The
Age of my Heart
“Todo el mundo es la edad de su corazón: everyone is the
age of their heart.” This Guatemalan proverb encompasses the revelations that
dominated my thoughts on our final full day in a country abundant in both
transformative strength and stagnant injustice. Although the trip was
undoubtedly focused on service to others, I found that the lessons I learned
throughout my experience taught me more about the role I personally play in the
world around me more than I could have ever dared to dream. Unlike less
consummate forms of introspection that can wrongly engender selfishness, the
reflection I experienced on this day inspired a swelling sense of community.
This was especially prevalent as we overcame many challenges of both physical
and emotional nature as a team. We trekked to the precipice of an active
volcano as the sun rose over the lush green landscape. We meandered through the
bustling city of Antigua to absorb the rich history and culture of the
country’s former capital. (Okay, so we mostly ate great food and tried our hand
at bartering with vendors in the marketplace. I was awful.) We spent the
evening mulling over our week of adventure and expressing how much we mean to
one another. Ultimately, the time we spent together- listening, learning, and
loving- brought me to an important realization about what it means to be the
age of my heart. One particularly profound definition of the word age describes
it as “one of the periods or stages of human life.” By this philosophy, age is
not a number, but a complex state of existence. This state is comprised of a
myriad of passionate ambitions and intricate stories- many of which are not
even my own. They belong to the precious people of La Limonada, to the team
with whom I have traveled, and to the beacons of light and love who have
dedicated their lives to bridging the divide between privilege and poverty. And
yet . . . they are inextricably a part of me and my ever-growing, ever-changing,
ever-beating heart.
It beats with the joyful laughter of dear baby Charlie,
who is spending the first few months of her fragile life in a country that most
Americans would deem unsafe for even a week of travel. Unaware of this prejudice,
she smiles brightly at the strangers who inhabit her home and giggles loudly
when they make silly faces- which is often. It aches for the fear-filled brown
eyes of children in the daycare of La Limonada when yet another group of
strangers darkens its doors. Only moments later, the radical grace and
hospitality that permeates the community takes hold from a place deep within
their youthful spirits, and they reach up for warm hugs and gentle kisses on
the cheek. My heart overflows as it holds dear the dreams of La Limonada’s
older children; these dreams radiate with the hope and ambition that is
necessary for sustainable social change. It bleeds for the teenage girl on the
street corner who has temporarily put her own future on hold so she can nurture
a child even though she is still one herself. It swells with the memories I
have made with my own peers, each of whom are too uniquely wonderful to
describe. These beautiful individuals, although less experienced in years,
teach me so much about trust, innocence, and humility. In this period of my
human life, I am young.
My heart gains wisdom and discernment from those whose
years have brought with them truths worth internalizing. It is warmed by the
strength and diligence of my chaperones/teachers, who have spent countless
hours working through the logistics of bringing a diverse group of teenagers to
a foreign country. It absorbs the warm light of Daniela and Lizza, the two
Lemonade Team members with whom we have worked closely. The compassion they
exude for the children of La Limonada is just as fierce as it is gentle- as if
these children were their very own. They have high ambitions for this
marginalized community and even higher ambitions for a world where this kind of
marginalization is heartbreakingly commonplace. My heart is rejuvenated by the
tireless efforts of Tita, who has worked in La Limonada for longer than I have
been alive, who exemplifies the remarkable truth that perfect love casts out
all fear. It lifts up the elderly residents of La Limonada- fathers, mothers,
sons and daughters- who believe fervently in a better future for the next
generation of Guatemala. Although I may not completely understand the
perspective my elders have on the world, they give me hope for the kind of
vision I hope to acquire. In this period of my human life, I am growing older.
Each face, each story, each heart- adds a new dynamic to
the heart I am still trying to comprehend- my own. It is young, and it is old.
It is so weak, and yet it is so strong. Every vein, every vessel that belongs
to me belongs a thousand times over to a world longing simply to love and be
loved. So, as I cope with my departure from the land that has captured and
transformed the core of my being, I choose to look to the ends of the earth
that need to feel the rhythm of my beating heart the most. Because I know now
that at this period in my human life, I need to feel theirs just as
desperately. Then, and only then, will I be able to understand my identity as a
citizen of this beautifully broken world that we all call home.
Muchas
gracias, Guatemala. Nos vemos.
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