I was walking by myself to a new ministry opportunity (this one is working with addicts through a Christian twelve step program like Alcoholics Anonymous). To get there, I had a choice: take a bus, hail a taxi, or walk. It was a nice day…hot, but nice, so I decided to walk. Down the hill about three blocks. Turn right. Another three blocks past an elementary school. Turn left and through a neighborhood to the main road. I´d walked the route before. It was two o´clock in the afternoon. The sun was shining. (There might be a bit of foreshadowing here…)

As I cut through the neighborhood, I heard someone playing with fireworks ahead of me. The kind, I thought, that you throw on the ground and they snap. Fireworks are pretty common around here, and people shoot them off for any type of celebration, it seems. The problem was, it wasn´t fireworks. I looked ahead, and in the distance saw someone chasing another person with a gun, jump into a cab and zoom away. When I realized what was happening, I stepped behind a wall to decide my best course of action: turn around and go back, or continue forward. I don´t think anyone was hurt. Just scared. I didn´t see anything from that distance to be a witness to anything. I heard the pops before I saw the person running. The only thing I know is that the taxi was red (but then again, they all are). There was a large crowd, so I decided the best thing to do was walk forward. Again, I didn´t see anyone hurt. Just shook up.

It is pretty safe here. We just need to be aware of what´s happening around us. This kind of stuff happens all the time in big cities all around the world (even in the states). I´m okay, but it made me think again… and pray harder for the neighborhoods and the people with whom I work.

Be blesed in who you are.

These were the sentiments of our pastor as he dropped by the house tonight. In English ¨I wasn´t able to see her…¨ Sometimes we have an effect on others without realizing it, other times we know full well. Years ago in Georgia, we knew how important it was when the older kids were babies to bring them to funerals. That´s kind of a weird thought to some, but there is nothing like a smiling baby to make one smile back.

So last Sunday, Easter, we had a sunrise service across the street in the park a little before six in the morning and I didn´t wake Soraya to go with us to regular church knowing how crabby kids are without their naps. This also meant that the older kids all stayed behind to be there when she woke up because they too had gone to ¨church¨ already. So when we walked into church and people asked, ¨Where are the kids…¨ I explained what I thought was a reasonable explanation and went merrily on my way. What I failed to realize was maybe it wasn´t important for Soraya to be at church for her sake (or mine for that matter), but indeed it was important to the body of Christ. Somehow something was missing for our pastor and others as well when they didn´t see her.

Could the same be true about me or you? Could someone at church or Bible study or prayer group be missing something because we don’t show up? Our pastor asked if he could just see Soraya like it was a special treat he had missed all week and so we tiptoed and peeked in the crib and like exhaling, I could see satisfaction and more peace come about him. I hope someone misses me like that. I hope God uses me to touch other people. May God shine through you so brightly, that people run to you to catch a glimpse of Him. Be blessed. Audra

For many Christians this is the most holy week in the year because from last Sunday when Jesus´ triumphant entry into Jerusalem was remembered with waving palm branches until next Sunday when Jesus´ resurrection is recalled, we walk with Jesus step by step through his final days on earth. For many years, this has been a very special season for us. This year is going to be different. Let me explain.

I don´t know all the history of what happened and why it has happened, but here are a few facts. Costa Rica is one of the only countries in the world where Catholicism is the national religion. Other understandings of Chrisitianity are allowed, but not promoted. Partly as a result of this and partly as a gut reaction dislike of the Catholicism, the other expressions of the Christian faith (that is, the evangelical and protestant churches) do all they can to not only avoid, but shun anything that smacks of Catholicism. For this reason, many non-Catholics have left town to go to the beach this week. Thursday and Friday are paid national holidays (as mandated by the government), so they are enjoying a few days (and even a whole week) of vacation. Meanwhile the Catholics wave palm branches and have processions remembering the last supper, the crucifixion and the resurrection.

Palm Sunday, Holy Wednesday Communion, Maundy Thursday remembrance, Good Friday, Saturday Vigil, Easter Sunrise and Easter celebration services are a part of who we are, but if we are going to be anything but Catholic here in Costa Rica (I don´t know about the rest of Latin America), we can´t do any of it or we will be frowned upon by our brothers and sisters in the evangelical and protestant churches. The baby, it seems, has been thrown out with the bath water.

Am I exagerating? I don´t think so. Our pastor last Sunday told us that on Friday (Good Friday when we have traditionally recalled the crucifixion of Jesus) we will be painting the ceiling of the church. He then went on to say we can bring work clothes to church on Sunday, and after the service we can change into them so we can do some more work on the church. That´s Easter Sunday.

It hurts. Not only us, but a lot of our fellow missionaries at the language institute.

We won´t be going to the beach. Instead, we will be watching the processions. We will be praying. We will be having a seder supper with friends (that´s the meal Jesus used as the last supper). We will be having a Sunrise Service in the park across the street.

This is, after all, Semana Santa. It is Holy Week.

Be blessed this week.

The guy with the tomatoes came back again tonight. We talked for a while at the gate. After a bit of chit-chat, I asked, “Can I ask you a personal question? You can answer it or not, as you choose.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Do you live on the streets?”

“Yes,” he said, pulling his hat low over his eyes so I wouldn´t see him crying.

“For how long?” I asked.

“Two years. I really miss my family.”

“Wow,” I said, “I can´t imagine what it´s like for you.”

He went on to tell me his family in Nicaragua thinks he is dead. He would call them, but he lost their phone number a long time ago, so he hasn´t spoken with them for about 16 months. He has a grandmother he really loves, but doesn´t know if she still alive or not. He´s 27 years old and wants to get off the streets. He talked about the embarasment of people crossing to the other side of the street when they see him coming, or hiding any bags they are carrying with their arms so he can´t steal it. “I´m not a robber,” he said. “I don´t like it when they do that, but I understand because of the way I look and the way I dress.”

As he talked, he kept his eyes moving all around him. He watched closely every car that passes by. I asked him, “Besides the being embarrassed, it looks like you are scared, too. Do you have enemies on the street.”

“Gracias a Dios, no (Thanks be to God, no),” he said. “But there are people who would kill me just because of the color of my eyes or my hair” (it was sort of in dred locks). He´s from Nicaragua and a lot of people don´t like people from there. It´s sort of the feeling some people in the states have toward the hispanics there. The Nicaraguans came to escape a really bad situation and are “taking away the jobs from Costa Ricans.”

Salvador (that´s his name) came to Costa Rica for a job and was working in a store. The house he was living in, though, was full of drugs. Not a good situation. He told me he´s not addicted. I don´t know. But I do know he wants off the street. I told him I´d pray for wisdom, and I´d pray for him. Please pray with me.

Be blessed in all you do.

Talk about being humbled.

A man came to our gate again. A new guy. I haven´t written about him before, I mean. He´s been at the gate a few times selling stuff. Green tomatoes to be specific. They are hard to find here because Ticos don´t eat them green. In fact, they look at us funny if we ask for them at the farmer´s market. Anyway, this man came by a few minutes ago selling tomatoes, but we didn´t have the money to buy any. I looked, but there was none to be found in the house. (It´s a lot easier and safer to use our debit card, we´ve noticed). I told him we didn´t have the cash but that I really liked the tomatoes he sold us.

Is he stealing the tomatoes from someone´s garden? we wonder. We pray not. But can we say…at least he´s industrious?!

When I told him we didn´t have the money in the house to buy any, his face fell. His shoulders slumped and he was really bummed about it. He then asked timidly for some uncooked arroz y frijoles (rice and beans). I came back in to get some for him, and as an after thought put in a few eggs (they are more expensive than beans and rice, and so probably a rare thing for a lot of the people). He didn´t know about them. When I took the bag outside to give to him, he handed a bag back to me. It was full of tomatoes.

“I can´t pay for these now,” I said.

“I know,” he said.

“How much are they?” I asked. “I´ll pay for them when you come back.”

“No se preocupe,” he said with a smile, “Don´t worry.”

“Are you sure,” I said.

He just smiled. He was happy to give me something. I was glad I´d put the eggs in the bag.

As he was leaving, I thought I´d better warn him about the eggs. They were raw, after all. The news made him smile even more.

Talk about being humbled! I have to admit, I was grumbling a bit to myself when I came back in for beans and rice. I´ll try to do better next time.

Be blessed.