DAY ONE – Wheels Up
The airport wake-up is always a strange kind of ritual. Sleep-deprived, slightly caffeinated, and cradling half-zipped duffels, we shuffled through the Corvallis pre-dawn like a team of mismatched but determined adventurers. A handful of us caught the same early flight out of Oregon — through Portland, then on to Houston — our scrubs packed tight, our hearts a little tighter.
It’s here in Houston that the full mosaic comes together. This is the meeting point — the place where stories converge. Hugs from teammates we haven’t seen in a year. Warm handshakes between new volunteers. Duffle bags full of medical gear stacked in the corner like puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled.
Some of us are seasoned — we know the rhythms: the airport shuffle, the security line limbo, the quiet weight of what’s ahead. Others are stepping into this unknown for the first time, and you can see it in their eyes — that mixture of nerves and awe. It’s a powerful thing to watch a group become a team, even before we’ve left the ground.
We boarded late. A delay held us in Houston longer than expected, adding to the blur of the day. But finally, we rose above the clouds — the last of the light bending behind the wing, then the slow reveal of Guatemala City glowing like a constellation beneath us. There’s something poetic about seeing the country we’ve come to serve lit from above, a quiet promise sparkling through the haze.
Touchdown came with its own kind of rhythm. Customs. Baggage claim. Black crates stacked tall and volunteers moving with intention. It was after 9PM when we finally gathered outside the airport — tired but intact, green shirts clustered under streetlights, our ride to Antigua waiting just ahead.
The road wasn’t easy. Three separate accidents slowed the journey, a sobering reminder of how quickly things can shift. But our drivers were patient, and our team was resilient. We leaned into shared stories, half-laughs, and the shared understanding that this is part of the work — the unpredictable, the uncomfortable, the liminal spaces between intention and arrival.
We pulled into La Quinta de las Flores late — long after the streets of Antigua had gone quiet. A warm breeze met us at the gate, and for a moment, even in our weariness, there was peace. We made it.
Tomorrow, the real work begins. But tonight, we rest.
Brian Jensen, Team Blogger
