Earthquake! EARTHQUAKE!

In the Mexico MTC, we had regular earthquake drills, but I never felt any real quakes. On the other hand, in El Salvador, we frequently felt little, not-quite-earthquakes that we called temblores. They were never anything to journal about, except for one time in October:

It was about 10 pm in Cojutepeque. Hna Merrell and I had finished eating and planning and were almost ready for bed. I was standing at the sink washing dishes; my companion was sitting at her desk writing in her journal. Suddenly I became aware that the earth was rocking beneath my feet and called to Hna Merrell, "Hermana, do you feel it temblando...?"

Every other time, the temblores I experienced had only lasted for a second. My pulse quickened when I realized this quake was stronger and longer. I stumbled to the front room, where Hna Merrell was already on her feet with the keys.

"We'd better wait it out outside," Hna Merrell said, and together we walked to the door. Hna Merrell's hands were shaking as she struggled to fit the key in the lock. Less than a minute later, we stepped out into the warm night. Our neighbors, who had done the same thing, called to us to make sure the gringas were okay. The earth stopped shaking less than a minute later, we bade each another good night and disappeared back into our respective homes.

I wrote about it briefly in my journal and prayed fervently that night in my personal prayer that Hna Merrell and I would wake up and be able to get out should a stronger aftershock arrive in the middle of the night. But by the time Monday morning rolled around, I'd forgotten enough about it that I didn't even mention it in my weekly email home.

My journal entry reads:

"We just felt an honest-to-goodness earthquake. It lasted between 10 to 20 seconds (hard to tell when your heart's beating fast) and was the strongest I've ever felt here in El Salvador. We left our house quickly and stood in front while things normalized. Our vecinos had done the same thing." (Journal 3, 13 Oct 2014)

Celebrating a birthday with a prayer

In El Salvador, whenever someone has a birthday, their family always says a prayer for them. As missionaries, we were frequently asked to say the prayer.

The first time I saw it happen, I was puzzled and intrigued by the tradition. It didn't seem to be limited to members of just one church, but everyone of all different faiths (in all four areas where I served) followed it religiously. The words of the prayer varied, depending on who was saying it, but almost always included two key ideas:

1. "Thank you for permitting [insert name here] another year of life."
2. "Wilt Thou grant that [he/she] has many more years ahead."

When I woke up today, on the morning of my twenty-third birthday, my first thought was of my people in El Salvador. Logically, my second thought was that today I turn 23 years old and I incorporated their prayer tradition in my daily morning supplication to God.

Following the "Amen," I had a burst of inspiration. I think I understand now why the Salvadoreños say what they do in every birthday prayer. They are taught, seemingly from the cradle, a lesson that many people do not learn for a lifetime: that they must not take their lives for granted.

I spent 18 months living among them. Those experiences opened my eyes. They are precious and sacred to me. They cemented for me two truths:

1. God lives.
2. In life, it is much better to suffer believing in God than to suffer without any hope of redemption or resurrection. If we don't have hope in our bitter and dark moments that better and happier times will come, what are we living for? God and Jesus Christ are the only perfect Beings who cannot disappoint us. They are the only ones with the power to make us better than we are, and to return life to those who have died.

El Salvador is one of the most dangerous countries in the world because of gang violence. It's also filled with the most humble, faith-filled, resilient people I've ever known. In my life, I hope to value forever the lessons they taught me. One of the most basic lessons being not to take anything for granted, not even our own lives.