What living in Quetzaltenango can teach about grace

The mountains surrounding Quetzaltenango are one of the first things I notice every morning when I step outside. I have seen these mountains every day for the last month and yet I always feel the compulsion to stop and look, trying to soak in every ounce of awe I feel in the presence of something so much bigger and older than myself. Inside the confines of the monastery’s walls sits an oasis of nature. It is quiet and peaceful, but outside the walls is a bustling city with people going to work, stopping at the corner tienda to get breakfast and motorcycles and cars zooming by on the rugged stone streets. There is a unique contrast between what goes on inside and outside the eight-foot wall.

I am still trying to understand what it means to call Guatemala home and what my place is here. Some things feel very familiar, while other things have made me realize how much of God’s creation I take for granted back home in Minnesota. Life here often feels less rushed.

People invite you to share meals, show you around and meet their families. There is a beauty in these seemingly ordinary moments that I think I took for granted in the United States. A meal, a conversation, a laugh or a simple act of kindness can all be reminders that God is present in every moment.

Quetzaltenango or “Xela” as it is commonly referred to makes God’s presence easy to see. Before the Spanish arrived, this area was part of the K’iche’ Maya world and was known as Xelajú. The history of this place goes back much further than the city I see today. The K’iche’ people lived here for centuries before Spanish colonization brought new languages, traditions and Catholicism. Over time, those different parts of history became woven together into the culture of Xela. Today, you can walk through a modern city while still seeing reminders of the Indigenous history, Spanish influence, Catholic faith and many generations of Guatemalan life that came before.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about how many people have walked these same streets before me. How many families have lived here, how many children have played here, how many have looked up at the same mountains. The mountains were here before all of us, and will remain long after us. There is something humbling about being surrounded by a constant reminder that I am only one small part of a much bigger story.

I have also found myself thinking about the people around me in the same way. It is easy to think of another country as completely different from your own until you actually live among the people. It seems like such a simple and obvious thing, but I don’t think I would have ever begun to understand how many unconscious assumptions I had if I had never left the place I considered “normal.” Reflecting on this small but growing change in perspective has helped me when I have felt out of place here. I have struggled at times to understand how I fit in. Sure, I am helping people learn English, but I have never taught before and have no background in education. My Spanish is far from good and is still a major work in progress. I am already a fairly introverted person, and social situations have always taken some effort for me. Adding a language barrier that makes every interaction a little more difficult has been exhausting at times.

But then I walk into the school and see the excitement on the students’ faces. Little kids run up to give me a hug or a high five. In those moments, I am reminded that God is working through all of us, even when we do not fully understand our place in what He is doing. I do not need to have everything figured out. I just need to be present enough to appreciate the people God has placed in front of me.

More than anything, this first month and a half has taught me to pay attention. To the mountains, to the students, to the monks, to the people I pass on the street, to the history beneath my feet, to the quiet moments of prayer. To the small, ordinary pieces of life that I have normally overlooked. Maybe God’s creation has not become more beautiful since I left home. Maybe I have simply started paying attention. And the more I pay attention, the more I see God everywhere.