Joy Abounds

I have not been able to find the time to blog for a while now. I wish there was a way to make my Facebook status updates show up as blog posts. I find it so much easier to update regularly there than here. When I post here, it's like I need to have something worthwhile to say. More than what I bought off  the fruit truck that day or the fact that I realized I haven't driven a car in six months. But these little tid bits really are the fabric of our missionary lives here. And it occurred to me that the last couple of things I posted here may have made it seem like I walk around with the weight of the world on my shoulders all the time here. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
The truth is, joy abounds in our life here. Much of our time is spent just the same way it was before, living our family life to the fullest, playing games, reading books, cooking meals, making beds, learning algebra and division and subtraction with regrouping. And of course, joy abounds in those things. Greg and I both earnestly enjoy the challenge of cooking here. Figuring out how to use the things we can get regularly to create interesting nutritious food to share with our family and, quite often, our friends.  Today, my boys water colored sky backgrounds and made city sky scrapers out of paint swatch strips while I hung the laundry on the line to dry. It was a moment to savor. Tranquility, peace, joy filling every corner of our home.Creativity drawing out the best in my boys.
Then there is the life outside my front door. The life of the place we live. Yes, there are people here, friends, who struggle to make life work on a daily basis. Yes, there are times when the pain and injustice of poverty slap me in the face and it hurts. Yes, there is a longing in my heart for the people I see in the street every day to know Jesus and the great gift of mercy and salvation we have in our all-loving God. But most of the time, walking around this town, what I feel is joy.
I pass the homes of friends and we call greetings back and forth. Usually, someone comes to the gate to talk a bit more or beckons me in for a visit. Older ladies pat my hand and take my arm and walk with me for a bit. One of my favorite parts of any walk through town is running into my friend Don Luis.
Don Luis is a stroke victim and has lost most of his speech abilities as well as the use of his right hand and leg.  He walks with a cane and significant limp. But walk he does. All day.  We have a little game we play each time he sees me. He offers me his good hand for a hand shake but quickly pulls it back before I can reach for it. I then proceed to try to catch his "mano magica" as I have come to call it. He has his own rule. I can only play with one hand since he only has one hand. When the game ends with me catching him, I dance and cheer in my victory. He laughs. Other times, I cheat a little and steal the cap he's wearing and kiss him on the forehead instead. Or poke him in the belly and run. Whatever way it ends, it always ends with him laughing. And me too. Because despite our brokenness, despite our weakness, for the both of us, joy abounds. Yesterday, Don Luis was standing on the bridge listening to the music wafting from a festival they were having at the school. As I walked home from that very festival and headed toward him on the bridge, I heard the other men calling to him asking him why he was not dancing. So I took his hand and danced with him. There, in the middle of the bridge, dancing freely for all to see with Don Luis, who just that morning had been so frustrated when he couldn't get the words out to make me understand what he was trying to tell me, I was overcome with joy.
One night as we were leaving the priests house to head home, we crossed the gate at the same moment that an indigenous family was entering to spend the night in the hostel that the church provides for them when they are traveling to and from town. The woman who passed me was dressed in a t-shirt, brightly colored skirt and black rubber boots, as the indigenous women usually are. There was a baby strapped to her back, tied with a piece of old cloth, also very common. The baby had fallen asleep as she walked and his head hung backwards, bobbing with each step. As she crossed me, I said to her, "oh pobrecito el que sueno tiene", meaning "oh poor baby, how tired he is". She smiled brightly, flipped her back toward me so I could see the baby better, then held up her hands which held a live hen by the feet  and a machete. She giggled and answered, "which one?" We laughed wildly there in the dark at the gate to church. The baby stirred. My kids noticed that the t-shirt she was wearing was from the Christian Youth Theater organization, which has been a huge part of our lives and a major blessing for us. We smiled the whole way home marveling at how close that made us feel to our old lives. And how sweet and funny that moment was.  Because even after walking for hours in the dark, when your baby sleeps gently on your back and dinner wriggles in your hand, and you have arrived finally at warm shelter for the night, well, joy abounds.
The other night, we were at the rectory going over chapel plans with the priests. Greg handed me a machete that he was going to borrow from them. I stood there for a minute feeling awkward with the machete hanging at my side, then announced to Fr. Johnny, "Look, I'm becoming just like an indigenous woman. I just need a skirt with pretty flowers and a pair of rubber boots." He smiled as he added, "and a baby on your back." A few minutes later, I found myself on the porch, arms full of a beautiful indigenous baby boy as I lent his mother my telephone so she could call her mother and let her know she and the children had arrived safely in town. We chatted and the baby cooed in my arms. My heart swelled there on the porch. Because when your husband chats with the priest in your mission and the topic of the conversation in the construction of a chapel which your imperfect "Yes" to God inspired in another beautiful family AND your fluency in the language affords you the opportunity to make jokes AND someone entrusts you with her beautiful baby and gifts you with conversation while you wait, well, joy abounds.
I keep wishing there was a way to capture it all in images to share with you, this joy, the beauty I experience every day. But the truth is, this is my life. Every day. I can't frame it in perfect pictures. I can't carry a camera around just in case Don Luis' smile is extra bright that day or I happen to end up on the porch with a beautiful baby in my arms or the canopy of clouds and banana trees above the clothes line is especially peaceful one morning. What I have are words. And I hope in this humble offering you can see that joy abounds in this life I live. That amidst poverty and brokenness and real, gritty every day life, God descends to be with His people. And when we walk in that grace, joy is what we find.
I will, however, include here this month's video news about our mission as I think it does portray a bit of the life with live with great joy. I hope you smile watching it.

Mission-ception

My husband dubbed our recent trip to Nicaragua to renew our visas "Mission Within a Mission". My oldest son found this quite humorous and re-dubbed it "Mission-ception". Because it has been five weeks since he has been here with us and I miss his quirky humor tremendously, I have stuck with that.
The trip was so blessed and I am still trying to process all that happened and wade through photos, mental images and journal entries in order to share some coherent thoughts. The problem is that it was also utterly exhausting and we are all still trying to recover and at the same time keep life going here with a mild sense of order (and I use the term loosely).
Today, as I say by the river with my prayer journal and looked at the quick day-by-day notes I made on the trip, it struck that it was interesting in its own right and might make a good introduction to where we went as I start to share more about the trip. So here it is, the Mission-ception run down.

Tuesday, April 10th:

• Bus from Grano de Oro to Turrialba (2 hours)
• Bus from Turrialba to San Jose  (3 hours)
• Bus from San Jose to Ciudad Quesada (3 hours)
• Bus from Ciudad Quesada to Aguazarcas (30 minutes)
• Overnight visit with an amazing missionary family and group from St. Thomas More High School in Lafayette

Wednesday, April 11th

• Bus from Aguazarcas to Cuidad Quesada (30 minutes)
• Bus from Ciudad Quesada to La Fortuna (2 hours)
• Two days at the cabins of an old friend in the shadows of Arenal volcano, enjoying one of our favorite spots in Costa Rica--swimming pools, thermal waters, picnincs, pizza, birthday celebration for Dina Estrella, our landlady who accompanied us on our trip

Friday, April 13th

• Cab ride from La Fortuna to El Tanque (30 minutes)
• Bus ride from El Tonque to Penas Blancas (6 hours)
• Crossing the border on foot and clearing both immigration offices (1 hour)
• Bus ride to Rivas, Nicaragua (1 hour)
• Cab ride to port of San Jorge (30 minutes)
• Lunch on the beach
• Ferry ride to Ometepe Island (1 hour)
• Taxi Ride to CICRIN (Christian Infants and Children's Center in Nicaragua)
• Warm welcome by the staff and children of CICRIN

Saturday, April 14th

• trip into the town of Moyogalpa to see a bit of the Island
• chore time and play time with the CICRIN kids
• Swimming in Lake Nicaragua
• helping in the kitchen
• movie night under the stars with a lap full of kids

Sunday, April 15th

• 8 am Mass at Santa Ana Church in Moyogalpa
• Birthday lunch at a hotel in town
• Swimming at the Oja de Agua with the CICRIN kids
• Relaxing evening swinging in the hammocks in the rancho and playing with the kiddos

Monday, April 16th

• More hammocks, kitchen help, chores, and playing
• A trip to town to buy a pinata
• The most amazing birthday celebration ever at CICRIN

Tuesday, April 17th

• Ferry ride from Ometepe to San Jorge (1 hour)
• Cab ride to Rivas (30 minutes)
• Breakfast in Rivas
• Cab ride to border (30 minutes)
• Border crossing with fellow bus passengers and lots of other various waiting (3 hours)
• Bus from border to San Jose (6 hours)
• Pizza Hut
• Sleep over at the apartment of Dona Estrella's daughter

Wednesday, April 18th

• First hot shower in a week
• Bus ride from San Jose to Turrialba (3 hours)
• Wandering around Turrialba trying to find Greg (we got inexplicably separated and our phones were wonked out from the trip)
• SNOWBALLS with condensed milk in the park!!!!!
• A quick grocery trip
• Bus ride from Turrialba to Grano de Oro (2 hours)
• Walk from bus stop to home dragging huge suit case, back packs, exhausted kids, and a sack of groceries in the rain
• Sleep. In our own beds. 

I hope this will make the upcoming storm of photos and reflections make a little more sense. And explain why I need to recover a bit before hashing it all out. Be back soon to share more!

Come Share With Us

There is a bridge in the town where we live that crosses the river flowing through the center of the town. Since we walk everywhere in our little mission base, and since we must cross the bridge to get to just about anywhere, it has become quite familiar to all of us. But when we first arrived, I was quite terrified every time we set foot on that bridge....I'm sharing my thoughts on letting our children go over at Suscipio today. Come read the rest? 

Where In the World Are You?

Now that we have been living here in our mission home in Grano de Oro for a while, I'm starting a little series to tell you more about where we live, about our home and life here, about the Church here and the work we are doing at this time and hope to do in the future.  I wanted to wait a while to get our bearings in this new place, and surely, there is much, much for us to learn, but I do feel like we are becoming more familiar day by day with our surroundings. So, are you up for a little geography lesson first?

Costa Rica is in Central America, a group of countries south of Mexico that form the small strip of land that connects North America and South America. In the map below, it is the curving strip of red just above the blue of South America.

In Central America, Costa Rica is located south of Nicaragua and north of Panama.  In the map below, it is light green.

Now for Grano de Oro. It gets a little harder here. See, Grano de Oro doesn't really show up on maps.  Just 20 years ago, it didn't exist. It was all one farm owned by one family which bordered the mountains where the indigenous Cabecar communities of Costa Rica lived in the Chirripo River region.  Over the last twenty years, as the older generation of the family died and the land was split and children married and bore children of their own, a town has sprung up.  Electricity, running water and roads have only been installed in the last 10 -15 years.  When those things were introduced, the town became the entrance and exit point for people traveling in to and out of the communities in the Chirripo reservation lands. There are about forty communities in the reservation, spread out wide and far. Some are as close as 2-3 hour walk or 40 minute drive, others require an hour long drive to where the road ends and then 12-15 hours of walking.  

On the map below, just under the letter "A" in "CENTRAL", you will see a town called Turrialba.  That is the nearest full size town to us. It is about an hour drive. There are supermarkets and lots of places to get good fruits and vegetables there as well as a good number of all purpose stores and pharmacies to stock our house with the little extras. Just southeast of Turrialba, you'll see a town labeled Moravia.  That was the original farm land our town was once a part of. We are a further east of there.

Geographically, we are surrounded by lush green mountains and clear flowing rivers that remind me of the Smoky Mountains to some extend. On an average day with high sun, it is about 75-80 degrees here. In the evening, the fog rolls in off the mountains and the nights and morning can be down right chilly, 50-60 degrees. 

Even with the cooler climate, we are still surrounded by tropical beauty, with hydrangeas and bougainvillea in full bloom at all times, banana, plantain, avocado, and a host of other tropical fruits growing in our own back yard, and lovely bromeliads adorning the branches of our trees.  

Right now, we are in the dry season, and it is quite easy to get around town on foot and to get to neighboring towns and villages by car. Once the rains return in June and July, things will get a little more complicated.

For now, we are just enjoying getting to know this place. I hope my heart never stops skipping when we curve our way through the mountains and I catch that wide open glimpse of the lush mountain side, or when I look up and realize that we are at the top of the range, with nothing between us and the sky, or when I walk our dusty roads and glance to my left to see the clear rippling waters of the river bubbling over its smooth rocks. I hope that no matter how familiar this place becomes, I always stop to look close at the flowers beneath my feet, the lightening bugs dotting the bushes in the evening and the clear expanse of millions of stars overhead at night.  

When God created this magnificent sphere of earth, He was already there, in the person of Jesus, commanding His disciples to bring the Good News to the ends of the earth, and in order to ensure that we would listen, He bestowed an extra helping of beauty of those ends.  I will forever be grateful for this great act of love.

Unforgettable

This week we have had our friend, a priest from the States here visiting us.  It has been a busy week, but a good one. Ministry is picking up in pace quickly as the priests introduce to more and more aspects of the work they do here and the need for additional help.

Last Sunday, we hosted a fiesta for our community in Grano de Oro after Mass. It was to honor the youth of our community as they begin a new year of school and catechism, but all were invited to attend.  We provided food and drinks, built an incredible bonfire and introduced the concept of s'mores. There was music and a clear sky full of stars.  We roasted most of the marshmallows for everyone as the fire was so hot it was nearly impossible to stay close to it for very long.  I handed roasted marshmallows smashed between cookies and chocolate to my new friends and smiled at their appreciation.  In one dark corner sat a mother holding her baby and her small son.  They were Chirripo, indigenous visiting town to buy, sell, or begin a longer voyage to another city.  The indigenous people are very shy with us, rarely talking to us or even making eye contact.  But this mother had joined us with her children that night and I wanted to make sure that she had her taste of the goodness that is s'mores.  It was dark, so I leaned in closely to ask her if she had already had one. Her baby slept peacefully in her arms as she sat rocking back in forth in the light of the fire. And as I began to speak and  I saw her face in its flames, I smiled wide. There she sat, face happily covered in sticky marshmallow and cookie crumbs. And she smiled back at me, wide and lively, as she shook her head yes.  She had tasted the goodness. And so had I. I pray I shall never forget the sweet joy I felt in that moment.

I pray too that that night that mother felt remembered, appreciated, cared for. That all of our community felt that. For is it not the longing of every human soul not to be forgotten? And isn't it easy, when we suffer with our day to day cares, to feel all alone in the world. Even in a house full of people or with our arms full of baby love, we can feel forgotten and alone.  And even more common, right there, in the center of our church, we can feel like no one notices us.

Yesterday, Padre Johnny came to our house early in the morning. We loaded up into his truck, the back full of happy boys, and headed up into the mountains to the indigenous villages closest to our town. The two priests of our mission are responsible for ministering the entire Chirripo reservation, thousands upon thousands of acres of mountain land dotted with small communities of people, our brothers and sisters, wanting to be remembered. They minister to some 40 communities, all of which lack proper chapels to gather for worship.  They walk for hours every week to visit, to baptize, to say Mass, to tell our brothers and sisters that they are not forgotten, that they are remembered by their church.

We stopped to visit one village and look at the land that a member of the community is willing to donate for the building of a proper chapel.  A man approached and introduced himself and we began to chat.  He was so thrilled for our presence and begged for us to help them.  He told us of their need for a chapel, of their need for help with ministering to their youth and the people of their village. He looked straight into my eyes as he told me of his fear that as his people lose their faith, they will lose their culture and their history.  My heart ached to do something right then and there.  I held his hand and listened. I promised that we would be back. I invited him to our home. I asked him to invite anyone in his village to our home.  It didn't seem enough.

He asked me not to forget them. Not to let the Church forget them. Oh, kind sir, if only you knew.  My heart is marked indelibly with the memory of that conversation. The blue sky, the mountain view, his hand in mine, his face lit with zeal for his faith, for his community, and his voice begging not to be forgotten.

God has not forgotten his people tucked away at the ends of the earth. He has charges us with the responsibility of bringing them His love. Oh, that we can find a way.  Please pray with me for the indigenous communities here and for their needs. Please pray for priests and missionaries to serve them.  Please pray for us to be able to find parishes who would be willing to help build their chapels.  And in their honor, today, find someone who needs it and make them feel remembered, special, loved.  Perhaps the end of the earth could be right there in your own home, your own office, your own church today?

He Keeps Giving and I Keep Counting

Another week has come and gone and I am counting on, sharing graces, noticing with an attentive heart the ways God shows us His love very day. In a life that can sometimes feel lonely, it is a grace to give thanks, always turning my heart back to Him who loves and gives and is ever present, never leaving me to myself, always drawing me out, drawing me up, to think on things good and holy and lovely and eternal.

These photos are from our Sunday play at the river, just a stone's throw from our front yard.

25. For a change of pace just when my heart cried for it most.
26. For the man who loves enough to see my needs and meet them as best he can.

27. For the determination of little boys to do what they set their minds to.

28. Especially when the things they set their minds to makes a momma smile wide (Kolbe was determined to walk around the river in these fins. He did not give up easily. I could not stop giggling.)

29. That I have a friend here I like enough to miss.

30. And that she came home today.

31. For the conversation and laughter shared around her table this morning.

32. For the Lord's provision for transportation. Always there is a way to get where we need to be when we need to be there even without a car of our own.

33. For constant invitations to be somewhere.

34. For the gift of song and the way it lightens my heart when the daily duty seems redundant and tedious.

35. For boys who sing the hymns of faith loud and clear and confident in morning prayer.

36. For a long walk with my group of girls that opened the door a bit wider than shy smiles and awkward giggles. For the hope that real relationships will grow there.

37. For the Sign of Peace at Mass where everyone travels, everyone embraces. No one  nods or waves or looks the other way.

38. For e-mails and messages that encourage.
39. For a God who lives and breathes and speaks -- in His Word, in His Eucharistic presence, in His Church, in His people.

40. For an evening walk that we called a date that lingered on into the dark of night.

41. For a glass of wine offered and sip slow, savored.

42.  For a calendar gifted and filled with dates and activities scribbled in Spanish -- in my own hand. I am ever amazed that He has taught me this.

43. For a walk in the rain and a stop for ice cream -- the laughter at the irony of it all.

44. For the Super Bowl on TV and how ESPN International call to mind a friend I miss so dearly and brings her just a wee bit closer in my heart.

 45. For boys who jump bravely and smile wide at their valor.  And for their excitement at being caught in midair.

 46. For all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small.

47. For eyes to really see those things and recall that Lord who made them all.

48. For morning glories blooming bright on the birthday of a friend who bears their name. For the quiet celebration of her life I had in my heart.

49. For a to -do list that filled only with ways to love, ways to serve, ways to really live.

50. For the people who give and pray and love from afar so that we have the grace to count on.

Where to Begin?

It's hard to know exactly how to tell the story of the last few days. So many family and friends loving us, praying for us, supporting us and wanting to know all the details.  And then there is me, just trying to ease in, go slow, savor this new life, take it in slow sips, like a perfectly brewed cup of warm tea on a quiet afternoon after a string of hectic days.

I have created this slide show to tell the beginning of our story. It is hard to believe that a three hour plane ride and endless grace is all that was needed to transition from our life in Louisiana to life here. But so far, it really has been that simple. I know that the grace your prayers have won has made that possible. I cannot thank you enough.  For now, my thoughts are quietly forming themselves into all the things I want to share about this new journey.  While they incubate, enjoy the sights of life in Grano de Oro, Costa Rica.

A free picture slideshow by Smilebox