Personal Narrative: My Vacation At Guatemala

I woke up startled and didn’t know where I was. I had an IV in my arm and my parents were staring at me. The doctor came in

As I stepped out of the airport, followed by my family, I was unprepared for the snowfall and icy pavement that is so commonplace in January in Michigan. If I had thought enough about it, I would have worn winter boots on the plane and maybe brought my puffy white coat to block the wind. Instead, I stood shivering in brand new, pink ballet-flat shoes, while snowflakes filled my eyelashes.

When I woke up my family was surrounding me and my hand was all wrapped up. Finally we left the hospital, we had a day left until we went back to Minnesota, but I didn’t enjoy it after an exhausting night.

Then I fell asleep since it was fairly late at night, if I remember right it was around 10 PM which I wasn’t use to being up that late then especially that I was just a small child then. Then when I woke up I was being taken out of the ambulance. I remember being even more worried because they said I didn’t have to worry but having to be in an ambulance does not help the situation.

“Mangos, mangos, 3 Quetzales !!”. This is the first thing I heard and saw on my trip to Guatemala this past summer. I saw a 9 year old barefoot boy struggling to walk through the busy streets of Guatemala carrying a woven basket that contained ripe and bright orange mangos inside of it. I turned around to my dad and said, “Dad look!! Oh my gosh!! Shouldn’t he be in school?”. My dad always told me about Guatemala and the continuous struggles that he and others faced on a daily basis when he lived there. For the first time I actually saw what my dad talked to about with my very own eyes. What I was seeing was crystal clear and not what I hoped to be a dream.

What’s it like being in Guatemala? What’s it like being on a plane? I asked these questions to myself. On June 29, 2012 I had the opportunity to find answers to these questions, however in a way that I wished would have not happened. My reason for going to Guatemala wasn’t to rest and have fun. It was for my grandpa’s funeral, a day that changed me forever. A day where I learned what it really means to be grateful.

It was a Monday in the summer of 2015. I was riding in an old 11 passenger van with 30 other people, on our way back from playing soccer. Most of the people were Guatemalan children screaming at the top of their lungs as the van rocked side to side as we drove up a narrow, winding, mountain road without guide rails. In the summer of 2015, I went to Guatemala for ten days, on a mission trip. My team (18 youth and pastors of East Side Church of God) and I visited four different Indian vilages: Chupol, Paquisis, Sacbichol, and Agua Escondita. We spent two days in each village and slept in each village’s church.

One intercultural experience that changed my life was when I traveled to the Dominican Republic. I had the opportunity to go with a girl's youth group to the poor sugarcane villages in the outskirts of Santo Domingo. It was my first time out of the country, experiencing a different culture.

In the summer of 2011 when I was the age of thirteen, I reached the biggest milestone in my life; which was going to Nicaragua all by myself. I could remember the day when my dad booked the flight and thinking how my siblings and I would experience where my parents grew up and how things worked in their hometown. It was not until a few days later when my dad walked into my room; seriously but not furiously and said, “Son at your age, you should feel so lucky that you guys have a better life than your mother and I had. The ticket I bought, was for you and only for you; you are the only one going on this trip so, then you know what your mother and I went through to be here to give you guys the life we wanted as a kid.” I did not understand what

I have been praying for God to give me an opportunity to go on a mission trip this summer. Many opportunities have gone by but I did not feel God calling me to those places except for Africa but I talked to you guys and you said no, you would rather keep me alive lol. But anyways, about a week ago I was scrolling through Instagram and one of the summer mentors at First Baptist Woodstock, Natalie Priest, had posted a picture with a caption saying that her church Zion Hill Baptist Church is going on a mission trip this summer to Guatemala. When I first read this I thought to myself, oh my goodness that is so exciting!! Well, that entire night I could not stop thinking about this trip. So I started pouring myself out to God asking Him over and

In what seemed like no time at all my mom was back in the room and my brother was in Wes’s room because they’re best friends. We sat around for a few more minutes and then the doctor came in and explained everything to me. This was the scariest part. He told me that because my head had been hit I had a low chance of brain bleeding and the way to tell if this was happening would be a cat scan however he also explained the more cat scans you have and the younger you are when you have them the more likely you are to get cancer later in life so we decided not to get a catscan and he told me that someone would have to come and check on me every four hours and make sure I was okay. After I was done with the doctor I ran around the hospital with one shoe on makeup running down my face and a bandaged foot looking for Wes and Reiley. I finally found them and asked how everyone was doing Wes tore a muscle in their arm and Reiley was given something for the anxiety. We were all ready to go and then the question finally came up was I going home or was I still spending the night at Reiley’s because of many reasons I will not mention I decided to stay at

Thankfully my boyfriend (ex now) was their and took me to the er. There I ended up passing out and my heart had stopped. I woke to a million people around me shining lights in my eyes and asking me too many questions.

I just dropped my best girlfriend at the airport. Along with all her necessary belongings and a one-way ticket to Panama, she is leaving a place she called home for the past 11 years, and taking the plunge to start a new chapter with the love of her life.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was my mom, seated on a chair, smiling at me. I was in hospital bed, and there were curtains around me. I watched the small TV in the corner of the room since I couldn’t talk to my mom. A nurse came in soon after, and told me I could go. She helped me stand up, and walked me to a wheelchair. I was then wheeled out of the hospital after changing out of my gown. I was slightly drowsy on the ride back home, since the gasses still had some effect.

When I arrived at the hospital it was 11:30PM and I was put in the ER and into a gown and I had to wait for someone upstairs to come and evaluate me.