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

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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

New-found Family: Sunday, 14 June 2015

I got up at 5:15 to be good and get a shower and get out of the way so Jenna could get ready. Got back and let her know it was her turn. Looking at her phone, she said, "Jenny, it's not even five yet." "What?" My phone said 5:54, and hers said 4:54. Well, this was a problem. How were we supposed to go down and get breakfast and be ready to leave on time if we didn't know what time it was? Apparently, someone's phone did not switch over to the correct time. The hotel alarm clock said 9 something p.m., so that wasn't helpful at all. After some discussion, I was elected to call the front desk and find out "¿Que hora es?""Cinco y cuatro," a helpful voice named Alberto said. Jenna's phone was right.

Well, after that lovely adventure and breakfast with Bobby, off we went to church. It was a bit of a ride, but we were all in one bus this time, and who minds a long ride when you have lovely company and a guide who stands and faces you all and calls you, "My friends," all the time? The scenery out the window was beautiful, full of mountains and volcanos and trees. I met one of our translator team members named Jorge and got to talk to him on the way as well. As we pulled up in front of the church, we could see the Church standing outside the front doors. As we began to dismount the bus, these lovely brothers and sisters cheered and clapped, gave hugs and kisses and "Dios le bendiga"s. One mamá gave me a hug and then said "besito" to the little one on her side. I then received the "tiniest of kisses" (as Jenna put it) from a precious little boy we later found out was named Brayan. We met Pastor Miguel and then went in to worship with this family. 

The praise team did a wonderful job, and we continued to be welcomed royally. They held a baby dedication with several mothers from the CSP (Child Survival Program) connected with the church and held in the building across the street. Pastor Miguel gave a passionate message about new birth, and he was right on (granted, a bit hard for the translators to keep up with at times). "Better for a man to be born twice and die once," he reminded us, "than to be born once and die twice." He invited anyone who had not been born again to come forward and receive that second birth. Several mothers from the CSP-some of whom and just dedicated their babies to God-came forward and gave their own lives to Him as well. What a blessing. 

As we left (knowing we would be back to these people tomorrow), I think we already knew that this was a special place. 

On to lunch in Ataco, a town with stone streets and a gorgeous view of the mountains. We walked in through the back of the restaurant and sat down at two long tables (taking up a majority of the space in the restaurant). Live music outside and the meal chosen for us, this turned out to be a lovely lunch. It was here that I began to get to know the people in our group. We really got to have conversations at lunch. Jenna and I got to talk to Jason, who we found out was a newly-hired music teacher. Well, that started off a good long conversation about education. Lunch was delicious, and I began to like this Salvadoran food. 

This also happened to be souvenir day, so we split off into groups and wandered the shop-filled streets of Ataco, looking, laughing, testing musical instruments, and asking "¿Cuanto vale?" Looking down the streets, the view was just beautiful. Everything was so colorful, with people, shops, and the mountains in the background, all foggy and green with a white church tucked in on the mountainside. Cars lined the streets, and most dogs just roamed free. The people seemed to work together so fluidly it was hard to tell who were family and who shared shops. After venturing around the streets with Jenna, Jason, and Susie (another from our translator team), we loaded up the bus and made our way to Santa Leticia, our lovely hotel for the next several days. As we walked up to our little cabin room, I knew I liked this haven better than the fancy hotel (as nice as it was) from the night before. This place was incredibly peaceful, just out where we could hear the birds. It was so simple, so unassuming, so restfull. 

We had a bit of time to explore and get settled before going up to the restaurant on the property for supper. Supper was, again, delicious, and we enjoyed sitting around the table with our team. We enjoyed one another's company, and then people began heading back to their cabins. 

Yes, I knew I was going to like this place.



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3-Flight Day: Saturday, 13 June 2015

It was 3-flight day. I woke up at 2:15 in the morning, and this trip still didn't feel completely real. I put together the last of my things so that we could be out the door by 3. We drove quietly to Jenna's house to pick her up, and I helped her get the last of her things packed up. Thankfully, she reminded me that razors are probably not the best things to put in a carry-on, so we made sure we both packed those in our checked luggage. That could have been bad.

The airport was a-buzz with passengers, but things went pretty smoothly for us as we got ready for Flight 1. We slept on-and-off on the way to Atlanta. We didn't have to worry about our luggage in Atlanta, since it would go straight through to Dallas. Flight 2 went much like the first as we tried to sleep on-and-off. Dallas was where it got a little more exciting.

Getting off the plane, we started off to get our luggage and then find American Airlines for Flight 3. Apparently Dallas airport is a bit larger than the others. That is, not everything can be found in one building. We finally found out we needed to take a shuttle to our terminal. We made it in time, made it through security, and then it was off to see if any of our group were there. Beyond Facebook (which only tells you so much about a person), we didn't really know any of these people. Little by little, the group began to converge. A couple people here, a couple there, three more, and then el jefe came and debriefed us. Bobby showed himself to have a good sense of humor and a confident knowledge of what we were doing. Jenna and I discovered that we would not be sitting together. We Compassion people would be scattered throughout the plane, and we were boarding at different times. Getting to know these people would have to wait until we arrived in our destination country.

El Salvador. I boarded the last plane before we would finally be there. This flight consisted a lot more heavily of latino people. I sat down next to a latino man and his little daughter. As the flight began, we struck up a conversation that ended up being on-and-off all three hours of the flight. We swapped reasons for flying to El Salvador. Mine to visit Compassion International projects and meet the boy I sponsored, and his to see the family he left to move to the U.S. I asked him about his family, his daughter who was with him, where he lived, where he worked, why he moved to the U.S., and what his experience had been. He shared pictures of his daughter's end-of-school celebration, first-hand stories that sounded like things I had learned in my Understanding Hispanic Culture class, and Oreos. That's a true friendship, right there. It was so interesting to hear from this man why he had moved, where he had gone, who he had left and who he had gained, and all kinds of things. He was so open, so willing to share his story, so good with his little girl. I was intrigued. And also tired.

We landed, and as I looked outside, I realized that I was looking at another country. I probably could have cried right then and there, but who has time for that when you're about to go through customs? I headed off the plane after saying my farewell to José and Yulitza. Our group reconvened before going downstairs through customs. Still not really knowing my companions, our first bonding experience proved to be our wait in the customs line. We waited and then moved to the counter where we received our passport stamps (my very first-hooray!) and some of us used our Spanish skills for the first time in a foreign country. We retrieved our luggage and headed out into the open air.

We were met amidst the crowd of relatives and friends waiting for their loved ones by a Salvadoran man who directed our group toward the street and then a bus that apparently was ours. His face...wasn't that the man I had seen in those funny Compassion videos? I had expectations of a great sense of humor, and he met them. The night air smelled warm as we headed to the corner of the sidewalk and then loaded up the bus. We had our choice of the white bus or the "blanco" bus. On to the hotel as we listened to Juan's first briefing session and munched on Subway sandwiches that did not disappoint us by tasting just like home. I quickly learned that Juan loves and cares about his job and loves to serve (and that he worked as a clown named Dicito to put himself through physical therapist school). By the time our buses reached the (very nice) hotel, I looked forward to having Juan as our Salvadoran leader for the week, and I was starting to pick up on some fun personalities from the part of our group that rode in the "blanco" bus.

A quick meeting in the lobby and we were off to a hasty night's sleep. Well, so we thought. Who knew Salvadoran elevators would be so tricky? Our second bonding experience, as we stood all huddled into the elevator, trying to figure out how to work the thing. Turns out you need to use your room key to make it go up (but not down).

In this first hotel room, you wouldn't even know you were out of the U.S. It was everything we were used to besides the fact that we had to remember not to use the tap water to brush our teeth. We faithfully reminded one another. What good friends we are.

Tired out, we quickly went to bed (softest beds ever), deciding to set our phone alarms for 5:00. Tomorrow, our journey with Compassion would begin.



Sponsor a child today! compassion.com

Compassionñol

Does your passion for something ever grow so large that you're pretty sure you're not physically containing it any more? That's kind of what happened to me as my life got swamped by Compassion International, the people, the work, and the God that encompasses it all. Coming back home, I began to realize that I could not possibly describe this trip accurately to anyone. Even if they gave me the time it would take to describe what we did every day (which most of the people who ask do not; I mean, a 30-second answer suffices for most), it would not communicate everything I thought and felt that whole week nor everything I have thought and felt since then. Who can understand this?

I had the blessing of a conversation with mi hermano [my brother], George, in which we discussed the impossibility of communicating the passion we had for Compassion. "Hey! We speak tres idiomas [three languages]!" he said. "Inglés, español, y spanglish [English, Spanish, and Spanglish]," I said. "Y Compassionñol," he responded. And he is so right. It is like another language! Those who speak it know: it is like another way of life. It is difficult to translate for others, though we try our best. But you may see a spark in our eyes as we talk about it that we cannot explain. Maybe you will get a glimpse. Even better, maybe God will pull you into this passion and you will begin to speak this language as well.

Compassionñol. Yes, there it is.




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I Would Rather Be...

I miss El Salvador today.
I would much rather be there than here today.
Tears have come to my eyes more than once this week as I felt the emotion of missing brothers and sisters.
And I felt that this emotion that "I would rather..." was not totally right.
Discontent is one thing that these people-my family in El Salvador-did not teach me.
It is no mistake that I am here right now.
It is no mistake that I live in the USA right now.
I must resolve:
Wherever I am, there is a reason.
Wherever I am, I have a purpose.
I pray I don't forget what I learned in El Salvador.
I pray I don't forget what I experienced.
I pray I don't forget the people.
I pray I don't forget the faith and peace.
I pray I get to go back.
But now,
I will live the purpose I have here.




Sponsor a child today! compassion.com

Ask the Children

As I start off this blog, I would like to warn you that there are many stories coming. In the past week, I have gained so many first-hand stories of what God is doing through Compassion International (in El Salvador, specifically). Having now returned home, I am determined to keep on with what I have been doing through Compassion and to do these things better than I was.

The first step was to write more often to my sponsored child and the children I am a correspondent sponsor to. As I read back through some of their letters to prepare to write to them, I came across some quotes I just had to share. They are evidence of the impact of a sponsor and the incredible blessing of God through sponsorship to both the child and the sponsor.

"The Lord has been good, that is why when you came to his life, he could not stop being happy." ~the tutor writing for 5-year-old Emmanuel

"She also adds that she was happy to have read from you in January and that every time she reads from you she is relieved from so many things. When asked what are the things she is talking about, she says that she is relieved from loneliness and that she knows somebody cares for her. She says thank you so much."~ the tutor writing for 16-year-old Hella Atieno, a sweet and special girl who communicates using sign language

"...I want to tell you my hope for the future. I want to study much to become a good professional and have my own house and a big plot of land with many fruit trees. In the future, I also want to sponsor a child like you have sponsored me because you are so good with me." ~14-year-old Edgar Medardo

So if you wonder if Compassion sponsorship makes a difference, ask the children. And if you want to know if your letters make a difference, ask the children.




Sponsor a child today! compassion.com