pablo brought with them Alberto and another pastor that I am having problems remembering his name. Alberto was Pablo's brother. The other two pastors were from the Izabal Presbyteriano that Estoreno just broke off from.

I was able to learn that the breaking off of the other presbytery was because of geography and not because of problems between the two groups. Now there is a presbytery on either side of lake Izabal. The distance was too much for them to have regular meetings.

Judy helped me talk with Pablo. You can see the lake behind them. I gave them some money/Quetzales for their travel to the meeting. They had taken a twelve-hour bus ride to get to Amatitlan. They were also quick to tell me that it is much colder here than in El Estor. Most of the Guatemalans were freezing. While it was cool there, it was much warmer than it had been back in Kentucky.

The first evening there most people were busy trying to get to know each other. Becky is a nurse from Howard County. She has been doing mission trips to Guatemala for several years. She showed us a video that she had helped produce to show her congregation some of the projects and people they work with. She was a wealth of information on forming and maintaining successful partnerships.

They did have two pools at the camp. It turns out this is the Presbyterian retreat/camp for all of the Guatemalan Presbyterian churches. This pool had a waterfall also. Unfortunately, it was too cold to go swimming. It was still pretty to look at.

Dave from Peace River Presbytery (my old Presbytery in Bradenton) was also informative. He works (along with Miguel...being shy...that is his arm) with Guatemalans in the Myakka River area. When I taught at Johnson Middle School I did have several Guatemalan students. It was nice to make that connection.

While talking to Dave, Miguel, and Rumouldo (I'm not sure of his spelling...he was a Guatemalan pastor from el Norte) I noticed smoke coming from the grass. Growing up in the states when you see smoking grass you think of cigarettes not fully put out, and so I started to go up to step on it to put it out.

Rumouldo was nice enough to explain to me (in Spanish...so I might not have it all right) that it wasn't cigarette smoke I was seeing. It was steam. We are in volcano country. The volcanoes, even when they aren't being visually active, heat the water in the ground. The water in the ground escapes from holes called fumerollos.

Here is Rumouldo laughing at my fascination with the fumerollos. After he explained them I started to notice them every where. He said that some places they try to fill in the holes because they get too big and you can trip in them. Sometimes they fill them with cement. Jane and I warmed our hands by one early one morning. Yes, it was warm, but sitting near them made your pants wet! Too much steam.

Each morning, while we waited for breakfast to be prepared, everyone came out and enjoyed the view of the lake. Guatemalans and Norte Americanos both watched the sun rise over the lake. Some people said that several years ago the lake had been extremely polluted. They had put into effect measures to help clean up the lake. When I asked about fishing as an industry for the lake they all said no. The lake was still too polluted. I wonder though... if your poor enough are you tempted to eat the fish?

After breakfast we headed over to the building that we would end up using for most of our meeting. Almost all the meetings were held in Spanish. Many of the Norte Americanos were fluent or almost fluent in Spanish so this made sense. While I can hold my own in a short conversation, I was worried that this was going to be over my head.

I didn't have to worry. Stan and his team (Christy and Tracey) had brought headsets. Those of us that needed them wore the headsets while Christy or Tracey translated simultaneously into a small microphone. I felt like I was at the United Nations. I was also relieved to see I wasn't the only one needing this crutch. Gloria sat beside me and made me feel at home.

Geraldo Pop also sat behind me at most of the workshops. I tried to sit close so I could understand better. It was a test of my Spanish but sometimes I surprised myself. I think part of this is due to going to Carlos's Sunday school which is in Spanish. I knew the language for partnership in Spanish.

Pablo was sitting close to Gerardo. It turns out that Gerardo was also trying to translate some of the more complicated ideas into Kek'chi, their indigenous Mayan language, for Pablo and some of the other pastors that came from the Lake Izabel region.

At the meeting there were about seven different languages not counting English. Spanish is the langauge that most of them use when they are in groups like this, but when they are back in their own communities there are at least twenty-three Mayan languages in Guatemala.

At the meals it was interesting to observe that all the Guatemalan men lined up first. There was none of the North American hanging back and afraid to be first phenomenon. They were hungry and let the women know it in a nice way.

The meals were excellent. I had to take at least one picture of the meals. When I ate at Rumouldo's table I had to explain that Perry (mi esposo) would be jealous. There was no one at home to cook for him. Rumouldo and I showed each other pictures of our families. He had pictures on his cell phone and I had taken pictures on the new camera before I left. He has a eight-month-old grandaughter. She was very cute.

I did eat the salad while I was at the camp. I know in El Estor I was told not to eat anything not cooked, but it looked too good. It was excellent with a lime dressing. After this meal I wished I had enough Spanish to go back and ask for the recipe for everything, especially the lime flavored rice and chicken.

After every meal, especially lunch, there was the mandatory game of soccer. Most of these men are older than Perry, some even in their sixties, yet they are out there running around like kids. Some North American men joined them also. I didn't think running around after eating was a good idea. I probably should have, given what happened when I got home.

Not everyone stayed in the game. Some people enjoyed a short relaxation time. I thought of siestas, but was told that it was a myth that Guatemala had siestas. They have to work too hard for what they have to have siestas. Poverty takes that luxury away.

The first big workshop was presented by Carlos (not the one from our church). It was about partnership and not hand outs. It was interesting looking at the theological background for partnership. He used the scripture of Philippians 2:1-12 as a basis for some of his teaching. I was glad I remembered to bring my bilingual Bible. I was able to follow in Spanish what he said (while Tracey translated in my ear) and I even let Tracey use my Bible so she could use the English translation to read for those of us with the headsets.

Carlos's workshop was also important since he focused on a partnership not just North Americans coming in on a white horse and saving the poor indigenous Guatemalans. Partnership is not just about money and saving people. For a true partnership both partners need to have something to offer that the other group needs or wants. Indigenous Guatemalans often feel that they have nothing to offer. Carlos made a point of saying this isn't true or the North Americanos wouldn't be here.

Having attended Sunday school at Crescent Hill with Carlos (different Carlos) and discussing these very issues made it easier for me to follow.

Ivan Paz also spoke. Then his brother (I don't remember his name) spoke. Ivan's brother had a Powerpoint about some of the problems Guatemalans face. He talked about poverty. One of the things that facinated me was that the number one source of outside money for the whole country of Guatemala was remissions from Guatemalans that are working in other countries. This topped mission work, tourism, even exporting coffee (they are the number one country in the world to export coffee except for Vietnam).

It was also interesting to be in this meeting with Guatemalans. I don't know how I would have felt to hear how bad the state of the U.S. is in with foreigners present, even if they are well meaning. I also didn't know how many of those present, Guatemalan or not, already new some of the information he shared. I was aware of some of the information...the large population under the age of 17, but not all of it.

Here is Christy trying to keep up with all of the translating. As long as she didn't move too much we were able to follow her. If she moved too much we lost her transmission. At one point, since I sat closest to her, I had to whisper that we couldn't hear her. Of course that was after I looked around the room and saw all the North American lost faces.

At one point in the evening Gerardo and the other pastors from the Lake Izabel region got together and sang hymns in Kek'chi. I hope to post the short video later. I tried earlier but it seems you can only post one video per entry (or it is operator error and I can't figure it out). This is a picture of their hymnal they sang from while we waited for dinner.

The next day at the next workshop we talked about being considerate of each of the different cultures. Stan and Ivan made a point of switching shoes. Each of them wore one of their own shoes and one of the other persons. They took the walk in the other persons shoe literally. They actually wore them all day. You'll have to look closely at the picture of Stan to notice. He is the person with their legs crossed, one white shoe, one brown shoe.

Of course, before I left for this trip one of the things the people of the church asked me to do was vote. I had gone and voted early the week before the trip. I signed a paper saying I would not be able to vote since I would be out of town. When I had to say where I would be it was fun to write Guatemala. When the poll worker saw this they asked if I would be on a mission trip. I explained that in a way I was. He asked what church/group I would be going with. I explained that I would be going alone but meeting up with others. I would be representing my church, Crescent Hill Presbyterian. He laughed. He attends a Presbyterian church that Perry has done some volunteer work with during tax season.

Needless to say I cast my vote, but in Guatemala, with no tv or radio in English or otherwise at the camp, we weren't able to follow the election that day. A big thank you goes out to Blackberries and cell phones that work in Guatemala. During the big meeting of all the North Americans (we were discussing how a network should be formed/if it would be good/what was its function/who should lead us/how it could be better) text messages were coming in with electoral vote counts. We would sneak looks at each phone that actually worked (most North Americans didn't bring phones...except Stan and Ellen).

On the way back to our cabins (rambling through the trees and hoping not to trip over tree roots) we got the news that Obama had 284 electorial votes. By the time we found our cabins it was clear it was closer to 300. A cheer resounded from the women's cabin (both rooms). We laughed when we realized that so many of us doing mission work are also a little on the liberal side. Only one North American owned up to being a Republican during our evening conversations, but even he was pro-immigration.

Early the next morning Ellen made sure to get the newspaper. We wanted to read what the final count/score was.

We got several different papers. The Guatemalans all congratulated us on selecting a president. It seemed that most of them had prefered Obama. There was a slightly festive air to reading the paper. I have to say it was my first experience of what it would be like to be an expatriot. I would be reading about these type of events while surrounded by things so not "American." In some ways it seemed surreal but, in others it gave us "Americans" a sense of how the rest of the world views our political process.

I still wanted to go exploring since we had been in workshops most of time (or eating). I wondered off during the after lunch soccer game and found the kitchen area where the famous black beans were cooking. We had black beans at almost every meal but, they are so good. When I got back home and had to go to the doctor's he did a full blood work up on me. It turns out my cholesterol is the lowest it has been in years. I think I need to contribute that to all the fiber in the beans and the Guatemalan meals. Even the meat when we had steak wasn't fatty (no hormones plus cattle and chickens are grass fed/free range).

This proves my point about the free range chicken. I'm sure no Guatemalan in their right mind would put chickens in cages in which they had to feed them. In our cabin we were very aware that the chickens were all free range. A few mornings they were right outside our doors when they decided to crow. I also learned that chickens crow any time they want to, not just as the sun comes up. This particular rooster was very brave to be so close to the kitchen but, maybe he thought hiding in the poinsetta tree would help him.

The poinsetta blooming reminded me that we were in November, even if it didn't feel like it. The poinsettas were blooming all over the camp. They were all wild and essentially trees not potted plants that someone had paid for.

After lunch we had a more interactive workshop led by Tracey and Christy. Tracey said everything in Spanish and Christy would translate. We were asked to work in groups to list five things that a good partnership needs. We then presented them and added them to the lists of others. This was a good exercise since this was Guatemalans and Norte Americanos working together to comprise the list. It was good to see what each group really thought was important. Two things that were listed over and over again werenguage skills (yes, I totally agree and am working on it) and transparency for funds.

Below is Ellen with her group presenting. Every other group had sent one person up to speak but, this group truely was a partnership. They came up together and then each person presented just one of the ideas.

Jim from Howard County collected all the notes/papers we had written on and compiled them into a spread sheet/bullet form so that they could be distributed to everyone. The points are going to posted on the Guatemalan network Web site. Hopefully this will get the network up and running so that everyone can discuss via the computer things that are going on in their partnerships. This will allow others to use some of the same ideas or let others know problems groups are facing. This was a big reason to come to this meeting.

Here are some of the ideas that people had. We also sorted them into major categories. This worked to help simplify what the areas of concern are.

Again, transparency of funds was a big issue. The transparency discussion led into a discussion of PRESGOV, the part of the Guatemalan Presbyterian church that helps with mission trips (we used them on our previous trip). While I didn't have much to add to the discussion having only used them once and not seeing any problems many people did have some major issues with PRESGOV. The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) (PCUSA) will no longer be working with PRESGOV due to some of the infighting. This means there will be no one to help with mission trips as translators and cultural attaches. Guatemalans and North Americans both were upset with PRESGOV and their work. Pastor Pop and his group, my potential partners, brought up that they had even been misinformed about the days of this very meeting. They had gotten there a day earlier than the meeting had started after traveling for twelve hours. When they arrived to the camp it was closed and they had to find somewhere else to sleep for the night. While they didn't say where they slept it was strongly implied that they had had to sleep in the woods with no food.

This workshop went on for some time. Even though it was participatory we eventually got antsy. During one of the breaks instead of going up for coffee and cookies several of us went over to a clear area on the top of a hill. From this hill you could see Picaya, the volcano a good portion of our Crescent Hill group had climbed on our previous trip.

In July 2007 when we had climbed Picaya when we got to the lava falls we had been surprised to find that it was still steamy hot. Many of us didn't even go to the top. I know I didn't. When the walking stick Douglas had made for Soni fell into one of the cracks and started to smoulder I thought it was a good idea not to go further up. I was afraid I would have to stop and the soles of my shoes would melt. The below picture is our group resting and snacking before taking on the lava flows. Perry, Doug, Gabe, Andrea, and Daniela did go almost all the way to the top. I went up a little farther but eventually stopped at the fire started by the walking stick and the hot lava.

On this trip the camp was only a twenty minute drive from Picaya. As we walked around to look at Picaya during our workshop break we realized that Picaya was smoking. You could actually smell the smoke and this really kicked up my allergies. That morning we had noticed the sky was overcast but, in hindsight it could have just been the smoke clouds and not rain clouds. It ended up being a beautiful day, even if the air quality from this natural pollutant wasn't great.

When we had climbed Picaya before it had erupted four months earlier. The lava under the hardened crust was still hot. This time the smoke coming out of Picaya was substantial and the fumerollos were steaming pretty strongly. I'll be watching the news to see if there are any eruptions in the next few weeks.

That night Ellen (who was a mission co-worker who accompanied us to El Estor on our original trip and who has since retired to Louisville and comes to our church) was key in finally getting to talk to our partners. After dinner we all sat together (after they talked me into trying the pickled chilis...I'll pass next time).

At last I got to do the real thing I was sent to Guatemala to do. I brought out the gifts and notes that I had brought. Pen in hand and coffee to drink, I was ready to go.

After our last trip to Guatemala I had used a free software (Realewriter) to create a book with pictures and text from our trip. I had made copies for Perry for Christmas and several people from church who were interested asked for copies. I thought it was a good idea to bring the books and make copies for each of the churches in our partnership presbytery. It would remind them not only of who we are, Crescent Hill Presbyterian, but also what we did while we were there.

Gerardo and Pablo both loved the books. I think they were excited to see pictures of people they knew. Gerardo was pointing and laughing "there is my nephew." They were also happy to hear that I remembered almost everyone's names in the pictures. There were a few pictures with children I couldn't remember or pictures of the men's workshop I didn't attend, but on the whole I tried hard to remember everyone. This made Gerardo and Pablo feel that we already are connecting and caring for each other.

On the last trip we held a women's workshop. I did get to go to this while the men went off to the nickel mine. All the women/girls were given a paper broken into six squares. We were asked to draw parts of our day and how we saw God in what we did throughout the day. This way language was not a barrier until we discussed with our groups what we had drawn. Many times the pictures spoke for themselves. This was stealing from some of my English as a Second Language (ESL) teaching strategies.

When we left El Estor to come back to the states we brought those pictures with us. Soni, a member of our church, came up with the idea of taking some of the pictures and turning them into cards. We ended up choosing twelve pictures that meant the most to us women. Some pictures we chose because of their beauty, but others it was because of the simplicity and what they represented. Last Christmas Soni, Perry, Ada, and I sold these. We set up a stand outside a local bookstore and then was able to talk the bookstore into carrying them for us. We even sold one to Louisville's mayor. Lots of our friends and family also received these cards as gifts.

I brought packages of the cards for Pablo and Gerardo. With Ellen's help I explained the cards and how by selling these cards it has helped our church have the funds to send me to this very meeting. Their indigenous women helped a Norte Americana come to learn more about them and to try to figure out a partnership. I tried to emphasize their own role in this since Carlos earlier in the week had said that indigenous Guatemalans feel they have nothing to offer back. These drawings helped make my trip possible. Gerado and Pablo were impressed.

The next morning was to be a good-bye worship service. After the service everyone was disbursing to different areas. Guatemalans were going home. North Americans were either going home or on to their partnership meetings. Ellen, Grace, Judy, and I were going into Guatemala City to stay the night before Ellen and I flew home and Grace and Judy went to a seminary to attend another meeting. Gerardo and Pablo left very early for El Estor. They had at least twelve hours of travel ahead of them. Then they would need to prepare to lead worship service for their own churches.

The morning worship service was led by Miguel. He is from Guatemala. He is an ordained pastor. He has moved to Peace River Presbytery and works with Guatemalan immigrants. I had had several conversations with him and Dave about their work. It was interesting for Miguel to be representing North Americans but actually being Guatemalan. He could see from both perspectives the challenges we face.

Miguel started us off with us singing a song in Spanish. I'll post that later. He made a point about how there were so many languages present today. I believe he said people from seven language groups had attended this meeting. He had one group sing in their language. Another group led a prayer in their language. Of course service was in Spanish and Christy and Tracey translated into English.

He then had us take our shoes and socks off. Given that this was pretty early in the morning and the church/worship space is essentially open to the outside we were a little apprehensive. I thought he was going to have us exchange shoes like Ivan and Stan had done earlier in the week. I didn't know who would want to wear my stinky shoes.

Instead of exchanging shoes he asked for symbols of God and the work we were doing there that would transend language. Dove, Bible, and the cross were all given as examples. He had us put our shoes in the shape of a cross as he gave us a lesson on the history and significance of shoes.

Miguel said that shoes were a product of war. Invaders wore shoes so to protect their feet as they came and destroyed or conquered different lands. If you think of the Nazis you think of their boots. If you think of the army you think of their boots. Throughout history shoes have been a symbol that we are protecting ourselves from others. Without our shoes we are vulnerable and open to harm. When we are together we can allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Together we are under God's protection and doing God's work. We are walking together under God.

This was probably the most touching and emotional part of the week. I hope I'm remembering everything. The Norte Americanos sang Sanctuary for the group and then a group of Qe''che speakers sang Joy, Joy, Joy. It was all very touching. The video of the Qe'che singers is at the bottom.

Before all of us left to go our different ways Miguel had us put our shoes back on and remember that the shoes are to protect us from the world.

Several groups left in the PRESGOV vans. Some left by car (one North American Presbytery actually rents cars and drives on their mission trips...I can't even imagine how they can drive in Guatemala). Many Guatemalans headed towards bus stops. It was a quiet time to reflect as Grace, Gloria, Judy, Ellen, Stan, Christy, Tracey, and I waited for our van to take us back into Guatemala City.

While waiting I explored further into the camp. It was beautiful. The sun was warm and shining brightly. The grass and trees were green. Poinsettas were blooming. Butterflies were zooming everywhere.

Jose returned with the van and we loaded up. Going back into the city we passed trucks carrying water. Water is a big industry in Guatemala since you can't drink the city/well water. Water is the source of lots of political problems. I tried to take a picture of the water truck as we drove by. I was very cautious and did NOT take a picture of the armed security guard riding on the back of the truck with a shotgun. Security guards carry large machine gun and shotgun-looking weapons in the open. I had witnessed this before in Antigua and El Estor, but here the security guarding the water with a gun seemed so unfair. People should be able to drink water without being harmed.

Vincent remembers Gallo, the Guatemalan beer, from our last trip (he better not have had any). The company that sells Gallo also sells water. A big company with lots of money for lobbying politicians.

On the way into Guatemala City we passed workers putting up this huge Christmas tree in a plaza. If you look closely you can see Gallo written in white on the red ribbons. Gallo Christmas tree seems slightly odd. A Christmas symbol with a symbol of alcohol? I guess we have Santa and materialism. We just have to choose our vice.

On the way to the hotel we also drove under a replica of the Eiffel Tower, Reformacion Tower. This picture was taken out the back window of the van. I was impressed with the discord between modern aspects of Guatemala City and the smaller towns like El Estor and Amatitlan. From looking out this window at all the buses and cars streaming by you would think you were in any big city in the U.S. except for the smell of diesel hanging in the air.

Merchants sold everything on the streets. I didn't take my camera with me to the market. Ellen and Judy strongly discouraged this. Guatemala City is known for its violent crime. We walked from the hotel to the market and when we were leaving we saw a small example of this. Several young boys were chasing and then beating on a older more dissheveled man. Eventually he handed over a large handful of necklaces or bracelets (I tried not to get close enough to see exactly what it was). The young boys walked back to their stall and started rearranging their display. Obviously the man had stolen from the boys and the boys instead of calling cops (which can be corrupt) they took justice in their own hands.

I bought lots of Christmas presents at the underground market. I had only a few Q left but found a place that took credit card. I bargained a little but after realizing that I had spent over a 1,000 Q which really was only a $100 I felt I shouldn't bargain too much. One begger woman and her child followed us around asking for money until I explained I didn't have and Q I only had a credit card.

We walked to the Presidential Palace Plaza before heading to find dinner. There had been a protest going on earlier. We sat and watched several shoe shine boys. For three Q (less than a dollar...7.58 Q equaled a dollar during our trip) they shined, buffed, and polished the shoes. I hadn't seen people shine shoes that vigourously since my Grandpa used to shine his wingtips. Gloria pointed out that shoes really have to last in Guatemala. Shining them helps them look nice and last longer. Almost all the shoes I saw people wear were leather, again so they would last.

After leaving the Presidential Palace Plaza (which is now just political offices) we walked back to the hotel. We stopped at one of the vendors for bread, cheese, and fruit for dinner. This isn't the vendor we bought the fruit from. I took this picture from the van, but it gives you a good idea of how everything is for sale. There were lots of fruits I didn't know what they were. The orange/tangerine type fruit I got was very juicy.

When we finally got back to our hotel, Hotel Spring, we walked through the maze of open hallways and piazas until we got the very back. The whole hotel had been rented out by a group of international sports players. There was a big tournament going on. This particular group was from Nicaragua. Ellen had tried to get reservations three times before they found us two rooms. We were way in the back, but we were happy to be away from all the young people. We were originally afraid they would be up partying. They soon settled down and we realized if they were going to compete the next day they would be sleeping.

This is a picture of the first interior courtyard/piaza in the hotel. We were in the back with our own secluded courtyard. It was very peaceful and quiet and I was looking forward to my first hot shower in days. At the camp there was no hot water. You played hokey pokey in the shower. You put one arm in and got it all wet. You took it out and soaped it all up. Then you put it back in and shook it all about. Washing your hair this way really wasn't fun. Sometimes you almost forgot to breathe. I had also started to come down with a head cold so was looking forward to warming up and relaxing.

This was a tree in our secluded little courtyard. After trying to figure out the hot water (I failed...I later learned the spigots were mislabeled...I did get a hot shower the next morning) I sat in the sun in the courtyard and tried to warm up. My head cold was really starting to come on full force. I went back into Ellen and my room and took some allergy medicine (I was still hoping) and tried to watch the Spanish news to learn more about the world in my absence.

Later I joined, Grace and Judy for our peasant dinner. We had lots of things to talk about and to learn about each other. Some time during the evening the hotel proprietor came and knocked on our door. They asked for a name close to Ellen's but not quite right. They said Elmer was there looking for her. Ellen and Gloria had gone to dinner with some friends. Judy and I rushed off to the front desk to see what was going on.

We were happy to see it was Elmer, Nora's brother who had met me at the airport. He had brought gifts for us to take back to his sister. He also brought gifts for Ellen and me. It was all very sweet.

When Judy and I returned to the room we had the story of the chicken. Ellen during my mad shopping spree had looked through the market for a chicken. She hadn't told anyone what type of chicken, just that she was looking for a chicken. She hadn't been successful.

Elmer had brought Ellen a fabric chicken that covers a tortilla basket. Big and orange, we wondered how it would fit in her luggage. We also wondered was THIS the chicken that Ellen was looking for. We laughed and figured Elmer knew Ellen's wish. When Ellen returned she was dismayed. No, she had been looking for small clay chickens that fit in your hand. They often sell them in markets with the momma chicken surrounded by her chicks. Needless to say the basket got left behind and the big, orange chicken was flattened and packed.

Speaking of chicken I can't help but exclaim over Pollo Campero. The first time we were in Guatemala there wasn't any fast food. This time there was Burger King, McDonald's, Pizza Hut, and Taco Bell. It was a little disconcerting. But there is also Pollo Campero. Pollo Campero is Guatemalan fast food. We ate there the first day when we arrived on the way to camp. I also ate there at the airport while waiting for my flight to leave.

Pollo Campero is a successful Guatemalan company that has expanded and is in many different countries. I don't really like fried chicken (even if I live in Kentucky) but this was good. The company had worked with chicken farmers to guarantee the safety of their food along with produce farmers. It is a success story, even if it is fast food.

I took the picture of Pollo Campero on our way to the airport. I also took a picture of Burger King, but it was too blurry. It was interesting to see large businesses with small merchants out front selling similar things. Advertisements for Porsches were on billboards as we passed women walking on the street in traditional dress and piles of things on their heads to carry home. Guatemala is changing but it is also staying the same. The disparity of wealth we complain about in the U.S. is even more pronounced in Guatemala. Maybe this trip can help bring those in poverty (a family living on less than $1 a day) to more equal standing. Just maybe I can have my eyes open to what poverty really is and become more grateful for what I have. Maybe through all of this good things can happen for all our partners.

The trip was very meaningful. I'll have to try to figure out how to post the other videos, but here is the video of the group who speaks Qe'che singing Joy, Joy, Joy.

-- Stephanie