Crossing Bridges

The sound of the river was soothing after the rush to help pack gear and get 12 teenagers and 4 adults set up at our campsite. For the past few months, our group had trained for a 10-day trip to Guatemala with a series of lessons on teamwork, cross-cultural communication, and basic Spanish. The leaders hoped that the teaching times would help to bridge the gap between the culture our teens had grown up in and the way of life in Guatemala. This weekend's camping trip had been scheduled as the final session.

Our mission in Guatemala was to clean and paint a village school in the mornings; afternoons would be devoted to providing the children of the town with a fun-filled two hours of songs, puppetry, Bible stories, snacks, and craft projects.

My quiet moment of reflection by the riverand peace of mindwas shattered by one of the boys yelling at a friend, "Knock it off, retard!" As someone who has worked with the developmentally disabled, I couldn't let that outburst go unchallenged. I took the two teens aside and explained why the term, "retard," was totally unacceptable and so hurtful. Another leader overheard my conversation and said, "You need to share this with the whole group." So I repeated my comments to the rest of the kids.

Afterward, while puppetry and drama practices were taking place, a truck pulled up at our campsite. A woman approached another leader and me with a concerned look on her face. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you're in our place. We booked this site weeks ago." Our group had been directed to this location by a park ranger, so we certainly didn't anticipate this kind of problem. I groaned inwardly at the thought of 16 people having to repack all our gear and set up at another camp site.

The stranger then commented, "I guess we could use the adjoining camp site, but it doesn't have a fire pit. We'd be glad to let you stay here if we can share your fire pit later." We gladly agreed to that arrangement. Then the woman added a comment that took me completely by surprise, especially in light of my recent conversation with our teens. "The other site might be better for us anyway," she said, "because it's closer to the disabled restroom facilities. We're expecting 15 developmentally disabled adults for a weekend campout. They'll be here in about a half hour." Oh boy, I thought, how will our kids handle this situation?

At that point, our teens had moved to a large grassy area by the fire pit where they were being taught how make balloon animals and blow giant soap bubbles, activities we would be doing with the Guatemalan children. We explained about the visitors that would soon be joining us. Some of the teens appeared to be a bit unsettled by the news. Most had not had the experience of being around the developmentally disabled, so didn't know quite what to expect.

When the visitors arrived and headed for our fire pit, they appeared to be intrigued by the balloon animals, so one of our teens made a blue giraffe and handed it to a very pleased young man. Soon, the two groups were interacting. There were smiles and a bit of curiosity on the part of both groups. The teens reached out in a very caring, loving way to our fire pit guests. Before the two groups separated, there were hugs and handshakes, and several of our guests proudly clutched Polaroid snapshots of themselves decked out in rainbow-colored balloon hats, holding dogs, giraffes, and an assortment of unnamed creatures all made from balloons.

As leaders, we were so proud of our teens. Their everyday lives that were filled with videogames, dating, music, and cars were vastly different from that of our developmentally disabled friends. Two cultures came together, bridged by love and caring.

The kids on our team learned an important lesson through this experience that helped them interact in the Guatemalan village where we served. Even though there was a language barrierour teens knew only a smattering of Spanishthey reached out in love to children of a different culture. By the end of the first day, the once shy children of the town were playing with our teens, running, giggling, playing games, and having fun. By the time our rickety bus arrived to take us back to the city for the last time it was hard to say goodbye to our Guatemalan friends. There were more than a few moist eyes among our team members as the village children ran behind the bus through a cloud of dust shouting, "Adios, amigos! Gracias!"

Crossing bridges from one culture to another can always be traversed when love and understanding are expressed.