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.