He was right again…He always is. I felt it the moment I stepped off the boat. The second my foot touched the dock. Exhausted after three days of travel, from two nights of hostels, two full days on the road, and one day of taxis, chicken buses, and ferries, we had finally arrived to Ometepe island. Not having had a real meal in three days, living off snack foods, I was starving and so ready to fall asleep and ditch my fifty pound pack, which I was really regretting by then. But in that moment I landed, as I looked at the beautiful island that lay before me, with its two volcanoes and lush green landscapes, I heard God whisper to me that this was going to be an amazing month. He was so right!
I can’t put down in words how special this place is…how much it has captured my heart. From the herd of goats that roam around every morning as we eat breakfast, to my morning runs at sunrise as I pass by the man who walks his cows every morning. From the unreal view I get through out the day as I lay in my hammock reading and listening to the waves crash, to the most beautiful sunsets ever. From being jumped on and smothered with hugs and kisses by the little kids to staying up late watching movies or playing mafia with the teens. From pancake Tuesdays, to rice and beans at almost every meal, which still hasn’t gotten old. From our morning work time in the gardens to park days and lake days in the afternoons. I am captivated by it all. And have experienced so much joy and love in every single moment here! Every morning in my quiet time with The Lord, I journal all the things I never want to forget, all the things I hope he imprints in my heart. This month has filled up my journal.
Jesus is everywhere in this place. His love is so tangible here. His presence felt so strongly. In all the leaders and workers here, all the little boys and girls, and all the teens. I can truly say I have fallen in love with every person here at Cicrin. And even though I have only had the blessing of knowing them for a month, it’s as if I’ve known them my entire life, as if God had planned all of our lives so accordingly, to have us all meet for this one month. To do life together, to love, and to learn from one another. And although our stories are all so different, we speak different languages, and come from different paths, God loved us all so much that for one beautiful month He had all of our paths perfectly collide together.
Every day here has seemed as if it’s been the best day of my life. I have had multiple moments where I stopped what I was doing and thought it can’t get any better than this. Where I looked around at the adorable little faces running around me and just thanked God for bringing me here.
I don’t know how I am going to do it…how I am going to leave. When I signed up for the Race I knew that this was going to be hard, saying goodbye each month. But that was when they we’re just faces formed in my thoughts made up of expectations, expectations of meeting people on this journey that would change my life. That was before I met them, before I held them in my arms. And now that I have met them, now that they have my heart, and that I have fallen in love. Now that they have given me one of the greatest months of my life, and even greater, the gift of embodying Jesus’s love…I don’t want to let them go. Sam the psychologist here on staff, whom was quick to open up her heart to us, making us feel like family right away, joked that we were like a group of wild poppies growing in a field and that she could never hold on to us. I assured her that we would never forget her, even joking that one day I would come back and move in. With all the groups that have come in and out of this place, she told me she’s heard that before from everyone and that they all move on and forget about her. And although she said it as a joke, I could tell she felt there was some truth behind that. But then she said, “It’s a good thing, you guys leaving, it’s for His Kingdom, I want you guys to move on and I don’t even want you to remember us. But I want you to remember how you felt here, how you experienced and encountered Jesus from your time here with us. From this place and from us and how we were Jesus to you.”
I had chills. I had never thought of it that way. Goodbyes and letting go have always been such a struggle for me. I didn’t get why God would give us some of the most beautiful and intimate relationships, perfectly intertwining our lives, and then all of a sudden untangle the masterpiece, seeming as if all the beauty had been undone, pulling us apart in different directions.
But I think that’s the beauty of it all. That’s the beauty of the impact that our lives have on others. That our lives, our stories, are not just about us. That people will come in, strangers even, and God will ever so perfectly weave their life into yours, even if it’s only for a short amount of time. That’s the beauty of those people that you have only known for a month, but that they come in and change the way your canvas looks, either by adding new colors or perspectives. Whether its subtly or it changes things entirely. That’s the beauty of those people who stay with you for a lifetime, such as family or the people that become family. That’s the beauty of those people who represent Jesus to you, the people busy making disciples of all nations, the people entirely changing the canvas, bringing life and light, illuminating the beauty of the masterpiece that had been covered in the dark for so long. And that’s the beauty of Jesus, who has been with you always, and who will never leave. The only one, who has experienced it all with you, the joy and comforts brought from the special people in your life and the pain and anger felt when they are no longer there.
And that’s the Beauty of God, the artist, who ever so intentionally chose the colors, shapes, sizes, characteristics, and design of His masterpiece, YOU, and the backdrop of life He places you in.
So maybe that’s the key to letting go and moving on. It’s not that we leave behind certain things, people, or places and forget them all together or remember every little detail about them. It’s not that, because they are no longer an active part of your story, that what they brought and what you had together is no longer beautiful. Maybe it’s that we take them with us in our heart. That they become and will always remain a piece of the backdrop in your life. That you recognize and appreciate people as gifts, given to you from God. And that you hold these gifts with an open palm, willing to let go when it’s time, but always appreciating that person for what they have brought to your life…what they have added to your canvas. Maybe it’s that we journey thru life, not always seeking what we can get from someone, but seeking how we can give. How we can bring light and love to someone’s masterpiece, how we can be Jesus to them. Maybe it’s that we live good stories and share those stories. That we recognize that our stories are representations of our God living and moving in this world. Maybe it’s that we go through life not trying to leave our mark or make a name for ourselves. But maybe it’s that we live to have Jesus be remembered, that when we leave this world they don’t remember us, they remember the way they encountered Jesus through us.
So maybe I won’t remember every detail about Cicrin that I had hoped. Maybe I’ll have to rely on that journal of mine to remind me of the stories here, or the names, and the moments experienced. But one thing’s for sure, I will always remember the way I experienced Jesus in this place. I will always remember the way Jesus’s love shined in those little faces, the way I felt it in their hugs and kisses. The way it enveloped me in the laughter and silliness of playing around with the teens. The way it brought encouragement and hope thru intimate conversations in hammocks. The way I saw it exemplified in the dutiful works of the lives of the aunties and uncles as they loved and cared for these children. It’s become apart of me, apart of my story. Imprinted on my heart, changing the way my canvas looks forever.
