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.