This morning I was awakened by the sound of a flip flop squashing a cockroach less than a foot away from my sleeping pad. The flip flop belonged to my fearless leader, Hannah, and our friendship reached a new depth this morning in that moment. That’s what I call team bonding: protecting each other from killer cockroaches.
But these crawly creatures are the least of my concern because they’re inside our house. The real danger lies outside our little home, beyond the gate with the padlock and the barbed wire fence that encloses our yard. Out there, the police yell at us for playing with kids in the neighborhood, telling us we will get robbed. Out there, the taxi drivers always ask us to tell them the location of our home twice, asking why we are going to such a dangerous place. Out there, the policeman at the airport tells me not to trust anyone in Cartagena. Out there, we are seen as targets.
Alex, our host, is beyond careful, and I have never felt unsafe here. We never leave the house without a local adult, and he protects us as if we are his own children. He is deeply dedicated to keeping us safe. Yet the reputation of the neighborhood has always kept me a little wary, watching my back and trying to protect myself from known and unknown dangers.
The other day it was raining and getting dark fast, so we didn’t walk out to the baseball field. Instead we threw some balls in the street with the kids right outside our home. The children ran to us, throwing their arms in the air and asking to be held or tossed. Little boys learned how to catch a baseball for the first time, and our favorite little three-year-old, Caleb, worked on his professional pitching skills, chunking the ball down the street and laughing as someone ran to catch it before a car ran over it.
I played with the kids for a while, Alex taught me how to catch a baseball properly (let’s be honest, the swimmer needs as much help learning to catch as the kids do), and I fulfilled my childhood dream of becoming a horse as children climbed onto my shoulders, ordering directions in which to gallop. Finally, I sat down. Within seconds, Jamie, the boy with whom I was throwing balls, hopped up into my lap. As I sat on the wall looking into our house instead of out from it, a brilliant rainbow pushed its way through the clouds. I marveled at the fact that a ten-year-old boy wanted to be held and cuddled. We got up to toss the ball a few more times, and then he said three simple words that crushed me.
“Eres mi mamá. Eres mi mamá,” he repeated over and over. “You’re my mom, you’re my mom.”
It took everything in me to not cry on the spot. All I had done was spent an hour tossing a ball, spinning him around on my shoulders, talking to him, and bouncing him up and down on my lap. Trying to think logically, I realized that he said that shortly after asking my age. When I told him I was 23, he cackled and told me I was “tan vieja,” or “so old.” I think after that he realized that I was old enough to be his mom. Somehow the fact that if I was born in this area I could have a ten-year-old son by now didn’t help the emotions I was struggling to conquer.
We were getting ready to go back inside for the night, so we all started saying goodbye. Jamie ran to me, jumped in my arms, wrapped his legs around me monkey-style, and refused to let go. “Eres mi mamá,” he whispered. With tears in my eyes, I kissed him on the cheek and told him I would see him the next day. He kissed my cheek in return, held on for a second later, and then let go to run up the street to his house.
And as I sat there watching him run off to a home I probably could never imagine, something changed in me. I looked through our gate from the outside, wondering what it looks like for all the kids who come to talk to us on our porch every day. I wondered what they see when they look through those bars. Do they see hope? Do they see life? Do they see more than six gringas learning how to cook? I hope so.
As I sat there wondering what it would be like to say goodbye to Jamie in ten days, tears welled up in my eyes. Why was I given the life I have while he was given this one? Why do I have three degrees at 23 and his mom has a ten-year-old son at the same age? Why are there kids with more soccer talent than most scholarship athletes in the US who will never receive an education?
I don’t have all the answers to that, but I do have some. I believe we live in a fallen, broken world that will be this way until Christ returns and makes all things right again. I also believe that to whom much is given, much will be demanded, and to whom much is entrusted, much more will be asked. If you’re reading this, you’re probably richer than 95 percent of the world. If you’re reading this, you’ve already won the lottery. But are you rich in what matters? Are you stewarding what God gave you the way it was meant to be stewarded? If someone looked inside the gate of your house, what would they see?
Because outside the gate, we are unprotected. We are not “safe.” And yet I think safety depends more on how closely you’re walking with God than on how closely you’re walking in physical safety. Jesus didn’t die to make you safe; He died to make you dangerous.
The street is a whole lot different than I thought it was when I got here. Out here in the street, kids with futures long for attention they deserve. Out here, laughter and music and joy radiate through the crinkles in both young and old faces. Out here, community is not a value or an afterthought, but a way of life. Out here, people love each other with selflessness. Out here, I learned that hope should never be contained within four walls. Out here, I learned that a smile is universal and that an full lap leads to a full heart.
Sometimes we need to go outside the gate to bring people love. No one can get through a padlock, but if we have the key, why aren’t we going outside to bring love to them?
As I went inside, the last bits of the rainbow faded behind the clouds, and I thanked the God of redemption for allowing me to see his children the way he sees them. I thanked him for the beauty of knowing wherever He is, there is hope. I thanked Him for the comfort that wherever His Spirit abides, there are promises and dreams waiting to be fulfilled.
I hope that wherever you are today, you can venture outside your “gate” and your comfort zone to serve those around you without fear and with the fullness of grace and love that Jesus gives us.
God bless,
Tera
**I changed the names of actual children in this story to protect their identity
Below are two more videos I made this week. These are some of my favorites yet! The first one gives you a glimpse into what our sports ministry looks like here, and the second one is me sharing my testimony and teaching Sunday school yesterday! Thank you for praying for me sharing – it went so so well!
Please pray that God continues to use my team and me mightily in the remaining nine days we have with Alex Rocha and his family. Please pray for health, as I have a cold or allergies or something (it’s like I can’t catch a break!). Please pray that we are open to all God has for us on this journey. I am praying for you, that these words and this journey blesses you all as much as you have blessed my life already.
