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
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