“How Was Your Trip?”

It’s a question we’re getting a lot these days, now that we are home again from our family excursion to Costa Rica. The truth is, the effects of this trip will stay with us a long time. The friends we made challenged us, blessed us, and made us look at the world — and ourselves — in new ways.

Dios te salve, Maria, llena eres de gracia; el Senor es contigo…

"Angie" at midwife'sOur experience at the Center was eye-opening. One fifteen-year-old girl, great with child and terrified of the pain of labor and delivery, had a healthy baby girl … and returned just days later with a dehydrated infant whose umbilical cord had become infected. “Angie” did not want to be a mother, she wanted to go back to school. But the hospital sent her back to the Center to learn how to care for her infant, and to care for herself, and to take up the mantle of maternity. Another mother, “Patricia,” seventeen with two children, came alongside Angie and empathized with how hard it was, and how important.

Benedita tu eres entre todas las mujeres, y benedito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesus.

In a few days, Angie’s smile had returned, and her daughter’s cheeks began to plump. I had not touched the baby, except to smile at her in passing — it was critical that the mother bond uninterrupted with her child. But there were others in need of holding, in need of changing, in need of singing. There were older ones, too, who needed to be reminded of how much God loved them, too. We colored and sang and read aloud in my deplorable Spanish. Soon ten-year-old Lola was reading, too.

Labor room - before

Labor room – before

 

Baby Room Costa Rica 001

New Labor Room

Santa Maria, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores,

When my own family joined me and the Spanish-speaking volunteers who had started the trip with me left, things took a different turn. Susana, the woman in charge of running the Center, a no-nonsense “Tico” (as they call themselves, native Costa Rican – as opposed to the indigenous Cebecar who come from the mountains to have their children) had very different ideas about how much babies should be held. Susana was of the mind that there was too much house-cleaning to be done, that they should be left alone to go to sleep.

At one point just before I left, we were all getting ready for the new bishop to visit the Center, to give his blessing to the women there. Susana had everyone busy scrubbing and tidying the common areas; after doing the breakfast dishes I went out on the porch and tended the children so the others could work undistracted. Around noon lunch was served, and Susana told me to put the baby I was holding in his crib so I could eat my lunch. I had just gotten him to sleep, and the moment his head hit the pillow, he started crying. So I picked him up again … and Susana grabbed him from my arms, took him to the sink, and doused him in cold water. Above his screams, she lectured me in Spanish. Even if I could have understood her, I doubt I would have listened. At that moment, I just wanted to grab the baby and run. Instead I stood there, rooted to the floor, as she wrapped the baby in a towel and handed him off to his mother to nurse. Gradually his sobs relented and he drifted off to sleep.

I realized at that moment it was time for me to go home. A journalist from the diocesan paper came ahead of the bishop, to do a story on the Center. I chatted with her about my visit, about setting up the laboring room and sharing about the Center with people in the United States. At that moment, my daughter came up cradling a kitten, who was rapidly declining from the combined factors of not enough food (his mother had run off, and he had to subsist on whatever the dogs didn’t eat from the mealtime scraps) and too much rough handling from the older children. Animals serve a utilitarian function in Costa Rica, something Sarah had a hard time understanding. “Why don’t you take him to the vet? He’s going to DIE!!!” she sobbed. Seeing the cat’s neck was nearly devoid of fur, I wondered if he had mange. Gently I took the animal from her grasp and set it down so I could give her a hug. “I know. It’s hard. Life here is harder that it is in the States, honey. We can’t really change that. All we can do is love them as long as we are here.”

She looked at me, accusing. “You don’t care about that cat! You’re mean!!!”

Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen.

Her words rattled me a bit. Yes, her teenage outburst wasn’t unprecedented. And I knew it would be impossible to explain to the satisfaction of her tender heart why I was not taking a more active role in saving the kitten. Just as I had not been able to persuade Susana that the babies needed the stimulation I had been giving them, that I was not just spoiling them. When two worlds collide, there is always the risk of misunderstanding. But it is also at this crossroads that transformation can occur.

It had been years since I’d been engaged in any kind of missionary work. Frankly, I should have learned more Spanish before undertaking this trip … though I quickly learned that not all the indigenous women were fluent in the language. I saw these women sit at the back of the church, unable to go forward to receive the sacraments, and wished I had been able to teach them. I saw the mountain of suitcases containing baby clothes from previous volunteers, and realized that they didn’t need more onesies. What they needed was for someone to tell them, in their own language, how much their Father in heaven loved them and their children.

Saida and KennethThese young mothers could not count on the support of husbands, or even the financial security of a job back on the reservation. Based on what I had seen, it was very likely some of them would be back the following year, with another baby. Would someone be ready to teach them then?

During my time in Costa Rica, I was reminded of how short and hard life can be, despite its wild beauty. I saw that love does not always come wrapped in soft flannel and warm water. Sometimes it simply stays, bearing silent and prayerful witness to the longing of the human heart. And sometimes, love cries along.

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Why Go?

IMG_2105As an Evangelical Protestant (the first 30 years of my life), I went on several short-term mission trips, one for nearly a year (as a teacher’s aide at Dakar Academy in Senegal, West Africa) and others for periods of just a few weeks or months (Poland, Mexico). I will always be grateful for these experiences, which deeply affected my worldview and shaped my values. And this week, my children will get just a taste of these experiences, as we spend time with St. Bryce Missions here in Costa Rica.

To be honest, I’m a bit nervous about how they will do in a world without television, without pizza, without electronics, where they will eat beans and rice several times each day (and be thankful) and have to remember not to flush the toilet paper or walk around without shoes. Where they have to work to make themselves understood. I am hoping that it will give them a taste of how the rest of the world lives, and a desire to share more of themselves with those who have less.

These lessons are not easy ones, of course. It’s been almost thirty years since I was last on a mission trip, and it’s been harder than I thought it would be. My body doesn’t take kindly to such a rustic environment, and I was grateful when my friend Colleen opened her home to me so I could get a real shower and sleep under  a fan for a few nights. We even got to watch an English language movie … I never laughed so hard at Princess Bride. “You keep saying that, but I do not think that word means what you think it means.”

Ironically, the hardest part of the trip also occurred at Colleen’s house, when we came home to find that the dog had torn apart, limb from limb, four of their month-old kittens. “We were not going to be able to keep them, but I didn’t want it to end like this,” Colleen sighed as we cleaned up the mess, unable to salvage her favorite blanket. It was horrible, a stark reminder of how harsh life can be. Back at the Center, another kitten battled for survival — the two dogs cornering her on a semi-regular basis, battling for food. I thought of my two dogs at home. These dogs would have made a snack out of Gretta.

Yesterday at lunch, one of the volunteers — a med student with fluent Spanish skills — admitted she wasn’t sure her summer internship was going to be what she thought it would be. This was her second time in Costa Rica, and she had decided to volunteer this summer to see if she might be interested in becoming a missionary doctor. But she wasn’t sure whether this was going to be a good test, since she felt she hadn’t done very much, apart from cleaning and holding babies.

I assured her that God would use this experience for whatever he had in mind for her. It wasn’t until years after I returned from Africa that I fully appreciated what God was trying to teach me there: Important lessons about detachment, about gratitude, about simplicity, about trust. I had my eyes opened about what life is like for other people, and a chance to take on that experience in solidarity. While I had grand visions of saving souls, the reality was very different: I could not greatly change their circumstances, no matter how many baby blankets and onesies I brought with me. They will still struggle. They will still have enormous needs that are not easily met.

But for just a few weeks, we can love. I hold six-month old Axel, whose mother struggles to care for her child with cerebral palsy and other special needs. Each time he cries, I cuddle him close, grateful that he has not given up hope that someone will comfort him. They say Axel is “slow” because his mother neglected him. But I see a mother doing the best she can, despite impossible odds, to care for her two boys and her sister, whose mother died and who had no one to care for her. I understand the isolation and stress of parenting special-needs children, and I encouraged her as best the language barrier would allow. “You are a good mama. This is difficult,” I tell her. Later that day, I see her playing on the floor with her children, laughing and clapping as Kenneth walks several steps on his own. She catches my eye, and I laugh with her.

Love really is the most powerful force in the universe.

Not Day 5…

Did you think I’d been swallowed by an anaconda? Nope … not sure where the time went! Well, actually, I DO know:

IMG_2147[1]Thanks to the generous support of the Queen of Peace “Jubilee” ladies, St. Bryce Center now has a new “laboring room.” Their donation allowed us to buy MANY bins to store clothing and other baby supply donations, paint the room a cheerful buttery yellow, and purchase some additional equipment needed to give the moms-to-be a comfortable environment for the first stage of labor.

Baby Room Costa Rica 001

New Labor Room

I have now been at St. Bryce for a little over two weeks. In addition to spending time with two permanent families at the center, I’ve also seen how St. Bryce makes a difference for other families. A fifteen-year-old girl returned with her baby from the reservation; the infant was dehydrated and had an infected umbilical cord. For the next two weeks, the new mom will rest and spend time learning how to bond with her baby — from another young mom who had her first child at the same age. Two older boys (about 10 years old) also came to the center with their moms, so they could be close to the hospital to receive treatment. One has leukemia; the other had leg braces.

Saida's family

Kenneth (the three-year-old permanent resident) is now able to take 5-6 steps unaided, which is a real milestone for him. It’s a reflection of having people around at all times who will work with him on his therapy and take him to the pool. His 10-year-old aunt, Lola, is working with volunteers to learn to read.

We have fun, too — after church last week we took the kids to POPS for ice cream. Fun!

Evening at POPSSpent several days at Colleen Mitchell’s house while Greg was in the States with the older boys. Had the pleasure of going to see Kolbe and Evan belt test at karate class — a sensei from Japan comes to test all the students in the country every six months. We made the trip with a Costa Rican family who is friends with Colleen, and she made the most delicious chicken and rice dish with saffron and other spices!

Today I am taking a break, sitting in the cabin where my family will be staying while they are here. Fast WIFI, hot showers, fresh bread, fruit trees, and SILENCE. Ahh…. two weeks of rustic living really makes me appreciate these gifts for what they are!

Here are a few pictures from the highlights of the past two weeks.  Enjoy!

labor room before

Labor Room (Before Transformation)

Paula's family

Paula and her kids with Susana (operation manager)

A Sewing Circle of Love

IMG_2078

Queen of Peace sewing day

 

Years ago, when a young woman was about to get married or have a child, the women of her community would gather for a quilting bee, creating a unique yet practical work of art to add to the young woman’s trousseau. Some quilts told a story, others were simply colorful and warm. Each was as unique as the woman for whom it was made.

This past weekend, looking around the Commons area of Queen of Peace parish, I felt a little thrill (like those blushing brides-to-be must have) as I saw nearly forty baby blankets fashioned from fleece and flannel, each soft and colorful — and each intended to wrap a newborn that most of these women will never get to meet in person. These blankets are coming with me to Costa Rica, to the babies and their mothers who come to St. Bryce Mission.

Most of these women, I had never met before that day — and yet in a short time we were chatting like old friends. Kelly Pant, my partner in crime, had brought her mother Francie — a veteran quilter who with utmost patience walked me through creating my first baby blanket, a Dora-the-Explorer confection in pink, then a frog-themed green-and-tan offering. She also made a special quilt for Kenneth, the young boy with special needs who lives at St. Bryce. Other women from the community gathered footie pajamas, diapers, and fabric. The Jubilee women’s group donated their annual collection to a special project at the mission. Another family slipped us $100 for the electric upgrade project at the Center.

IMG_2049IMG_2065Yesterday, Sunday, our pastor Father John Eze called our family up with the blankets, to bless us and send us as representatives of Queen of Peace, reciting from the Book of Blessings that God would bless and protect us as we go to share the Gospel — and ourselves — with the people who come to the Center..

I am so very grateful to my family at Queen of Peace. Thank you for taking this journey with us!