Slushies

Yesterday, a group of our Young Lives leaders threw a fundraiser for our upcoming camp trip. They had games, music, and food; they charged a Q1 (about 10 cents) entrance fee, then charged for games

The Slushy Machine.

and food. The leaders made tostadas with guacamole, dobladas, mixtas, and slushies (translated from Spanish to English = goodness).

Let me take a second and describe to you what goes into making a slushie in Zone 3 of Guatemala City. The machine has a hand crank with a series of gears and a grinder on the end. Below the grinder sits a big chunk of ice. After a few minutes of hand cranking, you find a nice snowball – transfer the snowball to a cup, add syrup, and the slushy is ready to be served!

I’m not sure why, but I was intrigued by this slushy machine.

In part, I think my intrigue stems from nostalgia – I ate a slushy after almost every little league softball game from age 5 to 13. That’s a lot of slushies and a significant part of my childhood.

But I also think that this machine represents many of my experiences and relationships in La Zona 3. Things aren’t done exactly how I’m used to, but that isn’t a bad thing. Things that others count as old, worn out, or useless are recycled and put to great use. Beauty and goodness can come from the most unexpected places. Simple pleasures can put a smile on anyone’s face.

As I left the fundraiser I saw two sisters, 7 and 9, walking back towards their homes – they stepped around a few drunk men sitting on the curb, they walked quickly past a group of teenage boys, but they had their slushies in hand and sticky slushy juice plastered on their smiling faces.

That’s the beauty of a slushy.

That’s how I experienced grace through a slushy machine.

 

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