At the Very Least

"At the very least, we'll see each other again in Heaven," he said. 

We had spent one beautiful week in a foreign country together. The classic story of strangers turned friends. We lived it out. But it was more than just that. We heard it from multiple sources and felt it ourselves: this group was something special. We were a group with a common purpose and a common heart. We meshed well and conversation flowed easily. It was never quiet on the bus, much to my joy as I would sit near the back and listen to the general happy canter of sound around my ears. We were people at ease and people who enjoyed one another as Christian Family ought to. 

We had met on Saturday and Sunday, and when it came to Friday night, the week had gone far too quickly. What's this? A week gone? So quickly? Goodbyes truly are one of the saddest things we are required to encounter here on Earth, I think. 

And so we found ourselves eating supper together on Friday night. We ate, we laughed, we almost cried (if not beyond "almost"). We shared our week-long (and sometimes longer) journeys. We breathed in, together, the sweet air of unity in the Spirit. It was beautiful. 

Then, we were reminded that with the early flight and all the diverging destinations, we would be parting sooner than it appeared. So, the goodbyes began and continued into the next day at the airports. And so, as "Papi" helped us head in the right direction once we reached the states and I bemoaned the parting, he said this to me:

"At the very least, we'll see each other again in Heaven."

At which I had to smile at least a little through my sense of loss. 

"If that's the 'very least'..." I said. ...then we've got it pretty good.

Truly, this is the guarantee we have with our brothers and sisters in Christ when we part. It is sad for the moment. Terribly so. But at most, we must wait the rest of this earthly lifetime and then what? Eternity together. An endless time to wait, it might seem, and yet barely a moment in the grand scheme. 

Here's to our reunion, my brothers and sisters. May it be here on earth for our present encouragement and pleasure, and if not, see you in the awesomeness of His glory.

At the very least. 

Is Luxury the Ultimate?

We live in a world that idolizes luxury. TV commercials are always telling us that we want luxury cars, luxury vacations, luxury apartments, luxury homes, luxury lives. Now, I'm not against things looking nice, or making a space beautiful. But is luxury the ultimate?

Take a look at this picture.

That's a house behind us. Does this look like luxury? Yeaaaaaah, probably not.

But let me tell you something about this family. They do have needs. Maybe that is obvious. Four of these children and four more not pictured live in this house. They are cousins. They live with their abuelita (grandma) and one of their mothers. Another of the mothers lives elsewhere to work. They make do; they are thankful for how God has provided for them (including how He has provided educational, physical, emotional, and spiritual care for five of the children through Compassion International); and they pray to God that He continues to provide for their needs. Notice, I say needs.

Now, let me tell you something else. When I visited this home in June--and it was a privilege to be welcomed here by the sweet abuelita--, do you know what I noticed the most? Hint: It wasn't the lack of luxury. I noticed the love. I noticed appreciation for simple things. They have a gorgeous view, which they graciously shared with us, off the side of the mountain. The sweet and adorable twins, along with their cousins and friends, kept themselves happily occupied with made-up games and songs about Jesus that they learned at the Compassion center.

I felt no lack of love here. In fact, this is one of the most love-filled days I have ever spent.

I look at the pictures we took there, and I don't see dirt floors, lack of things, and poverty.

I see the children and the family. I see a day that has formed my heart. I see luxurious love. 

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Reminiscence

I was on the couch, settled into the corner, reading by the light of the floor lamp. As I glanced up, looking through the glass of the back door, I noticed how dim it had gotten. After a few moments more, my attention was diverted from my book once again as a patter commenced, soon joined by a flicker of light and loud, rumbling thunder. The hint of a smile came, and I was back in El Salvador a month ago....

We were eating together as the family we had become. This week was forecasted to be quite rainy, and we had been blessed. The only rain that came had come after our day's travels were done and we were back at our cabins. This night, we were sitting around the long table where we had eaten yet another wonderful Salvadoran meal. The conversations continued as we shared in one another's experiences from the day. The rain had begun to pour outside. Our ears were blessed with the patter on the roof, and we could see the drops streaming across the windows. Light was dim, per the time of day and the rain outside, and as we enjoyed one another's company, we could hear the thunder of the storm outside. The lights went out completely, and we shared the surprise together. I did not regret it. I find storms intriguing as well as a proponent of companionship.  Before long, even too soon, the lights came on again, and conversations continued and were wrapped up. We began the short trip back to our enclave of cabins. Some of us shared the joy of recognizing the beauty and power of the storm even while comforting those who saw it as a thing to be feared.

And as it stormed now, I could not help but smile as I remembered that stormy night. So awe-inspiring. So wonderful. And yet another part of that altogether beautiful experience.

One Month Since

Exactly one month ago--can it be that long?--, I began a trip that would change me. I left my emotional surroundings of worry, uncertainty, and unrest and took my 3rd, 4th, and 5th flights ever until I was out of the country for the first time (unless you count Canada).

Us at our first airport for the day at about 4 a.m.

I began a journey to meet someone who had been in my heart for 6 years, and I had no way of foreseeing the effect the entire trip would have on me.

In the past month, God has taught me so many things. He has added fuel to my fiery passion for the CI programs. The door to readjusted focus has been opened, making me re-evaluate what is truly important to me, where my priorities are, and what I do not need. My eyes are opened anew to the beauty of what God does in people's lives and how content that allows people to be--how content I can be.

He has caused me to rest in Him.

And every day, He has been working in me to bring forth a spirit of thankfulness for His abundant grace. While I miss El Salvador and my team and the people there every day, my mind and heart have been filled over and over again, daily, by memories and stories of my time there.

Just yesterday, as I rode home from church, I was thinking about my blessings and how gracious God is. I could not help but sing, in my heart: Lord, Lord Jesus, won't You come and fill me up? Without You, I feel--feel so empty. I said Lord, Lord Jesus, won't You come and fill me up? Without You, I feel--feel so empty. Fill me up 'til I overflow. Fill me up 'til I overflow. Fill me up 'til I overflow. Fill me up 'til I overflow!

I'm not sure I entirely expected Him to do just that as I sang those words with the wonderful children of Oasis de Amor. But He has. My cup overflows.

Fill me up 'til I overflow!-Singing this song with the children at OdA

Sponsor a child today! compassion.com

Little Buddies

Cristofer and Javier both gained sponsors during our Compassion International Sponsor Tour in El Salvador-actually, they both gained one singular sponsor. The two precious little buddies are liable to steal your heart; just ask Denise.

We met these sweethearts on the first of two days at their project. Both of them absolutely precious. Cristofer had a sweet, quiet spirit and smile. Javier had big eyes and quite the personality. I noticed them both very quickly. I wasn't the only one.

Later in that first day, we began the project of finding sponsors for several children from this project and the next one we would visit. Several of the sponsorship packets were snatched before they could go any farther than our group.

Denise had noticed these two and was moved in her heart to sponsor Cristofer that day. After filling out the packet, she had the special honor of being present when they told Cristofer that he had a sponsor. Our tour leader, Bobby, tenderly told the little boy he held that he now had his very own sponsor, this woman right here, Denise. Then Denise held him. What a sweet moment to see.

But it doesn't end there.

Javier didn't have a sponsor. So what did Denise do the next morning back at the project? Yes. She sponsored Javier too. The adorable thing? These two are absolute buddies. What a special thing to also share the same sponsor.



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Cristián

This adorable, joyful little boy and I share something in common. We both truly love his older brother, my sponsored child Medardo. Cristián was a godsend the day I met Medardo, helping to bring him out of his shell by giving him someone familiar to interact with. I learned something about Medardo that day that I had not seen written in his letters. He is a wonderful brother, and it is easy to see that he loves Cristián. And Cristián adores him; that's plain to see.

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Our Story

I'd like to take a break from the not-so-regularly-scheduled posts about our trip to El Salvador and tell you why I went there in the first place. 

First of all, can I just say that I am absolutely dumbstruck at God's incredible big picture and almost embarrassed that I fail to notice it so often?

It's October 2009. I'm in high school. My mom has received the child sponsorship packets in the mail for one of several Compassion Sundays we've had at our church. My mom has basically been the voice of Compassion International at our church for years-a passion she began many years ago at a CCM concert when she picked up the packet of a precious little girl named Manoucheka from Haiti. God lit a spark for Compassion in my heart through her. As usual, we were pouring over the precious children in the packets, laughing in the face of the danger we placed ourselves in (you know, the danger of sponsoring every one of these children if no one else was up to the responsibility). I flipped to the next packet: a little boy in a yellow, striped t-shirt with a red collar. A little boy, 9 years old, with a smile that had almost a hint of mischief.

Well, just steal my heart, why don't you?

Edgar was from El Salvador: a Spanish-speaking country, I was pretty sure. I had a growing appreciation and intrigue for the Spanish language as I studied it in high school. How cool to be able to write to this child in Spanish? But really, was this even possible? After all, I wasn't working full time, and I was still just in high school. A determination running through my veins, I set about checking my finances. My family and I had a deal: half of my money went straight to savings when I earned it, the other half was at my disposal. I had worked that summer and put away half the money as promised. The other half, well, there was plenty of that left. Enough, in fact, to sponsor Edgar for a whole year. And within that year, I would be working a summer job again and trusted that I would have the money for another whole year by the time I needed it. I could do this. God made it so I could do this. 

This little boy was mine. I snapped up the packet and excitedly completed the forms necessary. 

As the years began to pass faster and faster, Edgar-or Medardo, as he would sometimes sign his letters-continued to grow; we sent letters back and forth, and he continued to be an incredible joy in my life. 

I learned more about Compassion International and its ministry and dreamed of one day meeting Edgar Medardo face-to-face. I started to connect with other sponsors online. I even connected with one woman, Autumn, who sponsored a girl from the same project as Medardo. 

In 2011, Autumn contacted me:

"Hey! I just wanted to let you know that I will be going to El Salvador the week of April 11-15, and I will be visiting [Medardo's project]! Would you like to send something small for me to take? Just let me know! I hope you're doing well!"

I was thrilled. 

The news finally came while she was in El Salvador: she had gone to take a picture of Medardo at his project...but he wasn't there. Not that day. But was that all? No, she found out that he lived near her own sponsored child, so she was able to visit his home. I received the gift of about 40 pictures she took of him and his home. 

They really needed my help, she told me. He is so shy and such a sweet young man, she said. I didn't doubt it. 

As if I didn't already want to visit him so badly...

As I finished my time in high school and moved on to college, we both continued to grow and to write letters. 

I may have gotten a little overzealous when I started using the online letter writing templates. (Finish one letter and realize you have time to write another...) My desire to visit him continued to grow, and I began to see more personal subjects in his letters. Most recently, he has been asking for prayer for his mother, who has not accepted Christ's gift of salvation. How special to be a part of his life in this way: to be able to pray about things like this. I started to realize just how much my little Medardo was growing up. Receiving his most recent photo just reminded me of that all the more. 

This further fueled my hope that I might visit him soon. 

Through a rather disappointing chain of events, God created the beautiful chance for me to go on the June Compassion Sponsor Tour to El Salvador. When I found out, I wrote a letter to Medardo, spilling over with my excitement. The reality of the trip hit me slowly, and I'm not sure it even fully hit me when we were on our flight to El Salvador. 

The week in El Salvador was absolutely wonderful. God's working Spirit was evident in the camaraderie of our team, the project workers we saw, the families, and the children. Meeting Medardo topped off an already splendid trip, and when my Salvadoran friends have referred to the trip as a divine appointment with God for me (and others who went), I just have to agree with them. Side note: Don't worry, I will share specifics and emotions of meeting Medardo in a later post. 

God knew what He was doing to send me on this trip. He knew everything that would have to happen to give me this opportunity. And I realized today, He knew how much my heart and soul would learn from this trip, how the people would impact me, and how lovely the team of people would be from day one of my sponsorship of Medardo. On October 22, 2009, as I excitedly filled out forms to sponsor him, God knew I would go with these people and have my heart stirred and touched in a new way. 

My friends, we serve an all-powerful, incredible God. I'm so thankful for appointments like these. I've been truly blessed by what He has done through Medardo in my life. This is our story. 

Sponsor a child today! compassion.com