Fearless

“Fearlessness is not the absence of fear. It's the mastery of fear. It's about getting up one more time than we fall down.” Arianna Huffington

As I sat in Trinidad, ringing in the New Year in my favorite fashion (hint: we celebrate it every Sunday), the priest gave a homily about this newborn year that we held in front of us. He urged us to look at this “newborn” and to give it a name that expressed all we hoped for its life. Preoccupied as I was with leaving Trinidad, with questions of when, how and why I would go back, I named my year Fearless.

I decided that I wanted to live my life without fear…even if it was for just a year. My understanding of what that meant was fairly shallow, mainly focused on the fear and sadness I felt leaving a place that has become like home. I wanted to name the year Return – to focus on getting back to Trinidad. I wanted to name my year Home – to take with me the parts that made Trinidad home to me.  But as I prayed, the Spirit opened a different word to me – Fearless

To live without being afraid of the movements of the Spirit.

To not be afraid of where God might call me in my future.

To be courageous despite not knowing the plan.

To face the fears and anxieties that hold me back, acknowledge them and then overcome them.

Basically, I wanted to take life by the horns and live it well. Moving and flowing with the river of the Spirit that I felt running through me. At one point, that meant recognizing a fear that Trinidad might not be where I’m called. At another, that meant recognizing my fear of failure and trying something new at work. It meant listening to Christ. But even at that, my idea of a Year of Fearlessness was limited.

Today at work, I encountered a different type of fear. There are these two boys at work, we’ll call them Mark and Evan. Well, these boys have stolen my heart. Every day when I walk into Casa Cuna, Evan yells my name and runs to me. “Catsi, Catsi!”, buries his head into my legs in a tight embrace and I bend down for a kiss. His brother, Mark, does the same when I run into the room. Despite him yelling or kicking when he’s mad, this boy is love. He’ll snuggle in my lap, climb on my back to give me a kiss and is the first to say goodbye at the end of the day. These kids are my daily conversion to love more and harder and are my sunshine all at the same time.

They’re leaving us.

We don’t know a lot of information, just that they are leaving soon. It’s happened before that kids leave with little notice, or that we come to work one day and they’re gone. But hearing that my two little angelitos, who I’ve watched grow up so much, were going away. Where are they going? How are they going to grow up? Will they see their mom again? What will happen to them? I was afraid for their mom, who had already had two children die. What will she do without them? Where is she going? How is she going to handle this? As my ministry has turned me outwards, the opportunities to let fear take over have grown infinitely – in the plight of people who I don’t even know.  This is how God transformed my Year of Fearlessness, by turning it away from me and towards something greater. Away from me and towards my brother and sister, for whom He has commanded me to become their keeper.

So what is my courage here? How do I overcome the fear? I overcome through prayer and through faith. Faith that the same Jesus Christ who gives me courage to overcome my internal fears, gives me confidence that all will be okay. The same Christ who died on the cross for my sake, died for the sake of these three beautiful people. I have faith that as we pray for Mark, Evan and their mom, God the Father will watch over and guide them. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have questions or fears, not even close. I’ve cried three times while writing this. It means that as I think about it, I name the fear and remind myself that God is bigger. When fear beings to overwhelm me, I run into the arms of Jesus and pray.

The only way I can truly live fearlessly, is by allowing the One who conquered fear and death to be in charge. So join me in prayer and take heart with God we will nothing stops us.

Simplicity of Joy and the Beauty of Saying Goodbye

 I have learned that giving pieces of your heart away never limits how much you can love, but instead increases it. The pain that you feel is not heart break; it’s what happens when your heart is full.

I don’t often talk about my daily life for work, because for me it is rather … well, daily. But this week, as I refocused my energy, the uniqueness of what I do every day was unfurled. It’s not so much that caring for babies in Costa Rica is any different than taking care of children in the U.S., but more the perspective that I brought to the job. As I refocused myself, I realized two beautiful parts of my day that I hadn’t quite tapped into before – the simple things that bring forth joy and the beauty of hellos and goodbyes.

First things first – joy. It’s amazing what can spark joy in a little child. The instant I walk into work every day, I visit the halls to say hello to all the different kids. As Lauren and I walk in, the kids yell our names and run towards us. They are joyful that their playmates have come. As I feed the kids their lunch, they smile and giggle as I make silly noises. They are joyful just because someone is taking the time to give them attention. As their moms come to pick them up for merienda, lunch and to go home, I see the kid’s faces light up as the get hugged up by their mom. They are joyful because they have hugs and love. It doesn’t matter the situation – a toy, juice, a song – these kids are joyful. It is my favorite part about going to work every morning, is just the fact that every simple thing brings a smile to their faces. I think it is also a lesson we need to learn. Joy doesn’t have to be a complicated mess of making yourself joyful. It’s as easy as looking at some things with the eyes of a child. I’m learning slowly through my work at La Posada that by celebrating the little things – baby snuggles, hugs, jokes with the moms, community – as little rays of sunshine, joy comes so much easier.

This little girl is just full of joy! The two girls in the foreground are fighting, and she's all smiles!

Now, work isn’t always a joyful affair. Girls leave La Posada for a lot of different reasons. Sometimes they get in trouble and are asked to leave, sometimes they turn 18 and leave, sometimes they are able to return to their parents. Sometimes they run away and sometimes they know they are leaving for days. People keep telling me that after so many goodbyes you get used to it. I’m not sure that’s true. I love each of these kids and their moms with everything that I have to give them, as I try to with most people, which means that every time I say goodbye a little part of my heart goes with them. That being said, we said goodbye to one of the moms and two little girls that I’m truly fond of. It was in saying goodbye that I got to truly appreciate the time I spent with those girls. They will always be in my prayers and my heart, but I truly got to appreciate the gifts that they gave me.

And in saying goodbye, there is room for more girls at Posada.  It’s hard to say goodbye, but seeing that new girls get to come is beautiful. Posada offers something unique to the girls that isn’t offered in the other homes throughout Costa Rica. They offer a place for both the mothers and their children to grow in an environment that is directly oriented to their needs. As much as I might get frustrated with my work some days, it’s amazing to keep that in mind. While some occasions when the girls leave are less then desirable, there is always the silver lining of welcoming new people. It’s a lesson I’m learning over and over, the relationship that ends when saying goodbye opens up room for new life to be given. I’ve learned that giving pieces of your heart away never limits how much you can love, but instead increases it. The pain that you feel is not heart break; it’s what happens when your heart is full.

Saying goodbye to my two girls. Love, tears and hugs

Just Because They Are

dig·ni·ty/ˈdignitē/ -- the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect

Today in Washington D.C., people from all over gather together to give voice to those whose very lives are threatened by abortion, euthanasia and the death penalty.  Even more importantly, they are marching for the recognition of something that cannot be taken away.

Dignity.

It is not something that is earned or that we as a human race can give. It is within each and every human being. Not because of who or why or how they are but just that they are. That they were created and given life. That the divine that is in you and I resides in every person. It doesn’t matter who they are – whether the person is a small but growing fetus or someone dying in a hospital or someone who committed an unthinkable crime. No matter the person, dignity is inherent. The March isn’t just about stopping something – it’s about recognizing why its worth stopping. Calling people to recognize this worth and come forth to defend it.

Though I’m not marching in D.C. this year, I march for life every day in Costa Rica. Hogar Posada de Belen (The Inn at Bethlehem) is a home for mothers, ages 13-18 years, and their children. It is a pro-life effort of the Episcopal Conference of Costa Rica to help aid mothers in choosing life. While the mothers live at the home, they also are given the opportunity to take classes, participate in extracurricular classes like dancing and music, as well as work experience like working in a restaurant or a beauty salon.

At work, we march for life every day. Like I said, dignity isn’t something you can give, but something that you can recognize and guard and that is what I feel we do with our niños. We honor their dignity by loving them with all we have to offer. Listening to their stories, telling them I love them every day (every few minutes really J ),  affirming the good they do and even correcting them when they misbehave are ways that we show them that they are worth time, effort and love. When they do something wrong and are being punished I tell them I love them but what they did was not okay, hoping that the kids learn that their worth does not lie in their actions but in just being.

But being pro-life is more than just ensuring that the baby makes it out of the womb or even just building up the children who are in these challenging situations. Limiting the pro-life to just abortion changes the entire ideology of the movement. Womb to tomb, conception to death, whatever catch phrase you’d like to use, being pro-life is about recognizing that inherent dignity in every person that you encounter – and helping to create a system that values that life as well.

 Here at Posada, the pro-life initiative doesn’t stop when the baby is born. The mothers are brought in and given the support they need so that they can leave La Posada with a way to care and provide for themselves and their children. One of the things that I love about working at La Posada is that these girls are not merely their story. While some of their stories are heart-wrenching and definitely difficult, they are so much more than that. They are loved and cared for. They are part of a community. They are listened to and given opportunities. They discover their own worth as they learn to take care of their child, they discover their gifts and talents, and as they learn to love and respect the girls they live with. I believe that we “march for life” as we sit with these girls and hear their stories, as we walk with them on their journey of motherhood and of growth. It doesn’t matter what decisions led them to walk through the door at La Posada, they are worth it. For me, this has become part of my mission – Helping the girls to realize that they are worth it. Worth a better future. Worth good and holy love. Worth waiting for. Worthy of being swept off their feet. Just because they were brought into being and created. Just because the God who resides in you and I resides in them. Just because they are.

Searching

I’ve started (and promptly erased) many attempts at a blog post these last few weeks. I’m not sure why I find it so hard to write to you all; I rarely run out of words. There’s so much to tell – good and difficult. I realized that I haven’t really updated at all about my life here. The last blog was more an outpouring of my heart from my work, but it wasn’t really of substance. That being said, there will be a lot more to come I’m sure. But, this is all that comes to mind right now. I hope it gives you some insight onto what this time has brought.

I’m searching…

Searching as I pace back and forth from my room, to the kitchen, to the hill, to my room again -
as I check Facebook, almost obsessively, and check my e-mail just as often

I’m think I’m searching for words,

But really I seek something different.
I’m looking for the familiar,
for the known,
for settled-ness
I’m searching for comfort.
I’m searching to know I’m capable, safe and loved.
I’m searching for…
me.

But what I’m finding is newness -
new house
new friends

new work
new kids
new music

new language.
Everything new and challenging

and I wonder if I can assimilate to it all?
Can I take it all in?
Can I adapt, change,
mutate into something that fits here -
a Gringa masquerading in the outfit of a conquistador.
Here to change the world,
be your best friend and confidant
to love and to save.

What have I found?
I’ve found that a besito can heal a wound,
trust can turn un loco into a gentleman,
teaching guitar isn’t the most important part of guitar lessons,
and taking your time brings many blessings.
I’ve found that despite all that’s new,
there is something familiar.

I’ve found me.

A gringa
struggling to speak and teach and love.
I’ve found that instead of changing the world,
I’m going to be changed by it.
I’ve found that my struggles, insecurities and questions
were packed in my suitcase.
I’ve found that I would love to be a mother,

and a Sister,

and a teacher,
and whatever else,
as long as I could show someone they are loved.
I’ve found that I haven’t learned it all and I never will.
I’ve found that I will change, adapt and grow in the face of challenge.
I’ve found that God will always be faithful

and goodbyes will always be hard.
I’ve found God in all those things above.
As a counselor,

A friend,
A confidant,
A source of strength,
as my Beloved.

But most importantly, I’ve found that there will always be love.

The Reality of Falling in Love

The kids I work with are just like other kids I’ve worked with. They drive me crazy and at the same time, they warm my heart with one hug. They exhaust me, but somehow when I go home, I miss being climbed on. They need diaper changes CONSTANTLY and just like all kids, they throw temper tantrums and call me names like fea (ugly) and caca (poop) and sometimes things so much worse. They are truly like every other kid.

But then again, they are not. They are children of adolescent mothers. Today, I had lunch with a 15 year old who is the mother of two beautiful little boys.  Fifteen and having given birth twice! Can you imagine? I look around the cafeteria during lunch and it seems like a bunch of high school girls playing house … but they are not playing. This is their reality. Do you remember being fifteen? I do. I know that I was nowhere near selfless enough to be a mother. Science tells us that our brains are not fully developed until we are 25, and as a 23 year old who constantly makes ridiculous decisions, I stand as living proof that this is true. These women aren’t living together because they feel that community is a beautiful thing, but because they need this program to give them a chance with their children. My culture shock of the day was that these girls need this program, not only to flourish, but to simply keep their children in some cases.

Today, I saw a young woman – a 15 year old – lose the one place that she and her daughter might have had a chance. When we walked to the cafeteria and saw all the girls crying, of our friends told us that a girl had been having some trouble and was being sent home. My first thought was how are she and her daughter going to make it without the support and education they receive at Posada. It wasn’t until a little later that I found out her daughter, one of my “favorite” little girls with the big smile and cuddly personality, would not be going home with her mother but was being taken by social services. The decision this teenager made did not just have consequences, but it meant that her child was taken from her.

I know I’m pretty much reiterating the point over and over, but I just can’t seem to wrap my head around the weight that these girls have to bear. Now, I’m not taking the responsibility off her shoulders entirely, because she clearly made enough trouble that she was asked to leave. But honestly, who didn’t repeatedly make stupid decisions when they were a teenager. My heart goes out to these women in such a huge way. I cannot imagine holding the weight of someone else life on decisions I make. I hope and pray that someday I can be as courageous as them. I hope and pray that one day, if I’m called to be a mother, I look into the eyes of my child and all else falls away. I hope and pray that, just like I would do for these kids, I fall so far in love that nothing else in my life is the same.  

Life's Little Lessons

Here’s for the important stuff. You know, the reason you all helped me out? I’m hoping to share a little bit about my life here in Costa Rica, but most importantly the work that I will be doing. Instead of doing this in the biggest blog post ever, I’m going to introduce my life through the little lessons that I learned.

Life’s Little Lessons: Living in Another Country

1.  There are many different dialects in the Spanish language – Ten cuidad!! Watch out, because you can say something that you don’t mean to and it can be very bad. Here’s a pretty hilarious video that explains what I mean:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LjDe4sLER0&feature=youtu.be&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D4LjDe4sLER0&nomobile=1
2. It rains – a lot. I don’t just mean there are a lot of little showers. There are a lot of torrential downpours with big booming lighting. It’s beautiful and a little nerve-wracking at the same time. Running (or in my case attempting to run) up a street – that has many potholes –with ankle deep amounts of water while soaked is quite an adventure.
3.  Speaking of adventures – it is absolutely important to learn the bus schedule early. Standing 20 minutes in the rain after running up said street is not easier. Waiting for 45 minutes for a bus, that you think might be coming any time now, is pretty frustrating. Every single bus looks like yours … except for the one that you don’t flag down which is, in fact, your bus!
4. Don’t judge a book by its cover – I continuously learn this lesson. Our guardian Friar at first glance seems stern and a little intimidating. But then, we ate dinner with him and we realized he is HILARIOUS! We have such a great time. He also has the heart of a grandfather and is seriously making sure that we have more than we need and are taken care of.

Life’s Little Lessons: Mi Trabajo (My Work)
For those of you who do not know, I’m working at a home that serves around 100 teen mothers. These mothers are given the opportunity to work (they have a restaurant, a beauty salon and some other things they can help with) and have an education. Their children, ages 0-5, are live on the property with them and are together in daycare. I’ve only been there two days, but so far I have been helping take care of children who can walk (1.5 to 5 yrs). This is what I have learned:

1. Never say never – After changing my major from Education, I said I would never be a teacher. Well, I may be teaching music to the mothers who are forming a choir! I may be helping lead said choir. I may also be helping pick out instruments for the very same choir! How might you ask does this have anything to do with daycare, well …
2. Be careful what you PRAY for – I’ve always been worried that I wouldn’t keep up with my music and that there would always be better musicians than myself who could do a much better job. Well, I prayed that God would find a way to let me use my music. When we arrived at Posada de Belen, the VP asked myself and Lauren (the other volunteer), if any of us played guitar. I hesitatingly said that I played a little. Well, it then came out that I play a few different instruments and sing … and generally know about music. That ended with the VP saying that we were God’s answers to her needs and that she was going to use all that we had to offer. This could get interesting.
3. Learning patience is good, learning confidence is necessary, learning indifference to certain bodily fluids is a miracle. I never thought I’d be looking up Spanish phrases for “Is that pee?” “This child’s diaper leaked through his pants” “Stop putting your hands in your pants” “Stop climbing on the tables” “DO NOT CHOKE THE BABY!” and many, many more phrases. I also never thought that I would be wiping pee from children’s hands and feet as they played in the puddles of pee left over from another child during nap time.

My final little lesson for you:

• Love can be quantified – I’m not saying that when a kid says “I love you this much”, he or she only loves you as much as the space that they leave between their arms. What I’m saying is that love is so physically visible. It’s palpable. When you sit down and a little girl wants nothing more than to sit on your lap and watch the world. When someone is so dedicated to their call to serve others that they are so generous they leave me speechless. When, after a long day of doing everything wrong, you tell a little boy that you are so proud of him for sharing his book and doing something good that he smiles so big and then runs into your arms. That’s love. Tangible, breathable, over-the-top, love.