Muddin’ Guate Style

Long time no update! Time in Chicamán/the villages has  been flying! As of today I only have 19 days left in Chicamán and I can’t believe it! 

Over the past two weeks we have had so many incredible experiences that I plan to share later. However, today I wanted to share a day that our team will never forget.

On October 2nd our team left our home (which we lovingly refer to as El Café) at 4am to drive two hours to the top of a mountain. 

With sleepy eyes and willing hearts we began what we thought was going to be a few mile hike into a valley. Our plan for the day was to visit a remote village named El Naranjo. 

Our host told us it would be a few mile hike to the village so we packed a few water bottles of Agua Pura (safe drinking water) and a few snacks. Our host also said the trial will likely be muddy from all the rain we had gotten lately and recommend we wear shoes that could be hosed off later. So naturally our entire team strapped on our chacos and were ready for all the mud the trail could throw at us- in retrospect this was a poor choice. 

I should also note that when we travel to the villages we wear ankle length skirts. This is standard dress among the indigenous women, and as guests in the village we want to ensure that we are being culturally respectful and sensitive.

We were told when we arrived in the village we would be greeted by the pastor’s family and fed a meal before continuing to the church. 

Skirts on and chacos strapped, we started the climb down the mountain.

This is where we got a bit of a reality check: The first quarter mile of the trail was essentially an ankle deep mud pit on a vertical incline. We looked like baby deer on a frozen pond trying to navigate down this section. Almost every one of us wiped out at least once. 

From there we continued carving our way down the mountain in more mud for many miles. Our chacos/feet were so caked in mud that our feet were sliding out of our chacos over the edge of our shoes with every step. Switchback after switchback we were made our way around trees and through rock gardens. 

When I lived in Virginia I had the opportunity to hike a fair amount but I can assure you I’ve never experienced any “trail” like this before. 

Then we came to a clearing in the trees and our host, pointed to a river at the bottom of the valley, snaking its way through the mountains. “That’s where we are going. The village is just above the river” he informed us. I think every one of our jaws hit the floor. We had been hiking for close to an hour at this point and the river still looked like a speck in the distance.

Nonetheless, we continued on. 

After 3 hours, and close to 6 miles later, we arrived in the village caked in mud and hungry for breakfast. 

The mother of pastor had graciously prepared a meal for us. Snail soup! She had harvested fresh snails, fish, and crab from the river that morning. I can guarantee none of us were prepared for the meal that was staring back at us (literally) but we needed the calories and nutrients if we were going to have to hike back out of this valley later. The soup was seasoned well and after thirty minutes all that remained were the bones of the fish and the shells of the snails and crabs. Our stomachs were full and our hearts filled with so much gratitude for the hospitality and kindness of this family. 

The pastor (whom we have had the privilege of spending a good bit of time with in Guatemala) led us to the church just a short walk from his mother’s house. 

Turns out he doesn’t actually live in this village anymore. The village of El Naranjo (where he grew up) didn’t have a pastor or anyone willing to lead the church. So he stepped up, and every Sunday he and his wife complete the hike we had just finished in order to serve the people here. 

That day, I had the privilege of sharing a message with this church, along with one of my teammates Amy, and our host Wesly. We had three messages that we had prepared independently, but it was incredible to see how interconnected they were. It was evident that God had something he wanted to express to the church in this village.

Following our messages, my team got to do kids ministry with the village children. We did a teaching, played games, sang songs, colored a little bit, and played while Wesly continued sharing with the adults. One little boy took a tumble and I got to put some of my CNA skills to work as I  patched up his head. It was sweet to be able to serve in this capacity again, even if it was just a cleaning and bandaging a cut. 

Following this we went back to the pastor’s parents house where his mother prepared eggs, beans, and tortillas before our trek back up the mountain. 

Enter rude awakening number two: if we thought the descent into the valley was bad, the climb out was about to be much worse. Our suspicions were in fact correct.

We climbed the vertical trail back to the top for four hours. I think this hike broke each one of us at different points. We were under fueled, very dehydrated, and our muscles crying under the constant ascent.

About halfway up I was done. I was exhausted, frustrated, and experiencing a thirst like I never had before in that moment. I only had 1/4 of a water bottle left and many more miles to go. 

But then Hans, one of the men who works alongside our host, found a pineapple on the trail. With his jackknife he cut into it and we passed the pineapple down the line. Juice ran down our faces and hands. We basked in the joy that this pineapple brought us. It was a true gift from God. After collectively devouring the fruit, we felt substantially refreshed and we continued. 

The last two miles of the hike were the most brutal part of this entire journey. Bodies running on E, our teams morale began to fall. 

In those last few miles I did the only thing I could think to do. Take my mind off my circumstances and pray for friends and family. We also had a little portable speaker with us that we used for kids ministry and so our team blasted worship music as we climbed. We took turns praying out loud for each other and thanking the Lord for the opportunity to speak in that village. 

An hour or so later, we crested the top of the mountain. It was a moment of pure joy. We tossed our packs down and pounded the little water we had left. 

I can assure you none of us ever want to do that hike ever again, especially under the conditions we did it in. However, I also know each one of us would do it again in a heart beat if it meant being able to bring encouragement to a place that described themselves as forgotten.

This entire experience truly iterated the fact that (physical) hardship exposes our desperate need for God. A humbling awareness that we cannot do it on our own. 

Not only do we have constant access to the God of this universe through prayer, he graciously provides people around us that help pick us up and point us back to Him. As a team we walked off that mountain more bonded and united than ever before. We had more compassionate eyes for one another and we’re filled with a gratitude for the task God placed before us.

If you made it to the end of this very long story, thank you! I pray that this story is an encouragement to any of you walking though a hard season of life. I pray that you have eyes to see God even in the midst of your hardship. I  also pray that you don’t allow your circumstances to sit in the drivers seat of your life but recognize he’s always with you even in the thick of things. 

Romans 5:3-5 says, “And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that afflictions produce endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us, because Gods love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who is given to us”. 

That verse says Gods love is POURED out. It’s not just a trickle, it’s POURED out. Gods intentionality in our lives to complete a good work in us is evidence of his abundant love and kindness for us. When we understand that God has a good purpose for our lives, even painful things are put into a different perspective.

Mikahla