By Lauri A. Fahlberg

We met in the Fire Tower Coffee House, Colleen Dunne and I. It was October of 2006. Colleen’s mood was an upbeat mixture of excitement and apprehension as she spoke of the upcoming Carroll College Campus Ministry trip to the Guatemalan Mission in Santo Tomas that she was organizing. My love of travel and exotic developing countries was leaking from every pore.

“You should come with us!” Colleen exclaimed. I came for coffee with no thought of joining this trip, but departed in a buzz that could not be attributed to decaffeinated espresso in any quantity. Soon after, with the full support of my husband, it was, “Guatemala or bust!” What the hey, I had a passport, all the necessary immunizations, a quorum of my own teeth, and a passion to travel for a worthy cause. Count me in!

The next several months passed quickly in a blur of meetings, fund raisers and growing camaraderie among us would-be travelers. My anticipation grew for the rosy adventure that had fallen into my lap. Then, a week before departure, I received a message from the State Health Department. It cautioned travelers about the risk of armed robbery aboard busses anywhere in Guatemala.

What am I doing, I wondered? This was new – quite unlike the previous year when I had traveled alone all over Costa Rica with little concern for robbery or threat of violence. Then followed an e-mail from Sheila, the mission health clinic director. Sheila realistically advised us that if we were stuck up, simply hand over anything the bandits wanted and nobody would get hurt. How reassuring.

I arrived in Guatemala City in a state of subdued apprehension. Okay, so when do we get robbed? But we traversed the city and did not get robbed. My apprehension faded, not to return, upon our arrival in Santo Tomas to warm smiles, hugs and handshakes from our hosts and a banner welcoming us stretched across the main building of the Mission.

Now I look back on my time in Guatemala with many fond and picturesque images. I remember riding standing up in the back of a pick-up truck doing my best to hold on as our driver snaked his way up a narrow, pot-holed dirt road, climbing ever higher and higher into the clouds, wondering if we would survive the wash-outs and 1,000-foot drop-offs. No seat belt laws here.

I remember being told that we needed to head back by 4 p.m. in case it rained and made the road impassable. To me, it looked impassable without need of rain. I remember my feelings when I realized that we were all on our way to the same place, but only we could ride. Our destination was a remote mountain Mayan village where the primary language was Quiche. I remember Mass in the small church given by the Mission priest, Father Jim Hazelton, with accompaniment of an accordion. I remember benches of simple wood construction; a floor of dirt, no stained glass, no fancy statuary; no glass in the windows at all. I remember a church warmed by bright smiles, curious children, love and a sense of welcome.

I remember a huge pot of soup boiling on a fire, and a banquet table, Mayan mountain style, set up in a corner of the church. We were honored guests. As I ate, surrounded by all these curious but welcoming people, I remember wondering if they themselves had had a meal that day. I remember people who possessed little more than the shirts on their backs, who welcomed us and shared with us their smiles, their food and their faith.

Now I have returned to my own material concerns about medical insurance, future retirement expenses; rising prices and a falling dollar; about the relentless pressure in our society to accept the next advance in communications technology and its inevitable cost in real human contact.

I pause, and reflect on my time in that mountainous region of Guatemala. I struggle to remember how very little we really need in order to share love, happiness and a sense of well-being with our fellow human beings. Locked into our cars, our schedules and our pursuit of the “American dream,” how easily we forget.


Laurie Fahlberg, a professor of Community Health and Education at Carroll College, was among the pilgrimage group that visited the mission in May of last year.


Published in The Montana Catholic Online, Volume 24, No. 3, March 21, 2008.