"Un Privilegio"

On my final day in San Lucas, there was a Mission-wide Mass. Emerson, my dear friend and supervisor, informed me the day before that myself and long-time Mission driver Rich were to do the collection. I had never been asked before. I was excited, and frankly, a little nervous to do so.

The next morning, I had my final breakfast at the Mission. For those who aren’t familiar, visitors, volunteers, and local staff always gather to have the meal together. Every day it is kindly prepared by two cooks, who we lovingly call chulas or cuties, who have spent the larger part of their lives feeding the many people who come through San Lucas.

This sunny December morning my plate was filled with a scrumptious omelet, refried beans, and fried plantains. I tried my best to savor and appreciate my chula-made meal, but I was in a bit of a rush as Mass started in ten minutes. I jokingly said to Emerson, “Chanin cha, la Misa va a empezar,” or “C’mon let’s go, Mass is about to start,” in which he responded, “No soy la que tiene un privilegio,” or “I’m not the one who has a privilege.”

I gave Emerson a puzzled look, not understanding why he said “privilege”. I had never heard the word used in that context before. My friend and coworker Fernando explained to me that any duty at Mass is called a privilegio. I quickly stored that lesson in the back of my brain, not giving it too much thought, as I continued to scarf down my omelet and then sprinted to the front of the church.

I was raised Catholic, confirmed within the Catholic church, and even attended a Catholic university. However, it wasn’t until my time in San Lucas Tolimán, observing the visible and devout faith of the parishioners and, admittedly the strong faith of fellow Long Term Volunteer Adrian Brown that I began to practice my faith more seriously. The growth in my faith I experienced made this final Mass in the parish feel especially sentimental. I will forever miss that packed church and look forward to returning to it sooner than later. 

After having done the collection with Rich, which went smoothly despite having hit a few people in the lap with the collection bag, I returned to the pew. I knelt down to pray, and shortly after this word that Emerson and Fernando had just used --privilegio-- floated back into my mind. 

While on my knees in that pew, it occurred to me that "privilege” is the perfect word to sum up my year in Guatemala. The people I met, friends I made, the lessons I learned, the faith I fostered, and the challenges I tackled have been nothing short of a privilege. 

Although it was sad to close this chapter, I left feeling truly blessed for the time I got to spend there. I have returned to my hometown a slightly changed version of myself. I can do the same things and hear the same words, but they are filtered through a different lens. It’s difficult to explain, but I can feel something in my heart and my brain has been altered. Maybe I am closer to God than I have ever been before? Maybe my time in Guatemala and the people I lived it with helped to clarify what my values are in life? One month out, it’s not totally clear to me all the ways this experience has shaped me.

…

For the closing song of Mass, I secretly had a song I was hoping would be played. It’s a favorite of Adrian's and mine as well, and when we attended Mass together, we were always delighted to hear the song. It is a beautiful expression of gratitude, and I thought it would be the perfect song to round out my time in San Lucas. It goes:

“Ya no me falta nada,

  lo tengo todo

  te tengo a ti.”

“I lack nothing anymore

 I have it all

I have you.”

However, to my surprise, I heard a song less familiar to me. But then the lyrics began that I couldn’t mistake:

“Señor me has mirado a los ojos

Sonriendo has dicho mi nombre

En la arena he dejado mi barca

Junto a ti buscaré otro mar.”

“O, Lord, with your eyes set upon me,

gently smiling, you have spoken my name;

all I longed for I have found by the water,

at your side, I will seek other shores.”

This song is called Pescador de Hombres or in english “Lord, You Have Come to the Seashore”. 

The first time I heard this song was in a singing circle with a special visiting group called St John Neumann. The visitors would first sing it in English, and the Mission employees would follow in Spanish. The next time I heard it was at my Papa’s funeral in March that I traveled home to attend. It was a song that my Nana had specifically chosen, I believe, because of his devoted time in the Navy and his love for the ocean. 

The following time I heard it was at a funeral Mass for a 7-year-old student at the Mission. She had fallen ill and suddenly passed away. For me, it is difficult to hear this song and not be moved to tears. It makes me think of my grandfather, of Yennifer, and of San Lucas in general. 

The final lyric, Junto a ti, buscaré otro mar or “At your side, i will seek other shores” hit me on a different level that sunny December morning. I was almost in shock hearing those lyrics.

I went into Mass hoping to hear a song with an entirely different message. One that expresses gratitude and a certain level of completeness. However, this song played, which is about starting a new phase in life and trusting in God in the face of the unknown. It was a scarily accurate song that I didn't know that I needed to hear.

Leaving San Lucas was not an easy decision for me to make. The Long Term Volunteer role is a 3-month minimum commitment. As many of my loved ones know, I went down to Guatemala thinking I would stay for six months, and I ended up staying for essentially one whole year.

Even at the end of November, with the plan to return home for the holidays, I secretly wanted to come back to San Lucas in January, not feeling ready to close the chapter. I even briefly considered an English teacher position for the 26-27 academic year at a school in the town over.

However, after a few frantic phone calls with my parents and guidance from past LTVs, I decided it was best to return home for good in December. I missed my family, my savings account was running dry, and something in my gut was telling me there was a new opportunity out there waiting for me.

The stark contrast that final day between the song I wanted to hear and the song I needed to hear still almost shocks me. That last morning of mine in Guatemala, I still didn't feel entirely confident in my decision to leave. I believe through that song, God was reminding me that he is with me.

I truly feel that the time I spent in San Lucas has been nothing short of a privilege. It was not easy to leave, however, the time has arrived for me to buscar otro mar or “seek other shores”.

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