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As a student of Marywood University, I have been fortunate enough to work with the Alternative Break program through the school’s campus ministry department. The program allows students to spend their spring break, or part of their summer break, doing service in communities both in the United States and foreign countries.
Last year, I participated in the program and spent part of my summer break serving in Guatemala. In May, I will travel there again to serve with a new group of students and, while I am beyond excited for the opportunity, it takes a bit of reassuring people that I will be safe in my travels while also having an adventure.
For the past several months, people have been asking me what makes me afraid about this trip. My relatives and friends have a laundry list of things I should be nervous about: Zika, the water, West Nile, typhoid and so on. The funny thing about leaving the country is that it makes everyone else around you slightly paranoid.
Nothing about this trip is scary to me. In fact, I’ve been waiting about 11 months for the chance to go back.
And while last year everyone was worried about me contracting Ebola, West Nile or Typhoid, I was unfazed by any danger I might face. My excitement trumped every fear someone else had.
There’s always something you overcome when traveling to a new place. I thought the biggest obstacle facing me would have been the language barrier. I knew I would have to rely heavily on those who were bilingual (we had three of them on my trip).
My obstacle turned out to be a physical object I needed to get over, literally — a bridge. One day in San Lucas Tolimán, our group was told at breakfast we would build stoves in homes of indigenous people. A lot of indigenous people live in the mountains, so I was fairly certain I would need to hike up a steep hill and I could handle that. We packed up and went on our way.
Our van dropped us off at the bridge, which looked as ancient as the mountain itself. It was rickety, old and unstable — a wonderful combination. And there was a significant drop if you slipped or the breeze picked up and you lost your balance. To be fair, it did have a railing that was too low to hold onto if you were standing up straight (for comparison, I’m 5 feet 4 inches tall).
I was terrified. I hate heights. I cry on roller coasters and am uncomfortable in heels. I looked around wondering if anyone else was sharing my concern. I waited to see if Gandalf (the wizard from the Lord of the Rings/Hobbit series) was going to show up and firmly tell me, “You shall not pass,” so I could turn around and go back to the mission.
That didn’t happen.
I took a deep breath and put into perspective the reason I was there — to serve. I couldn’t do that from across the bridge. I slowly walked over, crouched down and held onto the sides for dear life. My heart was racing, my body was shaking and the only thing I could bring myself to do was laugh.
Everyone told me it was fine and that I shouldn’t look down, but my eyes were fixed on my feet, watching carefully each step I took and eyeing the earth below the bridge. I made it across and, after doing some serious deep breathing to slow my heart rate, I was again on my way. It was over just as soon as it started, and I lived to tell the tale.
While getting ready for my trip next month, I am again excited. This time, I leave a quick 12 hours after I graduate from college and, while I know there are more obstacles to get through, I can’t help but welcome the challenges. They certainly make for good stories.
