Author: perseveranceonamission

I’ve been counting down the days until the next event, travel day, loved one’s birthday, or other exciting days ahead using an app on my phone. It gives me the day count, so I know how many months, weeks, or days I have left until the day has been reached. As much as I love being here with the kids, working alongside them, teaching them and guiding them, I smile a little bit with excitement whenever I open the app up, knowing it won’t be too long until I hop on another plane to visit family and friends or get to celebrate another birthday. I’ve been overlooking each day as its own, not seeing the present as a gift, but counting down the time to the next exciting day the future has in store.

This past week was a little different for me. I got to visit a few friends in Dallas, before making my way up to visit the extended family (aunt, uncle, grandparents, and cousins) for the long weekend at their lake house. The trip to Minnesota was bookended with visits to my grandparents, Thursday being lunch at their house and Monday visiting my grandfather who was sitting next to my grandmother in the hospital. Thursdays visit was much needed. 94 and 95 years old, both my grandparents looked to be healthy despite their increasing age. I was enjoying lunch with them, but I was also looking ahead to the coming days I’d get to spend with the other family members up at the lake.

Grandma was certainly feeling drowsy that afternoon. She was recently given a new anti-anxiety med that caused her to fall asleep at the table and not much later in her recliner. We woke her up and helped her pack her suitcase for the hospital, allowing her to get much needed rest under the care of nurses and hospice. While packing a hospital bag was not something I was looking forward to nor planning on doing over my short vacation, I was thankful for the time I got to share with her then as I was excited for the weekend of fun at the lake.

A weekend full of pontoon rides, yard games, board/card games, jigsaw puzzles, kayaking, swimming, laughing, and over-eating, it was quickly ended when we were notified that grandma’s health was quickly declining. We departed the lake house Monday morning at 4 am for our 3:30 flight (that was only a four-hour drive away), so we could get another visit with the grandparents.

Grandpa was sitting on her side. Although this week was meant for a time of rest for him as well, he looked very exhausted and emotional, keeping guard over his wife of 74 years. (I was almost looking forward to planning a visit around their 75 anniversary party that would come the following year.) Grandma was in bed, covered with sheets, showing only enough to see her mouth hanging open wide in a deep sleep. She was weak, had lost the ability to swallow, and was struggling to keep her eyes open for a short conversation. We took turns, holding her hand, loving on her, and giving our final words to her. I was so emotional, I could barely get any words out to her, not even knowing if she would be able to hear or comprehend them in my tear-filled voice. It was hard to see her in this state and to watch my grandfather, just as emotional as myself, not leave her side. It was difficult for all of us to be with her for an hour or so. My family left the room with not a dry eye. We took some time in the waiting room before leaving for the airport to share some of our memories of her, allowing us to turn our tears into smiles and laughter. We were all at the airport together, not expecting healing or recovery, but waiting for the news of her ascent to heaven.

The next morning I was up early, flying from Dallas, to Miami, back to Guatemala. While on my layover in Miami, I got a text saying she’s been struggling breathing. I started to board my plane, along with 150+ other passengers and their oversized carry-ons, waited for takeoff, and started watching a movie on my phone that I had downloaded for the flight. When we got high enough to receive Internet service, I check my phone as soon as I could. My phone started to get messages fast, receiving multiple texts from about an hour and a half ago that she had taken her final breath. I went back to my movie, trying my hardest to pretend as if nothing happened, as to not get emotional in front of many passengers and airline employees.

As I knew this news would be coming within the next day or two, I couldn’t hold in the tears. For the 3-hour flight, I was sobbing for about 1.5 hours, using the small square napkin I got with my airline cookies. The flight attendant taking drink orders saw the stream of tears down my cheeks, and quickly ran to grab me a stack of tissues after she gave me a hug. It was a quick, lonely, depressing trip through the Guatemalan airport, going through immigration, picking up my checked luggage, and meeting my uber driver outside the airport doors.

This uber driver was different. He owned the same model and color of car I recently sold in the states to be able to purchase one in Guatemala. The one my grandparents gifted me the same day I got my license. He handed me the cord to listen to music through my phone through the car’s radio. I was going to put my songs on shuffle, but instead decided to play my Spanish worship playlist, so both of could listen to the lyrics. I was soaking in each word, reminding myself of the promise the Lord has given us of eternal life after our earthly life has come to an end. I’m not sure where the driver’s heart lies, but I hope listening to the words gave him some hope as well, watching him turn up the volume with each song that played.

I made it back to the orphanage about 1:30 and hiked up the hill with my backpack, duffel bag, and suitcase just outside the orphanage walls. I didn’t want any kids seeing my tear-filled eyes, nor felt like being productive with any afternoon activity with anyone. I trapped myself inside, giving myself time to unpack, ponder, and let myself cry it out. It’s been a few days, and the tears are still coming.

As I still get excited thinking about upcoming birthdays, trips, and orphanage events, I have a new appreciation of time. Kids come and go in the orphanage. So do interns, short-term mission team members, fellow volunteers, and orphanage staff. Sometimes it’s harder than other times, depending on my relationship with them. I thought I would have enough experience of comings and goings not to experience these emotions again, but this one was different.

Today, I am filled with hope of eternity in heaven. I am still struggling with the loss of a dear family member, as is the rest of my family, but also rejoicing that she is no longer suffering. She is watching each of us from above, and is filled with joy when we remember the way she has impacted each of us who were blessed to know her. It isn’t easy losing part of the family, but I am grateful enough I got to share some of her last days with her, no matter how hard it was emotionally. The one thing I took back with me from my trip to Minnesota was a bracelet with “Ignite your 1440!” written on it, the number of minutes in a day. Here’s to living in the present and being thankful for each minute I get to share with each and every child, team member, fellow volunteer, family member, friend, and stranger I cross paths with.

http://www.czaplewskifuneralhomes.com/obituary/rachel-severance

Often times, I am looking at each relationship that surround me as what can be changed. Maybe it’s not being close enough with a child. Or maybe it’s being too close. Maybe it’s set on the wrong motives, not getting any deeper, standing still, or full of attitude and jokes. Or it’s built on only one thing, it’s getting stretched, it’s unlike the others. And I am constantly reminding myself that each relationship is its own and has it’s own special qualities to it that only the two people involved can incorporate into it.

About a month or two back, I shared a story of a new boy to the orphanage. He was terrified of my skin condition and would keep a safe distance away from me. Two weeks passed, and I was continuing to be a part of his daily life, allowing him to know that I am here not to harm him in any way, but only to love and care for him. Any time he sees me coming from afar, he’ll run up to me and give me a great big hug lasting 20-30 seconds. It’s consistent. I almost feel that I can’t properly greet the others in his house with him attached to my side, arms tightly wrapped around my waist. But, I do have to remember the transformation he made in trusting me within his first two weeks here. I want to be focused on the love that I get from him and can give back to him, not shifting towards being trapped against my will.

There’s one of the teen girls that like to laugh and joke around with me. She has a slight lisp and likes to strengthen that lisp when she yells my name from 100+ feet away. And I do too. I play along with her, saying her name with a lisp, making us both crack up laughing. Over a year later, and our relationship continues around us saying our names with lisps. I’m not too sure she correctly knows how to pronounce my name, I’m just keeping my focus on the joy we get to share together in our silly voices.

One of the younger girls came early this year with an older brother. She gets excited to see me each and every day, running up to me with a hug. But she follows that hug with a single word: “tickle!” She loves it when I slowly and lightly run my fingertips up her back, tickling her and filling her with laughter. I’m almost positive I only get hugs from her hoping she will get tickled back. I don’t want to be focused on the meaning behind the hug, I want my focus to be on knowing she can come to me when she needs anything, whether it’s a shoulder to cry on or a few fingertips crawling up her back.

And then there’s a 6 year old girl who I don’t get to see nearly as often as I’d like. She gets outside the house occasionally when going to or from school, grabbing lunch from the kitchen quickly or when everyone in her house goes out to play. She eats every meal inside her house, and goes to classes in the mornings, when most of the kids go in the afternoons. One day, I was walking past the cafeteria windows headed into work. I hear my name called out, and she’s standing inside the window, waving to me like crazy, making faces at me. I peek my head in through the broken window, and she’s so amazed I could stick my head through. It’s like the coolest thing ever! She runs outside to give me a hug, tells me she loves me and reassures me that she will never forget me, no matter how long she is at Casa Shalom. She gets excited to see some of her family members walking up the stairs and introduces me to each of them as “my friend Harper”. Their faces light up with joy, knowing that their daughter, niece, cousin is well loved and cared for.

And then there are those I do not share a close relationship I’d like to get to know better. Most of you that know me, know that I am not an active person, that soccer wold be one of the very last things I would ever participate in, especially if it’s with a bunch of Guatemalan boys who could break my arm with a kick of the ball. No, I didn’t jump into an intense game with the teenage boys. I passed the ball around with one of the pre-teen boys out of school. He was showing me some of the tricks he was trying to learn and asked me to try them too. He helped me with my aim and was showing me the different kicks he used, with different speeds, heights, and placement on his foot. It was a 20 minute game for us to connect, assist once another, chat a little bit, and not worry about anything surrounding us, just enjoying togetherness while watching the sun set over the mountains.

A few weeks back, one of my Guatemalan friends invited me to a party one of her friends. She was turning 15, the big quincenera. The only quinceneras I’ve been to have been at the orphanage, with 150 in attendance and the birthday girl in a beautiful prom gown, with many younger boys and girls assisting in the ceremony. I joined an American missionary to attend the quincenera. We left at 6:45 in the morning for a party that started at 9, for a teenager neither of us knew beforehand. This town where the party was held was a little over two hours (60 miles) away with Guatemalan roads, traffic, and mountains. It was a town I’ve never been to before. We drove through a few larger towns with some traffic, and then made our way across a dirt road, though the trees, with large potholes scattered across the road, weaving left and right to avoid the widest ones. Part of the way, construction workers were putting pavement down on the dirt road, blocking traffic for about 15 minutes for each direction. Several semi trucks and school buses aka chicken buses (main public transportation in Guatemala) were waiting there patiently to get through. We drove through windy mountains, open fields, dumps, and back alleys.

We arrived five minutes before 9 for one of the biggest parties of a young girl’s life. Being the American I am, I was a little (a lot) nervous to arrive shortly before the party’s starting time. We sat in the church, that sat about 60, for over a half hour playing I spy and using scrap receipts to draw and pass the time with the kids who were in attendance. The birthday girl walked in at 9:10, and most everyone showed up at 9:35, and the ceremony began shortly after. About 40 were in attendance, including those who were part of the ceremony.

The church doors were wide open, allowing anyone to come and go as they please. This included a street dog who spent most of the ceremony smelling underneath the dessert table and street vendors, selling anything from freshly cut mangos, nuts, or water bottles, to handwoven scarves, blouses, purses, or headbands.

There was a local band, a pastor that shared the message, and the birthday girl, dressed in a traje tipico, the Mayan skirt, blouse, and fabric belt that is traditionally worn today by Guatemalan women. It was a fairly short ceremony (by Guatemalans’ standards) lasting maybe an hour with a few songs, a message, friends sharing memories with the birthday girl, and a time of meet and greet for those in attendance. The ceremony was followed with lunch, a traditional meal consisting of pulled chicken, tamales, rice, mixed veggies, and of course, tortillas. To drink was the main refreshment of Guatemala, Rosa de Jamaica, tea made with hibiscus leaves.

Although we had never met the family, friends, or the birthday girl herself, they were all so welcoming to us Americans. The speakers of the party were welcoming each group to the party, even the gringos coming in, who were friends of a friend. They included us in conversation as if they’ve known us for years. With extra food to make sure everyone got their fill, we were sent home with about a dozen tamales and two full plates of food. We hopped back in the car and were back home by 3.

A few lessons can be taken from these 8 hours, or really 8 hours in Guatemala:

1. When they say it begins at 9, be prepared to wait at least a half hour
2. When going to an event, be prepared to be in the car for at least an hour or two, just for one way… another hour or so if there’s traffic, or if the road is covered with construction workers, broken down semis, or large potholes.
3. Have something to do to pass the travel/waiting time: a game, a journal/book, or a friend to make conversation.
4. No matter where you go in Guatemala, you are bound to cross paths with a street vendor and a stray dog.
5. Bring: food, drink, and toilet paper. As waiting times get longer, dehydration sets in, rumbling begins, and supplies in a public bathroom are very limited. We were lucky this time: this one had a seat, a working flush, and a lid covering the tank.

Most of you have probably heard through news, word of mouth, social media updates, others’ blog entries, or read personal stories, so I am a little late to be sharing this news for the first time. Volcán Fuego (“Fire Volcano”) had an explosion almost 2 weeks ago, Sunday, June 3rd. I was in Antigua at the time with a few girls volunteering at a hospital for malnourished babies. We heard it raining with a big thundercloud overhead, and walked out to the car, surprising ourselves that we weren’t wet. It wasn’t rain. It was volcanic ash and a smoke cloud, at 1 in the afternoon.

We made our way out of Antigua and stopped for a few minutes in the next town over to grab lunch to-go before heading back to the orphanage. Men were outside using brooms, sweeping up piles of black dust only to watch it cover the ground again. Gas stations were packed with at least 3 cars behind each fuel pump waiting for their turn to spray down their dirty windows. Parking lots and stores were crowded, with everyone in emergency mode, grabbing everything they may need, like most people know of as hurricane/tornado/snow storm preparation, depending on the location. Two pizzas that should’ve taken 3 minutes to order and pick up took us about 20 minutes, with everyone else trying to get lunch while they could!

The orphanage sits 16 miles away from the volcano, so all of the cars, roofs, and grounds were covered in black dust. Schools were canceled for the next 3 days. Kids stayed inside their houses as much as possible not to breathe all the bad smoke and ashes into their lungs. Some of us were more thankful that they didn’t have school than others. I got to assist in worship and art therapy for a few of the afternoons, as well as participate in dances and skits for our chapel service that Wednesday morning.

I took the role of a mother with a sick baby. I was down on my knees crying, as the baby doll coughed in my arms. Jesus, another missionary, grabbed a few kids (12) from the crowd to help be His disciples. They walked through the chapel helping those in need, like a dying old man, a widowed mother, or a sick baby. I think this was the perfect week for this type of message, knowing that at least 100 died, many more are still missing, 1000+ lost most of their (already limited) belongings, and 1000s of farm acres destroyed (that several thousand families rely on for food and/or employment) due to the volcano explosion.

May 31, I flew back into Guatemala from visiting in Florida for two weeks. As I was waiting for my ride to pick me up, I notice two girls, about the ages of 7 and 10. They were 40 feet to my right looking down into a fly-covered trashcan. I’ve never seen so much excitement in ones eyes when finding a crushed soda can, reaching all the way to the bottom to pick it up. Maybe they earned a few coins for recycling. Or they are going to make something with it to sell to an American looking for a last minute souvenir. That’s what they have to do to survive. It tore my heart, and still picturing it, I don’t want to think about where those girls and many more like them might be now post-explosion.

While the rain helps wash away most of the volcanic ash from the grounds, it also clogs the drains and makes those who really need assistance even that much more unreachable, creating rough rivers and streams in the roads. It’s amazing to see and hear of the work that is being done by Guatemalans for Guatemalans. I am proud to be a part of this nation and get to witness so many people coming together for one cause.

We didn’t face near as many consequences of the volcano explosion. No rocks coming down on us, lack of clean air to breath, or the shelter overhead being taken over in ashes. All we had to struggle with was a few days of wearing masks over our mouths anytime we decided to leave the building. The kids, staff, and volunteers are all safe at Casa Shalom. But they’re not too sure about their family and friends who were closer to the volcano. We give thanks to the many sponsors, friends, family members, and caretakers for sending us message after message through email, social media, text, and call checking in to see that we are all safe and ok.

We are continuing to keep all of those in prayer for those who are still struggling after the volcano, for those who still have family missing, those who have lost loved ones due to the smoke/ash or the after effects, and those who are making their way into those dangerous environments risking their lives to save others. From the disaster that was the Volcán Fuego, we don’t forget to acknowledge the fuego(fire) in our hearts to gather as a team and see the good that God brought from this situation. Community. Togetherness. Preparation for the future. Lives made new. The realization that there are so many in Guatemala, the US, and around the world that are praying for the best for Guatemala and it’s people. Thank you to each of you who have shown your support in this explosion. We appreciate each and every one who have prayed for us and enabled us to financially help those who need it most. He is with us through each and every storm (or volcano) that comes our way!

Each and every day, no matter what stage of life we are in, we all are growing. Maybe in size. Health. Muscle. Knowledge. Spirituality. Personally. Maturity. Relationally. None of these areas, or any growing, can come without faith. Faith that the long hours at the gym will build strength and take off pounds. Faith that the all-nighters over an open text book will get you closer to that dream job. Faith that the medicine or treatment will do what it says it will. Faith that the other person in the relationship, be it a family member, friend, or co-worker, also wants to deepen their relationship with you. Faith that the more you spend in prayer, in scripture, in giving of yourself, the bigger your heart will be for the church and the people it hopes to reach.

Last year, we received a baby, only 2 days old, who was abandoned at birth. This past week, he got to celebrate his first birthday. He’s quickly growing in size and ability, and even quicker growing in faith with the friendships in his house, but also in the faith of his caretakers, that they will provide the love, care and attention he needs to thrive and grow into the man God created him to be.

This afternoon, while walking down the hill, I saw one of the newer boys calling me over for something he wanted me to see. I look to the roof of the house in my right, and hear “He’s alive” before noticing the bird sitting up there with a towel and a piece of paper. The bird looked in pretty rough shape, maybe with a broken leg and/or wing, could barely keep his eyes open, but seemed content in the care of the boys, not making a peep nor fighting back. I got the full story from them excited to share it with me. They rescued that bird after he fell out of the tree, placed him on the roof in safety, and told me that his mom and dad will come back to get him. If that’s not faith, I don’t know what is!

While I was away for the past two weeks, carpentry classes were started up for the teen boys and girls. They are hoping to install skills into these teenagers as they will outgrow the orphanage in two, three, four years, or maybe even this year. As soon as I got back I heard testimony after testimony of the skills being taught and how the teens, once afraid and ashamed of being incapable, creating new wood works of their own and excitedly asking when the next class will be. Faith in their abilities, the materials provided and the instructions followed has led to leaps and bounds of growth within their young lives and perspectives of themselves.

One of the boys had a rash that covered various places across his body. He’s done blood tests, has been faithful to put on lotion, stayed out of the sun, has done a strict food diet, and probably a few other things I’m not aware of to try to get a handle on the outbreaks. Doctors weren’t sure if it was an allergy to the sun, a skin disease, a food allergy, or something else. His cheeks were bright pink and were almost scabbed over when I left for the states mid May. I saw him today, and it looked like he was brand new. Smooth skin, no itching, and he was as happy as could be! Through prayer, hard work, close attention and faith, he has grown into a picture of success.

When I arrived back I noticed recycled bottles hanging from the bars on the windows with a piece of ribbon. I could tell from far away they were filled with something. Dirt. And up from the dirt was a hint of green. The kids are learning with hard work, growth will happen. They have faith that if they provide the seed with enough water, sunlight, and soil, something great will grow. Here’s to continuing to grow, only with faith in ourselves, the results, and the journey there!

Most can’t express how it good it feel to stretch, whether it’s before and/or after exercise, following a refreshing nap, or whenever the sleepy feeling comes along. It helps wakes us up after a couple hours of layi. It relieves tension and stiffness. It helps with circulation. It prepares us for the exercise that’s to come, and helps unwind and loosen up afterwards, and may even improve the workout. Overall, it just feels good. Can anyone agree?

I’ve come to learn that it also applies to our skills, talents, abilities, and responsibilities. Stretching myself gives me more work on my plate, but allows me to improve on my relationships, Spanish vocabulary, sense of direction, my impact on the kids of Shalom, and helps me find new activities and hobbies to take part in. Once it’s done, the results feel good.

I’ve stretched myself to assisting in the internship program. Since the intern director isn’t great with her Spanish yet, I am the communicator between her and the intern(s) with the Guatemalan house parents and staff. I am helping in asking questions, while also providing the answers to the questions. The intern director lives off of campus, so I’ve been her assistant while she isn’t around, being the communicator between the two, while the intern is phone-less. I am still not comfortable with all the similar-looking corners and winding roads of Antigua, and have been stretching myself with taking the interns out on the town, to markets, restaurants, coffee shops, central park, and calling up for a cab ride when the day is done. Watching the little blue dot on the map from my phone screen has been very helpful for me in determining time, number of blocks left, or whenever I get lost!

I’ve suffered from stage fright for most of my life. And, to be performing in front of a bunch of different ages, people, and backgrounds, in a different language just sounds like one of the scariest things to me. Only because I’ve stretched myself, the highlight of my week is usually leading worship with my ukulele (and a fellow guitar player/singer) in Spanish Tuesday with the younger girls and Wednesday with the younger boys. I also look forward to co-leading worship twice a month in front of fellow missionaries in English and Spanish. I’ve also taken up the job of leading worship in our chapel services. Last time, it was leading hand motions. Next time, I may include my own singing voice with either my ukulele and/or the piano.

In stretching myself with worship and stage fright, I’ve been continuing to improve on my music abilities and have started writing my own worship songs in my free time. It’s become a way for me to unwind at the end of a long day! I may share some in the future, but they are still far from being finished. Just words on paper now, I will begin putting tunes to them as I continue to proof-read! Right now, they are solely English, but maybe far down the road I will start to include Spanish….. That’s a big MAYBE!

The kids have been starting wood shop classes. The pre-teen boys got a one-hour a week class for the month and made a boat to compete in a race against one another. The final class was learning about Jesus calming the storm, along with some questions to go along with the story. I was there to translate the story to the kids, ask them questions, and translate the answers to the carpentry teachers, stretching myself in my carpentry/boat Spanish vocabulary.

Being a missionary isn’t as easy as it may sound. Although I am posting pictures of happy, giggly kids, it’s not always what it seems. It requires faith, trust, hope, and accountability. It sometimes brings doubt, fear, loneliness, and a bit of confusion. I’ve been guilty of bottling my thoughts and feelings up inside all alone, as people in the states are continuing to lift me in prayer and/or financially support me. I’ve been stretching myself and slowly learning to trust those around me, Spanish and English, Guatemalans and Americans, with those things I’m struggling with, want to put into action, or times I just need to share a prayer request. No, it’s not easy, but it’s been worth it to create those friendships that mean more than just working alongside one another. They’re irreplaceable friendships built upon trust, honesty, love, support, laughter, and being present with one another.

Along with the therapies I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been asked by another ministry to get more involved with therapies across the orphanage campus and maybe even extending into other children’s homes or schools in the area. I will share more about that when the doors open and I know more of what I’ll be involved in. Keep an eye out for it next month!

Most have heard and know of the 5 love languages and usually put themselves in a category of one or two of the 5. Here they are written out with a short explanation and/or examples:

1. Words of affirmation: Receiving compliments or encouragement through what they are wearing, what they are doing, or their character
2. Quality Time: Giving/receiving the undivided attention of another for a period of time (going for a walk together, conversing over a meal, playing a board game, etc.)
3. Receiving Gifts: Receiving (or giving) material things, a physical item to show that they were thought of
4. Acts of Service: Actions done in a positive mindset in service to others (making the bed, doing a load of laundry, picking up a prescription, etc)
5. Physical Touch: Holding hands, back rubbing, head leaning on one another and hugging

I find myself a mix of physical touch and quality time. I love giving hugs, holding hands, while also spending quality time with those closest to me, whether it be conversing over breakfast or going on a drive together. Living with 80 kids, I can’t limit myself to these two forms of love.

Two weeks back, one of the girls was headed to her court date, and assured me that she was not returning to the orphanage, but was going with a family member. I was headed out that day with a group to the next town over, and she saw me ready with hands full to jump into the van and get kids organized. In the busyness, I stopped to give her a tight hug, that probably lasted 30 seconds or longer, as we weren’t sure we’d see each other again. On my way out, she told me to bring her back a small gift. I told her I will give it to her once she returns to the orphanage in the evening. While at one of the stores, I picked up a small bottle of those mini m&ms that they keep near the register. She knew that I thought of her when she was eating them that night. She felt loved by me when I brought her a 75 cent container of candies.

One of the younger boys asked me to spend time with his house and share a meal with them. I was up at the counter grabbing my food, set my plate on the edge of their table, and was ready to head to the back of the room to grab myself a chair. Before I knew it, another boy left his food and ran ahead of me so I didn’t have to carry the (almost weightless) chair back to the table. He showed me love through completing an act of service for me, while we all spent quality time together chatting and laughing through the meal.

Most Saturdays, the teenage girls go up to the neighbor’s house for cooking class. I’ve gotten the pleasure to join them a few Saturdays. But, I’m not in the kitchen cooking, I’m out with a few of the teenagers who would rather participate in horse therapy. We comb and brush the horse, walk her around with a rope, and give her the grass or water we have at arm’s reach. On one Saturday, there was only one girl that decided to join me. She was fairly new at the time, maybe at the orphanage a little over a month. After combing and brushing the horse, I tied a rope to her harness and handed the rope to the girl to walk the horse around. She did great. But best of all, almost the full 10 minutes she was walking around, she was opening up to me about her time in Shalom, her friendships, what she likes to do, and her previous experiences working alongside animals. Although I didn’t understand some of it because she was talking super fast, I was thankful for that bond we were able to build together in the time we got to share together. She feels loved by me and knows she can talk to me like a friend. I feel loved being one she could open up to and count on as a friend.

One boy, about 9 years old and very smart, wanted to put a puzzle together. It was one of those puzzles with 100 pieces that stretched 4 feet when laid out on the ground, with each piece as big as my hand. I saw him walking towards the puzzle and had complete confidence that he could do it on his own without a problem. But, he called me over to help him. I doubt he needed my help, but that he actually wanted to share time with me. We spent about 10 minutes sitting on the ground together, keeping an eye on what the other was working on, so we could help each other find the pieces we needed. With teamwork and quality time, the puzzle was a success.

One morning in play therapy with the younger girls (7-11 years old), the five girls and I gathered around the table together and sculpted with the variety of play dough colors set out for our use. All kinds of stencils were set out as well, some in the shape of dinosaurs, others like a house, flowers, vegetables and hearts. I did my best to change my location around the table, complementing each girl and what they were working on or what they’ve finished. One girl who I was sitting with was cutting out each vegetable. And she showed me each and every one, from the carrot and mushroom to the beans and potato. I showed her love by complementing each and every ball of clay she presented to me, even if I couldn’t tell what it was before she told me. She wanted to be encouraged and hear that she was doing a great job throughout.

A team that came from the US brought yarn to teach the kids how to make bracelets, necklaces, and headbands. One boy walked up to me with a piece of string and asked me to hold the end for him. I stood there for about 5 minutes holding the yarn, while he spent his time tying knot after knot, making a bracelet of his own design. Once he said it was done, he asked me to hold out my arm, as he tied it around my wrist. He wanted to show his love for me by making a gift, a handmade bracelet for me. I’ve worn it everyday since to remind me that he loves me, and when he sees it, he knows I love him.

On our way to play therapy one day, I was slightly nervous, because we received two sisters the previous week that were joining us for the first time that morning. I walk up to the house with one of the therapists to let the girls know that we are headed to therapy soon. The older of the two new girls yells “HARPER” when she opens the door and greets me with a big hug. Walking back down the sidewalk, I feel a hand sneak its way into my hand from behind…. Yep, you guessed it. The older sister again. She walked hand in hand with me for about a quarter mile uphill to the house next door. If our hands ever fell apart, she was quick to grab it again, or slide her arm under and over mine so our arms were linked together. She’s been here a week, and she’s already quick to show and receive love  with physical touch.

I could go on and on with stories like these over the past year of life with these kids. These are just a few that I’ve experienced in the past month. I am learning to take notice of the ways to love those around me, and what type of love is responded to with each child. I want them to know they are loved by me, instead of only me feeling love for them. I want to best meet their needs, whether it be something from their past that they are trying to recover from or learning how to express love themselves and show love in the way they feel most comfortable.

Enough- adj: adequate for the want or need; sufficient for the purpose or to satisfy desire

     It’s a difficult word to digest for most people. Is there enough money? Food in the fridge? Time to get things done? Gas in the car? Clothes in the closet? People to help with the tasks? Energy to keep going? Vacation hours to go on that trip? All of these things and more, amounts vary from person to person, home to home.

Sometimes I tend to struggle with the word “enough” in a different form. Am I doing enough with my time? Do I have enough tasks to make the most of my being? Am I enough to fill the role? Am I being enough of a leader to these kids? Am I making enough of a difference? Am I enough?

And yet, the kids around me have been told they’re not enough, due to their past experiences. Some have been living on the streets, provided maybe a tortilla a day to fill their stomachs, with their older siblings caring for them. Others were close to death at the hand of a parent or guardian. None of them were given the opportunities that most of us were given in our childhood. They’ve been told for majority of their life that they aren’t enough. But, in fact, they were created for a purpose. They are loved more than they can imagine by a God who created them in His image. They are worthy of shelter, love, care, education, medical/dental treatment, three meals a day, access to spiritual guidance, and so much more. They are enough.

^“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizenswith God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundationof the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy templein the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.
Ephesians 2:19-22

That’s one of the greatest lessons I’m trying to teach not only the kids, but to myself as well. Despite my flaws, my need for occasional rest, my ability to be only in one place at a time,my limited talents and use of the native language, and my skin condition and the bullying that has come and continues to come with it, I am more than enough. Despite the hardships they’ve gone through in the past, whether it be poverty, homelessness, sexual/physical abuse, death in the family, each kids that calls, has called, or will call Casa Shalom home is more than enough.

And to you, who are taking the time to read this, you are enough. You were created in the image of God to fulfill the role of spouse, sibling, friend, child, parent, co-worker, boss, teacher, role-model, and so many other roles. You are enough. There’s only so much that can be done with your God-given talents, abilities, and time, and that is enough. No need to strive until you can’t do much more. Take the time God has given you to not only fulfill those roles, but to relax, refresh, and remember that you are enough…. even on those days you may not feel like it. Christ thinks you’re to die for!

Almost everyone knows it’s April fools today, some are celebrating Easter, and only a few know it’s my one year anniversary. One year ago, I purchased a one way ticket with Guatemala City written on my boarding pass. One year since getting my passport stamped, making a storm through the nearest Walmart, and having to restart the old van about 6 times while sitting in traffic for 3+ hours (normally 40 minutes) making our way from the airport to my new home. One year of so many hello and goodbyes. One year full of new emotions I’ve never felt before. One year of loving on so many children, I’ve lost count. One year of saying “yes” to the calling God has placed on my heart.

Throughout these past 365 days, I’ve learned several things. I’ve list a few below. I’ve learned:

-how to fit 25+ in a 15 passenger van

-the skill of bartering at the local markets

-that a dishwasher is a person not a machine

-to be grateful for a hot shower

-how to climb a volcano

-more than I ever needed to know about how the meat on our plates is prepared

-what an earthquake feels like

-the beauty of a quinceañera party

-the true celebration of Holy Week

-many more spanish words than I ever learned in my 5+ years of taking spanish classes in school

-that most English speakers will ask if you can speak English after overhearing you speak to a chil or staff member in Spanish

-how good it feels to get into bed at 8:30 after a full days work with a bunch of kids (parents, I now know how you feel!)

-how to get the majority of my work done while the wifi is strong

-take advantage of the moments during the workday without an interruption

-of the emotions that come when watching a child get adopted

-the value of a video chat and visits back to the states

-how to make the most of a small carryon bag

-the strength of relationships shared between kids and fellow missionaries

-to value relationships while they’re present, because they may disappear without warning

-the amount God is willing to test and stretch you to further His work

-and a bunch more that I am still picking up along the way!

It’s still surreal that my first year of being a full time missionary is over. Like I’ve said, I’ve gotten to do so much in these past 365 days, but I know a lot is waiting for me in the years to come. I’m looking forward to the new opportunities, new children, and new adventures God has in store for me!

A few of us missionaries who live on site decided we’d stuff Easter eggs to celebrate Easter with the kids today. We found a suitcase and a black garbage bag full of leftover plastic Easter eggs. Great, we don’t have to purchase anymore. We all sat down and realized quickly that it was a lot harder to find a match fitting for each half of the egg. 15 eggs each stuffed for 75 kids. We were stuffing and snapping eggs together from about 7:30-12:15. A great way to start my first year anniversary!

Good Friday, we spent all day in Antigua watching processionals. Churches and a few schools would gather together to carry a large heavy wooden sculpture depicting an image of Jesus through his last days, whether carrying the cross, last supper, praying the evening before, or the like. Depending on the size of the sculpture, about 40 men and/or women would carry it for blocks down the streets of Antigua, usually with a marching band following behind, and two lines of people on either side to hold back the crowds watching. But, before marching, people would decorate the streets in colored sawdust, pine needles, fruits, flowers, branches, rice, and whatever else they could manage to find! They’d spend hours on one covering 5×20 feet of road, only to watch it be destroyed by those in the processionals. After the processional, trucks would come by to gather the dead plants, and they’d start again before the next processional started. It was incredible to see all that went into celebrating Holy Week. And, it’s just a glimpse of what Christ went through while wearing a crown of thorns.

Have a Happy Easter!

The seven Americans of Casa Shalom led our first chapel service together this past Friday. It may not sound like a big deal, but it was! Most chapel services are led by a pastor, from a Guatemalan church visiting for a few hours, or a group of Americans visiting for the week (which usually includes a pastor).

From planning to production, everything was on our 14 shoulders. One was in charge of planning and giving a message, another in charge of opening and closing in prayer, a few to pass out materials and sit with the kids during service to make sure all were paying attention, and another for worship. That one fell on me.

Throughout the week, I’ve spent two or three hours daily listening to Spanish music, watching various lyric videos, making lyric sideshows, learning and creating my own hand motions, and practicing two songs on the piano over and over and over again, in Spanish and English. Come Friday morning, I felt confident in the work I put into the two songs with motions, two songs on the piano, and the lyrics onscreen for the kids to follow along with. I was ready!

The keyboard was driven up the hill at 8:30 (for service to start at 10), I got a chance to practice, I got my laptop set up, and I had asked one of the teen boys to help me with the sound system and video. All was going as planned. We turned on music to play over the speakers from my computer as kids came in, yet we couldn’t figure out the video. No matter how many times we re-plugged each wire, changed inputs on the TV screens, or had multiple sets of eyes looking everything over, it still wouldn’t come on.

It all hit me there. All the minutes I’ve spent this week meant nothing if the kids can’t follow along onscreen with me. I tried to pick well known songs, yet I know most of them probably won’t recognize them or be able to sing with me if they don’t know the words or can’t read them on the screens. I was almost at a point of tears, sitting at the back of the chapel just a few minutes before service began.

We joined hands in prayer before it all began. I felt a weight come off me knowing that whatever comes off service is all in God’s hands.

After the opening and prayer, I took center stage. Black TV screens were hanging overhead, so all eyes were focused on me, about 120 of them! The first two songs were those with motions, piano to come at the end of service. Without being drawn to the colorful lyrics coming up on the TV, their heart was fully into mirroring my motions. I felt like it went better not having lyrics onscreen, so the kids would be more involved in dancing and praising through actions. Hey, I might’ve missed a few moves in the two songs and don’t have the greatest rhythm, but I got most of the older boys to dance, so I felt I did pretty good!

The message was shared, and after, each child got a few minutes to write a prayer to God, the message being on how we can talk with God. I put on a few quiet worship songs to set the mood and fill the dead air, then got up on stage to adjust the mic, the volume, and the sheet music for my two piano songs. Those, I really wish we could’ve had the lyrics up for. I’ve been coughing for the past few days and wasn’t confident in my singing strength. The piano wasn’t hooked up correctly, so we were having to use a microphone as close as we could to the piano speakers. We realized we ran long, and didn’t have time to squeeze in another song (or two) before service ended. I was saved from playing the piano this week, but I’m looking forward to playing at our next service(s).

The lyrics might’ve not shown up during my dance performances, but the attention was focused on me and following my motions. The lyrics wouldn’t show up for the piano segment, nor would the piano hook up correctly, and as my voice quickly declined, the time was spent elsewhere allowing the children to write out their prayers to God.

The service might not have gone the way that I expected it to, but just like always, God proves He is good and brings the best out of anything He calls upon us. Each of the 7 of us used our (sometimes limited) strengths, talents, and abilities to share a portion of the kingdom, and God was truly there shining through us all.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters,”

Colossians 3:23

(I thought this verse was fitting, and it also lined up with the date!)