I went to Guatemala to give aid. But Guatemalans taught me the path to happiness | Opinion

“We don’t have much, but we do have family and community, and we’re happy.”

This didn’t come from me, or from a friend or neighbor. It came from a man in Senahu, Guatemala, where my family was over Christmas and New Year’s Day on a service trip.

And it has completely opened my mind.

We traveled with a small group to villages an hour into the mountains outside of small Senahu, in some very remote areas. These were some of the most out-of-the-way mountain villages I had ever been to — muddy, rocky, unpaved and dangerous roads; one-room makeshift shacks (what they would call homes) with no running or clean water, no electricity, no floors; schools with nearly nowhere to sit except on the floors.

In short, to say “we don’t have much” was a serious understatement. They didn’t have practically anything.

Yet I only saw smiles, laughter and a giving spirit. Close families. Close communities. And love.

We provided them with garden boxes filled with a full variety of vegetables — they live on a diet of primarily corn so they were quite nutrient deficient. Also, water filtration since they lacked sources of clean water. School desks and chairs which we built on-site. And whatever love, smiles, and personal recognition we had to give. Most of us couldn’t speak the language, which was primarily Qʼeqchiʼ, a branch of the Mayan languages.

They provided us with a newfound understanding of purpose. They physically worked daily to provide enough food for the next day’s meager meals for their family and helped neighbors. They thought more of others than of themselves — they had to. They showed that even in the absence of all physical comforts — and, maybe because of that absence — they could find a happy, purposeful existence. Even without a common language, they communicated to us through facial and bodily expressions of hard work, friendship, love, gratitude and joy.

I look at my life and its petty annoyances — traffic, politics, social media, lines at the grocery store and at the drive-thru, taxes. What we often call “first-world problems.”

How many times have I complained or fretted over these things? How often had I experienced anger, resentment, or frustration when my comparatively charmed life was interrupted? How much do I allow those frustrations to control my daily life?

And what could I learn from these beautiful, happy people? What had they learned about life, love and happiness that I had not?

Going to Guatemala made me extremely grateful for what I have.

Returning made me want to learn the purpose-filled lessons the Guatemalan people had taught me. Those lessons, I perceive, were encapsulated in their hard work, love and sacrifice on behalf of their families, communities and fellow man.

I may be wrong, but I now sense that it is in those simple aspects of existence that we are able to find the happiness that we all seek.