Wrecked.
I am already wrecked on the inside and it is simply only day one.
We arrived late last night in Alajuelita, Costa Rica. Our host was at the airport waiting to pick us up. I kinda laughed as I watched our luggage be thrown up on top of a bus as we all crammed ourselves inside. On our way to the ministry site it was explained to us that we are headed to the ghetto of Costa Rica. We are in what I understand to be the poorest area of all Costa Rica. Our host ministry has already been so gracious to us, upon arriving we were shown into our rooms, where they had prepared beds for us to sleep in with sheets and blankets, and each a clean towel to use during our stay. Last night they went over a few essential things, mainly showers and safety, and then left us to settle in.
This morning we woke up, most of us well rested, waiting with anticipation for what today would bring. Not to much to happen today just more explanation of the ministries and discussion about how they desired we be safe, but uncomfortable this month so that we would allow the Holy Spirit to most effectively deal with our hearts individually.
Today some of our team went into the market to get food for us to eat this week, while some us went to a bario to serve food… As we climbed into the back of a pickup truck and planted ourselves firmly on the rails, I was just trying to take in all that I saw. I don't think any of us were prepared for what was just minutes away at our destination. So many new sights, so much to see. And then we crossed a bridge. Not a bridge like you and I would typically think of but a little bridge that crosses a river. Our contact shared with us how the people of Alajuelita do not visit here. To put it as simply as I possibly can, I am already wrecked! The government doesn't even want to acknowledge this area or that these people exist!! In just two hours today, I experienced and saw poor like I have never seen before, hungry like never before, filth and disgust like never before. And this is just day one. If this trip was intended to be nothing more then an exciting adventure to 11 different countries an opportunity to travel if you must, I would be on my way home. In fact I would probably already be landing on american soil. But this trip is much more then my preferences, much more then my comfort, this trip is all about Jesus and the gospel being proclaimed and lives being made new in Christ. Who wants to be wrecked by the depravity of mankind, simply just to do so.
As we walked through the Bario (which simply means community) we were walking over sewer as it simply runs out of these shacks of houses (I am not even sure if shack would be appropriate term for what these places of residence are) and onto the mountain side, eventually reaching that little river we had crossed over via bridge on our way in. At one particular place during our 20 minute or so walk, I was being careful not to slip on wet rocks that had a mud like substance that covered them. I began to joke about how I would be the one to slip, hence the nick name my brother has so lovingly given me, as "crashley", my joke came as an immediate response to try and push back the tears that were already welled up in my eyes. I have never seen so many people in one place. And children with no one to care for them, no one to feed them, no one to hold them and affirm that they are loved and cared for, that they were created unique and beautiful… This brings a whole new definition in my life to the mental image I have when hearing of poverty. Trash was heaped and piled everywhere. As we made our way through our host and the local pastor invited the children to come eat.
As we made our way down to the little table we had set up with the food, the line of children began to form. They brought their bowls and plates with the anticipation of them being filled with the hot food we had to serve. I have served food at the homeless shelter many times before, but this was different, much different. These children had no complaints at the food being served, they were simply thrilled for a hot meal. Each with a smile on their face and a glimmer in their eye, I held back tears as I scooped some form of a pineapple chutney into their bowls speaking the only words I know how to say in spanish, Hola, Como Estas? And was answered with a Bien, every time. How could these children be good? They have more to complain about then anyone else on this earth I know, yet they are Good? How come I can't seem to choose joy daily, in the life that The Lord has so graciously provided for me, but they can seem to live in joy daily amidst the slum?
If I wasnt wrecked about what I saw, I was truly wrecked over the actions of my own heart over the course of my life. My ungratefulness and unappreciativeness at times, my conscious decision to feel like I deserve more and my quickness to complain over things that have been given as a gift.
Well, Its getting late and I am not sure if this will even post, our internet is really slow when 28 gringos all are trying to communicate with home.
I will post again soon, love you all!
