What I see...

I just saw a homeless man try to rip a blue Gatorade from a young man's hands.

I listened to a 17 year old mother talk about dropping to the floor the night before with her five month child, because a gang war was going on outside her front door.  She says she would love more than anything to move, but that earning $15 every 15 days, for 40 hours of work, just isn't enough to pay her own rent.

I looked into the glazed over eyes of a 13 year old little boy who just got out of a month sentence in jail for bringing a revolver to school and threatening to kill his teachers...I could feel the pain in his words as she shared that he had watched his father be brutally murdered the year before. 

I held a sick, malnourished 3 month old child, who is still the size of an infant, and felt my heart break as I tried to console his hungry sobs, and tried to control my own emotions as his mother told me that due to her nutrition, she no longer produces milk... And one bottle worth of watered down formula lasting them a day just doesn't suffice. 

I listened as two teenage girls full of promise told me there father wasn't going to let them study next year, because they were now women, and women are supposed to be in the house. 

I watched a puppy that resembled cooper running frantically in a torrential downpour, trying to find somewhere to hide, and when I tried to approach it... It became even more terrified. It took everything in me not to cry, imagining the fear of that poor pup, and what had happened to make him so distrustful. 

I was disappointed by someone in whom I have put a lot of faith... And my taxi took the long way home just because he knew that this "Gringa" didn't know any better. 

But then, at the end of the day, I sat down with my group of teenage girls.... Six tender hearts who two months ago were simply acquaintances, yet now have become sisters. Six sweet souls whose realities are unimaginable, yet who have clung to me and to one another... Pouring joy, friendship, strength and hope into one another's lives. Their giggles, their love, and their support of one another is incomprehensibly heart warming.

I got home and received a text from Joselin, the 17 year old mother who has completely wrecked my world, saying thank you... For all that I have done for she and the girls. For being the only person who has ever believed in her, fought for her, or inspired her. And that because she can never repay me for the friendship I have given her, she knows that God will through His blessings in my life. And she hopes we are friends forever. 

I have been told time and time and time again that if I can just touch one life, just inspire one child, just bring an ounce of hope into one home, then I have served my purpose here in Costa Rica... As my time here is coming to a close... I see in my little girls, but mostly in Joselin, my purpose here in this world. Guiding and bringing together these desperate lost children who are longing for nothing more than to be loved. 

At the end of the day... There's a lot of ugly in this world... Violence, addiction, poverty.... Sadness, hate, But there's a simple, clear, easy cute for it all... And that cure is love. These six little girls make that very clear.

Caroline

My Worlds Collide

When I am away, I often feel like I lead a double life. I have this life at home that I miss dearly. My people, my places, my past and the home that I will return to... and then I have this life here. And one of the most beautiful, but weirdest parts about my life here is that no one at home really knows it. My people, in reality, have no idea what my life has looked like for the past six months. There is something very refreshing about this. I can go away and be whoever I want to be, independent from where I come from, but all the same, it is terrifying that the people who mean most to me can't picture the world I am currently living in. People try... they read my blog, stay in touch, ask questions, and listen to my stories, but this is a world you can't believe until you see it. This is a world that has changed my life forever, shaken up everything I know to be true, and altered my view of the universe.

How wonderful it was to have these two worlds collide in the tiniest bit for a few days this last week.

 

Though I missed the rest of the family being here... having Christina here was one of the most beautiful parts of my experience in Costa Rica yet. Getting to walk through the streets of the slums I have come to know and love so well, with my sister, the woman I admire and respect more than anything in this world, was a dream come true. Everyone loved her just as I expected them to. Going to the home of Nicole, a young girl who is helping her family overcome hunger, crack addiction, domestic violence and a state of poverty unlike any I have ever seen, and translating for she and Christina both as they shared their stories, their strength and their love with one another was one of the most powerful moments I have ever experienced. And watching as tears poured from Nicole's mother's eyes, overcome by the ounce of hope that she found in Christina's story. Hope for she and her family, as well as hope for this world.

How special it was to have my sister by my side, spreading love in this dark, broken place with me.

How special it was to have her meet my Tico family... the people who have loved and taken care of me so well for the past 6 months...

And special doesn't even begin to describe how it felt to have her accompany me as I took my six little girls to the beach; the first time five of the six of them had ever seen the ocean.

When people think of Costa Rica, the first thing they think of is beautiful vacation beaches, rain forests, and more birds and animals than we could ever imagine. The last thing we think of are the little girls who have lived here since birth, yet who have never left the slums they call home, much less imagined traveling to the beach. We don't think of the teenage mothers who go days without eating, giving all of their nutrients to the babies they're breast-feeding;
the little girls whose eyes grew large and happy as we told them they could eat as much as they wanted for breakfast, and who ate plates of food as if they'd never eaten before; the little girls who have been forced to grow up way too quickly, nevertheless spent hours on end crashing into the waves of the ocean, burying themselves in the sand, and enjoying a once-in-a-liftime chance to be happy, carefree and innocent;
little girls who have seen more violence, darkness and pain than you or I could ever imagine, yet are still so full of joy and just craving love.

 

 

 

Every time I am with these six girls, they teach me something new... from Joselin, proving that a teenage girl can overcome having no positive influences in her life, and find it in her own heart and soul to be the one of the most incredible, loving mothers I have ever seen; or Carolina, a girl who was closed off, angry, full of hate when I met her six months ago, and who with love, support, and knowing that people believe in her has blossomed into one of the most sensitive, caring, thoughtful girls I know. Six young girls who are all so very different, and who think I hung the moon, have showed me more about endurance, perserverance and strength than anyone ever has. And it was an honor to share a day with these six beautiful angels and my sister, as well. It was one of the most meaningful days I have yet to live.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.
-Proverbs 3:5-6

How to Survive

Once upon a time there was an island where all emotions and human sentiments lived. Sharing the island was Fear, Wisom, Love, Worry, Envy, Hate... They were all there. Despite the occasional arguments, life on the island was tranquil, and even predictable. Sometimes the routine put Boredom to sleep, or Impulse created some sort of scandal, but more often than not Convience and Perserverance managed to calm Discontent.

One day, unexpected to all, Wisom called a mandatory meeting. When Distraction and Laziness finally arrived, all were present and Wisdom began, "I have bad news for all of you. The island is sinking."

"No!! How is that possible?!? We have always lived here." They all exclaimed in unison.

So Knowledge repeated, "The island is sinking."

"But it can't be...Maybe you're wrong."

"Knowledge is never wrong," responded Conscience, accepting the truth. "If he says the island is sinking, then the island is sinking."

"But what are we going to do?!" Asked the rest.

"Of course every one of you can do as you please," Knowledge began, "But I suggest that you all find a way to leave the island... Build a ship, a boat, a raft, or anything else that allows you to go... Because he who stays on the island will disappear with her."

"Can you help us?" They asked Knowledge, trusting his abilities.

"No," he said, "Foresight and I have built a plane and as soon as this meeting is over, we are going to fly to the closest island." And with that, Knowledge boarded the plan with Foresight - as well as Fear who was hiding in the stowaway cabin - and together they left the island.

Immediately, all of the emotions then began to build rafts, vessels, sailboats... All... Except for Love. Love, who was too attached to everything on the island said, "Leave this island...after all this time together!? How could I leave this lovely tree, for example? We have shared so much!"

So while all the other emotions were constructing that which would carry them away from this island, Love climbed every tree, smelled every rose, walked down the beach and rolled in the sand as he'd always loved to do. He touched every rock and ran his hand down every branch... 

When he reached his favorite spot on the beach, exactly where the sun goes down, with the naivety of a lover he said, "Maybe the island will sink for a moment, and then resurface... Why not?" And so he stayed there sitting, for days and days, watching the shoreline closely, trying to determine whether or not the reversal of the island's descent was reversable. 

With every moment the island sunk a bit more, nevertheless, Love couldn't think about leaving because it was entirely too painful. All he could do was cry. Yet as just as he was mourning for all that he was losing, it occurred to him that the island was very big no although it would continue to sink, he could always find safety in the highest point. Anything was better than having to leave. Therefore once more, he touched every rock on the shore, felt the sand between his fingerst, and walked along the water on the tiny beach that was once so large.

And every day the island sunk a little bit more. Every day, Love found refuge in a smaller piece of the island. "After all we have been through together..." He exclaimed to the island, when at last only a small piece of firm ground remained - the rest had been covered completely by water.

And it was in that moment that Love realized that the island really was going to sink. He finally understood that if he didnt leave the island, Love would disappear forever from the face of the earth. So he walked down the flooded paths, hopping over enormous puddles, and made his was to the harbor. There was no longer a possibility to make an exit like all the others; he had lost too much time denying that which he was losing and crying for that which was disappearing, bit by bit, right before his eyes. With his fellow emotions still in sight, he had the hope that he could explain his situation to one of the, and that they would understand and take Love with them. 

Intently watching the ocean, he saw Greed in his vessel and began to make signals to him. risk approach the Harbor.

"Greed, you who have such a large vessel, could you take me to the neighboring island? I have suffered so much for the disappearance of this island that I couldn't build a boat."

 

And Greed answered him, "I am so weighed down by money, jewels, and precious rocks that I don't have room for you. I am sorry," and continued his journey forward without looking back.

 

Love remained watching and saw that Vanity was coming in a beautiful boat full of decorations, trimmings, marbles, and flowers of every color. It was very attractive. Love craned a bit and yelled, "Vanity, Vanity, take my with you!!!" Vanity looked at Love and said, "I'd love to take you, but you look awful, so dirty and unkempt... Sorry, but you would lessen the quality of my boat..." And he left. 

 

And so Love asked for help from every one of the emotions.... Constancy, Jealousy, Sensuality, Indignation and even Hate. And when he thought that no one else would pass, he saw a tiny boat approaching... The last one... It was Sadness.

 

"Sadness, sister," he said, "You know me so well, you won't abandon me here... You are so sensitive like me, will you take me with you?" And Sadness answered, "I would take you, I am sure of it, but I am sooooo sad... That I prefer to be alone," and without saying anything else, he left. 

 

Love, poor thing, realized that for having been so attached to these things that he loved so much, the island was going to sink in the ocean until it disappeared. So he sat on the last piece of the island, waiting for the end... When all of a sudden he heard someone whisper, "psst...psssttt...." It was a strange old man who was calling him from a small rowboat. Surprised, Love answered, "Who?? Me!?!" Raising his hand to his chest. "Yes, yes," said the man, "You... Come with me. Board my boat and row with me. Ill rescue you." Love looked at him, dying to explain, "What happened was that.... "I understand..." Said the old man without allowing him to finish. Love boarded the board and together they began to row themselves to the next island.

 

It wasn't long before they watched as the last piece of the beloved island went under and the island disappeared forever. "There will never be another island like that one," whispered Love, hoping the old man would contradict him and give him some hope. "No," the old man said, "Like that one, never."

 

When they arrived to the neighboring island, Love realized that he was still alive... He finally realized that he was going to survive.

 

As he turned around to thank the old man, he saw that without saying a word, the man had mysteriously disappeared. So Love, very intrigued went to search for Wisdom, so that he could ask him, "How is it possible? I didn't know him and he saved me... All the rest of you left me, but he helped me.... He saved me and I don't even know his name."

 

Wisdom looked at him with his large eyes and said, "He is the only one who is capable of helping Love survive. When the pain of a loss made you think it was impossible to go on... When you seemed to have absolutely nothing left... The one who saved you, and will always save you, Love, is Time."

Giving

The emotions that have resulted from my work here the past week have been too immense to express through words, thus I have avoided expressing myself at all, however, after a beautiful morning in LC this morning, I am feeling reinspired in all walks of life.

My weekend was marked by the harsh reality that two of my sweet girls, Carolina and Caterin live, as I spent Friday night, as well as Saturday with them. Friday night was a surprise for two little girls who had never been to a mall in their lives when we took them to Lincoln Plaza - the closest thing to the US in CR - to buy dresses for the party we're throwing for Carolina's fifteenth birthday. I never imagined that I would watch two teenage girls stand frozen in Forever 21 and then turn to ask me, "What do we do now?" And as I struggled through finding dresses for them, and then shoes the next day, I discovered more about their lives than I was prepared to handle. 

Their mother, Dona Marisól, is 32 and has 8 children, from ages 17 to 6 weeks. They live in a two bedroom structure that is equally as unsafe as the streets outside, with an irresponsible father who has come home two weeks straight without money as a result of his addiction to video games. For that reason, when they showed up Saturday afternoon, Carolina was in tears telling me that she left her 6 year old little sister at home crying due to hunger, but there was no food in the house and no money to buy food. Caterin gets sick every time she eats and they can't afford to go to the doctor, Carolina is cutting herself again, and the baby isn't gaining any weight... And there is very little that I can do. When their mother asked me for money to buy food, the word "no" simply was not an option. Yet when I gave her $40 and she was ungrateful, expecting more, I knew exactly why I was going to receive the consequences that I received when Sergio found out I had given them money.

How unbelievable difficult it is for me to consider saying no to a family with starving children, when my pockets are practically overflowing. But Sergio firmly told me that he was trying to teach these people that asking for money is not the answer to their problems, and that I was reinforcing their belief that he's wrong. Instead, I am supposed to be helping them help themselves. I am supposed to be guiding these women and girls to find a way to strengthen their own hearts, heal their own wounds, and find new, healthier paths to take. And that's why I am here, to show these girls what it feels like to truly be loved, believed in and cared about... But how do you tell a hungry child no? Or a desperate mother with 8 mouths to feed? I just couldn't. 

We walked into Los Cuadros today only to find more terror, when we were told the reason for the elementary school that half our kids go to, and that is located right across the street from the building in which we work being closed. Yesterday, a gang of narcotraffickers held up the school while the children were in class. One of the guy's children goes to the school and had a problem with a teacher, and thus he and several others stood outside the school, shooting at the building with pistols, and threatening to kill every last one of the teachers. The children were escorted out by the police; thank God no one was hurt. The police, probably a little bit afraid themselves, were too worried about the aftermath of trying to arrest them, thus they decided just to shut down the school temporarily, hoping the problem would resolve itself. 

But then finally, a little hope and inspiration shone through when we went to visit Nicole. Now there was nothing physically beatiful about out time with her seeing as she lives in one of the worst parts of Los Cuadros in a one bedroom home with 7 siblings, her mother and her abusive father. But what was beautiful was the strength and faith that she had as she shared her story with us. She is a 21 year old girl who started using crack at age 12, however, decided 4 months ago that she wasn't destined for the life of suffering that was all she'd ever known, and that she wanted something better. Thus she quit, cold turkey, applied for a scholarship and went back to school. Today, she continues to live in that house, with three siblings still using, and dealers across the street, yet she is clean and she is determined. She told us today, "I am hungry, I am sad, and my life has been nothing but suffering, but I have seen God work miracles and I know He is working in my life, too. You just wait and see... God is going to use me for something good, and I'm going to share my story with the world."

When we left her house, Sergio and I went to the community center because he had some questions for me. He told me that to him, this world was normal. He told me that though every story hits him, and his heart will never be numb to the sadness and despair that each, individual family feels, nothing here shocks him. Thus, he wanted to ask me how I was processing my experience here, what it was doing in my soul, and if I believed that our work was effective. The truth is, everyday I walk into Los Cuadros changes my life. Listening to Joselin excitedly share the news of her engagement, and feeling the nausea rise into my throat as I see her future potentially slipping away; going to visit a young mother and her 2 week old twin girls, and giving her clothing because all she has is one individual outfit for each child, thus they're often just wrapped in blankets; sitting in the kitchen with a mother and child, and hearing them talk about dropping to the ground the night before to dogde the potential lost bullets from the gunshots outside their door; waiting for the bus and having a homeless probably eight year old little boy, who is dirty, stinky, and visibly traumatized ask me if I can please buy him an empanada; and walking alongside someone who tells me that he his prepared to give his life for me if he needs to....and knowing in my heart that he truly means it... I will think about this place and these people every day for the rest of my life.

 

Dios Guía Mi Camino

Tuesday, Thursday and Friday mornings consist of "caminatas," which are more or less neighborhood walks, where Sergio and I go visit with the mothers and children in Los Cuadros. Leaving the homes, I am often in shock, convinced that there's no way I could see or hear anything worse than what is just experienced. Life's full of fear, pain, and sorrow. Home after home of mothers saying they're absolutely exhausted, pregnant teenage girls, and walls that don't even keep out the rain, much less the danger of this environment. I often ask Sergio how he chooses where we walk, or who we visit. There are so many families in need of simply someone who is willing to listen, how does he choose? Time and time again, he has told me that he says a prayer in the morning when he wakes up, asking God to lead him to the homes of the people who are in most desperate need. He allows God to guide his journey, and simply walks in the direction in which his heart is pointing. Today, yet again, I saw God work directly through Sergio as we stumbled along the path of three different homes where the mothers were hopeless; it was as if they had been asking God for some light, and God was answering their prayers through Sergio. I have never met a man so gifted.

The first house we stopped at wasn't even planned, but as we walked past, and it registered in Sergio's mind that he had visitied with this mother a few times before, he began to knock on her door. She opened immediately, as if she knew we were coming, and there were already tears in her eyes. She invited us to sit down on the couch, and then was mortified as I sat in the spot where her child had just had an accident. I told her not to worry, Sergio asked her what was going on, and she pointed to a mirror on the wall behind her with a bullet hole straight through it. I guess she could tell from the puzzled look on my face that I didn't understand, thus she led me into her bedroom, and showed me the bedroom through which the bullet had entered just last night, waking them at 3:00 in then morning. It went through her window, through her bedroom wall and the mirror on the other side, through her child's bedroom door and stuck into the wall right beside his bed. They had been awake and terrified ever since; she was still shaking. There were no words that neither Sergio nor myself could say to what this mother was feeling away, as she told us that her home was located in the war zone, between two battling gangs, and that she was out of work, hadn't eaten in days, and couldn't even dream of relocating. I looked over and noticed that her baby was eating mayonnaise out of a bowl because that was all she could offer him, and I wanted to burst into tears. We sat with this woman for about an hour as she spoke to us about the danger, her failing marriage and her recent thoughts of suicide. The hardest part was knowing that the only thing would could provide this woman was our love and prayers.

A bit overwhelmed, we  continued our walk, when suddenly Sergio began knocking on yet another unplanned gate. A young girl stuck her head out the window and told us her mother wasn't home, but told her two little brothers to let us in the gate and onto the porch. We entered and Sergio asked her where her mother was, she replied, "At work." He asked her why she was home alone with the boys and not at school, and she told us she wasn't going to school anymore because she had to take care of her little brothers because they couldn't afford child care. "Did you want to stop going to school?" Sergio asked her, and immediately tears began to well in her eyes as this ten year old little girl told us she wanted to go to school so badly, but her mother wouldn't let her. Thus she and her two brothers are at home, alone, in the house all day everyday as their mother works. As we left I became angry with this child's mother, "How could she do that to her child?" I asked Sergio. When he looked at me and just smiled, I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me without saying a word, "Who are you to judge this woman, Caroline. You have absolutely no idea what her life looks like." And my heart melted; I really don't have any idea.

And then finally, we made it to the house we had intended to go to all along. One of the "ranches" right down the hill from the home of the biggest drug dealers in the area; the ones who are often seen shooting shot guns into the sky from their roof. We visit this house very often, because though the mother is always telling us how much love there is in her home, her five girls all wear a face of sadness unlike any that I have ever seen. Yesterday, when we arrived, we were greeted with coffee and homemade "Tres Leches" cake. For some unknown reason, this mother was especially open and willing to share yesterday, therefore when Sergio asked her what her life was like as a child, stories began to spill. She told us that she was always the rejected child growing up, therefore when she found a boyfriend at age 14, she moved into a "home" with him. When they were 16, they got married and had their first child; by age 26, they had five daughters. Today, their daughters range from age 12 to 22... The 22 year old has a four year old son, and the 19 year old has a 1 year old daughter. They all live in this home made of scrap metal together. There are rats, the walls don't keep out the water, and there is hardly room, much less food for them all. I looked upon this brave woman with disbelief; I am constantly amazed by what some people are capable of enduring. And the most unbelievable part about it is her faith despite all of her suffering. As she looks upon her sad, skinny, yet gorgeous girls, she speaks of God, and His plan for she and her family, and how grateful she is for all the blessings He has given her. 

It is in these places that I feel closer to God than ever, which is often troubling. Why is it then when I am with people who are fighting some of the worst violence and poverty that I feel God's presence so strongly? Maybe it is because I can feel Him working through me as I visit these homes. Maybe it is because the only thing some of these families have is there faith, and therefore it is infinitely strong. I don't know the answer, really, all I know is that God's presence here is undeniable.

Me

I have discovered that there are two faces of loneliness: there is the loneliness that is so dark, so sad, and so very scary. The loneliness that makes the days pass long and slow; the loneliness that makes us feel without purpose; the loneliness that leaves us completely empty. 

Over the past few months, however, I have become very close with a different kind of loneliness; a loneliness that I not only find beautiful, but also beneficial. The days are still long and slow, and sometimes there's the slightest taste of sadness, but then there's also this overwhelming sense of something bright. This sense of hope that comes from at last being away from the constant movement, pressure, and expectations of home, and finally being able to be alone with my thoughts; at last getting the chance to reflect on what I have seen, what I am seeing, and how I want all these pieces of my life to shape me into the woman I am becoming - the woman I want to be. It's kind of funny, because I have run from the the debilitating loneliness that makes us feel as if we're drowning for a long time, but today I am basking this loneliness that I can anticipate myself craving one day.

It is in this sweet loneliness that I am learning exactly what my priorities, and my values are, and what fills my heart the most. 

I was talking to my friend, Manny, the other day, about how amazing it is that some of the deepest, closest relationships i have made are when I am away from home, and outside of my comfort zone? This is something that has scared me for years, because my heart is truly at home with my family. It is something that has confused me, because I feel more known and understood at times, by people who I have only known for weeks, perhaps months away from home, than I do some of the people I've known my whole life. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that when I am "away," my priorities are different. There is no baggage, very little responsibility, and I am nothing other than me. I am not sure what it is about home, but when I get back there, it is so easy to fall back into the idea that's what's important is being dressed in the cutest clothes, working out excessively, getting that new car, making the best grades at the most prestigious school, being liked and accepted by everyone I meet; being perfect. When I'm away, however, and my days consist of sharing God's love with people who need it more than we could ever imagine, life seems so much simpler. My heart is so much lighter, more open, and more pure. My soul is so much more content, comfortable, and full. I am 100% me, the good and the bad, doing little other than what I believe I was put on this earth to do: give love. Thus the people I meet, meet me when I am my best, most true, most passionate self, and more often than not, they not only understand my passion, but also share my passion. They don't get to know Caroline the good student, Caroline the runner, Caroline that is constantly running around with a jam packed schedule... The Caroline beneath all the expectations, and pressures that I always seem to put on myself... They get to know the real, true Caroline.

Perhaps that's why it's always so gut wrenching to say good bye to Romano, Robin, my friends from Spain, Manny... Because they the part of me that I love the most, that I am most proud of, that I believe is the best version of myself. 

My hope, is that someday soon, I can discover whatever it is I need to make me capable of being this person ALWAYS... Not just when I'm away. 

I want to be the girl who is NEVER too busy to love.

The girl who is a friend, family member, or lover not when it is convenient,

But always, before I am ANYTHING else.

The girl who makes every person in my path feel loved, important, worthy and capable.

The girl who always takes care of herself.

The girl who is wise, confident, light hearted and thoughtful.

The girl who longs to know a person's story, and never, ever judges.

The girl who allows herself to truly be seen.

The girl who is giving and never selfish or too proud.

The girl whose top priority is to give love.

La Vida es un Sueño

Life is a dream.

I have been walking through my days this past week or so in a fog; present when I have needed to be present, but the rest of the time looking down on my life as if it was some weird movie. One of those strangely beautiful movies where there are about five different stories all going on simultaneously and somehow, through one character, they're all connected. I am that character. That person wandering from scene to scene, constantly in awe of the wonder, the horror, and the irony that makes up this world. Half of the time I am convinced that this chapter of my life isn't real, I'm just dreaming, and pretty soon I am going to have to wake up.

I was walking in the rain with Sergio on Friday, on the way to the bus after a long afternoon in Los Cuadros. He could tell something wasn't right with me; he had been asking me all afternoon, "¿Qué tienes?" (What's wrong?) I just kept telling him, "podemos hablar más tarde." (We can talk later). Then we got on the bus, stuck in the much dreaded rush hour traffic, and I couldn't hold it in any longer, "Manny is leaving on Friday, and I'm just really really sad." 

For those of you who don't know who Manny is, he is another one of the angels with whom I have crossed paths in Costa Rica. For the past four months, he has been one of the only constants throughout my journey. A kind, gentle, wise man from Mexico, who has been living in San Diego since he was twelve, then has been out of the country working for Maximo in both Peru and Costa Rica for the past year. He is one of the ones who immediately made me feel secure, like I had someone I could count on, like I had something safe and familiar in this place where everything is foreign and unknown. Now, however, he has become yet another one of the magnificent people who I have met, then had to say goodbye to, as he unexpectedly has had to go home. This is fine, this is life, however, it is proving to be one of the most difficult elements of my time away. There won't just be sad goodbyes on the last day...but rather the sad goodbyes are constantly popping up out of nowhere, knocking the breath out of me, and leaving me to start the search for new people, yet again. For a girl whose best friends are her family, and the people she's known all her life, the girl who went to elementary school, middle school, high school and college in the same town, the girl who pours her whole heart into all relationships, this is getting pretty draining.

But as I talked to Sergio about my sadness, he of course, made me feel worse and better all at the same time. First he told me that what I was feeling then is what he is going to feel when I leave. He told me he wakes up every morning and remembers that I am going to leave, and asks God to please give him the strength to enjoy today with me, rather than be anxious about the future. He told me that when I got here in May, when we first met, he was about to quit - not only his job, but also his life, his faith, his everything. He felt like he was walking alone, giving his life, literally, working for a foundation where the leaders won't even do what he is doing, and walking in a community that is so dark that he was even losing hope. But then he told me that he met me. This rich, white girl who was actually excited and passionate not only about taking pictures with the cute children when they're clean and made up, but also about putting her own life in danger in order to go in the homes, love on the families, pray with the mothers, and cry with the grandmothers. He told me that when his battery was nearly dead, I gave him a new sense of purpose, hope, and determination. The crazy part is that I feel the exact same way about him.

I don't think I merit the words that Sergio pours over me; I believe he deserves all the credit. But what I can believe is that for some reason God brought us together, and I think we make an incredible team. A team who holds a 17 year old girl's baby, as she soaks up the rain water that is pouring through the walls of her poorly built shack, trying to ignore the gun shots outside. A team who can approach a group of crack dealers, with shotguns down their pant legs, and receive smiles and gratitude from them as we offer them, and their children lollipops. A team who can talk to those who are dangerous without fear, acknowledging that they, too, are people and are in need of love. A team who can bring together three older women who have no faith in anyone outside the walls of their home, foster amongst them a three hour conversation, where they support, love and understand one another... and perhaps even create through them a group of positive leaders for their community. A team who can pull together a group of volunteers who are willing to dig through trash and sewage in order to level the hill beside a woman's home so that she can add a room for her sister who is dying of a brain tumor. A team who can potentially shatter the tough, rebellious, hateful outer shell of Carolina's heart, and reach the tender, innocent soul deep inside. A team who was brought together to not only shine light into the lives of the sad families in Los Cuadros, but also into the one another's lives, offering a glimpse of beauty and goodness in a world that can often be so evil and scary. A team who will soon go down separate paths, however, who will always be together, lifting one another up in spirit. 

I get off the bus, drenched and exhausted from a day of walking from one draining situation to the next, heavy with the sadness of having to say goodbye, and maybe even wondering a little bit why I put myself in the situations that I do...and then I feel a sense of peace come over me. A sense of peace that gives me the courage to continue forward. A sense of peace that comes from the only constant in this world. A sense of peace that comes from knowing that God is with me, guiding me, and loving me every step of the way. A sense of peace that comes from knowing that the reason I am here, giving until I have nothing left, is because I hope that through my actions, my love, my consistency, someone in this community can see and know God. 

So when I stop, and really think about it, it really is all kind of like a dream. I have no control. I have no say. All I can do is the best I can to use what God has given me to be the person He created me to be, and walk the path He has selected for me. When you think about it like that, it takes away a lot of the pressure. When you think about it like that, it offers a lot of peace.

A Gift a Day

Every morning I wake up with an anxious excitement, anticipating how this next day will unfold. It's as if I wake up every morning with a sweet little gift sitting at the end of my bed, waiting for me to discover the magic that's inside. The magic comes in all different forms.

 Some days it's a magical sadness that nearly weighs me down and wears me out. The magic of walking past the houses constructed of scraps of metal, wood and perhaps even some cement, to the ones pieced together out of carefully chosen scraps of trash. The "homes" made of single mothers who have fled Nicaragua for a "better life" in Costa Rica, were they can't work because they're illegal, and can't feed their children because they can't work, and can't feed themselves because they can't feed their children. Homes like those of Maria Jesus. 

When she unashamedly led us into her "home," I was in complete and utter shock, not so much from the conditions she was living in - I have seen homes like these before - but from her willingness to welcome us into her home, offer us a cup of coffee, and proudly tell us that she picked the location and managed to out a roof over her and her son's heads entirely on her own. But as soon as we asked her how things were going, her demeanor began to transform in a way that is becoming all too familiar. As her face began to quiver, and silent tears slowly dropped from her eyes, she began unveil the darkness of her reality. She is a 55 year old single mother of 5 children, three of whom are still in Nicaragua, and one of whom has fallen into the toxic web of drugs just outside her front door. Thus she is alone, with her twelve year old son, Rigo, one of my students, and together they are fighting to survive. She has just found out that not only is she sick, but her sister has also been diagnosed with a brain tumor and needs to come live with her; she asked for a place to peacefully die. She begged us to tell her how she could help her sister when she couldn't even provide for herself and her child. She has never received an education, is sick, and illegal. She has no money to buy a cable to wire stolen electricity to her "house," much less to buy anything other than rice and beans. She is desperate, sad and hopeless. 

                     This isn't her home - I couldn't let her see me take a picture - 

                    but rather the view from her home to the area of "nicer homes."

So you may ask where in this moment I could find a silver lining, and call this moment a gift... And that's the exact direction in which I'm moving. When she was done telling her story, we embraced Maria Jesus, prayed for her, and then Sergio, without even thinking about it first, told her we would help her build a room for her sister, as well as find money with which she could buy a cable. In moments, we had made something so seemingly out of reach into a reality, and we did it without even lifting a finger. This is a gift. To see the joy on this woman's face when we told her we'd be back Saturday morning to help her, and see the tears begin to fall down her face yet again, however this time accompanied by a smile. 

And then their is the gift that brings nothing but warmth to the heart. The simple act of calling my 17 year old student, Joselin, and asking her if Sergio and myself could take her out for a special dinner to celebrate her first Mother's Day (it was last Thursday in Costa Rica), and hearing the surprise in her voice as she eagerly asked when and where. We met her in El Parque Cultural, which is surrounded by every type of restaurant you could imagine, at 5:30 and told her she could pick the place. What we didn't consider beforehand was the fact that she may have never been out to eat, much less know where to start when picking a restaurant. Therefore, overwhelmed and  bit flustered, she chose McDonald's, because it was the on,y place she'd ever heard of, and she just really wanted a hamburger. Now as you can imagine, I shuddered a bit when she chose to eat there, nevertheless, it was the best experience at McDonalds I have ever had. As I snuggled Joselin's sweet baby Eiken, and watched her entirely too skin frame scarf down a McDonald's double cheeseburger, I could feel God's presence with us in that nasty fast food restaurant. Any economical, cultural, experiential, or spiritual differences were irrelevant; it was just A 32 year old ex-gangster from Guatemala, a 17 year old new mother from the slums of Costa Rica, and an overly blessed 22 year old girl from TN sitting together as friends, and loving one another.

Then there have been the terrifying gifts that nearly made me pee my pants, yet forced me to open my eyes and see a world that I've never wanted to believe existed; the tough gifts of experiencing what it is  like to live a whole two days without ANY running water; the uncomfortable gifts of being stuck outside in the slums, without an umbrella or a rain jacket, getting soaked to the bone, yet having to continue on with my work day regardless; the indescribable gift of crossing paths with a man who I never could've IMAGINED I'd be friends with, someone who once perhaps resembled the men from my nightmares, and being SHOWN that even the most damaged, dark, and scariest souls have beauty underneath, and have something wonderful to offer to this world.

My eyes a wide open; my heart is racing, exposed, and vulnerable; my mind is exhausted and overwhelmed; my spirit is alive and excited; my soul is absolutely full. 

“A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, and must empty ourselves. Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your weakness.” 

― Mother Teresa

Faith is Right Now

Finally, I am getting back into my work here, in Costa Rica. The first few days were slow, trying to get back into the routine, find my place again, reestablish friendships, and get used to not having my family just a call, or a bedroom away. I never really questioned whether or not I should be here, but I did find myself questioning several times whether or not this time around would be as successful, fulfilling and inspiring. In my boredom and taste of loneliness over the weekend, I did end up asking myself, yet again, why I put myself in the situations that I do. Right when I got reacquainted with my home, family, comforts and life....was it really a good idea for me to leave it all behind again? Am I really getting anyone here that I couldn't get at home, or more importantly, giving anything here that I couldn't give at home? Was it really necessary to suffer,through a four hour plan ride with Cooper in order to return to Costa Rica?!

And then Tuesday morning, I arrived at the By With a Ball offices to find Sergio waiting for me with a huge smile on his face and his arms open wide to hug me for a good ten seconds, then thank me for coming back. That was enough to fill my heart to its rim, but the day only continued to get better from there. I was invited into a meeting where we discussed - in Spanish - the program/curriculum that had been developed in order to create leaders out the children we are working with in Los Cuadros. It is a five part, Christian based curriculum that is a wonderfully organized, but also open enough for me to be able to use my creativity, experience and knowledge to make it more applicable to the population with which Sergio and I are working.

The backbone of the curriculum is as follows:

1. Faith and hope

2. Self-esteem

3. Strength and discipline

4. Responsibility

5. Consistency and perseverance 

I can't think of five values more important to this community than those listed above, but anticipate the perplexed looks on the children's faces when I ask them, "How do you define faith? What's the difference between faith and hope? Are they both necessary in order to find happiness?" More than likely, these children have never even been asked to consider the idea of happiness, or what would/could make them happy... Therefore we have an immensely large job ahead of us, yet one that could ultimately change the future of not only this special group of children, but also their entire community, country and world. 

As we were brainstorming ideas of how to even approach these topics, we decided to first look within our own hearts, and attempt to define, dissect, and analyze what these values mean and what role they play in our own lives. The first question Sergio asked me was, "What is the base of your faith." One would the answer would come to my mind quickly and that I would be able to express my beliefs without any hesitation, but that was not the case. I stuck, I was lost, I was frozen. I thought through all the answers I was "supposed to say:" the Bible, Jesus, the church... But none of these felt real to me. Of course they're key elements of my faith, but there is something so much more powerful, so much more effective than those things in strengthening my faith, I just couldn't seem to find the words to express it. 

So I asked Sergio, "Well, what is the vase of your faith?" Of course, his response was quick and easy, "the Bible," he told me, and then began to quote verses from the Bible that speak of what faith is. He talked about the story of Abraham, sacrificing his only son, Isaac, simply because of his obedience and faith in the words of his God, and told me how very influential this story has been in his life. It was in that very instant that I realized where exactly my faith lies: in the stories of the people around me. 

I look at this man whose existence has been one of suffering since his first breath, yet whose faith pulled him allowed him to beat all the odds that were against him, and be one the strongest, most kind, giving and inspiring men I have ever known. It is in his heart and through the way that he loves that I see God most clearly.

I think about my sweet friends, Amy and Forrest, and the roller coaster they've endured, yet the graceful way they have persevered, clinging to each other and their faith to pull them through a season of fear and sadness that no parents should have to endure. I see them loving on their angel of a child, Grace, and see the hundreds of lives she has touched in her own short five years on this earth, and in this family, I see God. I see love, his mercy, his Grace.... Not understanding the mysterious ways in which he works, but unceasingly thanking him for souls like these.

I think through the stories of Christina, Mr. Whitfield, Romano, Tavarres and know that their stories are the instruments of an incomprehensible God, whose plan for each one of us is so much greater than we could ever imagine, and whose Glory shines through these people's faces.

All of a sudden in this moment, all of my questions vanished, and I was given a dose of inspiration to touch these children's lives, and attempt to share with them the way that faith can transform their lives, and the lives of those around them.

Life is Good

What a journey the past 11 days have been. 

The two weeks prior to my departure from San Jose, and return to TN were full of anxiety, nerves, worry, and an extreme case of over thinking/overanalyzing every decision I'd made in the past three months. I think I hid my internal chaos pretty well behind my large smile and positive exterior; but to say that inside I was going insane may be an understatement. I was doubting whether I had made the right decision to stay in Costa Rica, or would I be more capable of making a difference where the cultural and language barriers weren't so strong. I was disheartened by the frustration that I felt in wanting to do more for these young women and mothers, and thinking maybe this organization could find someone else who was more qualified to serve this community. I was saddened by the idea of my parents in constant worry back home. I called Callie on the verge of a breakdown, telling her that I was thinking about canceling my flight back to Costa Rica, and joining AmeriCorps and doing a year-long project in CA instead. We even talked about moving there together. I cried to my dear friend, Carissa, telling her that I felt like I was being impulsive and careless, and begged her to tell me what the right answers were. And then I talked to my father on the phone, pretended everything was fine, and felt my heart melt as he told me that I didn't have to return to Costa Rica if I decided I didn't want to, and that though he would prefer me stay at home, he would support whatever decision I made. I closed my eyes each night, and pleaded that God make this decision clear.

And then my last day, I went to my English class in Los Cuadros. When Joselin walked in with her tiny three year old niece, whose mother was at home with Joselin's baby so that she wouldn't be distracted from her studies, my heart stopped. And when the small child smiled up at me, with three rotten front teeth that not only looked painful, but also smelt like something dangerously unhealthy, I felt my stomach fall to the floor. And then I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and it was Karen. When I turned around, I was immediately enveloped in one of her loving hugs. She made me promise that I would be back; it was as if she could sense my indecision. And she repeated over and over again, "me cae muy bien," (I really like you)... and told me she had known she would like me since the first time she met me. And after class was over, her words changed to "te quiero mucho" (I love you very much); I swear, she could read the questions that were floating through my mind. What she didn't know, however, was that in that very moment, she was answering the prayers I had been praying for weeks. After longing for a sign, a clue as to what God's plan for me entailed, she made everything clear with her raw, simple honesty. I could not tell this child goodbye; my time here had not yet come to an end.

So unexpectedly, I left San Jose with a sense of peace. I was going home. I was going to see my people; I was going to recharge my spirit; I was going to soak up every moment of comfort and familiarity. But the peace came from the knowledge that soon I would be back. 

Walking down the hallway of the Nashville airport was like déjà vous. My mind was flooded with the numerous times I had made this walk before - returning from Spain, Haiti, the Dominican Republic - anticipating the warm embrace of my father. This time, however, I was pleasantly surprised; not only were my father and step-mother waiting for me, but also Callie and Coop. Immediately my fears of my little man having forgotten me were erased when I saw him trying to wiggle free from Callie's arms so that he could get to his mommy. Finally, I could take a deep breath; there is no better feeling than coming home. And since the moment I arrived in Nashville, I have felt loved to no end. While usually I am overwhelmed by the idea of so many things to do and so many people to see, these past two weeks I have felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. There is no girl in the world who has felt more loved, supported and blessed to have so many irreplaceable people in her extraordinary life. 

Today, my heart is ready to return to Costa Rica to share a fraction of my wealth of blessings with the special community I have discovered there. I feel stronger, I feel lighter, and I feel capable. I am anxious not only to see how God is going to use me in the lives of the people in Costa Rica, but also to see what He is going to teach me through them. 

I can't wait to share the next phase of this journey with you all. 

Heavy

Every week, I immerse myself a little bit deeper into the communities in which I am both living and working, and though this is a beautiful thing, with every step I take, I feel reality getting a little bit darker in this absolutely beautiful country. Again and again I say that I know this is where I am supposed to be, however, the more I get to know these people and their realities, the harder I find it to believe that this is what my life consists of today. Sergio tells me again and again that the world in which we are working is "feo," or ugly, and he is right. At times it gets so ugly, that I have to close my eyes and pretend to be somewhere else. If I didn't already feel so invested in these women/children, it would be a lot easier to turn and run home... Pretending I never saw what I have seen.

But I can't pretend that I never met sweet Joselin, or helped her care for her darling son, Aiken. I cant pretend that I didn't make my way through the burning trash, intoxicated and half-dressed men, and wandering children, to get to the broken structure in which this beautiful girl is trying to raise her son. As held her 4 week old baby in my arms, and looked around at the decorations hanging from the ceiling that were covered in cobwebs, the wooden plank walls that certainly can't keep out the Costa Rican rain, and the clearly unsanitary space they used as a kitchen, it took everything in me not to cry. As she spoke to us about her dangerous stepfather, her toxic environment, and how all she wanted was to learn enough English so that she should be a translator and give her son something better, it took everything in me not to take her hand and run with her. Run far, far away from this place...to a place where she can be 17, and not have to worry about her safety each time she walks out her front door.

From her home, we walked through many different areas, with many different types of homes; all shocking in their own unique ways. There are the ranches, which are the "shacks" out "in the sticks (as  Rodes would say)," there are the newer homes, which are actually made out of cement, but in the more dangerous areas, and then, where went next, are the tin structures, which of course create a heavenly sound in the rain, but aren't the least bit nurturing or protective. Only minutes before reaching the next home, we passed two little kids playing in the dirt. A little boy who was probably about 7 and a little girl who was about five. Between the two of them was a small potted plant. Sergio stopped, and in Spanish, asked them what they were doing. With a huge smile on his face, the little boy turned and lifted up a sprouting marijuana plant for us to see, and when Sergio asked him what it was, my heart stopped, as I listened to the little boy explain to us what marijuana is, how to grow it, and how to sell it. The pride in his face is something that will be stamped on my heart forever.

Then finally, we got to the home of Carolina and Catherine, two girls from our English class, and the only home that we were actually never invited to enter due to the terrible conditions inside. These two girls are the two in which I have seen the most growth and improvement throughout the time I have been here, but also the two who I believe are in the most apparent danger. Being 14 and 17 year old girls, who are fully developed and beautiful, and have absolutely no limits at home, anything could happen. They spend their days skipping classes, fighting amongst themselves or with other girls, and/or taking care of their three baby siblings and pregnant mother. Yesterday, for the first time, the mother actually showed her face to explain to us that Pani (children's services here) had been calling and threatening to come take the girls out of the home because they believed they are in danger. I don't know who/how the father is, but from experiencing the helplessness and sadness of this mother and her children, I can only imagine. I finally understand what my sister, Christina, does everyday... And the reason she is so incredibly passionate and dedicated to her work. 

There is absolutely nothing like seeing a beautiful, glowing, intelligent child, who clearly has so very much potential, and then looking around them and coming to the conclusion that the odds are against them ever becoming anything other than what they come from. It is brutal to accept that there is absolutely nothing you can do except hope your presence makes a difference, and pray for God to be with them. It kills me to think of the children in the states, and all they have, as well as expect, and then look at these children who have absolutely nothing. But it inspires me to hear them tell me they love me, and reminds me of the strength that I have, and why I love where I am today.

Just Be

One of the things that has continually been a challenge for me over the past few years is having free time. Callie is always telling me that some day I am going to have a heart attack because I never stop moving, and if I have a few huts free, I find something "productive" to fill my time with. Don't get me wrong, i love to think and to be alone, but i love to think or reflect on things other than myself; i like to be alone, but doing something, again, "productive." At times I have wondered if I am in some form or another addicted to productivity, schedules, and perhaps even stress. Since high school, Dad and Page have begged meto give myself time to just be, and to try not to always commit to so much that I don't have time to enjoy life, enjoy people, or even take a deep breath. I am not sure if this is a result of the society in which I've been brought up, my perfectionist, "type A" personality, or perhaps a fear of being alone with myself and my thoughts. It's most likely a combination of the three.

As I have travelled here, to Costa Rica, this issue has followed me. Her, however, it's not quite as easy to run from silence, and I am instead being forced to confront it. Last weekend at the beach, alone, I had a lot of unrolled time. I couldn't get in the car and drive somewhere, I couldn't turn on the TV (there wasn't one), I couldn't go window shopping becuSe there were only a couple of shops, and I couldn't really even escape into a book, because the book I'm reading is in Spanish so it's more of a challenge than an escape. So I walked on the beach for hours, listening to the waves or my music, trying not to think, or to worry, or to stress, but rather trying just to BE. I did yoga in the sun, connecting with myself rather than anything external and the most amazing thing happened, every moment I spent like this became a little easier. The anxiety that accompanied the silence began to lessen. And I slept better than I have since I have been here. 

And then I came back to San Jose, where I returned to busy days, a rewarding, however, stressful job, and the constant noise of an evergrowing city. I fell right back into the comfort of not having to be with myself. Therefore when the weekend rolled around, and I chose to stay in San Jose with very little to do, the anxiety of a lack of a schedule returned, and I had to go through the horrible process of acclimating to just BEING again. Yesterday I thought I was going to go crazy. All I wanted was to work, to exercise, to go somewhere, to do something...but I resisted, and today is so much better. I have been reading Pete's book, Empty Promises, in Spanish... And the part I read today really hit home. It was the chapter about fasting, where he spoke about the importance of fasting, not necessarily from food, but from anything that gets in the way of our relationship with God. Fasting from what he calls the "false idols" that we use to fill up any empty spaces, expecting them to bring us the fulfillment that only God can bring, and leaving us even more empty than before. I definitely think this is my problem. 

When I talked to my dad yesterday and told him my day was "extremely unproductive," it was as if he knew exactly what I needed to hear, as per usual. He said, "Don't use 'unproductive' as if its a bad word - our culture has taught us to go, go, go... Accomplish, accomplish, accomplish... And what we forget to do is just to be - be present with God, with ourselves, with the world." 

All of this makes me think about the service I have done overseas - not necessarily in Costa Rica, but in Haiti, the DR, and what I have heard about Africa. People always go to the places to serve people who are in constant battles just to make it through the day. And when I have been to these places, or talked with people who have returned home, I have so often heard people say, "I don't understand how people who are starving to death and sleeping cramped together in a tent with a dirt floor have so much peace. They have more joy than the people at home. They are so much happier. They are so much more content." Many times, I have to disagree, and I see the sadness, desperation, and hopelessness in the eyes of some of these people. But sometimes I have to agree. Some of the kindness, most joyful, most loving people I have ever met are those who have absolutely nothing tangible. Those who need more help than you or I could ever give. But they also have something that I only dream to have. They are comfortable with being alone with God; they put every ounce of faith they have in Him; they believe with all their hearts that He is with them and that He will provide. Nothing is more powerful than seeing such faith.

                                       A boat at the beach that says "God guides my Journey"

I feel like it is a constant battle in our world today. More than anything, I want to believe the way these people do. I want to place my worries, my fears, my anxieties in the hands of God and know that He will take care of me. But at the same time our world is telling us to go, work, achieve, only count on ourselves. Everyday we are given a new piece of technology to entertain us, keep us busy, make life "easier." Everyday society is trying to pull us further from a peaceful existence with our Creator, to a "productive," yet empty existence with society. It's exhausting, like swimming against the current, but for some reason, it is a little bit easier here than it is there. Therefore my goal for this adventure is not only to become fluent in Spanish and try to impact a sad, sad place, but also to move in the opposite direction than the one I had been moving. Towards an existence where I find peace in just being with God, and away from the mindset that I have to "go, go, go....accomplish, accomplish, accomplish." I want the same for each of you as well.