Serving in Costa Rica

Wow!  It's been a while.  A week and 1/2 ago on Sunday my cousin, who lives in Costa Rica, called to say 32 people from Virginia were flying into Costa Rica on Tuesday to serve on a mission team.  They could use my help as a translator.  Since I was eager to visit my cousin and his wife, this seemed like a great opportunity.

On Monday I bought a bus ticket and got everything ready to go.  Tuesday my landlord, Hermida, took me to the bus station at 4 a.m.  The bus left at 5 a.m.  I met some nice people and also had some people from immigration try to swindle me at the border of Nicaragua.  Overall it was a nice trip, but exhausting.  Plus I was still a little sick with a cold.

When I got to the bus terminal in Costa Rica I was still 2 hours from my cousins house.  He had sent friends who held a sign with my name on it so I felt like a famous person.  (Nobody else was greeted that way.)

I got to Doug and Debbie's house and everything was dark.  The team had arrived earlier that day.  They must have been as tired as I was.  It was midnight.  I had been up for almost 24 hours by that point.  So I left my suitcases downstairs and snuck into the bed that I was assigned to.  I was pretty sneaky - nobody heard me come in.

The next day we started with a morning devotion, which we continued every day.  Then we split into 3 groups and headed out to our designated work sites.  I stuck with Debbie that day because she had a lot of logistical things to take care of as the groups settled into their sites.  We rented a pickup truck that we weren't sure was going to endure the week, and ran back and forth between job sites bringing shovels and rakes and brooms, weed whackers, lawn mowers and gas.

By lunch time everyone was ready for a break.  We ate most of our meals at nice restaurants with an occasional packed lunch if there wasn't time to sit down for a meal.  The lady who works at Doug and Debbie's house made some scrumptious breakfasts.  The kids had their first fried platanos and natilla (the Costa Rican version of mantequilla).  She made empanadas one morning and gallo pinto every day, which seems to be very common here - black beans and rice.  Some kids complained about getting rice and beans at every meal, which took me back to the days I swore I would never eat rice and beans again after spending time in Jamaica as a teenager with my family.  But overall, the kids did go out of their way to try new things, kept an open attitude, and seemed to enjoy the new foods.

The second and third day I spent in a tiny village in the mountains.  We served at a little school which was one room for all grades with one main teacher.  I hear they do have a music teacher who comes.  The teacher was an incredible individual.  He has been teaching there for 14 years.  He loves the kids and is very invested in his community.  He told me proudly that there are no bars in his village.

He and I sat after lunch one day and talked about the difference in lifestyles between his village in Costa Rica and my life in Honduras.  He was aware that Honduras was struggling, but he didn't realize how prevalent the poverty is and how much more dangerous it is to live in Honduras.  He showed me around his property and all of the different fruit trees he has there.  Although the property and his home belong to the school, it is clear he is very happy and proud to live there.

When Doug and Debbie asked how they could serve he said that the kids could really use a cement pad to play on when the ground is too mucky from the rainy season.  So each day we mixed cement and created a huge platform.  The whole village seemed to be involved.  Men took days off from work and two of the women who were helping were very pregnant, but not at all afraid of hard work.

I stayed on the work site to help the head of construction communicate with Doug and the team.  Meanwhile another lady who was bilingual spent her days with the kids.  They played games, did crafts, and spent time in the classroom.  After lunch each day we played soccer with the kids and local people.  I normally don't play soccer in Honduras because I am afraid to embarrass myself.  But as an adult member of the team I figured I should set a good example.  It was really fun!  I also learned I am not as horrible as I thought.  From now on I won't hesitate to jump in and play with my kids in Honduras.

I have never experienced community like I did at the Pavona School.  The founder of the village came by and I translated what he said to Doug.  He said that he and the whole village pray for the team throughout the year.  The village waits with excitement for the team to come, and when the team is present, there is a sense of joy and happiness.  The groups each said they felt the happiness within this village too.  It was an awesome experience to work hand in hand with the people there.

Boys up in the mountain school

The finished product

The team was divided into three groups - Faith, Hope and Love

The local village people pitched in and helped the team

Although it is the rainy season, we had no rain while we poured cement

Me with two of the team members and a local lady

My cousin Doug with one of the men who helped him run the job site.

The school kids, me, my cousin's wife Debbie, and the school teacher

The North American fútbol team and some of the kids after a game

On Saturday and Sunday the teams went on monkey tours and zipline rides.  We had surfing lessons and I learned to surf!  We also rode horses up the beach and into the mountains.  It was a nice way to wind everything up.  Last night my family and I went into town and I got a pair of surf shorts and a rash guard (a surfing shirt).  We are headed out today to hit the waves - is that what surfers say?

For any who may not know, Cindy has had the brain scan.  She is perfectly fine.  The stitches have been removed and she is back at the Breakfast Program.  Thank you for your prayer.