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.



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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.




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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