Redoing my blog, so if you dont recognize the place when you come here…or things are all messed up, thats just me, messing around trying to get this right.
I have a thought.
In my mind.
Its just getting it out thats a problem.
So hang with me, will get this figured out 🙂
This picture from two years ago…
…and got the biggest kick out of it.
Fernanda drawing a heart around our names
In my opinion…
Language is so, or atleast can be, overrated.
How many times are friendships ruined, relationships hurt, and people confused by language. Language. It can be a blessing, but sometimes, I think language can be a curse. People who don’t mind their tongues, or only use their words to hurt. People who say things they don’t mean, or do mean. People don’t connect – unless they talk, or understand each other. They seem so wasted sometimes…words.
Don’t get me wrong, I love words, and being able to communicate just as much as the next person. But I realized something this past week, and that’s that language, is sometimes, overrated.
When I left for Mexico, I had a list of fears that stretched a mile long. Or longer. I worried (no joke) that my luggage bag would be too big. That I wouldn’t get along with the people I was traveling with. That no one would like me. That I wouldn’t be able to communicate with the kid I got in Mexico. That it would be a waste of time. And finally, that I would have to go through the X-ray machine at the airport. I had a fear for every leg of the trip. Probably a fear for everyday.
God showed me a lot this past week, and in an almost comical way – one by one my fears began to drop.
Maybe not in the way I would have wanted, or thought. Maybe I didn’t get along with everyone, or agree with everything people said or did. Maybe I wasn’t the most liked person on the trip – but I learned some valuable lessons – and realized that its ok. Its ok not to go with the flow, and I dont have to be liked by everyone… I walked away with a few moments where I just had to smile – knowing it was Gods hand working.
But the one thing that struck me the most – was the language.
I went to Mexico knowing a few words. I was not, and am not, fluent in Spanish. I am pretty much a babbling baby when it comes to Spanish. I can say hi and bye. I can say beach, and shells (new words to me) and I can say good morning, good afternoon, and good evening – although I might not say them at the most appropriate time. And last week, I learned a new Spanish name.
But I walked away with 15 new friendships. With kids who I couldn’t even speak their language. When we left, I felt like I was leaving behind my best friends. Family. People who I loved and cared for, perhaps more than I even care for some of my own family.
And no one will really understand that.
How? How can you love someone so deeply that you cry when you leave – when you cant even tell them that? I don’t know how…
But it was done.
There were connections made, friendships and bonds formed, relationships happened.
Language. Speaking with only words. It is so overrated.
Im a fan of the sayings “A picture speaks louder than words” and “Actions speak louder than words”
Just because we couldn’t speak each others language, didn’t mean a thing to the kids, or us. We smiled, we laughed, we cried. They knew what we meant, we knew what they meant – most of the time atleast. We went to be “The arms of love for Jesus” and in a way, I think they showed us HOW to do that.
To love. Unconditionally, perhaps even giving unwarranted love. Love without expectation, without bounds. Just love. Pure and simple love, that only a child, who cant even speak your language can give.
There were times, I really wondered if I was doing any good for this child. She really didn’t seem that bad off. She had a family, friends, she was happy, she was loving, kind, funny kid who loved life. But seeing her love – love me, love her siblings, love the other people there…
It made me wonder.
And realize.
I love, with condition.
She loved unconditionally.
I love, with expectation, if I FEEL like it.
She loved because it was in her heart.
I learned a lot this week. She taught me without knowing, without words. But from her heart. How to love, unconditionally, and how to be the “Arms of love for Jesus”
There were few things I missed on this trip. Most missed a warm shower, a soft bed, or a common comfort…and while being freezing cold at night wasnt my first choice – I slept fairly good every night. And cold showers? Just make showering quicker. The one thing I did miss however, was my camera. I took along a little point and shoot, and was amazed first off – that it actually worked. Held together by rubber bands, it captured the moments I wanted it to, and for that I was glad. But I never really understood the difference, I guess, between that camera (our first digital camera) and Nik. Ok, I DID, but I never looked back.
I missed Nik this past week!!
I missed adjusting the lens so one thing was in focus, missed being able to get close up shots of things. Missed everything about him, while I suffered through with his little cousin, HP. I mean, obviously I didnt suffer…but you know what I mean.
This morning I happened to bring a bag of skittles down to the shop with me – and I apparently, have a thing for shooting candy. What can I say? Its very rewarding. Hint hint.
I missed being able to capture bright, vibrant candies, and sharing them with the world. I did not, however, miss the flash spots on their shinny little spots!!
After spending a few days in California, we loaded up our six passenger van with 15 peoples worth of luggage…then loaded our 15 passenger van up with our group. I know it sounds confusing, but it really isnt. 15 people, two vans, heading to a certain spot to meet up with the person who was going to lead us into Mexico.
Our first introduction to “Mexico” was really simple. Everything suddenly went from English – to – Spanish. Darker skins, Spanish signs telling us to “Alto” instead of “Stop.”
We stopped at a little place that was open to the world. Met up with another member of the camp – and ordered our first taste of Mexican food. The most awesome tacos you would have ever had.
Then off to the camp.
On our way in, they pointed out to us “Durango” the town where our kids were going to come from. Upon first appearance, it was another little mexican town, much like the others we had passed.
Our camp consisted of two “Tents” which resembled green houses. The first night it rained. Everyone woke the next morning cold, wet, and excited to see what the day held. We were introduced to our “Ninos”
…
“When I left I had a list of fears” I shared at the camp fire one night.
“One by one, these fears have been put to rest” I continued
“And today – one of my greatest fears, that I wouldnt be able to communicate, or connect, with my nino because of the language barrier, was put to rest.”
…
This past week, I have grown to love these kids. These kids who speak as much English as I do Spanish. We loved, unconditionally, and were loved, unconditionally. Refusing to let the language slow us down.
The day we said good bye – we pulled into the town of Durango to see our ninos families and houses – and instead of “Just another Mexican town” I saw the faces, of these kids, that seemed like family to me – popping out through the crowds, smiling, waving, and chasing after us.
I fell in love, with the kids of Durango. The people of Mexico. The camp and the staff.
Tangled Thoughts 