Nugget of wisdom.

I'm reading a book recommended to me by Becca D. It's called Reaching Out by Henri J.M. Nouwen and I am absolutely loving it. Granted, I like books that have "steps" to achieving something and this book isn't like that but I'm getting a lot of nuggets out of it. My favorite part so far is in the section Reaching Out to Our Innermost Self. Rainer Maria Rilke is answering someone's question of, "should I be a poet?" His response is:

"You are looking outward and that above all you should not do now. Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you to write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write. This above all-ask yourself in the stilled hour of your night: must I write? Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must," then build your life according to this necessity..."

How beautiful is that? I feel like I've always struggled with the question, "what should I do with my life?" I am totally NOT where I thought I'd be at 25.5 years but that's not a bad thing. I have never felt more in tune with myself and God as I have the past two years. I still have a long way to go but I know that having the answer within my reach is a reality. One thing I know is that Spanish is something I must do. I know it with a sense of strength and motivation and a little bit of fear mixed in. And I am so thankful that God is giving me the ability to make it happen, whatever "it' will look like in the future.

I'm sorry about your burned bagel.

I worked 7-12 at the coffee shop on Monday. That was my first early morning shift and it was pretty freakin crazy. Tons of people, so many bagels (toasted or not toasted, with butter? what kind of cream cheese?), tons of coffee to brew...it was all pretty awesome. Except for when I didn't know what I was doing. The manager realized I had not been trained on what to do with the pastry items. I mean, obviously it's common sense stuff, but there's always a "way." Like, do you cut the muffin vertically or horizontally? Why are there two toasters and which setting do you use? So I was learning as I went.


Well, this particular morning there was a woman who looked like she was on her way to the hospital. White scrubs (or pink), kind of tired looking, a kind yet apprehensive face. Anyway, she wanted a plain bagel with butter to go and of course I used the new toaster that didn't have a label for the "perfect toast."


So I popped it in and waited. And by wait, I mean I took a ton more orders and got distracted and kind of forgot about it until it dinged and I realized it kind of burned. And there was still a huge line of people waiting for their order to be taken. And that poor nurse was just sitting at a table waiting for her damn bagel and I didn't know if I should a) toast another one and make her late for work or b) just give her the slightly singed one. I mean, late to work or dark bagel? In that split second I decided to just give her the burned bagel and hope for the best. She didn't say anything about it so I hope she was still able to enjoy it. If she looks worried about her breakfast next time I see her I'll probably tell her that I adjusted the toaster setting to "perfect."

It's not school but there's a learning curve.

This is me in the laundry room at my parent's house. (Note: I'm living at my parent's house...) I like to think that the dress project is sort of like my life. My life as I know it slash sewing are new to me and I and hope the finished product is wearable. (The dress turned out great, thanks to my mom.)

Since I've been home I've experienced a broad spectrum of feelings. I figured I would be totally great. You know, glad to be back but also looking forward to returning to CR for language school. Why would I be emotional? But I have been...not in a dramatic sort of way (except for that one time, Dad - I'm sorry), but in a "I'm not comfortable" sort of way.

It's strange living with my parents. They're great but I'm 25. I'm used to having my own place and doing my own thing. Not answering to anyone. I am so thankful for the time and space that I have to save money but it's definitely not easy.

I have two jobs right now - being a nanny and working at a coffee shop. I think this in-between stage is what I was always afraid of when I imagined myself quitting my 8-5, benefits, feeling-important jobs. But it's not that bad. Granted, I wouldn't want to do it past the summer, but if the plan goes well, I won't have to. I'll be back in Costa Rica doing language school by September.

The uncomfortable things in this stage like not having my own place, not being active in a church and feeling grossed out from all of the dairy and meat I've allowed myself to consume are just stepping stones. When we're doing something new, it's not comfortable. We have to ask for help and be willing to learn. Humbly. And that is probably the hardest lesson I will have to learn this summer. It's ok to need help as long as we ask for it.

A little more comfort.

I don't know if you can see her very well because she's so tiny, but this is Doña Carmen. Her precious little frame is very fragile and she falls often, frequently voicing some of the aches and pains of old age (she's 97). On the right is her sister-in-law Doña Teresa, who takes care of her on a daily basis.

Doña Carmen is usually asleep in her single-size bed, with her radio turned up to a ridiculous volume because she's hard of hearing. When we visit her, there's always a surprise of some sort, whether it's singing us a song in English or entertaining us with her stories of when she was young . She is such a joy to visit.

On this particular day, we were delivering a gift from one of the team members to her - a new mattress and soft sheets. She was ecstatic about the color and the material and called herself "Reina Carmen" or "Queen Carmen." When we arrived at the house, it was a quite a time. We woke the poor soul up and got her out of bed; then we had to cut the mattress down to size for it to fit. When we changed the mattress out we found her machete which we made sure to put back under the mattress for protection. Just imagining Doña Carmen wielding a huge knife at an intruder is hilarious since she's about 4'6".

I hope that her new mattress will be a small source of comfort for her since that is where she spends her day. She is one of the people in Los Anonos who I will dearly miss.

Star pupil.

Meet Alixon...ten years old, only child, shares a house with her younger cousins, likes to knit. She is the epitome of a responsible girl who will achieve much in her life. I probably would have competed for her role of self-appointed class monitor at her age, but the comraderie of student/teacher works well.

When class starts she is super attentive and always carries Andres' (her cousin) notebook, pencil and paper in her bag, ready to distribute them when needed. If Andres and Gerald start arguing or whispering, she will typically move to sit between them, not forgetting to whisper a hushed "callase." (Translated as something between shut up and be quiet.)

Another way that she is a "star pupil," if you will, is that she helps the other students communicate with me. When they're talking to me rapidly in their prepubescent Spanish I look at Alixon and she translates in the Spanish that I understand. Slowly and in simple structures. It takes so much effort to understand how our idioms and slang affect communication with an outsider. I appreciate Alixon's attempts to make teaching easier and will definitely miss her as a student.

A young woman named Taylor will be coming in June to take over the role that Rebecca and I have and while this is a great blessing, there will be a lapse of a month. I trust that God will use our efforts for His good and that the relationship with Alixon and the other students will continue.

Promises.

This morning, like every morning for the past couple of weeks, my mind was going at 10 million miles an hour thinking about things I have no control over. The things I have been dwelling on lately pertain to the future. As some of you know, it was my desire to stay longer than May 1 and go to a language school for two or three months. This is no longer an option because my plane ticket couldn't be changed for under $578. Hah - definitely not going to pay that.

So my new thought is to come home for the summer and then go back to C.R. or another Central American country for three months. I find myself a little distracted, constantly looking online for summer jobs and researching language schools to go to. While it's good to plan, I want to be present. I want to have a strong finish here at Harvest Hands. It is my prayer that I will leave my questions and fears in God's hands and that I will still be expectant, waiting for Him to do miracles, open doors and use me in Los Anonos for another six weeks.

This morning I was encouraged by Psalm 48:14 - ¹⁴ For this God is our God for ever and ever;
he will be our guide even to the end.

Even though our communities and responsibilities might change, He doesn't. Pray that I will remember that He guides us, allowing me to focus on the present.

Freedom?

Calle La Libertad. Freedom Street. Although I just tried to Google the name of this street in Granada, Nicaragua, in order to provide the reader with some interesting facts on why this is called Freedom Street, I had no luck. So you will just have be stuck with my thoughts on it.

I have recently been bombarded with the reality of poverty. While this may seem strange since we work with the poor on a daily basis I think it's good that I haven't become desensitized to it. Or maybe I was becoming that way until recently.

Rebecca, our good friend May and I recently took a backpacking trip to Nicaragua. We appreciated the beautiful colors, the Spanish architecture and the European-influenced restaurants and cafes once we arrived. We also realize that we spent the majority of our time riding around on bikes in the tourist's square. In the midst of these streets there are tens if not hundreds of children begging, coming up to tables and asking for food or money. We spent our time feeling sorry for these children as well as feeling harrassed and bullied. Sometimes we gave them our left-overs and sometimes we told them to leave us alone. What to do in these situations? When is it legitimate and when are they begging for adults who use them? Are we supposed to determine when they deserve our left-overs? I felt a heaviness in Nicaragua that I don't feel all the time in Costa Rica. Calle La Libertad is not apty named.

The other ways I have been thinking about poverty is through the media...I love to read and I love good films. We watched Slumdog Millionaire (bought for $2 at the park) right after our trip. For those of you who aren't familiar with the plot, it's about children who are born into dire circumstances and how they survive and cope in their environment of violence, grief and betrayal.

And yet another reminder, I recently finished the book How to Be Good by Nick Hornby (thanks, brother). One of the themes of the book centers on each person's responsibility to the homeless and those with less. While the point of the book is not necessarily on how to change the world, it also made me think. And right now that's all I've got. Thoughts. I don't have any answers except that we ARE called to support those who have less. I think it means more than donating to Samaritan's Purse (though of course that's always needed) and it's more than giving a small child a to-go box (though I'm sure he appreciated it). Maybe those things are starting points. And then we can pray that God will lead us into what it means for each person to give to the poor and who to build relationships with. Maybe that's where freedom begins.