Final Cut

Welcome to the final cut. There is a term in film making, “Final Cut”, which means you have taken a project, generally a film, to the furthest place it can be taken. The old school guys would say the project was “in the can.” I find myself this morning at the place of final cut other than a few interviews with Shawn, Damaris, and a community leader in Santa Maria de Jesus. I have taken some 1800 images, 200 or so keepers, and 15 hours of video. For the most part, I am confident that I have enough material to produce something useful for Shawn, his ministry, and the indigenous peoples of this area. Ultimately, usefulness will be determined by God.
I love this place and the people here. I wish I could share the movement and sounds of this place right here, right now, to get you connected to the experience. But that is a goal for the documentary and much time will be needed to produce the 6 or so projects Shawn and I are discussing.

I watched a team member last evening during the closing worship gathering holding a little boy in her lap, rocking him, and kissing his little head. It was a joyful look at the heart of what it means to love without condition or expectation. It is one of many reasons I do this work. People say that the world has grown cold and that love is something long since passed, especially in places like this. I tell you, they are blind. I have come to believe that it is the pace and pointless distractions of our lives that blind us to the reality of what it is to be human, to be settled into our creation, that wonderful and glorious image of God.

I spoke one last time with Karen last evening and found myself in tears as we watched some images of her kids on a small laptop screen. Her love for the children at the orphanage is rare indeed and serves as a true witness to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I am blessed to know her, to have prayed with her, and to witness the selfless work of a servant of Christ in a place where service takes everything a person can muster. I believe she is, as are a handful I have met in desperate places, what Scripture calls Saints. She is pure light.

I am committed in my heart to help Karen feed the boys and girls at the orphanage as well as many children in the village. Protein is always the key to healthy development and protein remains elusive in places like hers. She told me of a desire to have chickens and a coupe at the orphanage to provide eggs, a solid source of protein, to the kids there. Add protein to their diet and brains will develop normally as well as the entire body. I checked out the costs for the entire project of 100 chickens, the construction of a secure coupe for them, and enough food to get them started and it comes to $1200 U.S. It is a small price to pay to provide the bare minimum nutrition to over a hundred of God’s children. This will also provide the kids with an ongoing project of responsibility in working with Karen to raise and care for the chickens. They will also be able to sell some of the eggs to purchase materials for the school. It is truly teaching people to fish. I will be shamelessly working to raise funds to make Karen’s dream a reality as soon as my feet are back in the country.

I thank God for bringing me to this place and for the lives He mixed with mine while I was here. The world is a small place really and each of us is connected by the Hand of God by His creation. I believe we can do better, lots better, at stepping out of our comfortable lives and into the reality of how two thirds of the world lives daily. Christ commanded us to look after the widows and orphans and provide we should with love, with joy, and with an openness of heart that secures lives of all to the fullness of His creation. Amen.

A Closing

Welcome to Day 9. All but two or three final interviews have been filmed at this point and for this, I am thankful. I find myself grossly overtired and not feeling myself physically. I knocked off at noon today after filming was complete in Santiago Zamaro. The local folks were most grateful to the team who have been there doing construction this week and brought them all handmade gifts. I too was gifted with a beautiful hand woven bag, why, I do not know. I have made it a point to be as invisible as possible these past many days in an attempt to be as least intrusive and reaction forming as possible. Still, I suppose they knew I had been there to help in some capacity and so I was included. I genuinely dislike receiving anything on missions as I still struggle with receiving things like grace. I suppose He continues to shape me through the giving of people who can ill afford to give anything. Another spiritual puzzle.

I am filming some time lapse sequences as I write to capture some “other-worldy” shots of clouds forming and moving over one of the volcanoes. Hmmm, I continue to be bit by something here that I cannot see….icky. It is however leaving marks on me and so I know I am not imagining things. Hmmmm

I am not sure what to say about this experience as it nears its functional end. I will put together a slide show for the teams tonight, finish two interviews, and then spend the next two days vanishing into the crowds of Antigua. This is not Haiti and it is certainly not Africa in its level of poverty or suffering but the poverty is horrific and painful.

It is unnatural in God’s Kingdom that children should suffer the lot of poverty dealt by the hand of chance that places them in these places. It is equally unnatural that this suffering should continue in the presence of the Church, in that collection of those who claim Christ as Lord and Savior. I have a true friend who is a Pastor who is helping me to overcome my frustration with the Church but I remain unsure as to whether it is something to overcome or something to drive me on. Can or should we accept the apathy of the Church’s response to the suffering? Indeed, Jesus said the poor would always be among us but surely He did not intend His words to be the loophole to duty it has become.

I went to the boy’s orphanage yesterday and interviewed the director. She shared the horror
stories behind the anger and hopelessness these boys endure. One boy had his face half burned off, the abusers had done nothing to seek care for him. She told me that what they continue to pray for are some Christian men to step forward and form lasting relationships with them. I plan on challenging some of you at home with this. Perhaps consider this the first of many challenges. Too many of us “pray for direction” as long as that direction leaves us un-wanting and comfortable. But we are the very people charged with afflicting the comfortable as we comfort the afflicted.

I am angry as hell about what I have seen here and other places across the Third World. It is unnecessary. It is against the will of our God. It is an abomination within His creation.

City Scenes

Welcome to Day 8. The day began at 4 a.m. with the sound of incredibly loud fireworks exploding over the roof. There was a celebration of some Saint’s birthday or something and it appears as if the folks were pretty excited about it. It was more than a bit surreal to lie in bed and listen to the sounds in the dark.

My shooting schedule began at 8:30 with a 3 hour shoot in downtown Antigua to get some cultural context pieces for the documentary. I love shooting in foreign cities and really absorbing the culture through the lens. It is impersonal in that I get to experience the lives of other without intruding into their personal space. As I have written several times before about this place, the rhythm of the people is incredible.

I broke my own rule of not filming some aspects of suffering but I trained my lens on a woman, obviously mentally ill, begging in the street. Actually, the lens was truly aimed at the numbers of people walking by and their reactions to her begging. It was an interesting bit of sociology being played out in the real. I wondered if her obvious insanity offered some buffer to her rejection.
I left the city and headed to back to the orphanage to interview the founder and director, Karen. I thought about what I would write about her and came up short. There is nothing I can say to describe her spirituality and the tangible, textural impression it made on me. I came away feeling very small and humble. What I know about Christ is empty in her shadow. I will meditate for months on things she said to me.

I ended the day by filling another card with images of children at play, mostly their faces. The depth of their eyes is a bit haunting. I find myself absorbed in the moments between them being themselves and realizing I am training a lens on them. I am not sure what to make of the shift. I think they have become, unfortunately comfortable with “smiling for the gringo with the camera.” I wonder if they understand the connection between their innocence, their suffering, and the attempts to help them by capturing them both simultaneously. I could live in a place like this.

I am tired, I smell bad, and my back hurts….oh yeah, and I am whining.
I almost forgot. I helped clean a room full of donations today. Literally, hundreds of garbage bags. Oddly, the bags were befitting. Let me complain once again. If it is garbage in our homes it is garbage in theirs. It is sickening to see the crap people have sent here: soiled clothes, broken toys, pieces of things we could not identify, and one bag that looked like someone emptied their kid’s junk drawer in it. I wonder what folks are thinking. Do people really buy the notion that, “they don’t know any difference down, over, under, there.” It really was disgusting…most of the stuff came from U.S. churches.

Mountains and Hills

Welcome to Day Seven. I have been to the mountain…and it nearly killed me. Seriously. I spent the day at Hogar Miguel (an orphanage) and a village higher up in the mountains. I will start with the mountain, that which nearly killed me.

Anyone who knows me knows I am not in anything that might be considered great shape. It would be safe to say that people don’t pass me in the street and utter words like “cut” or “buff.” Frankly I don’t care, I work full time and do school full time. (sticking tongue out at detractors) Sooo……..

I started up a paved road, probably 60 degree incline, 9k feet elevation; with a fifty something pound on my 40 something body. I knew immediately I was in trouble, that is, as I stepped out of the van I was winded. I made it some 100 yards up the hill when I began to hallucinate that this is the spot archeologist would one day dig me and my cameras up wondering, “I wonder what happened to this poor chap.” I use the word chap believing the future archeologist would be British as they usually are in my favorite movies.

Oddly, an old woman, probably 80 or so, passed me on the hill…twice.

Enough foolishness. It was the most physically challenging thing I have done in many years, far more taxing than sitting in my office or playing Wii on the couch. Go figure.
The village was profoundly poor, in fact I have only seen poorer in Kenya. The people were incredibly tolerant of my shooting in spite of their obvious embarrassment at the conditions in which they live. I have never met a warmer, more inviting people.

I met a very old woman, Maria, living in a shack on the edge of a mountain who walks several miles a day to the orphanage to get a meal daily. The team had poured a concrete floor in her place made of cardboard and metal scraps to help protect her from parasites and lift her above the mud she was living in. What she lives in is filth. Not the kind of filth we claim when our houses need a good cleaning or the kids have cluttered the floor, but the kind of filth grown in the Third World by poverty and despair. I do not mean to take away Maria’s dignity with this description. Given a chance in Hell, she would do anything to escape this. A lifetime, a dozen lifetimes could be spent trying to point the finger at the correct source (s) of blame for world poverty but that is a futile task with no foreseeable end.

Ask yourself this, and I mean really allow yourself to meditate on this…How is that a world filled with the Body of Christ still has room for conditions like this? The Church is helping; perhaps it is all that is really helping, but its offerings pale in comparison to the need. I wish we spent less on buildings and equipment, and entertaining ourselves on Sunday morning and more on freeing millions upon millions of our brothers and sisters from living in filth. I challenge you to meditate on this. Her picture and her home are posted on the right.

Day Six: Santa Maria de Jesus

Welcome to Day Six. The shooting was excellent today; good lighting, good weather, and the people appeared to be very “okay” with my camera in their business. The teams were very cooperative and thus, I was able to shoot two hours of good footage. I am fairly confident I will have way more than enough material to do a decent job.

The teams appeared to work very well in the locations I filmed today, which by the way, was back in the town of Saint Maria de Jesus. It is a wonderful place in spite of the abject poverty and I can easily imagine Diana and I returning to just chill.

My adventurous side took me solo to a market today to film some cultural reels for the project. The colors and sounds in market are truly carnival in nature. I sat on a corner of the square and watched the dance of people. The crowds there move like the tide, back and forth, full purposed, moving in rhythm with each other. I wish you could see it with me. Remove the poverty and I am unsure as to who is living better.

I see a lot of Coke signs around and their product in market stalls. I am planning on campaigning them to give some back to the community. I imagine a You Tube assault will be needed. Consider this… a fortune 100 company worth billions selling sugar water to people who can scarcely afford it. They do this by inundating the area with marketing signs painted on the sides of buildings, walkways, and marketplaces. Who wants to bet they can be shamed into doing so? Perhaps corporate America has transgressed beyond shame.

It is an old story in developing countries. (Beware the soapbox cometh) Big corporate western interest come into the back corners of the world who have not yet been inculcated with the “Hey, don’t you think your life would be better with our products? You too can be like the big guys.” Seriously, Diana and I saw Coke ads in the Sub-Saharan desert.

Oh well, I am going to hit the Dirty Jobs guys up to come on mission with the teams next year and really get their hands dirty. I bet they will.

Peace out, pray for justice, pray for peace.

I've Seen a Rain

Welcome to day five. It was a very long day filled with the stories of many people. Today was the day the teams tour the different areas where the real work begins in the morning with sun up. Although we stopped at the orphanage in Hogar Miguel, the stay was brief. I did however get a chance to schedule an interview with Karen, the woman who had the vision and guts to take the
place from need to reality.

The drive to Santa Maria de Jesus was long and very slow as the chicken bust filled beyond its capacity, and I am sure safe capacity, had to climb very steep, narrow roads to the highlands of the area. The drive is magnificent as the bust enters the cloud zone some time before the city makes itself apparent.

It is an old city in near ruins. The streets are much less active than those of Antigua but the presence of donkeys and horses pulling carts breaks the silence. We continue to turn down narrow streets until finally we arrive at a gated entrance where several dozen indigenous women have been waiting for hours to greet us. Fireworks are lit in the street to honor our arrival and the ground has been covered in what appears to be pine needles. This is the local tradition of recreating the palms on the ground that welcomed Jesus to His final city. In their hearts, the missionary team is Christ like in their hopes that some relief will be brought to the area.

A dinner of local food is served and is unexpectedly brilliant. A performance by local children and women follows as is the tradition in this place. (ever wonder how much fuller our churches might be if we welcomed folks this way) Suddenly, in mid performance, the clouds that have filled the sky all day break loose and the rains pour down. The crowd disperses inside a building, under plastic sheets and bags, a few have umbrellas.

I make my way to the street to film the crowd leaving but the rains eventually drive me to a doorway with a bit of cover, As I am standing there, the door opens to a small, dank room that quickly presents itself as a home. The family, minus a male figure, invites me to stand just inside the door to get out of the rain. It is a dark room without lights or electricity and the back wall is gone and open to an alley. The home smells putrid and garbage litters the floor. Everyone just smiles and stares at me as if my Spanish will somehow improve in the coming moments. The rain was picking up intensity so I stood there and smiled at them as they smiled at me and the whole thing was just a big smiley thing.

From the left of the doorway a woman appeared with two small children walking and one slightly older girl, perhaps 8 or 10 in an old wooden wheelchair. They are soaked to the bone and the woman is trying to push the wheelchair up over an 8 inch curb and into the narrow doorway. I motion that I will help and she smiles at me. I bent down and picked up the child and bring her into the room still sitting in her little wooden chair. I believe she had cerebral palsy. It becomes quickly apparent that they too live in this small, damp space.

We set for a few moments longer and an urging to pray over the little girl that began as soon as I laid eyes on her becomes too strong to withhold. I have been feeling this urge and acting upon it since I have arrived and to this point there have been no problems, only smiles, hugs, and signing the cross. I ask the woman if I can pray over her (this takes a few minutes of complicate sign language) and when she lowers head I know the answer is yes. I place my hands on the little girls head and warmth fills my heart as I begin to pray for her. It is a short prayer for peace and comfort that is finished with the traditional Catholic signing of the cross on her forehead as this is the Catholic tradition of this place.

I take my leave and walk back to the bus in the rain, soaked, but happy. It was a long day and I have shot several hundred pictures. Some are posted here.

Day Four: In Through the Out Door

Welcome to day four. The day was spent assisting several of last week’s team in departing for home and assisting the new team at the airport. Another odd observation….Again, at the airport, tons of people but no one fighting, yelling, cussing, shoving pushing, etc. Nothing like O’Hare or any other number of nightmare airports in the U.S. Children were minding their parents…hmmmmmm….odd.
The team sorted through an unbelievable amount of donated goods. I would estimate several thousand pounds of medical and humanitarian aid arrived with the teams. Praise God. It is as I believe… if governments could or even wanted to address the problems of poverty that day would have long ago occurred. It is good to see ordinary men, women, and children doing extraordinary things. To steal a line from one of our Pastor’s, “It’s a Gideon thing.” (Okay, so now you know I am actually listening in church Chris)
The micro-community that is this current team appears to be well on the road to forming. I have taken on a roomy, Mark, who is an Oncologist from Madison. In the short time we have talked, we have lots of things in common including the point that both of our sons are engineers. Wicked cool.
There will be a big team meeting tonight to lay out the week. Tomorrow we will be touring all the work sites for the week and I will most likely spend the day doing some still photography at each site as I believe this will be my one shot to accomplish anything still. (Pardon the embedded metaphors)
I am most definitely looking forward to visiting the orphanage in the morning and meeting some of the kids. The children are, as they are everywhere, beautiful here.
Forgot to mention, I had a cool ride in a chicken bus today...not sure what to say about that (using my best Forrest Gump voice)

Day Three: Free Ranging Antigua

It is the third day in country and a day without missions work as we honor the Sabbath as God ordains. I accompanied a mom and daughter team from Madison Wisconsin to the center of Antigua and the markets to take in some of the culture. As is common in the markets of developing countries, the motion and rhythm of the people in these places is spellbinding. It as much about the social interactions as the economic piece. I bought a lot of Mayan wove animal dolls for our granddaughter-to-be and wondered how old she would have to be before she could ask questions about and understand our adventures. Not sure why I have thought about her so often this trip. Perhaps it is the situation of the children here.

I allowed myself to be “lost” in the middle of the market stalls and loved the experience. It is a mixture of carnival, circus, and survival all happening at once in a multitude of languages. I never felt threatened at all, in fact, I felt someone at ease just moving along the crowd. I watched elderly woman weaving on the kind of looms the Mayans used while stalls next door blared music and disco lights. It tell you, this city is a series of very interesting dichotomies.

The ladies were finishing some shopping and I sat down on the edge of the dirt street to people watch. Individuals become streams all moving together but in different directions if that makes sense. I greeted an elderly woman who was curiously watching me (you know, the big white guy in the tie dyed blue bandana) and she began speaking. Of course I know about ten words and so I listened. She knew I didn’t understand but spoke to me anyway. I finally realized she was mentioning that the sun was warm today and that I appeared to be enjoying just sitting in it. That is how the people are here. Understanding is not as important as listening. It is, most of all, about being present to each other. I ended the conversation with “Vios con Dios” (Go with God) and she placed her hand on my right shoulder and saying, “Si, con Dios” (yes, with God) In the final analysis, we are all human aren’t we.

I know many people struggle with believing as I believe but I tell you, Jesus speaks in the lives of so many people and in this woman, He was clear and present. I just sat there awhile after she disappeared into the market and watched the mothers and fathers with their children, hustling them across the street between chicken buses, tuc tucs, pronounced “tuke tuke” and apparently insane motorcyclists. There is a rhythm to this place that is beautiful and uplifting. It is humanity in an unencumbered form.

By the way, the tuc tuc as they are called here exists throughout the world in varied forms. Here, it is basically a three wheeled affair with a canopy made of rebar and old fabric. The vehicle, like all vehicles of this type everywhere, including the taxis in major U.S. cities, are driven by folks who appear to have both no fear of death nor concern for the lives of pedestrians. This however is tempered by the fact that I never actually witnessed anyone hit by one. If you have ever traveled to any developing country, you have no doubt experienced the tuc tuc experience. I rode in one today with the mother and daughter team. We all agreed it was better than most of the fare our theme parks offer with none of the pesky safety rules and lawyers.

We ate at a local restaurant this evening and listened to a local band playing Peruvian style music. Awesome! Like the lunch we ate in town today, we probably risked a bit of gastric consequence but the flavors were new and interesting. It is a common experience for me in places such as this to remind myself that I have plenty of medications in my bag should my wager on food safety fail me. At this writing…..all is calm.

A new team arrives tommorrow, some 40+ people. Shawn and Damaris have gone to the capital to retrieve their gear and bring it back to the center. It is going to get really busy around here as the group grows from 11 to 47 overnight. I am going to accompany Shawn on a Chicken Bus in the morning to bring the team to our location. I am stoked about filming at the airport, it is quite a scene.

Day Two: Filming Begins in Santiago Zamora

Filming began today at a small school and a home where volunteers were pouring a concrete floor. The man and woman at the house were so overwhelmed they wept. I can tell you no eye was dry. The filming went well and I was able to shoot about 3 hours of tape over 10 hours of lots of the Mayan children. They are beyond description. Anyone who knows me knows I love children. These kids are just another wonderful variation on God’s greatest gift. I truly wish I knew the language….ugggghhhh. I should probably sign up for classes in my free time…..Seriously, I will learn this language.
I filmed several women making tortillas over open wood fires in their homes today. I was a bit nervous about asking to come in as I truly never want to be obtrusive in this work. Their welcome was uncommon and genuine. Filming inside took me back to filming in Embulbul. The women were so gracious and fed me tortillas hot off the fire. Delicious.
The area is beautiful with many fruit trees, mountains, coffee growing everywhere…. excellent coffee, and yes, I will be bringing you all some home, especially my bunch at the workplace. The mountains and volcanoes are lush green and the tops are covered most of the day in mist and clouds. I imagine that a corner of heaven will look like this place minus the poverty and suffering.
I met some real heroes of the faith today and sat quietly, humbled, and just listened to them speak. I listened to a man speak about his work in spite of the threats against his life and found tears in my eyes as he talked. It is good to feel small in that way. It is good to know that God’s hand is so firmly placed upon this place, this mission, and Shawn and Damaris’ ministry. Their love for the people here is tangible and the people’s love for them is visible and abundant. It is I believe what God calls each of us to live.
It is odd that, no matter where I travel in my faith journey, God in His infinite Grace and Mercy continues to nurture my learning with those who have moved far ahead of me. I wish I had the words to tell their story today, I am certain it will take weeks to put it together.
It is raining her tonight and the water is pouring into the open courtyard of this place. It is as if I have never seen the rain. I am sitting in the kitchen listening to Bolivian folk music that was written and recorded by a man who works here. Set against the backdrop of the rain, it is surreal.
Had a really good talk with the mission leader here today about our faith, missions work, and the film project. As always, I begin the trip worried that I will be unable to capture enough to create something beautiful for God. A day later I wonder how I will ever manage to edit the tape that will be shot here. I have not taken any stills yet but will begin shooting early next week. I miss Diana for many reasons, but in that context, I miss her natural eye and ability with the still cameras.
Jesus said to His apostles, “Peace I give, My peace I leave you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not worry, do not be afraid. “ A beautiful verse to close a most beautiful day in Guatemala.

Greetings from Guatemala: Day One

I have arrived safely in Antigua Guatemala and am staying in a small place off a cobblestone road. There are old ruins (I suppose they have to be old to be called ruins) within 100 yards of my place. As soon as I stepped off the plane I remembered with great joy why I love doing this work. There are so many more colors in places like this; things appear to be so much more real without all the pretense of post-modern chaos. The airport was a rush. It seems that two flights arrived at the same time which resulted in a musical chairs type of affair between the luggage belts. I was surprised at myself. Usually, it would make me uptight. Instead, I sat on my little cart in a corner and just watched the faces. Brilliant.

I was picked up by a brother in Christ, Sergio, a man I have never met today. (Then again, I know no one here, except everybody through Jesus, but I digress) Shawn was in the field working and sent a trusted friend. Sergio informed me that his English was not so good. I informed him that my Spanish was worse. We proceeded to have a wonderful conversation and taught each other a few words. There is no language barrier in the tongues of Christ.

The air is thick with exhaust from old cars and the sounds of humanity mixing in the street. Like Africa and Haiti, everyone and everything is in motion here. It is wonderfully calming. The atmosphere reminds me of a line from a poem that goes…”colors that are people that are colors.” There are shacks next to Volvo dealerships, street vendors and hustlers, two guys beating the heck out of each other, motorcycles ghost riding between the lanes, school kids in their uniforms parading up and down the street and Hispanic music blaring from cheap tin speakers. It is a strangely beautiful sound and I find myself half hanging out the van window straining for a better look.

I realized something here as I have before only in places of poverty; no one is staring at me. I am a white face in a tan crowd and no one cares or even looks as if they notice. I wonder how far we have drifted from that.

I met Shawn and his wife Damaris this evening along with the team that is finishing their week here. Their welcome was most comforting and like missionaries we have met around the world, they are joyful and energized. We do indeed serve an empowering God. Shawn reminds me of an old friend and I am comfortable we are on the same page with serving God.

Tomorrow is the first day of shooting at Santiago Zamora. There are multiple projects going on and I will have a first chance to meet the local, indigenous peoples.

Welcome to the Blog

Wow, so this is blogging. Hmmmmmmm. Diana and I have a website, www.worshipfilm.org that is designed to help people find our service and to keep folks updated about what's happening. Having seen a good friend's blog, I decided I would give it a shot. I will be in Guatemala soon filming a documentary for Shawn Smith and thought this might be a good way to keep friends and family updated about the work. Stay tuned....you never know where we will land next