Writing Reality

I’ll never forget the day that I prayed before Father Gregory Schaffer, gazed into his hazel eyes through his large-lens glasses, and bowed my head over a chipped mug of steaming Arabica coffee – the best coffee I have ever tasted. In San Lucas Toliman, Guatemala, creamer is a luxury, and I was glad to be proffered none; these hand-picked, sun-roasted, freshly ground beans were too good to be tarnished. Later this trip, I will harvest red coffee beans among a group of Mayan women. For this task, I am given a woven basket to fill – a feat I don’t fully accomplish within the allotted hour. In the same amount of time, the women fill many baskets. We utter “Amen.”
Over the next hour this 77 year-old diocese pastor enlightens us on how the Juan Ana coffee program began. Promoting the doctrine of integral human development, Father Greg spoke in a manner that lived up to his name: alert. His urgency matched his lymphoma’s rapid spread. His liver-spotted jowl jiggled as his speech marched forth rhythmically. We hung on every word and every breathy silence. In that moment, nothing was more important than the livelihoods of the 650 farmers growing Juan Ana coffee – farmers who would not know the wealth of harvesting their own food in the aftermath of their war-torn country if they had not been graced with the presence of this divine social justice leader from St. Paul, Minnesota.
Chona, the middle-aged woman working in the mission’s kitchen, approached. Just a few decibels above a whisper, she uttered “Padre.” Maybe it was the tone of her voice. Perhaps it was the look of admiration pouring from those brown eyes that have bared witness to countless horrors, including the murders her husband and son, but this Spanish word, meaning “father,” suddenly sounded like “hero.” His sentiments matched those of the proud, graying woman who stood humbly beside him; in a tone of compassion, they conversed in Spanish – a language he had learned through immersion, and the Mayans learned through colonization.
They were partners in providing relief—Father Greg and Chona—and recounted a story of how, during the thirty year civil war, she transported orphans to the mission. It was a task Father Greg couldn’t do because his whiteness made the blockade guards suspicious. Chona, however, could say they were her children, offer a bribe, and be on her way. At the mission, the orphans were able to attend a school funded by the sale of Juan Ana coffee – the best coffee I have ever tasted.