Sometimes we need to intentionally and proactively create space to experience the gifts of Sabbath. And sometimes Sabbath finds us—times we experience rest, peace, and awareness when we least expect it.
I had the opportunity, for the second consecutive year, to lead a group of ten high school juniors on a trip to Guatemala, coming alongside an amazing ministry called One Way Community. The role of chaperone is no joke. It entails encouraging, challenging, corralling, feeding, answering endless questions, and not much sleeping. Yet I experienced Sabbath within the change of pace, a new culture, and the gift of story.
There is one story that has stayed with me.
Her name is Brenda.
During our time in Guatemala, we sat in numerous homes, hearing stories of hardship and brokenness sprinkled with hope and perseverance. It was a sacred opportunity to cross into a different country and grieve, celebrate, and pray, even through language and cultural barriers.
Every family showered us with hospitality, grabbing plastic stools and offering a drink of cola if they could afford it. The Guatemalan culture is warm and loving despite the lack of resources. Every visit was a privilege. But Brenda’s home was different—in an exceptional way.
The visit with Brenda changed me. She had leg braces up to her knees and obvious physical and functional limitations. Twenty-three years old with little hope of ever living on her own, Brenda still has the most radiant smile, which she definitely inherited from her mom, Vivi. They both exuded joy in every moment. They laughed at their inside jokes, showing a playful interaction that seemed to be their norm. They passed pictures of Brenda in her graduation gown, both brimming with pride.
Then we heard Brenda’s story. She was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, causing issues that would continue to worsen—fever, convulsions, heart issues, and more. The delivery took place at home, and Vivi and her husband knew they had to go to the hospital, despite their lack of funds. They were hoping the hospital visit would just be for medicine, but they had to stay.
Brenda’s dad was releasing her to God, but Vivi was pleading for Brenda’s life. “God, let me keep my girl, no matter what condition she is in.”
God answered Vivi’s prayer, and despite the struggles, she is grateful. And it shows.
It has been a long journey of procedures, constantly saving for the next one. To help with the medical bills, the family raises birds and sells them. Their life is unusual and not what anybody would choose.
But they have joy.
Contagious joy.
The kind of joy that impacts a room and those inside it.
Why is joy so hard for us in America when we have so much? Sure, I can give you the answers from research—technology, isolation, independence, etc. But in that moment, I didn’t want to understand it conceptually. I wanted to experience it.
My regular pace slowed down enough in Guatemala that I could reflect on the invitation in front of me. An invitation to choose joy, to grow in it. I long to give the same gift of contagious joy to the rooms I enter.
I was reminded that joy is not connected to circumstances. I’ve been inspired to persevere through hardship and not put my hope in this world. I received the gift of perspective.
I boarded my return flight physically exhausted and spiritually renewed. I have entered back into the chaos of my life with peace—holding things lightly.
If Sabbath is about renewal, gratitude, and perspective, I found it on a trip to Guatemala with ten teenagers!