Lucky and Free.

I’m learning to be satisfied with the measure I’m granted every day of my life.

I’ve been learning to reach out and grasp all the life that flies by me even as it goes past. There’s no one as lucky and free as me, no one as lucky and free.

Hope.

A reason to carry on.

A reason to keep going when the going gets hard.

When the tears run down your cheeks and you can’t seem to find the friendship or love you seek,

There’s something that keeps you going,

a deep force that won’t let you give up,

a light that illuminates the darkness and reveals something profound and breathtakingly raw.

Hope.

When everything seems to slip through your fingers

And you’re drowning in the ocean of self-pity

There’s something that keeps you from giving up.

There must be a brighter side.

There must be a fuller life.

Why else would you push through.

Why else would you do what you do.

Hope.

Some say that it is hope of success.

Hope of improvement.

Hope of love.

But I daresay that it must be hope of something much bigger for it to be so strong.

For it to cause the drunk man to become sober,

For the impoverished to keep trying

For those who’ve lost everything to keep breathing.

Hope that transforms lives.

Hope that elicits tears yet dries them at the same time.

Hope that heals.

Hope that reveals.

Hope that drives.

Hope that keeps us alive.

Hope that there may be something deeper and more beautiful.

Hope that we may find Life.

Just Go.

Why do I hesitate? Why do I think about something so much that I overanalyze it to the point of death. The paralysis of analysis and irrational fear, a hesitation that causes me to suffocate in what if’s because I never actually DO.  

Nothing to lose, nothing to prove.  I know it logically, but it’s still sinking in deeply. What if I had asked that guy with the longboard if I could give it a try. The worst that could have happened is that he ran off with my bag that only held my bible and my phone never to be seen again. And the best that could have happened  is that they would have been shocked that a gringa longboards, we could have become friends, and I could have had a boarding gang. But I hesitated. Maybe because of the fear that everyone has instilled in me, maybe because of my pride or insecurity, maybe because they were both already staring at me.

Or like that time when I wanted to play soccer with the group on the beach. I could have let fear overtake me, or intimidation of the reality that I didn’t know what I was doing, or the fear of rejection if they didn’t let me join, but what’s the worst that could have happened? They say no, give me a mean look, and I go back to sit with my friends, nothing to lose. So me and a friend joined their game and what a good group of amigos we made. They took us out that night, to the town’s festivals and a walk on the beach. Now I may be going to Nicaragua with the German girl and her Tico guy, all because I didn’t let fear drive me away and make me hesitate to the point of no action.

So what a sweet lesson I’ve been learning, since the first day, that when I’ve got nothing to lose and nothing to prove, I’ll be amazed at the beauty that results from that freedom when my foundation is already solid in Truth.

La Esperanza

"y más que cualquier dios, es creadora la esperanza del hombre"

             -Jorge de Bravo

War.

How sweet it is to be at the point where I can spend a day with Costa Rican friends and their friends and have the ability to communicate and participate in the conversation and flow of life. Granted, there are still things I don’t understand, but how cool is it to think about the reality that I’m speaking in a language that was once foreign to me. Whether it’s a day in the mountains or hanging at a friend’s home, how sweet it is to be involved in what is the norm of relaxed here.

But there’s still an internal war that manifests itself externally. Be comfortable and stick with the other exchange students, or step out and plunge into the unknown, making myself vulnerable, throwing off these familiar clothes of experience.

And what sweet opportunity. To have so much time with people and so many of what I now recognize as opportunities to love. Yet how selfish I am with these. How I let intimidation and doubt steer me into the comfortable and safe lane, even though I swore I would never live there. I can use the excuse that I’m just driving for a time in security, but that’s not fair. Worldly security is never what Jesus asked of me.

How do I love? I’ve recently realized anew that I cannot love if I do not know the love of God. We can only love because he first loved us, so my first desire is to know and live and walk in this Love.

But next, how do I love? I know I am insufficient in myself, and I’m so thankful for that, because the pressure was near suffocating me. But in a country where all the young people love to drink and smoke weed every day of the week, how do I respond with love and grace without judging or living in duplicity? When they ask me what I think of smoking pot, how do I respond with honesty and grace without holding them to a standard in which they do not believe and have no reason to live up to? I can understand a lot, but my vocabulary and ability still leave something to be desired when it comes to expressing what I think and believe.

So surrounded by a new mentality, my grounding is tested and the deep internal quandaries are revealed. When worldviews clash, one must seek to find how the pieces can fit together in a way that still makes sense of the big picture. When faced with a different style of dress, a different use of language and vulgarity, a different norm for relationships and interactions, a different mentality toward beer and drugs, one must come face to face with what they believe and why. And one must press into Truth, seeking the most loving way to respond to all of this novelty.