After a 9 hour plane ride, two 14 hour bus rides throw the mountains of Central America, 6 weeks in Guatemala for 4 hour days for 5 days a week of language school, the door was opened and I was home. Raising my head from my luggage the most beautiful sight a soul could look upon was before me, our Lord in the most Holy Eucharist. It felt like he was there to welcome me home. While in Guatemala I lived with a host family in the colonial town of Antigua. It was once the capital of the Spanish while they visited but because of floods, earthquakes and territorial disputes was moved once again to a different location. But the Spanish still left it's mark with cobble stone streets and century's old church's. I had many expieriances while there. It was strange because leaveing home from Seattle I was well prepared to live as a missionary in Honduras. I was not prepared to be put on a bus day's after arriving and shipped to Guatemala, but I'm not complaining it was great! To be honest it was more like a vacation. I studied at one of the best schools in Central America with one on one tutoring. I woke to the bells of San Francisco everymorning, the 4 centuries old iglesia en el oltra lado de el caille. By the second week I had my dailing routine of prayer, mingaling, and studys. The Sunday after my first week I sat in the city square reading a Thomas Dubay. I looked up from my book and lamented torwards the heavens with a deep breath. I was really feeling the pains of the "priest crisis"
Unfinished...
Unfinished...
