Here We Are But Straying Pilgrims

I was looking through some blog drafts tonight and found this one from Costa Rica that I never published for some reason. It's reminded me of some things I needed to remember so I thought that I would share it with y'all unedited. Pura vida!

It's a Friday night here in Costa Rica. Almost 10:30 and I'm sitting alone in my room reflecting on the past eight weeks. What an incredibly blessed journey it's been! (Since the last post I've spent a week working with children living in poverty, visited the beautiful beach of Malpais on the Pacific side, met some lovely ticas, worshiped with the brethren I've grown to love, been violently sick puking my guts out with a "bacterial intestinal infection", and fallen more and more in love with Costa Rica and my wonderful tica madre...but you can hear more about that in a later post.) I have learned so much here, grown so much here, been humbled so much here. The Lord has taught me of hospitality, simplicity, brotherly love, sympathy, selflessness, servitude, and so much more through the beautiful, funny, sweet, and thoughtful people of Costa Rica. I've learned how much more I still need to learn. I've learned how much more I still need to grow. And I've learned that there is much work for me to accomplish to become the woman He would have me to be. I could write pages and pages over hospitality, simplicity, brotherly love, etc...but I think one of the most poignant lessons I've learned thus far, the lesson that has been the hardest, that continues to be hard, is that of being different. Peculiar. Foreign. A pilgrim.

I have embraced the Costa Rican culture and am absolutely in love with it.
Smiles and "holas". Kisses and hugs. Food and laughter. Taxis and buses. Children and sweet older people.
Such is the fabric of my life.
And I love it.
The culture is beautiful, warm, and respectful.
Kissing others on the cheek is natural now, and I love doing it.
I can navigate the bus system.
Give directions to the taxi driver with ease.
Find my way around downtown Heredia.
And communicate easily with the sweet people who surround me.
Yet still, I'm different.
A foreigner.
Una extranjera.

People stare at me everywhere I go.
Everywhere.
All the time.
And after eight weeks,
I'm still not used to it.

Before coming to Costa Rica I thought that I might be able to blend in a little.
"Brown hair is pretty common, right?"
I was very wrong.
Surrounded by a sea of beautiful Latinos,
These blue eyes and white skin make me stick out a mile away.
"Una gringa."
And the stares continue.

Guys hang out their windows while driving by to stare longer at me.
Children turn around in their seats on the bus to look at me.
Cat-calls, whistles, "hey pretty lady", and the like happen all too frequently.
And it's uncomfortable.

The reality is,
I hate being different.

I've never enjoyed being different from others.
To be the center of attention holds no glimmer for me.
Giving public speeches or even speaking up in a classroom of my peers has never been particularly enjoyable.
I'd much rather blend in,
Listen and learn,
Be quietly helping and learning out of sight.
But coming to Costa Rica,
I've felt like a spotlight has almost always been illumined on me,
Shining on me in every instance
And every location.

Yet as much as I hate being different and wish there was some possible way not to stick out as much, being so incredibly different has been one of the most positive experiences of my time in Costa Rica. God has taught me so many lessons through this experience. About how this world is not my home. About how I should be a "peculiar" person. About how God's word demands that we stand out from the world around us. No matter where we are, be it Costa Rica or Texas, people should see a difference in us. We should stick out. We need to be different. There is no other option for a true servant of the Lord.

Ms. Stewart and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It all started with a broken coffee maker. A five a.m. premonition of what the rest of the caffeine-less, sleep-deprived day would bring. I wanted to cry while standing dejectedly in front of my coffee-less coffee maker, coffee cup in hand, longing for its dulcet drops of caffeine magic. Alas, my longing availed naught. And I stumbled away in a state of tired-like zombieness. Watch out world.

After my morning struggles, while driving to school, I got stuck behind the train. Which of course was traveling about 3 mph. Thankfully, I arrived at school just in the nick of time. It's nice to have at least some thankful moments in the day.

The morning progressed through a series of events that left me wondering if I should become a teacher and if I really have what it takes to teach a class of my own. I won't go into specifics. Suffice it to say that my students almost left me in tears and I left feeling slightly like a failure and incapable of becoming the inspiring and loving teacher that I so long to be. 

Is this what it feels like to be a teacher? Constantly trying to be inspiring and effective while doubting that you're actually doing any good? If so, I'm definitely apprehensive about the future. 

Nevertheless, this is the month of thanksgiving, and I'm working on cultivating more of an attitude of thankfulness and joy in my life. Below are lists of the bright moments in the day. Moments for which I am incredibly thankful.

Thankfulness:

- One student telling me that I am "sooo pretty."

- A funny little first grader asking me the question of, "why are you so small?" 

- Seeing one student have a "light-bulb moment" and knowing that I helped him attain it.

- Finishing the Old Testament in my Bible reading plan.

- My two minutes of peace during my prayer at lunch.

- Welcoming a student back to the class after he had been out for a week because of illness and seeing how genuinely happy he was to be there.

- Good conversations with another senior methods student at my school.

- Being done with the bilingual generalist exam.

- Two weeks till Thanksgiving break.

- My sweet Ryan and the fact that I get to see him in four days!!! 

Yes, I am blessed.
Maybe my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day isn't so awful after all.

"But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall." - Malachi 4:2

If I Could Change the World

Some days I hear stories that break my heart.
I want to change the world.
But this world is so big,
And I am so small.

I hear of children without mothers,
Children who are hungry,
Children who have been set up for failure,
Children without anyone to tell them that they can succeed,
That they can learn,
That they can achieve great things.

And when I am invested in their lives it feels like my heart is breaking because there is so little that I can do.
I am so weak.
But I serve a God who is greater than my limitations.

For a little bit of time, I am here to love them -
To pray for them, to be a light in their lives.

For a short time I can love them so much it hurts.
For a short time I can serve them.
For a short time I can pray for them.
And when I am no longer in their lives,
I can trust that God will provide;
That God will continue to love them with a love greater than any that mankind has known.

My job is be faithful in the work God has given me to do in this short time I have.
I can't change the world.
But if God will allow that I be used to help even one child,
It will be enough.

Mees Es-TU-war, You have on your blue eyes today

This semester I'm plugging my way through senior methods observations in a local bilingual classroom and find myself laughing often at things I hear and see. Here are some of my favorite gems so far:

1) None of my students can say my last name. When they first heard it they all laughed. Stewart really isn't that strange of a name but nevertheless they find it hilarious. It's usually pronounced roughly like so: Mees Es-TU-war. I'm usually called Miss or Maestra.

2) Ninjagos are the bane of my existence. Ninjagos are everywhere. Ninjago books. Ninjago shirts. Ninjago toys. Ninjago games. If I had a dollar for every Ninjago I've confiscated I would be a very rich woman. And if you aren't an elementary age boy, or aren't friends with an elementary age boy, you probably don't have a clue what Ninjagos are. Here's an example:

3) Student 1: Ms. Stewart you're a mom, right?

Me: No, why?

Student 1: Oh, Student 2 said you are.

Me: Confused look.

4) Student looking at me during lunch: Oh Ms. Stewart! You have on your blue eyes today!

Me: Haha yes I have on my blue eyes every day!

5) Bus duty after school:

Student: Dancing around the hall while chanting "booty hopscotch"

Me: Sit down. Now.

Student: No! Booty Hopscotch!

Me: Yes. Sit down. Now. *gives a teacher look the likes of which would kill daisies and sunshine and every good thing.

Student: Stares back. Trembles under my stare. Slowly lowers eyes and sits down.

Me: *Does a silent inner victory dance to the tune of booty hopscotch*

6) Student: Ms. Stewart, can we write this paper in curses?

Me: *Mind racing, surely this sweet student isn't wanting to write curse words...* *lightbulb*

Me: Ohh you mean write in cursive? Yes you may.  

7) Student: Ms. Stewart, are you still a student?
Me: Yes, I go to college.

Student: You need to get a job.

Me: I know, that's why I'm going to school.

Student: You still need to get a job.

8) Me: *Collecting computers so that technology can add some programs to them.

Student 1: No! Don't take my computer! Why are you taking my computer, Miss?!?!

Later that day...

Student 1 to Student 2: (whisper voice) That's the teacher that took my computer.

9) Student: *Playing with action figure toy instead of working while furtively glancing in my direction.

Me: *Stares at student.

Student: *Glances in my direction, moves toy further under desk.

Me: *Walks over to student and holds hand out.

Student: *Hands toy over while looking sad. 

(this happens about fifty billion times a day; usually with ninjagos.)

10) Me: *Talking to student* I like your hair today!

Student: *Goes into a lengthy description of exactly the type of hair spray he used. It's new after all and he saw it on a commercial!

And so ends teaching quotes for the night. Stay tuned for more.

This is why I love teaching. 

Well, one of the reasons at least.  

Nine Years Old

This Monday was my ninth birthday-
The anniversary of my birth in Christ, the start of my walk with Him.
My calendar that day said:
"Life is God's precious gift to you -
may you spend it bringing glory to Him."

He gave me life that August Wednesday night.
Heart Spring awakening as the August summer stubbornly resisted the coming Autumn,
The little brick building where I grew from girl to woman,
Surrounded by the nighttime woods that bind my beauty yearning heart to His.
And my thankful soul, His daughter,
Being immersed by my earthly Father,
United in death and resurrection to my spiritual One.

And they both rejoiced.

"All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men...as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God."

Thankful for these nine years serving Him.
Prayerful for the next nine.
Peaceful in His promise
And love.

Of life and death and perspective

The warm Texas wind blows her whispering sigh through the peace of resting bodies cloaked in an eternal garb of yellows and blues and reds: flowers amid the dust, sunshine amid the shade. And we gather.

The birds sing their spring song of life and love as the butterflies trace their winding path through grass and dust and family: renewal amid the sadness, birth amid the death. And we remember.

The ancient words of truth are read in a deep baritone that breaks the stillness of the noonday lethargy as a resounding triumph: truth amid the questions, comfort amid the pain. And we pray. 

The man I am just growing to know clasps my weak hand in his strong one, watching an old love bid farewell for a time: love amid the grief, future amid the past. And we weep.

The children laugh and run, peering into a grave that as yet has no meaning, wending their way through tears as rays of hope: levity amid the sorrow, hope amid the despair. And we laugh.

And through it all we know,

That this is not the end.

That one day our temporal bodies,

Will rise again. 

And so we remember and pray and weep and laugh; gathering to remember death and life and love. And we know little save that we trust. Trust in the truth. Trust in the light. Trust in a love so great as to give His life.

For the Lord is our strength, our hope, and our might. 

"The Lord is my strength and my shield;

My heart trusts in Him, and I am helped;

Therefore my heart exults,

And with my song I shall thank Him."

Her children shall rise up and call her blessed

In a conversation with a friend who is also in the bilingual education program we recently discovered that we had both been to Costa Rica with the same study abroad program. I knew her host-mom, Dona Marlene, and our houses were in the same neighborhood. So surreal!
She asked about who my mom was and if I could describe her. Without even thinking, my first response of what distinguished my mami from the other host moms was this:
"Her name is Dona Ubelia. She talks about God all the time."


And that's really what describes my mama-tica. She loves God. When I think of her, the first thought isn't that she cooks amazing food or that she is a seamstress or that she loves being with and talking with friends and family. While those things describe facets of her character, the overwhelming defining characteristic is simply her devotion to and love for God. It's a love that touches all other aspects of her life.


Her love for God makes her a joyful servant. It causes her to rise early singing praises to Him and spend the day serving others in her social butterfly manner.


Her conversations are sprinkled with God and praise and thankfulness.


When people think of her, they think of her faith.


The focus is on the Lord, and not on herself.


Her life is a simple one. A quiet, unassuming, devoted life of service.


And while few know her name outside of her little Herediana neighborhood or her hometown of Tilaran, those who know her are touched by her quiet light. I was touched by her light.


Thinking of my mami, I have to ask myself; am I that person?
Do I speak of God with every waking breath?
Is He in my thoughts and on my heart with every waking step?
And sadly, the answer is no.
But I'm working on it.
"I press."


Some of my favorite Bible characters are women who are servants. In a Bible study with a friend we recently touched on one of my favorites: Dorcas. 


"At Joppa there was a certain disciple named Tabitha, which is translated Dorcas. This woman was full of good works and charitable deeds which she did..." - Acts 9.
And on her passing, people remembered her tangible acts of kindness, her service to others.


Phoebe's a good one too:
"I commend to you Phoebe our sister, who is a servant of the church in Cenchrea, that you may receive her in the Lord in a manner worthy of the saints, and assist her in whatever business she has need of you; for indeed she has been a helper of many and of myself also." - Romans 16:1-2

Ubelia is a woman like that.

So many examples. So much growth to accomplish. So ready keep pressing.