Fuego de la Tierra y Agua del Cielo

In the last two days, a volcano erupted mere miles from us and a tropical storm hit everyone hard. Guatemala city is covered in ash, which has turned into heavy, heavy mud because we got over 30 inches of rain yesterday alone. San Pedro has turned into a river, other towns are experiencing landslides and flash floods, and as of this morning some houses have been completely destroyed and others are filled with feet of water. Children have lost their homes. Families have lost their loved ones. Many are stranded, with no way to get back into Guatemala (both major highways, to El Salvador and Mexico, have been totally shut down). Had we been an hour behind schedule yesterday on our trip, right now we'd still be on a little macadamia nut farm on the way to San Antonio with no way to get back into Antigua. An American man who lives in our house, a state department worker learning Spanish so he can go on a project in Honduras, didn't come home last night, even though we called and said he'd be back my 7. Our mom said, "Jeremy no viene y estoy preocupada", and I think she was speaking for everyone in Guatemala.



Everything is changing.

About 20 minutes ago, our whole PHA group was in Sevilla, sitting in a huge circle and sharing how we felt about yesterday, when the storm was completely in Antigua and we were all out in it. Lots of people talked about how much it "sucked" to be so wet, to be walking around in the incessant torrential downpour, how they were "annoyed" because it was so uncomfortable and because this wouldn't have happened back home. Yeah, we got wet. Yeah, we walked through puddles up to our knees and took pictures in the fountain en el centro because we couldn't possibly have gotten any wetter. And no, this wouldn't have happened in America. But wasn't that the point?! Wasn't it surreal to be such a part of something so big and out of our control, something we'd be part of afterward too? The only thing I could think about during this discussion was that this trip was becoming something much bigger. It's exciting and scary and unbelievable. This isn't Haiti or Katrina, we aren't just watching, we're a part of it. Tomorrow we're going to San Pedro not to teach, but to see if the kids need our help. We're bringing all our donated clothes, and all our biggest smiles, and we're gonna work our butts off for anyone who needs it. This project isn't about teaching kids how to say "naranja" in English anymore, it's about rebuilding families, and homes, and hope. I think that's much more valuable, and despite all the struggle this country is going through right now, I couldn't be happier. I feel like I'm in the right place at the right time.