Making It Home with @itsamydav

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog, but I’ve been mulling over a new concept and have been planning a re-start. Considering the news I have to share, I think the new concept (the idea for which, funny enough, started forming long ago) is quite fitting; I’m sure you’ll see why. I’ll post more about the name change and new directions later, but for now... the story at hand...

A few months ago, maybe back in May or June, Nicholas (Buddy) and I watched one of Judah Smith’s sermons online. In that sermon, he spoke about deferred hopes and how we often confuse hope with faith. Faith and hope are both important and valuable, but they are not interchangeable terms. In Spanish, the word for hope is esperar. As the title of this post suggests, there are other meanings for this word as well, which are somewhat interchangeable, but faith is not one of them. 

We’ve all experienced hopes deferred, haven’t we? Life is full of those—some lives more so than others. In our 13 years of marriage, my husband Nick and I have shared the same faith, and we have experienced all sorts of hopes fulfilled and hopes deferred. Throughout our years together, one of the biggest hopes deferred we’ve experienced is that of having children of our own. On many occasions, I have considered sharing about our story publicly. Those close to us have known, though even then without much detail, about our struggle with infertility, but I’ve never addressed it on a public platform like this.

Our hopes for children were deferred month after month. Maybe you’ve experienced that; maybe you haven’t. It can be devastating. It can make you both sad and angry, make you question, make you doubt. But hope is not faith. And faith is not hope. Hope is in the what; faith is in the Who. And, “I know in whom I have believed,” (2 Timothy 1:12). I didn’t always take on this attitude, Lord knows, but that sermon hit home, and I understood instantly that sometimes, perhaps, I was allowing my hopes and the lack of fulfillment thereof to dictate or at least impact my faith, and that should not be.

To those who are up against the struggle of infertility or some other deferred hope of life-altering proportions, I hope that sharing our story now, in some way bolsters your hope and helps to heal your aching heart. But even if that hope is long deferred even from now, please, please do not let this control your faith. They are two very separate things. Keep your faith in the Who, and trust Him for the what in His way and timing.

Thankfully, even when our hopes are deferred indefinitely, He is still the better reward. 1 Corinthians 13 ends with a poetic and profound truth, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” And 1 John 4:8 says, “8 Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” Did you catch that? God is love. Faith, hope, and love. The greatest of these is love. So if God is love, it stands to reason that God is greater than the size or strength of our faith. Well, we know that to be true because in Matthew 17:20 Jesus says, “...Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” He moves in ways that are bigger than our faith (but still in response to it).

And then it also stands to reason that God is greater than our hopes. Ephesians 3:20-21 encourages us, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” He is able to do more than we could ask or imagine. In other words, He’s greater than our hopes.

This is so true for Nick and me. After some unusual goings-on, back in February 2019, I was diagnosed with endometriosis and a large ovarian cyst. I’ve been in the process of setting up and awaiting a surgery ever since. Hope deferred, again, and even more profoundly so. (But by this time, and even well before, we had resolved ourselves to being thankful for, investing in, and loving the kids we already have in our lives, and talks of adoption have always been in the mix. We were content with the blessings God had given us. You know, in Christ we *can* be content without having everything we want and hope for.)

Fast-forward to June 24th of this year; I was uncharacteristically late, if you know what I mean—extremely late even for the wonky things the cyst would do to my cycle. And so, that night, with dinner getting cold on the stove, Nick and I stood in the kitchen, stunned and in tears, huddling over a little plastic stick with pink lines on it. After 13 years of marriage, at 36—almost 37—years old, with endometriosis, and a 9 cm ovarian cyst, I am a living testament to God’s ability and desire to fulfill our deferred hopes in His timing, even the ones we might have allowed to die altogether. But, then, God has always had a way with dead things and dry bones, hasn’t He? We are still stunned, and so immensely in awe of how God has chosen to bless us. Thank God for being greater than our faith, greater than our hope.

Present day: We’re at 16 weeks now, and mom and baby are both happy and healthy! (For obvious reasons, we've waited a little longer to announce.) But that cyst still has got to go; a new surgery date is likely in the works. So, the fight for baby Davenport isn’t over. At this point, we have settled on calling (SPOILER ALERT) HIM Harvey: battle warrior. We’ve fought to get him here, we’ll fight to keep him here. He’s fighting too—mostly for space, I think! Maybe he’ll heel-kick that cyst outta there… sometimes I think he’s trying to. So, pray with us for continued protection for our little warrior, and for the whole miracle—that this cyst would be healed either through another miraculous touch from God, or through the miracles of modern medicine.

TICO TIME WITH ITSAMYDAV has a new face and a new name for a new season of life! Be sure to check it out—new and exciting posts coming soon!

These days, even we adults seem to have the attention span of a tired, sugar-crashed toddler, but I hope this post will be worth your time and attention. ¡Disfrutela! (Enjoy it!)

The biodiversity here in Costa Rica truly is amazing. The country's unique climate diversity and its geographical position between the North and South American continents provide numerous habitats that are homes to more than 500,000 species, ranking Costa Rica's biodiversity among the highest in the world. Here I have seen some beautiful birds – some with rather strange calls and sounds. I've seen colorful and massive plants and trees, and all sorts of animals and insects all over the place.

The land itself is rich and full of life. Fresh fruits and vegetables can be had year-round. The mangos here are the best I have ever had – so sweet and refreshing under the hot tropical sun.

Since moving here, and for once, finally having our own back yard, my husband and I have started growing a few small veggies and herbs of our own. Of course, we have a few things to learn about gardening here... Like how to ward off armies of ants and sneaky, peckish birds. For instance, I planted some cilantro and basil seeds a few weeks ago. They sprouted very quickly, making me a proud first-time Costa Rican gardener. They were growing sturdy and quickly, and I was looking forward to cooking with these fresh spices. Then, the next day, I went out to water them... and they had literally disappeared. They weren't wilted. They weren't dead. They were gone! Vanished! No trace of their ever being there at all. Someone/thing had stolen my cilantro! My basil! Well, at least the culprits have left alone my lettuce and sweet pepper plants though – so far. Currently we're in round two of growing the cilantro and basil, this time in a less prominent spot in hopes that the thieves will leave some for us to enjoy this time. We'll see!

It takes a lot of work to grow and tend even this little space of ours, but I have found that I love getting my hands dirty. I love the feeling of kneeling, digging, planting, and standing back to watch nature do what it does so miraculously.

When I was growing up, my mom and dad and my grandparents all grew spectacular gardens. It took a lot of hard work. (And they endured a lot of complaints from us kids when they called us out to the garden to help turn, plant, weed or harvest.) But on those warm summer nights, sitting around the family dinner table after a hot day in the sun, we would feast on the freshest green beans, potatoes, corn, beets, and more. Plates were filled with colors and savory flavors straight from the earth. And our bellies would be filled with nourishment from the same. After dinner we would rest – our bodies sinking into that feeling of tiredness accompanied by satisfaction in a day's work. 

As we grew older, went to college, got married, moved away... We also moved away from our roots. From putting our hands in the soil. We didn't have time to plunge our hands into the dirt – to turn the soil, plant a seed, and wait for it to grow and bear fruit. We only had time to fill our shopping carts with foods that could be revived in 15 minutes or less. Someone else in an imaginary land far, far away would plant and harvest, cook and can or bag our foods. And when we were too tired or too busy to cook for ourselves, we'd stop in somewhere and have someone else do that for us too.

We were utterly disconnected from the earth and our source of nourishment. And soon my body began to tell me so. I remember one day, standing in the Swails Center at Emmanuel College, talking to a student. Suddenly, my body felt cold and numb, and my heart thudded hard and irregularly in my chest. Everything turned bright white. I bent forward, with my hands on my knees, steadying myself so I wouldn't fall over. The sensation passed in a matter of seconds, but fear remained in its place. Periodically, for years following that day, I continued to feel these irregular heartbeats. I started identifying when I felt them more... They came most frequently when I ate at certain restaurants and when I cooked those ready-to-eat meals on busy and tiresome nights.

Though I probably I should have, I've never seen a doctor about this issue. I knew I wasn't treating my body well, knowing what I was putting into it.

I knew the machinery of my body required premium fuel, but I only filled it with low-grade, sludged-up, chemically-altered fuel. I just felt I didn't know how to change it. 

One January a few years ago, to kick off the year, Nick and I started on something called "the Daniel fast." Now, some people will tell you this is just a fad diet labeled as a fast, and still others will recount an incredible experience of prayer and fasting. For me, I say it depends on your intent for it. If your focus is health and weight loss, then of course, it's a diet plan. But, for us, our focus was seeking the Father and denying ourselves things we wanted in order to remind us that we should want Him and seek Him even more.

When was the last time I had craved His presence more than I craved a savory southern-fried-something meal, or a gourmet dark chocolate-covered-whatever?

...Exactly.

Over the course of this fast, though it wasn't my intent or focus, I began to see and feel a change in my body. Sure, the first several days I craved certain foods. I had headaches and experienced hunger. But, within two weeks, I had more energy. I had not experienced those palpitations in my chest, and my skin even started to look clearer and healthier.

I'd like to say that our eating habits were forever changed then and there, but it's just not true. We ended up staying gluten-free for quite some time, though we weren't complete sticklers about it if we were eating with other people who hadn't planned accordingly. Eating gluten-free seemed to have a positive effect on us, but admittedly, it was a bit more difficult than we'd expected in terms of planning, shopping, cooking, eating out and reading labels on practically everything. Now, I'd say we have a dramatically reduced gluten intake, though we're not entirely gluten-free fanatics. But, I'm getting ahead of myself...

It wasn't until we moved here to Costa Rica that Nick and I really reformed our eating habits. Several things have affected how we shop and eat: a smaller budget, a different pace of life, and the availability of fresh foods, to name a few.

But whatever the factors, we haven't bought a single frozen or boxed meal since we've been here. While we don't yet grow all of our fruits, veggies and herbs, we at least know the faces of the people that do. Every weekend, we go to the local farmers' market (referred to as "la feria") in the Centro de Escazú. There, we typically go to the same vendors each week for various fruits and vegetables that they sell faithfully every weekend. I like going to the same vendors when I can because the exchanges have become more and more genuine over time.

Maybe it sounds strange, but as I pass the market stands and speak to the vendors, I like to look at their hands.

Their hands are hardened from days in the sun and tools in their palms. Dirt lines their fingernails and the creases in their knuckles like a second skin. Those who work with berries have fingertips stained in varying shades of wine-red. These men and women work the soil, they tame the earth, and they share the fruits of their labor. They are valuable experts. I admire their skill and their sweat. And I am blessed by their harvest. So, I greet them, talk to them in my broken (but improving!) Spanish, look them in the eye, and I thank them in earnest. 

Given our snuggly fit budget, Nick and I only eat out on rare occasions. When we do, we often eat at a select few sodas and local places. Fun Tico Time fact: sodas are usually very small, family-owned, Tico-style restaurants that serve typical Costa Rican dishes like rice and beans, empanadas, and casados. Once in a while, we'll go to other restaurants, but that is only reserved (or possible) for special occasions.

Of course there are some nights when I'm tired, when we get home late, and I don't feel like cooking. But if I will just cook anyway, we eat better and we eat cheaper. When we cook at home, we typically eat pretty simply, but we never lack for satisfaction. We'll usually have some variation of seasoned rice, steamed veggies, fruit, and a meat of some sort. The fresh bits come from the market, and the meats we try buy from a local butcher. So, really, the rice is often the only thing on our plates without an easily traced source. 

So, what is my point?

We were given dominion over the earth. To tend and tame it. But we often abuse and pillage her, or completely forget about her, in the name of convenience – our busy lives take precedence over the very ground that we stand on and live from. We use up her resources without a thought to how we got those very resources to our tables, or to who turned the soil for us in the first place. This is not a life of thankfulness. This is not being a good steward of that was entrusted to us. This is not loving our neighbor (i.e. those invisible farmers in lands far, far away).

So, what do we do about it? We can't all be farmers. A lot of us don't even have yards, much less full gardens, right?  And, of course, life is busy. Life is hard enough without the addition of having to feel guilty about how we shop and eat. So, what then? Revamping everything at once is probably not realistic for you and your family. So, perhaps you could just take a moment to evaluate your choices and patterns. Start with a few small adjustments, and just keep evaluating and adjusting as often as you can. For example:

Next time you make out your grocery list, see how many things can be traced to the soil in just a step, or even two. Cross off a few that can't. Try changing just one thing each week when you shop, cook, or even eat out. (And, no, I'm not talking about condiments, cooking oil, or your paper towels... I'm talking about that box'o cheesy potatoes versus actual potatoes.)

And next time you head out to the grocery store, especially in the summer months, consider making your way to the closest farmers' market instead. Look these men and women in the eye, look at their hands, smell the soil – the earth still dusting your fresh lettuce and tomatoes. (Say "thank you," with eye contact.) Nourish your body straight from God's good earth as He intended. And see how your body begins to thank you, with energy and vibrance and health.

And if at all possible, plunge your hands into the dirt. Start small if you want. An herb in your windowsill. A little pepper plant in a pot. See if you don't feel some draw to it. Some satisfaction in tending the earth. And some benefit to giving your energies to the ground and receiving energy from the same. And I hope you'll do so with fresh thanks on your tongue for the wonder of the earth which God has gifted to us. It's a beautiful cycle when we participate in it as we were meant to do.

Bonus Word and Photo Follow Up

la marea: tide

Pictured: View from one of the look-out points on our drive home from Manuel Antonio. What you don't see is how high up we were... Along with the rest of the breathtaking view from this cliff-side. 

I know that Spring is just starting to show signs of life back home in the States. But here, it seems an endless summer.

So, two weeks ago for Semana Santa (Holy Week, which is quite the holiday week around here), Nick and I had an incredible opportunity to take a few days and go visit a nearby beach and national park called Manuel Antonio. All of this was made possible because of some incredibly awesome provisions that God made for us a few weeks back – we have a car now! (That's another post for another day, but you've probably seen the pics of Red Rover!) 

On our way to Manuel Antonio, we learned a rather valuable lesson. Google Maps advised one route, but we found another that was much, much shorter. According to the map, it still looked to be a major road. So, Nick and I decided to try it out.

Well, we quickly discovered why Google had recommended the long route, as two-thirds of our "shorter" route involved a remarkably bumpy, winding dirt road. Bumpy doesn't even begin to describe it, really. By the time we arrived at the next paved road near our destination, Nick, Leo, Red Rover and I were all covered, head to toe, in an impressive film of dirt. (Red Rover doesn't have windows yet.) Due to the rigid, incessant undulations of the road, we had to pull over several times to tighten the bolts in the roof of ol' Red, and by the time we arrived, both of our back seats, had shaken free from their bolts and lay haphazardly in the bed, on top of our luggage. What an adventure indeed. From now on, we'll go with Google's routes. No shortcuts. Lesson learned.

Once we caught sight of the gloriously paved roads once again, the trip quickly took a turn for the better. (Except for these two short "bridges" we crossed... They were barely wide enough for our car to go over without hitting the edges, and they were made of lashings of boards, metal rods and bamboo, it seemed. No one else seemed concerned to pass over them; so we trekked on!) We came to a small market and fueling station, where I saw a lovely sign for "batidos naturales" (usually meaning milkshakes and fresh fruit smoothies). There, I had a delightfully refreshing strawberry & guanábana (soursop) smoothie. Nick had THE best vanilla milkshake I have ever tasted in my entire life. He was so kind as to share it with me because I liked it so much. What a good man! 

Anyway, we soon arrived at our hostel, Sol y Mar (Sun & Ocean/Sea) and got settled in before heading out for dinner and a swim at the beach. The next day, we headed out to the Manuel Antonio National Park, where we spotted (without the sadly over-priced tour guides, mind you) several sloths (we actually saw one move a bit!), some strange-looking, large mouse-rodent thing of which I can't recall the name, monkeys galore, butterflies, lizards, cute little gecos (they ran away before I could ask about car insurance) and iguanas... Oh, and we encountered some rather bold raccoons seeking to steal some picnic lunches from the beach area. ...Not to mention, the beautiful views and plant life which surrounded us on the hike. 

All in all, we saw some pretty fantastic sights and had a wonderfully refreshing trip, but by far, my favorite part of any beach trip is always the beach. Since we live in the Central Valley, our drive home (the right way) took us around and over the mountains along the coast, and several times, the drive featured some incredible heights and, subsequently, some spectacular views. At one of these heights (really, a cliff), Nick pulled over at a miradora (look-out point). We climbed up a steep, narrow path to the highest point of the lookout. The view was astounding, as we could see at least 180 unobstructed degrees of turquoise ocean and dark rocky shoreline.

Descriptions and even pictures just never do things like this any justice do they?

It's one of those things you simply must experience for yourself to fully appreciate it. (So, come and see us, and we'll take you there for you to see it all first-hand!) :) It's simply marvelous.

I have found that nothing in nature awes and intimidates me more than the ocean. It is so vast, so intense, so fierce and strong, and it is entirely untamed.

When I consider the strength of the currents, the pounding of the waves, the unfathomable extent of its depths (and the creatures living therein), the ocean, quite frankly, terrifies me.

I can't control the ocean, nor what it does with me when I'm in it. And yet, when I dare to submerge myself from head to toe, when I submit my body to the waves and allow them to carry me in a rush of adrenaline to the safety of its shores (body surfing – try it!), I feel so alive and exhilarated. And when I stand on its shores, listening to the lulling song of its waves lapping onto the sand and rocks, looking out over these great waters, I feel such a peace, calm, and awe over its magnificence. There truly is nothing else quite like it.

Except... When I consider our Heavenly Father. He is vast, intense, fierce, and untamed ("...After all, he is not a tame Lion." - Mr. Tumnus said it well). Yet, He is an endless expanse of beauty, peace, and yes, exhilaration.

My dear friend Shellie (hi Shellie!) once told me a story about a dream she had. I won't share the details, as they aren't mine to share, but it involved God's desire for her/us to embrace the exhilaration of journeying with Him. I frequently thought about this dream of hers last year (and still do). When Nick and I moved countries in a whirlwind of 4 or 5 short weeks, you better believe that in that process, we experienced elements of both great fear and rushes of rapturous delight. 

Now, I know that the day-to-day movements of our lives might not seem like adrenaline-inducing experiences, but what if we chose to submit ourselves to the waves of His choosing?

What if we embraced with joy the idea of going with His currents, His tides? We can gaze on His beauty from the shores and talk about how wonderful He is, or we can experience His depths first-hand by asking Him daily, "What would You have me embrace today? What waves shall I ride today at Your command? What in Your depths do You want to show me today?" 

Lately, I have been having the urge to fight against the current of His will, instead of submitting myself to the mercy of His movements. After all, waves can crush, and I don't know about you, but I have a real fear of being crushed under an uncontrollable, ferocious wave. Yet in His Word, we are promised that though we might be pressed, we will not be crushed (2 Corinthians 4:8). I do not know my own limits, but HE does. Today, because of His great, vast love for me, I can choose to submit my body to His will and trust that I will come out of it exhilarated by the ride (though I might – no, I will – have some bruises and scrapes from it as well).

So, are you standing on the shores, talking about Him, thinking about jumping in? Are you listening to other people's descriptions and stories, wishing you could experience God as they have? Or, (deep breath) are you willing to submerge yourself – to fling yourself into the mercy of the waves and, in turn, experience the depths and rapturous delights that accompany the choice of facing down your fear of being crushed and trusting Him instead? (Remember, we can trust that the waters of His love are good, but they certainly are not tame. What a ride, indeed.) Whew. Had to get that out.

It’s rather cloudy this afternoon as I sit in one of my favorite writing spots. It’s not particularly comfortable, this cheap faux wooden chair, but I can see our small backyard, the trees and sky from here. I would be writing upstairs from the little blue sofa that sits by the picture window, which overlooks the valley of San Jose and the mountains on the horizon, but it tends to get pretty toasty up there midday with the sun streaming in and the heat rising to the top of the house. 

Watching the seasons change here in Costa Rica has been an interesting experience. I feel like in the States, I was so accustomed to the changes that each season would bring, that I never really stopped to wonder at it. But now, not knowing what to expect, my senses are piqued.

When we arrived late last July, the weather of the rainy season was like clockwork. It would be hot and sunny as soon as the sun came up. By 1:00pm or so we could expect an impressive downpour, lasting for an hour or so, then letting up. And then, until sundown, we’d have more sunshine and warmth.

As the fall months progressed, people here started speaking of “summer”. This was interesting to Nick and me because we’re still in the same hemisphere; so seasons should run relatively the same. But we soon figured out that November gradually ushered out the last of the rainy season and brought in the Costa Rican “summer”. 

I mentioned in my last post that we’ve not seen rain for some time now. We saw a little in December before we left, but I had already started daring to leave my jacket and umbrella at home on a few afternoons. As it is now, we haven’t seen rain since coming back in January from Christmas break. It’s definitely been warmer as well. The sun’s rays are more pronounced, more direct-feeling, with no clouds blocking them, and no rainfall to cool the air for a few hours each afternoon. Just the other day, as I was out in my yard tending to a few plants and tenacious weeds, I remember thinking, “This feels… tropical.” Hm, wonder why.

As we are ending the month of February and are approaching March, I’m seeing more and more changes in the air. It has not been so windy as of late… No trains blowing over our house this week. Just yesterday we had lots of clouds for a change, and finally we felt just a handful of raindrops! “But,” say the Ticos, “it’s still too soon for rain.” We still have a little while to wait.

It amazes me how everything has managed to stay so green here! Sure, some of the grass in our yard has dried up, and a few of the trees and plants look a little sad and crunchy… But for the most part, to have been without rain for over two months (and under such heat), this land looks incredible! Flowers are blooming, trees are blossoming, even our little lemon tree out back has tons of new fruit coming in!

So, let’s stop and think about this for a minute… How deep down must these roots go to reach their water sources? In some places the ground is so parched that it’s separating – not just cracked. There are what I would call crevices in the park where I often run. The land is thirsty, and yet those plants still living on it continue to thrive… because their strength is stored within, and their roots go down deep into the earth. I imagine stores upon stores of water buried deep in this ground. All those torrential downpours, the storms that raged in the winter, they are the very life-source for these plants in months of drought.

In this, I hear Ephesians 3 ringing in my heart, all the more true even now as I see it displayed so beautifully in God’s creation:

(14) When I think of the wisdom and scope of God’s plan, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, (15) the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. (16) I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will give you mighty inner strength through his Holy Spirit. (17) And I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your hearts as you trust in him. May your roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love.

Oh, but don’t stop reading this chapter there… keep going…

(18) And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. (19) May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God. 

Incredible… and for the icing to this slice of life-giving bread… (Yeah, I know I mixed my metaphors there…)

(20) Now glory be to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope. (21) May he be given glory in the church and in Christ Jesus forever and ever through endless ages. Amen.

Those last four verses are bonuses – it’s just so good for the heart to read those words! But my focus here is this concept of seasons – how we respond to them, and where the ability to sustain and thrive actually lies. As the rains come in the winter… As you face impossible storms, remember to soak up what God has for you. Every drop (you’re gonna need it). Remember, after all, he is close to the brokenhearted, and don’t you know that he longs to soak you to the bone with his presence and strength?! …Absorb all you can from him, so that next time you come to a desert – where God seems silent, where there is no rain – you can reach down deep into the reserves and stores of the remembrances of his promises fulfilled and the mighty inner strength of his Holy Spirit which he has deposited in us, and you can find life abundant to sustain you…  You can find and be filled, from within, with the fullness of life and power that comes only from understanding the depths of God’s love. Then you will blossom – even in the desert.

Last fall I posted a bit about laughter. There are so many idiosyncrasies that Nick and I have had to learn to live with and laugh about. I still continue to sweep my floor and battle the dust on a daily basis. As a matter of fact, the dust and debris have stepped up their game… Something no one bothered to mention about the weather here: in January and Febrary it hardly rains at all. BUT it’s incredibly windy. 

When I say windy, don’t just think of breezy with gusts… Think winds that rattle your windows and doors. Think winds that sound like a freight train going over your house. Think go-faster-on-your-bike-so-it-doesn’t-blow-you-off-the-road gusts on top of already ferocious winds.

So, couple this mighty wind with no rain for two months, and you get: dust. Lots of it. We still keep our windows open, because it’s also a little warmer this time of year. So, the dirt on the floor is staring at me as I type. It will have to wait though… I’ve learned I have better things to do than chase the dirt around the house all day. 

But you’ve heard enough about the cleaning escapades. What else is there…? Oh, yes our washing machine! First, I thank God for it. Our landlord decided to provide one for us. We had offered to buy his washer and dryer, as they were in the house when we walked through, but he wanted to keep them. So, Nick and I planned to get one from craigslist or wherever we could find it cheaply. But, behold on move-in day, our fantastic landlord had left us many presents! A small kitchen table and chairs, cookware, glasses and utensils, a stove, a fridge, a futon, and 3 beds!  …And, a washing machine! But… this last one came with some surprises of its own. 

Laundry is quite the discipline these days. Our washing machine is probably like a 2 year-old… You have to hold it’s hand every step of the way through a load.

First, you turn on the water to let the washer fill up while you put the clothes in. But don’t walk away, because heaven forbid you forget it… You must turn the water OFF when the washer is full; otherwise it will just keep on running. (I’ve learned the hard way to be patient and not walk away. Inevitably, I get neck-deep into a dust battle or some other task and forget the water still running in the laundry room. More than once I’ve gone running back into the room to find the water pouring out from under the lid. Oh well, I needed to mop anyways!) So… once the washer is full and the water is off, you start the wash cycle. An easy enough task. At the end of the wash cycle, you turn a knob that lets the water drain out. Once the water has drained, remember to turn that knob back to the original position. Then, turn the water on a second time, let the washer fill for the rinse cycle (but if you forgot to turn that drain knob back, all your water is going straight down the drain… dang it). Then, once it’s full, turn the water off again, and let the cycle run a second time to rinse.

Next, let the water drain again. Because of the way the agitator spins the clothes back and forth, you might have to untangle pant legs and shirt sleeves. They tend to come out in a wad sometimes. Once you’ve untangled, simply transfer the sopping wet clothes into your nifty little turbo spinner! (That’s the smaller tub right next to the big one.) Since we don’t have a dryer, this little gadget is a God-send! You load your clothes in, close the lid, then start ‘er up. It spins so fast that it slings most of the water out… Centrifugal force at its best! So your clothes come out just damp, and they take a third of the time to dry on the clothesline. Fantastic! But be sure to place the clothes into the tub evenly, because if it’s off balance at all, it makes a terrible thumping noise and doesn’t work at all. So, if it sounds like it’s going to break through the wall or the floor, just rearrange the clothes and press them down tight until it decides to spin properly. Once your clothes have been through the handy turbo spin, hang them on the line for a few hours, and then they’re good to go!

If I ever get very far behind on laundry, I don’t think I’ll ever catch up.

Enough about that though. (Who knew describing laundry-day could take such long paragraphs?) Here are a few other things we’ve learned to smile and laugh about… and otherwise just get accustomed to.

For the first few months, until the problem was identified and repaired, our oven shocked us if we touched or used anything metal on the stovetop.

So, I cooked for several weeks wearing rubber dishwashing gloves. Finally, after three electricians, four visits, and a lot of yelps, our stove is in good repair. No more shocking! Funny note, Nick and our roommate Gill (who is now married and living elsewhere) didn’t believe me at first… until they later experienced for themselves the sensation of electricity coursing through their fingertips and up their arms while cooking. ¡Yo no estaba loca!

We don’t have a car here (because vehicles are silly expensive); so we bike, walk, or bus.

…Occasionally we’ll take a cab, but only if really necessary, since the other methods are so much less expensive. The bus system is pretty reliable, especially on weekday mornings. But as the day progresses, and on weekends, the schedule seems a little less fixed and a little more on tico time. If the bus should come on the hour, it might come at 10 til, or 10 after, or a quarter after, or somewhere in between.

We’ve just learned that going grocery shopping or running an errand is just going to take a little more time than it used to, and that’s okay!

Nick and I take that time sitting at bus stops to talk to each other, or take in the surroundings and beautiful views, interact with people, pray… take a breath. Sometimes, of course, it can be frustrating, but mostly we just smile and are content to wait.

We don’t have hot water at our kitchen sink. So, dish washing is done in cold water with plenty of soap. (And of course we don’t have a dishwasher, unless you count Nick, which I do. :) )

So far we haven’t gotten sick from washing our dishes in cold water – so if you’re looking for a way to save on your water heating… :) 

We do have hot water in our bathroom and in the full guest bath. But the hot water to the shower is interesting. You turn it on, and initially it gets scalding hot. Then it gets cool again (too cool), and then it levels out. But occasionally the water temp will fluctuate between hot and cool, without much warning. But I’ve come to like it a little bit. Hot shower, then cool, then hot again. Kind of refreshing. :) :)

When you flush the toilet in our bathroom, the shower drain gurgles loudly.

So, when we flush the toilet, Leo literally jumps into the shower to investigate the drain. (But not if the shower is in use, of course; although he probably would if we’d let him.) I’m pretty sure he would crawl down the drain to determine the source of the gurgle if he could.

Ah, good times.

No matter where you live, life is not perfect.

The key to contentment with your lot is to cling to the joy of the Lord, which isn’t contingent on circumstance, but is solidly founded on His incessant goodness and faithfulness, which does not change.

If anything, His grace only seems to grow as our perspective widens and we begin to see more and more the scope of it.

Well, I apologize for the hiatus between posts. Since my poor macbook died, I've found it difficult to get much writing done... The small screen of my phone is not an ideal platform for the mind and the fingers to play.... But nonetheless, here we are - part III of our story of how Nick and I came to Costa Rica! Once again, if you missed either of the previous two installations, I suggest you go back and read those first. Otherwise this conclusion will lack some of its luster. :) 

We left off at the point where I was taking steps to “prepare” for… something. It was frustrating, and more than once I thought maybe I was hallucinating and that I was bound to feel ridiculous in my efforts to prepare for some unforeseeable, unlikely event. After the door seemed to close in this direction, Nick and I came to terms with where we were and began to talk of other plans, but deep in my heart, I continued to pray.

My prayer was, "Father, may your kingdom come and your will be done as fully, as immediately, and as completely as it is done in heaven."

Fast-forward another month or so to June of this year. Summer was underway, and Nick had been invited to a pretty interesting conference on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. It was really a huge blessing because accommodations were paid for, and I was able to tag along as a "plus one."  We stayed in a nice resort on the island for an entire week, and this was the first time I had taken an entire week's vacation in over two years. So, we were pretty excited, to say the least. It was a fantastic week full of beaches, long bike rides around the island, new friendships (a few rowdy but lovable Norwegians), and for me, while Nick was in sessions, times of solitude and quiet, in which, as a natural introvert, I relished.

I have so many fun stories about that week, but I'll stick to the main one at hand.

We were staying on the island through Friday of that particular week. One afternoon early in the week, Nick received an email from the Director of Lighthouse. They wanted to Skype with him. Nick told them that he wouldn't be available to do so until after the last session of the conference on Friday afternoon.

A day or so passed. We didn't really know why they wanted to speak with Nick, but I had a feeling. That Wednesday night, as we were enjoying the company of our new friends, I stepped outside to speak with my mentor again. She was so excited and hopeful. I told her that Nick and I were holding on to this idea loosely - that we would accept with grace whatever came of it.

That next day while Nick was occupied with the conference, I went for a bike ride and spent some time on the beach. After a few hours, Nick called to tell me he was on his way to meet me. I still remember riding down that bike path under the beauty and shade of those low-hanging mossy trees. It was just blissful. For once I was relaxed and at peace in my heart.

And those few moments of beauty prepared me for a conversation that would change our lives completely.

I met Nick there on the bike path. We stopped the on the path to talk before heading off to the beach for the afternoon. I asked him how the sessions had gone, and then I asked if he had heard anything else from Lighthouse.

"Yes I did," he said rather plainly.

"And...?" I encouraged him, "What did they say?"

"And they offered me a job."

I wish I could remember the conversation that followed, word for word, but honestly I was so blown away by this reality that it's all a bit mushy in my head. Nick and I were supposed to meet some of the Norwegians on a beach on another part of the island, and we had to get going. So, after this initial exchange, we hopped back on our bikes and headed on our way. As we rode, we talked of all the implications that came with this job offer. Now that it was a reality (one that was still sinking in, layer by layer), we had to decide if we were to actually accept this position.

We had lots of hard questions to ask ourselves. Two of those questions were of timing and finances. It was late June. They wanted us to be in Costa Rica by the end of July. We didn't even have passports at that point. Was this move even possible?

It didn't take us long to confirm in our hearts that this move was right. We knew God had his hand all over these happenings. So, then it was a matter of more prayer and lots of action. The next 5 weeks were... busy. We, especially Nick, had tons of paper work and red tape to work through. We chipped away at a little every day. Lists, phone calls, emails, web forms, trips to the bank, to the post office, phone calls and trips to government agencies. It was hard to balance everything, on top of the emotional turmoil we were experiencing (and my full time job). But, bottom line, God is faithful. He saw us through every step of the way. And wow, did He provide.

The is no way we should have been able to afford what it took to move out of the country and start (and stock) a new home with nothing but a few suitcases. But it happened regardless.

One day, during one of my last visits to her house, sitting on her porch drinking homemade smoothies, my friend and mentor reminded me of the journey we had already experience and how amazing God's ways truly are. She helped me to see that if Nick had gotten the job the first time around, it would have been, perhaps, too easy. There would have been no test of faith, of resolve and obedience. And without a test of faith, how can God show us His confirmation, presence and action in our lives? (Not to mention, our decision to accept that job offer was all the more confirmed in that only divine intervention could have shuffled us from one country to another in five short weeks!)

We are still relying on God's provision and care now that we are here. But remembering how He brought us here makes it just a little bit easier to trust that His care and faithfulness will continue.

Over and over again, the Scriptures tell us, remind us, to remember. I have no doubt that this repetition is intentional. For we are forgetful creatures, are we not? But when we remember God's love for us, remember what He has already done for us, remember His promises and the ones He has already fulfilled (not just the ones we are waiting on), we find that our faith is bolstered. We're given a second, a third, a fourth wind.

This remembrance is indispensable.

So, write it on your foreheads, on your hands, over the gates and the doors of your home, and deep in your hearts.