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.

Anchor of Hope

Recently I watched a video posted on someone's wall on Facebook wall. It was a video of an older man laying in a hospital bed, holding the hand of his wife, as they, together, listened to an angelic voice singing the song "How Great is Our God." The man looked tired, yet had this sense of peace; the woman appeared devastated, yet her face, too, had a sense of peace as she sang along softly. As I was watching this video, I couldn't help but reflect on not only how beautiful this couple was, but also how beautiful this broken, often terrifyingly evil world is. There is a lot of scary, a lot of bad, a lot of heart-wrenchingly painful, but all in the same, there is a whole lot of good. I have been in awe of this GOOD several times in the past few days.

I went to church with my Mama Tica and Papa Tico and a dear friend, Manny, on Saturday night. I wanted to go because I miss my own church, and also because I knew it would mean a lot to them if I joined them, but I am not going to lie, when I heard it was an evangelical Christian church, I was a little bit nervous. I had no idea what to expect accept for the fact that it was a two hour service, completely in Spanish. I was pleasantly surprised in many ways. I was comforted by the fact that the location was so similar to what Crosspoint once was; a small gym with folding chairs, a small stage and a small band. I was comforted by the fact that the environment was warm, safe, and welcoming, despite the fact that I was the ONLY blonde in the entire service. I enjoyed the message for the most part, although there were some fundamental elements that I strongly disagreed with; I understood all of the Spanish (YAY), and the two hours actually flew by. But I must say, even if I hadn't understood the Spanish, I would have been touched by this service, because what really seeped into my soul wasn't the words, or the music, but rather the peace, safety, and comfort these people found while with their community, surrendering to something so much larger than themselves. I found myself looking at the people around me, soaking up their joy, perhaps more than I even looked at the Pastor. I am constantly amazed by the beauty that shines through some of the most desperate, broken places, when people come together, as one, to worship, love, and just be together. My spirit was rejuvenated.

Then yet again, yesterday, my heart was on fire. I met Sergio in Guadalupe at 9:00 and together we took the bus to "Los Cuadros" to do another "Caminata." I had absolutely nothing on me but enough money for the bus, because carrying a phone, a purse, a backpack, anything... would just make my blonde hair stand out even brighter, and make me that much more of a target. On the bus, I asked Sergio what exactly our plans were for the morning, and he told me that there were five different homes he would like to go visit so that we can sit and talk to the mothers. 

The first house we went to was the home of a single mother with three boys, one of whom is in our class. She warmly welcomed us into her tiny, uncomfortable home, and asked us to sit down and talk to her as she continued working. We sat down and she pulled out a razor blade, pulled a huge laundry basket towards her, and began to show us how shred old tee shirts, cloth, etc... so that it was in its natural form of tiny long strings. Once undone, she would throw the string into a plastic bag and start on the next piece. When I asked her what she was doing, she told me that she buys this old fabric, strings it, and then sells it to mechanics, construction workers, etc... and they use it to wipe up oil, dirt, grease... and this is her main source of income. Sergio then proceeded to ask her about her husband, who has another family and another wife. She told us he hasn't been around at all, that the boys are heart-broken and she is overwhelmed, and that she is working on a divorce. I could feel the sadness in her words, when she said that all she wanted was to raise her boys right, but she often didn't know how to make it through the day. I honestly think we were the only people in the world that she had to talk to.

After this woman's home, we went to the homes of two other families who were surviving similar stories. When we asked about the 12 year old daughter at one of the homes, the mother told us that she was traumatized because two days before she was walking home and got jumped by some men who assaulted her, and took everything she had. She was now scared to leave the house.

The fourth home we went to was the one that really hit me the hardest. From the outside, this home looked similar to the rest, but as my dad has always told me, "you never know what goes on behind closed doors." We knocked, and one of our students walked out the "door" and then invited us to come in. When we walked in, it took everything in me not to burst into tears. The home in its entirety was about the size of my bedroom, and was shelter to six children under the age of 12, a woman, and her husband who made my nerves run wild. There were two rooms: a bedroom, and a kitchen/living room/dining room. The smell was awful, I am certain that there was deadly bacteria floating in the air, and the eyes on this woman were the darkest, saddest, most desperate I have ever seen. When her husband spoke, she flinched; when we asked her questions, she provided timid, one word answers; I wanted nothing more in the world than to scoop her up and run away with her... help her find a way out of the pain in which she was drowning.

And then the last home was a married woman, whose husband worked twelve hour days, six days a week. This home was a little bit nicer and a lot bigger. The children were clearly well behaved and well taken care of, but the bitterness that was pulsing through this woman's veins was as toxic as anything I have yet to see (I cannot say that I wouldn't be the same). As soon as we sat down, words poured from her mouth about how awful her world, outside of her home, was. She explained to us that her children are best friends, because they aren't allowed to leave their home except to go to school because the people around there are too dangerous, the environment is too detrimental. She told us about how the people who live a couple of doors down killed someone, how if she walks down the street, she could be assaulted, and how the only safe place for her family is inside her home. But she invited us to come into her home to be with her whenever we wanted to.

I must say, I left and my heart felt like it was full of cement: cold, hard, untouchable. But Pete's words from Sunday's service came to my mind, and brought me an overwhelming sense of comfort. Comfort not only in the fact that I was a little ray of sun in this dark place, but also comfort in the fact that one day, all of this evil will be wiped clean, and all that will be is goodness. It is hard to believe in a God sometimes, that can deal such an unfair hand to such beautiful people, such precious children, but then I see people like Sergio, overflowing with compassion, love and joy, and I know that people like him couldn't exist if there wasn't a God. People like him are here to share the love of God with people who otherwise wouldn't ever know Him.

"Be faithful in the small things because it is in them that your strength lies."

Mother Teresa