Here I share a story about how an extra large, bulging purple backpack went missing in Guatemala’s capital city thanks to my forgetfulness. It is one of my favorite experiences from my second visit to that lovely country. Enjoy!
“There’s Craig,” I told my friend and traveling companion, Lavina. Quickly I stood and gathered my things. The time was about six am in a busy bus terminal in Guatemala City. So busy, in fact, that Lavina and I had been sitting on the cold concrete floor for over half an hour because all the benches were full. We had just arrived on a night bus from El Chal, where we were living with Lavina’s brother and family. The eight-hour ride from the Peten to the Capital had been unusually quiet and without delays. Our final destination was Oratorio in southern Guatemala for the Easter vacation. After staying with friends there, we would return to the Capital to attend a youth institute over the coming weekend.
Craig now met us with a smile, and looked surprisingly chipper for having been awakened by my phone call at 5 am. He moved to help us with our bags, and then asked in surprise, “Is this all you have?”
His query caused me to jerk in horror. I whirled, surveying our collection of belongings and gasped aloud as I realized I did not have my big purple backpack. “Oh no!” I moaned. “I forgot to get my backpack from the bus’ luggage compartment!” Craig wasted no time. He quickly led us out into the street and pointed to the waiting mission van. “I heard a man calling out about a forgotten bag as I was coming in to get you”, he explained. You girls get in the van and I’ll see if I can find him.”
Lavina and I made our way through the crowd of people and across the street. I groaned inwardly as we got into the van. “That was so stupid of me”, I lamented to Lavina, and our driver, Larry. “If that bus is gone I will never see my bag again.”
Within minutes Craig returned, his face grim. “Your bus has already gone to their headquarters for the day”, he told us, “with your backpack probably still on it.”
“So they don’t have a lost and found collection here?” I knew the answer before I even asked. This was Guatemala, not the Mall of America. Craig smiled dryly. “We have two options,” he continued, “I can come here tonight at nine when the bus is back, or we can drive up to the bus lot and try to find it.”
After a quick discussion we decided to head for the bus company headquarters. Craig told us it was a half hour drive back in the direction Lavina and I had just come. It was also on the opposite side of the city from MAM headquarters where we were supposed to be going. This news made me only feel worse.
“Lydia,” Craig turned to me, “Is there anything in the backpack important like your passport or money? Because there is a really good chance we are not going to find it.”
I shook my head. “No, it just has all my clothes for the week.”
Everyone in the van laughed.
A half hour later we found the head office and Craig went in to inquire after the bus. He returned with the news that it wasn’t there, but he had been advised to check across the road. Craig didn’t seem too optimistic but I was hopeful. The entire ride I had been praying about the situation, and somehow I just knew that God was going to take care of it.
Larry drove us to the other side of the road and we quickly spotted several rows of buses at the top of a hill. There was just one problem – a concrete wall surrounded them. We went up there anyway, only to discover that they were not the right buses. Both Craig and Larry had been great sports during our hunt, but I could sense this was beginning to push their patience.
On our way up the hill we had seen another row of buses behind a gas station, so Craig decided that we try it as a last resort. Larry parked in a vacant lot and Craig got out. Lavina, Larry and I waited, talking to pass the time. I was silently doing some more praying. The thought of losing all those clothes was not a pleasant one. My wardrobe for this trip to Guatemala was already minimal, with most of my dresses being in that backpack. To be without them, especially for this vacation, was somewhat of a disaster.
The minutes dragged by. I began to worry that something had happened to Craig.
After what seemed like an eternity he appeared, and slung over his shoulder was my purple backpack. Joyfully I hugged Lavina and exclaimed, “Praise the Lord!”
We got on the road again, with Craig relating to us the story of his search. He’d been allowed into the bus area only reluctantly by the guard, and had spent most of his time going down the line of buses looking inside their luggage areas until he finally found my bag. I thanked Craig for trying so hard, and Larry too. Both had been willing and patient during the trip. I was also thanking my heavenly Father who so graciously watched out for me in my carelessness.
We got to the mission headquarters much later than expected, but there was still a hot breakfast left for us. And we didn’t have to wait long for our friends Samuel and Priscila to arrive. They were our ride to their hometown of Oratorio.
Once the week was over and we were packing on Sunday night after institute to return to El Chal, I handed Craig my purple backpack. He took it, then a look of recognition passed over his face. “I remember this bag,” he laughed while loading it into the van. I smiled back. “You probably won’t be forgetting it for a long time either.”
Certainly that backpack had created a hard-to-forget story for the four of us that day. God had also used it to teach me a lesson about carelessness. Perhaps most importantly, though, He showed me His power by returning a forgotten backpack.
Hiding in the Light 