When I arrived at the Marist Brothers provincial house in Guatemala City, I was immediately struck by the calm and welcoming atmosphere. The rooms were clean and comfortable, and the food was delicious, making it easy to feel at home despite being far from my own. Over the next four days, we came together as coordinators of Marist volunteers from the Arco Norte region for a workshop on volunteering and solidarity. From the very first moment, what touched me most was the spirit of unity within our group. Despite language barriers, every interaction began with smiles and warm welcomes—it felt like the worldwide language of love. Even though my Spanish was limited and their English was minimal, the other volunteer coordinators made a heartfelt effort to include me in every part of the experience—from the morning prayers that set the tone for our days to the group discussions and reflections. From the start, I felt that I wasn’t stepping into this experience alone, but alongside a group of people who were learning, reflecting, and supporting each other every step of the way.
With Flaminia joining us via Zoom, we discovered many new features of the Nexus platform’s, designed to enhance collaboration and communication across provinces. One of our central discussions focused on how to promote volunteer experiences in the Arco Norte region and strengthen solidarity through shared mission and service. Our group collectively reaffirmed an important truth: every community and region has its own reality, and maintaining consistent communication with our volunteers—listening to their voices and experiences—is essential for growth. Together, we committed to letting young people be the architects of change, empowering them to shape the future of volunteering with creativity, compassion, and courage.
From the General Chapter XXIII in the Philippines, which imagines and plans the vision for the near future, we considered the challenges volunteer programs face. We agreed that volunteering should always be a mutually beneficial experience—one that supports both the volunteer and the host community. Sharing these experiences across the greater Marist world helps build bridges of understanding and solidarity, connecting volunteers and communities in meaningful ways.
One of the most moving moments of the week was our service trip to The Gateway of Hope in Guatemala City. Our group arrived together, walking through La Terminal, an old bus station in one of the city’s poorest neighborhoods. The streets were lined with makeshift stands and shops, constructed from tarps, boards, and rusted galvanised roofs, where people worked tirelessly to make a living under difficult conditions. There was a noticeable presence of security guards carrying guns along the streets, mostly stationed near delivery trucks, a reminder of the city’s safety concerns even in everyday life.
The Gateway of Hope itself looked more like a worn-down warehouse than a school. Its front featured a large blue metal gate, with a small inset door and a tiny look-through box so we could peek outside before entering—a stark reminder of the security concerns that weighed heavily on the space. The roof creaked under the wind, and the inner walls were lined with plastic sheeting, barely keeping out the cold drafts that swept through the building. Together, we reflected on what it must be like for children to study in this fragile space, determined to learn despite the hardships surrounding them.There, we met Charlie from Indianapolis and Pedro, a former student now studying to become a teacher. Listening to Pedro’s journey was inspiring, but what struck all of us most deeply was the poverty surrounding the center—something i had never witnessed so vividly before. Amid such hardship, the compassion, humility, and dedication of the volunteers shone brightly, a living testament to God’s work in action.
As we moved through La Terminal, our group met women and children connected to The Gateway of Hope. Many worked washing clothes for less than ten cents per item, from which they had to pay for soap and water. They lived in tiny apartments, about 8 by 8 feet, often shared by large families—over 1,200 people in 200 apartments. Despite these harsh conditions, their resilience and faith were palpable, and together we felt both humbled and inspired by their quiet determination.
That afternoon, our group travelled to Antigua, an ancient town about 40 minutes from Guatemala City, nestled in a valley between two volcanoes: Volcán de Fuego (Fire) and Volcán de Agua (Water). The town’s cobblestone streets, old Spanish architecture, and distant sounds of church bells provided a serene contrast to the intensity of our morning at The Gateway of Hope.
We wrapped up the week by developing the regional action plan, identifying the main challenges and priorities for solidarity and volunteering programs, and exploring strategies to address them. It was a fitting conclusion to an unforgettable week shared together.
This experience deepened my understanding of solidarity—not as an abstract idea, but as a living, breathing expression of faith and service. Even in the few hours we spent at The Gateway of Hope, I was profoundly moved by the courage and determination of the children and the dedication of those who support them. The experience reminded us that even small acts of care and solidarity can make a lasting impact.
