My Normal

I just want to feel normal, I told her as I sat in the airport waiting for my flight. I literally erupted in laughter as my friend responded over text with "you are a Canadian living in Guatemala on donations, with a backyard full of birds and chickens,  neighbours that kidnap your dog and hold them for ransom, and you drive around on a moto with perfect posture while wearing a gas mask.  You will never be normal." I have often thought back on those words last December as those feelings surface from time to time.

 Part of the journey living here in Guatemala has been finding a new normal.  A new way of speaking, grocery shopping, preparing food, dressing, exercising, doing church and the list goes on.  Balancing the extremes of great wealth mixed with extreme poverty and trying to make sense of it all.  My mom was just down visiting and asked the million dollar question.  "How do you balance it?"  Time for the truth.  I am still trying to figure it out.  I feel like it's never enough; that I'm never enough.  And the truth is, it never will be nor will I.  I pray everyday that I am a good steward of the gifts God has given me.   He has blessed us abundantly and  we have a responsibility to share our blessing with others.  I can't feel bad and own the burdens of what I see, but with prayer I can share what God has given to me.

We try and teach our kids this life lesson as well and yet I am learning so much from them.  One day while out doing our weekly soup/food drop for 2 of our local widows, Max taught me not only to bless but bring my best.  My oldest son has started his own chicken farm project.  He is raising chickens, selling eggs as well as birds for meat consumption. A simple poster taped to our front door is his marketing strategy. Week after week his sales were low and he was feeling discouraged after making a large investment.  He asked me that day if he could join me for the rounds.  To my surprise he ran and grabbed his prized hen.  It was so huge it could have had it's own seat in the car. I mean huge like flapping feathers in my face as I drove.  As we bounced along the bumpy road, he referenced a biblical story of sacrificing the best sheep.  He said that God had given him an opportunity that many don't have and that it was time to give to God what belongs to Him.  This was Friday night.  Upon arriving home, the door would not stop calling.  By Sunday, Max sold all his birds.

Today while I was out doing my rounds I just may have stepped in human feces as I delivered soup,  I   was chased by an angry goose, I stood in a dark smoke filled shack, held weathered dirty hands, was labelled 'gringa' by kids in the street, and was stared down as I went looking for a lady in the dump community.  All of this may sound abnormal or call it crazy but it's my normal and I will never be the same.