Quality Time With Jesús

On our last morning in Nicaragua, I took a long walk on the beach.

My heart was full as I thought back to last year's morning walk on the same beach. My head was in a totally different place last year, and I couldn't stop thanking Jesus for the work He'd done in my life during 2013.

I settled down onto the sand to watch the waves before heading back to the hotel, when out of the corner of my eye I saw him.

A man, also walking down the beach.

"Keep walking, buddy," I encouraged him in my head.

But, no.

Over he walked, until he was standing directly in between me and the peaceful waves.

"I am going to practice my English," he said.

"Fabulous," I thought.

"What is your name? And what are you doing here?"

"My name is Lindsay, and I'm here in Nicaragua on a mission trip..."

And then I got a great idea for kindly and cleverly ending this conversation:

"But right now I'm spending some time with Jesus," I said.

His face lit up.

And with much flare, he drew out his crumpled ID card from his pant pocket and shouted - -

"I AM JESÚS!"

Of. Course. You. Are.

Because I forgot I was in Central America.

And also forgot that is how my life works.

Every.
Single.
Time.

He then proceeded to excitedly share with me what he looks for in women, and also what features he finds most attractive.

After hearing enough of his practiced English profanity, I put my earbuds in and watched as he continued to charade what he finds attractive in women, while Jeremy Riddle belted out worship songs inside my head.

Jesús finally became bored with this one-sided conversation, and continued on down the beach.

And I put my head in my hands.

And then I smiled, as I thanked him for his place in my life's chapter called "It's Hard to Walk Unnoticed With a Target on Your Forehead."

Happy New Year

With a heart full of thanks for the open arms that welcomed me home.

Happy New Year, my friends!

Mashed Potatoes

Last night during our worship time, I was distracted and frustrated and sad.

It has been a hard couple of days, as I come off the high of the Nicaragua trip and stare at the reality of sorting and packing up the last fourteen months of my life.

After singing a few songs, Chris prayed a simple prayer. "God, we bring you our worship tonight."

And I thought,

"God.
My worship tonight is so small.
And gross.
And mushy.
I feel like all I'm bringing tonight for worship is a handful of mashed potatoes."

And His quiet voice answered back,

"Mashed potatoes are my favorite."

How loving is my God?

Oh, Nicaragua

The mission trip to Nicaragua was amazing.

Exhausting.

Exhilarating.

Energizing.

Our first night at the camp, we had a time of worship, and as we sat there singing I looked over in the corner of the sanctuary to where I had been last year:

It had been late at night, and someone was praying over me - - 

speaking words of worth, beauty and identity into my life 

and I was sobbing on the floor 

unable to accept. 

Desperately wanting to, 

but choosing instead to believe the lies.

Just.

Like.

Always.

But this year as I sat in the room and looked at my life, it was different.

This year has been a year of finding freedom.
Finding victory over lies.
Choosing each new day to accept the truth of what Jesus says about me.
Walking in my identity of who I am in Him.

So that night I threw my hands up in worship.

And then quietly reminded myself that the same God who has brought all these beautiful changes in my heart and thought process, is the same God who knows what my next chapter will hold.

And some of my fear for the future started to dissipate.

During our three days in Tipitapa, I massaged over 80 people... 

Our first morning I told the team, "No kids." 

Massages solely for adults.

And then.

Her Dad begged me. 

"She has pain in every joint."

She was too tiny for my chair, so I got down on the ground and drew her onto my lap.

She nestled in, and each time I'd say

"Does it hurt here?"

She'd look at me with her huge, pain-filled brown eyes and nod her head.

We sat.

And I massaged. 

And prayed.

And loved.

And felt my heart break for the things that break His heart.

There were 31 people on our team.

These are the ones representing Anonos.

My heart exploded just a bit at the honor of being part of this picture.

A Few Funnies

On Sunday, we had a second Thanksgiving meal with some Tico and Nico friends. After dinner, Les had us go around the table and each say three things that we were thankful for.

Then he asked each one of us what one goal for our coming year is.

When it was my turn, Jose yelled "MATRIMONIO!"

Way to have a girl's back, Jose!

---------- * * * ----------

The majority of the bus drivers in San Jose seem to be under the impression that they are midnight drag racers in pimped out cars, careening down empty streets, when in reality they are maneuvering gigantic vehicles through ridiculously crowded streets.

And I've often wondered, as buses pass each other with 1/16th of an inch to spare, what happens when there are bus accidents.

As of Monday, I know longer have to wonder.
This is what happens:

            The drivers yell a lot.
                      The passengers look on in bored annoyance.
                                One bus backs up and tries to free itself of the other bus.
                                          Another small collision.
                                                    More yelling.
                                                              More backing up.
                                                                        Freedom for the bus.
                                                                                  Eye rolls from the passengers.

                                                            ---------- * * * ----------

David and I were walking through the community last week, and passed a high place that drops off sharply, providing a stunning view of Los Anonos.

And he told me that he's so afraid of heights, that whenever he even just thinks about them, his hands start to sweat.

Less than sixty seconds later, we came across some guy's 9 foot pet boa coiled in the middle of the road, hissing angrily.

The owner picked it up and carried it away before we walked by, but as we turned the corner David looked over to see the tears on my face.

"What?!" I said. "My eyes sweat when I get scared."

Sometimes

Monday, I sent an email to my family and my prayer tribe.

There were some heavy things going on, and I was desperately craving their prayer support.

Because my heart was split in two.

A spiritual dichotomy.

I wrote:

"Part of me is the warrior princess who is so angry at the god of this world who has blinded their mind, that I want to jump in the battle and do serious damage...

But the bigger part of me is the devastated friend who feels only capable of curling in a ball in the corner, half-heartedly lobbing ineffective arrows."

There were wonderful responses. Responses filled with truth.

Jesus is bigger!

Get back in the battle!

We're praying and supporting!

And then this tender little response.

From my big brother:

"I will come curl up with you."

I have kept that verbal treasure in my heart, and pulled it out at various times throughout the last two days.

I believe that Jesus uses each one of the above responses in His own dealings with us.

Sometimes we get a pep talk. A loving,

"I've got this."

"Get back in the battle."

"My strength, not yours."

But sometimes.

Sometimes, He just comes and curls up with us.

Some Pictures For Your Viewing Pleasure

 Abigail y yo <3

 So many squishable babies to love on!

 World's tiniest banana 

 Watching (and feeling) the clouds roll in at Vulcan Irazú

 Delicious contrast in colors!

 The front of our house

 Proving that missionaries can be hot... even in 3D glasses.

 Gorgeous birthday flowers!

Celebrating 35 in style, with some of the precious people God has lovingly placed in my life!

Book-End Promises

Two weeks ago, I got a message from a friend.

"I was praying for you, and this is the verse that God brought to my mind."

"'For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed,

but my steadfast love shall not depart from you,

and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,'

says the Lord, who has compassion on you."

- Isaiah 54:10

And as soon as I started reading it, my cheeks started to smile while my eyes started to water. Because there in the margin of my Bible, is written "From Jill, Nov '12."

Last November, as I was one month into this Costa Rican adventure...

my heart was homesick,

my head was not in the game, 

and my entire world felt... off.

And this November, as I am one month away from leaving Costa Rica behind...

my heart is in love with this land and people,

my head is completely in the game, 

and my entire world feels... on.

I'm gearing up to go back to NH.

But I have something new written in my Bible... "From Angie, Nov' 13."

I go home with the same assurance that got me through this past year.

His steadfast love doesn't depart.

Regardless of my address.

Some Days

She stumbled into the room, steps shaky and uncertain due to age and alcohol.

She sat down and looked at me.

Then asked me to sing a song.

I didn't particularly want to, so I declined.

Her focus turned to others in the room, engaging them in conversation, and then came back to me.

"YOUR FACE! It's so cute, and I like it!"

I laughed, thanked her, and her attention once again wandered to others in the room.

Sixty seconds later, she turned back.

Her face filled with scorn, she said, "Gringa."

And.
                                 Then.
                                                                     She.
                                                                                                  Spit.

Some days, a cute face only gets you so far.

Prepping

Not quite sure when the shift happened, but I've realized that getting ready to go back to NH is taking just as large a step of faith as prepping to come here last year.

Some people are good at saying goodbye.

I'm not one of those people.

At all.

I suck at goodbyes.

I love hard. 

And I hurt hard.

As I look back at this amazing year, while facing forward, this song has been on repeat in my heart.

"You've brought me to the end of myself
and this has been the longest road.
Just when my hallelujah was tired
You gave me a new song.
I'm letting go...
Falling into You."

Lessons

How can I describe this great adventure that I've been allowed to experience?

Ridiculously exhilarating.

Yet painful.

A heart full of gratitude.

Awed at what has transpired.

One year ago, I said goodbyes that left me winded and dry-heaving.

And those goodbyes allowed room for hellos that have made my life more complete.

I have admired scenery that was so beautiful it hurt physically to look at it.

And I have seen brokenness that was so violent it took my breath away.

I have experienced the highs of immediately answered prayers.

And I have fought the doubts of "why not this time, God?"

I have witnessed hearts transformed by His love, and bodies healed by His stripes.

And I have watched, helpless, as others have turned from new-found freedom back to bondage.

And I have learned that sometimes I don't recognize Jesus when He shows up on my doorstep.

Like the time that He rang our doorbell... and I was pissed, because I had just made lunch and it was going to get cold.

But as I walked down the front stairs, I was confronted with two little girls, asking for a haircut - - needing every curl cut off of their beautiful heads, because of the lice that had overtaken their hair.

And how it took me weeks to forgive myself for my initial attitude, even though He forgave me the minute I asked.

I have learned how to make tortillas, and grown to love eating rice and beans. 

I have tasted fresh watermelon and mangoes that make me know that I'll be forever discontent with any fruit that makes it way to a NH grocery store. 

And I've eaten the most anemic apples that make me long for Fall in New England.

I have wasted valuable opportunities sitting in my bedroom because of fear.

And I have known the rush of jumping outside of my comfort zone.

And I have learned that it is possible to crave the familiar, while falling in love with the different.

I cannot get my fill of watching the sunset over the Pacific, and when at the beach have become obsessed with capturing each magical evening on film.

I have seen faces that are the epitome of hopelessness.

And I have knelt to accept the very embodiment of joy, as they run through the streets into my arms.

I have learned that it is possible to be friends of the heart, even when each conversation is peppered with, "Wait. What? One more time. I don't get what you're saying."

I have learned the joy of worshiping in another language, and the heart content of switching back to my own. 

I have learned the art of accepting loneliness. 

That it is painful.

But if it is fought, it comes back. Stronger. More aggressive.

To lie on my bed and let it wash over me.

And then to sit up, stronger for having accepted.

I have learned that Jesus doesn't see, "I'm here - what more do you want from me?" as a rhetorical question. 

But the most important lesson I have learned during this year. 

The one that brings my heart to it's knees, in gratitude.

I have learned that the words I say to others...

"You are valuable.

You are full of worth.

You are beautiful.

You are His."

I have learned to say those things to my own reflection in the mirror.

To claim the promises that Jesus says about me.

My identity - who I am in Him.

The fact that I am a precious and beloved daughter of God, made perfectly in His image, has finally made the journey from my head to my heart.

I have learned that sometimes all I can do is get on my knees, lift my hands, and say the only words that the English language came up with for gratitude... a small "Thank You, Jesus," that feels so much smaller as I think about the magnitude of the gift that He has given to me of this year in Los Anonos.

Happy Anniversary, Costa Rica.

Thank you for offering the gift of your people, your culture, your beauty and your language to this Gringa.

Love you so much it hurts.

On This Day Last Year

I was starting the hardest goodbyes of my life...
And gearing up for hellos that would make my life more complete.

And as I come up on my year anniversary in Costa Rica, I've been doing a lot of processing -- which in my world means a lot of writing.

It is proving to be nearly impossible to put into words what this past year has been like. I desperately want to communicate what is in my heart, but every time I sit down to write the words get jumbled in the journey between my head and my heart and then get lost as they try to go from my heart to my fingers.

I'm working on writing some of the most important lessons I've learned. But it's been hard going. And they are not ready for public consumption.

Until they are, here are some little glimpses of elements that have composed this amazing adventure:

Books That Have Rocked My World This Year:
Crazy Love - Francis Chan
Bittersweet - Shauna Neiquist
Invisible - Ginny Yttrup
Missionary - Christopher Marco
Healing Unplugged - Randy Clark & Bill Johnson
Chasing the Dragon - Jackie Pullinger

Things I Didn't Think I'd Ever Do:
Drink my coffee black - and ENJOY it!
Eat possum meat
Get a tattoo outside of the US
Kill a snake
Watch a monkey cross the road in front of our car
Eat breakfast with parrots squawking around us most mornings

Bible Verses That Have Become Mine: (Like, every day mine)
1 Corinthians 3:6-7
Ephesians 6:10-18
Lamentations 3:22-23
Jeremiah 29:11

Some of my Favorite Memories:

Watching fireworks from our balcony as the year turned into 2013

Doing "the wave" with 35,000 fútbol fans

Giving a prenatal massage in Nicaragua

Participating in Paola's baptism

Seeing my mom in the crowd of people coming out of the airport doors

The first time that "when did this become my life" was accompanied by a smile instead of a tear

Going to the Resound worship conference

Meeting Ophelia
Bilingual worship times

February 20 - the day that Jesus and I hashed it out, and I started choosing to believe the truth instead of lies, about who I am in Him

And this.

This is what it's all been about... 

Him.

You Know That Comfort Zone?

Step out of it.

She's Growing Up - -

as children are want to do.

But because I've been allowed to watch it from close up, it's been so gradual I didn't realize it. Until I rediscovered these pictures.

In November of 2011, I fell in love with baby Genesis... her large brown eyes took everything in, but she rarely smiled.

July 2013... her eyes are still huge and brown, but they sparkle now. Her face is often wreathed in smiles, and she babbles happily in baby Spanish. And runs around, trying desperately to keep up with the Big Kids.

September 2013... resplendent smiles

The Last Month Through The Lens of My iPhone

The line-up of mugs, waiting patiently (?) for our morning coffee

(L-R... Les, Di, Linds & Tito)

 Just taking a little napski. Everyone needs one of those.

Tito found this little dude in our garage, waiting out a particularly violent thunderstorm. His little heart was beating so hard, and he'd lay his head on my thumb as I held him.

Contrast.

So, lychees are wicked ugly, but they are one of my FAVORITE treats down here!

Dia del Niños at Viña Anonos

English class that ended with playing in the rain!

This country... this country is filled with such stunning beauty.

Three-for-the-price-of-One

After speaking at Funda Vida last week, I hitched a ride back to Anonos with one of the workers. We were talking about life back home (she's also from the States), what it's like to live in another country, what God has been doing in our lives, and all the other things you talk about late at night when you're in the car... when suddenly she said, "Also, could you please start praying for my car." The little needle that tells you what's going on with heating under the hood, had just shot up to "WICKED HOT, PULL OVER NOW" - and we were in an area that you would refer to as not-the-nicest-part-of-town.

We were able to get to a gas station, where we pulled in and put up the hood. After various phone calls to wake people up both here AND in the States, Ali bought and put coolant in. The coolant was bright red. We poured it in and it came right out the bottom of the car, making it look like we were two blondes sacrificing a large animal in the middle of the night.

While we waited for the tow truck, we did what you're supposed to do in situations like that... we ate Nutella straight from the jar.

The sacrificial coolant

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Today, I looked out the window because I heard someone yelling. And it was a little old man standing in the middle of the road. Shaving. And yelling at cars as they drove by.

Because some days, you just need to shave in the middle of the street. Fact.

Nothing to see here, folks.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The other day I was scheduled to start my Spanish tutoring again at a school across town. Traffic in and around San Jose was really bad, so the bus ride took over two hours. I walked into the school only to have the director say, "I didn't tell the teacher that you were starting today, so how about we start next week?"

So, I took the two hour bus ride home. And loved my life that day.

Treasures from the glasses bin

"God, I Need You To Be My Identity"

David called last week. "I need a favor." The 20's group at Viña Anonos has been studying about identity... who they are in Jesus. And, in his words, "Now we need a woman's perspective."

And I was wicked excited. And wicked scared. Because in the past eight months Jesus has been doing painfully intense, good, and deep work in my heart and my thinking in regards to who I am in Him. And when that work has been done, it becomes our responsibility to share it with others... but it is new. And it is still raw. Therefore, it is scary to talk about.

But the Holy Spirit did some awesome work in my heart before sharing on Saturday night. Giving the gentle reminder that all He was asking me to do was tell my story. My responsibility was to be obedient. How people reacted/accepted/rejected was HIS responsibility. Not mine.

By the time I started talking, I was excited! The words flowed. The truth was shared. And the Holy Spirit did His thing, as we talked about how we often listen to outside voices, instead of believing the truth of what the Bible says about our identity.

I was telling a friend about it a few days later, and he said, "Are you free tomorrow?" The kids that he works with at Funda Vida are also talking about identity and he wanted me to share. So, last night I went to the other side of the city and talked to 30 more 11-22 year olds about who Jesus says we are in Him.

And one of the leaders of the Funda Vida clubs was there, and asked me to come to another location next week. Exciting stuff! It doesn't get much better than having the opportunity to share the truth of what the Bible says about our identity... from a heart that is still relishing the newness of choosing TRUTH over lies in my own head and heart.

"I know that sitting with the discomfort of releasing a false identity is the only way back to my real-est identity. Which is a child of God. 

And as a child of God- I don’t have to produce a damn thing to be worthy. 

I just AM. 

I just have to remember that. 

That truth is uncomfortable at first – and then it turns into the only lasting comfort on Earth." 

Glennon Melton

Getting Creative

A gigantic piece of paper.

A mountain of crayons.

A gigantic pile of markers.

And the question, "What type of life would you like to color today?"

I heard this story at a worship conference I went to a few weeks ago. A father laid out paper, crayons and markers, and asked his son the question typed above.

And the speaker talked about the fact that Jesus wants to have friend-conversations with us. 

Not just servant-to-master discussions. 

Not just discuss-the-deep-things-of-scripture meetings.

But sit-down-and-look-me-in-the-eyes-and-tell-me-your-dreams chats.

He wants to dream with me. He wants me to be open about the things that I really want. The deep-down secrets. The I-want-this-so-bad-it-hurts dreams. 

The Creator of the Universe is wanting to sit down with me and say, "What kind of life would you like to dream up together?"

And that? That made me excited!

Very.

Divine Reciprocity

Last night, we had a worship night at Rodney & Cindy's. And the songs we sang were in English. I love worshiping in Spanish, even though I don't always understand every word... but my heart language is English. And those nights where we worship in English fill a certain place in my heart that gets empty down here.

And as we began the evening, Rodney prayed that as we sang we would hear God singing back to us.

The LORD your God is in your midst,

a mighty One who will save;

He will rejoice over you with gladness;

He will quiet you by His love;

He will exult over you with loud singing.

Zeph 3:17

As the night went on, we moved seamlessly from song to song, and the Holy Spirit showed up. In a big way.

And as we sang the words, "There's no place I'd rather be, than here in Your love," I felt like Jesus pulled up a chair in front of me. And He leaned forward and looked me right in the eyes and said, "There's no place I'D rather be right now, either."

As humans we long to be in relationships that are reciprocal.

When we say, "I love you," we desperately want to hear, "I love you, too."

"I love spending time with you." -- "And I with you."

And here we were.
Lifting our voices to the One who made us.
Proclaiming that there was NO place we'd rather be.
And He said those words we crave.

A divine "Me too."

This Language Thing

During one year of homeschool, I tried to learn French. It was an epic fail. I blamed it on the teacher - who was on a recorded VHS from so many years back that I wanted to watch each lesson with eyes closed... because if my eyes were open, I couldn't focus on anything she was saying due to the gigantic size of her glasses, or the horrific items of clothing she chose for that day. And the first day of school. That first day she handed out candy to her class on the video! I may or may not  be harboring seeds of bitterness still, even though it's been over 15 years.

When I first made the decision to come down here, I ordered Rosetta Stone, and popped in the first DVD as soon as it arrived. I rocked the names of colors and animals in Spanish. And then things started getting a little shaky. I got progressively more and more frustrated, and wondered if perhaps my failure at French didn't have everything to do with teachers whose fashion choices had much to be desired, and who loved her on-screen students more than the one sitting on the living room couch, watching years later.

People would ask how they could pray for me as I prepared to come to Costa Rica, and I would laugh and say, "Pray for the gift of tongues in Spanish, please," and go blithely on my way.

Now, here I am ten months into my stay understanding way more than I did back in October, but still struggling. Every. Single. Day. I did not step off the plane in San Jose, and pick up the language with the ease that I picked up my luggage.

There are the people that I feel comfortable trying to speak Spanish around. And there are the people that I don't feel comfortable around, so I just sit and smile. And even with the ones where there is a comfort level, I tend to whisper the words, causing them to have to lean in close to hear what I'm trying to convey.

Just last week, I finally asked one of my friends to set aside some time each week to make me speak Spanish. And he asked me outright what I was so afraid of. In gut-wrenching honesty I told him... In the States, I was competent. I was a massage-therapist. Really good at my job. Owned my own business, for goodness' sake! It's hard to go from being good at something, to not even being able to communicate. The opportunity for failure is gigantic. So instead, most often I choose safety instead of speaking.

In the last two weeks, the opportunity has opened up to begin co-teaching English classes (three of them!) at the church, as well as some one-on-one tutoring. This has been really good for me, because it entails a whole lot of Spanish to convey the nuances of English. My brain is so exhausted at the end of each day, that my English spelling (not stellar to begin with) and grammar are suffering majorly. I find myself sticking a few Spanish words into my English sentences, and falling asleep quizzing myself on how I would say a certain sentence or make a particular point. Or crying myself to sleep, convinced I have a learning disability that makes it impossible for me to learn languages other than English and Pig Latin.

There are times when someone asks me a question but my brain is too tired to figure it out, so I just go with "yes" or "no," and then inadvertently insult the asker... or agree to marry someone I hadn't intended to link my life to for the long haul. Like recently when a question was asked and I totally wasn't paying attention, so assumed I was being asked if I liked a specific movie that had just been watched. I said no, watched his face fall, and a few minutes later he asked the question again... hesitantly... had I liked the food he had prepared? The answer to which was, it had been some of the most delicious lasagna I had ever put in my mouth!

And then there are the times that the English/Spanish communication with the ESL-ers down here breaks down. Like yesterday. I invited a friend for dinner. I was making a crockpot dinner, so the main dish was all in and ready to go for the three people I knew would eat it, when I got a text asking if he could bring additional friends.

"I didn't make enough for six," I replied. But oops. The "n't" after the "did" was not sufficiently conveyed, so an hour before dinner was going to be served, I got a text naming all the additional people who would be accompanying him. It's amazing how quickly I can turn out additional food when in a state of sheer panic!

And as I sat at the table surrounded by six hungry Ticos, feasting on two separate main dishes -- one that was slow cooked and one that was cooked in record time, I smiled. In the midst of the loud and passionate all-in-Spanish talk about visas and girls. A real, genuine smile.

Because I may not rock this language, but there are times that language is overrated.

I can hug.
I can pray.
I can cook.
I can teach English, and I can whisper tentative Spanish.
...
I can love.

I can read the late night Facebook messages... "Tranks for the food you cook."

And then I can throw my hands up in the air, smile in Heaven's direction and whisper quietly, "Gracias Dios, por esta noche."

Pictures From Home

There was so much to cram into two weeks... and so many people I wish I had seen. But mainly, I filled up my family love tank. Here are a few of the special people I got to spend time with. (There were several that I didn't get pictures with, and this makes my heart sad!)

 Hanging with my favorite giant-of-a-nephew. He's grown up so much in the months that I've been gone. Jed has gone from the baby that made my heart explode as a first-time aunt, never knowing it was capable of loving someone that much, to being a 13 yr old black belt, with his eye on a bid for the White House. So proud.

My MVCC Sisters <3

 I mean, come on... who doesn't want to come home to these two? My biggest fans, my rock-solid foundations. And, my dance partners :)

 The little sister, and the goddaughter! Riding shotgun again, never felt so good.

 Beaching it up with the BFF! Seriously - such a cold and rainy day. But together.

 The one with whom my soul breathed it's greatest sigh of relief. 

 Family Picture Outtakes. Whenever did we go from five to fifteen?!

 Sisters!! There aren't enough sappy quotes on the internet to express the gratefulness in my heart for the way that God grafted these two into our family... and into my sister void.

 My two main men <3

 Goodbyes don't get any easier.

My last day... the lake, the hammock, the beautiful New England blue sky, the 'rents.

Peace.

Going Home

I knew that "home" would be different. Because "home" is not solely my little apartment in New Boston any more. 

Home is in several places now. 

Home is my family. 

Home is friends.

Home is New England. 

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Home is also Costa Rica. 

My time in New England was better than I thought it could be.

Different, yes.

But so good.

Because it was so needed.

Some relationships had changed. Some for the better. Some not. And some of the ones that had changed, surprised me.

"Tell me everything that has happened in your time down there!" My brain would shut down. I'd find myself replying, "You may ask me any questions, and I'll answer them. But I cannot tell you 'everything.'"

Most connections were more intense. Because they had to be. Shove nine months of life experiences into a two-hour box of "let's catch up," and that happens. With some, we kept it safely surfacey. With some, I cried and said, "These are the things I've seen in the last nine months... and I can't un-see them. They are now part of what composes me. Some days I love this new me. And some days, it's too heavy."

I spent hours with my nieces and nephews. The little people who make my heart beat it's correct beat. And there was acceptance on every level.

Countless "I love you"s.   Countless snuggles.     Countless "Aunt Lindsay! Guess what?!"

They welcomed me back into their lives seamlessly. As if I hadn't been gone for nine months. As if we'd just been "us" yesterday. As if life had not drastically changed. 

Quality time with my brothers. Laughing with my sisters. Conversations with Mom and Dad.

The family reunion! Getting to see all of my aunts and uncles... and all of my cousins. And the next generation coming up strong. 

Boating.      Campfires.      S'mores.      Laughter.      Pictures. 

And the last few days spent on the lake. With Mom and Dad. And Uncle Rick and Aunt Kath.

Peace. 

Perfection.

And a whole lot of ice cream.

Heart ready to come back home to Costa Rica. 

Vision restored.

Passion recharged.

Ready to finish this time in victory.

Snippets of Life

Yesterday, Rodney & I were watching a sermon online when some of the teens from the Grand Rapids Youth Team who are currently here for ten days, came into the living room. We kept listening until the noise volume of the group got a little too loud, so we stood to move into a different room. Rodney let the team know that anyone who wanted could come. One girl stood up and started to follow, and then I heard her say - - "Is it weird that I'm going with the old people?"

Nope. Not weird at all. But what IS weird is how you're going to have to explain the black eye you got from the NOT-OLD missionary who lives here.

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This morning I found something that I wanted to make sure to bring home on my trip (IN TWO DAYS, but whose counting?) and went to put it with my passport. 

And.

My passport wasn't there.

Holy adrenaline rush.

In those desperate minutes of frantic searching and even more frantic praying, I had visions of needing to call NH and tell people I wasn't coming. It was horrible.

And then, in the last place I knew it could possibly be, there it was in all it's navy blue glory.

Un-flappable.

Trusty.

Worn.

And now - stamped with awesome countries like Costa Rica, Nicaragua and Panama.

My Passport.

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Last night we had a game night at the church. It's so loud and so fun.

I remember doing them my first trip here - getting to know the amazing people, feeling my heart expand to include a new dimension of culture and community.

So Much Laughter.

And I remember the first game night after I had lived here for a few months. A team was here, and as I sat there playing and laughing the thought hit me... "I am on the other side, now." 

I'm not a team member. I live here.

Last night's game time had an abrupt and solemn end, as some of church members were robbed at gunpoint while standing out front. We're all incredibly thankful that no one was hurt, but please pray for the four that were involved.

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Praying for a place that I love, with a person that I love.

(Thanks, Nicole, for capturing this precious moment)

I May or May Not Have a Bad Case of Writer's Block

So, I present to you... PICTURES!!

These are from our recent adventure to La Paz Waterfall Gardens. My guess - - Eden was a lot like this place. (All of these were taken with my trusty little iPhone - it's been a faithful camera down here, witness to many beautiful, touching and heart-breaking events during these last nine months)

It rained right before we arrived, and right as we left - perfect timing! 

 Just plain gorgeous. No other word, really.

 The various shades of green are amazing!

 Because nothing says, "I am having the Costa Rican experience," like holding a toucan!

 Coolest. Steps. Ever.

Peace. 

 New life!

 Just holding a seven day old frog, is all.

 Streams of living water!

Rivendell, anyone?? 

And then these... to make the trip home delicious as well as relaxing.