The end of August reached us faster than I could have imagined. With work at Casa, neighbor visits and community life, my days here have flown by. A part of me feels like I have been living in Monte Sinai my entire life, but another part of me feels completely lost in between all the unknown. Each and every day here has been such a gift. I wake up in awe each morning knowing that I literally have no idea what my day will look like because truth is, it will be full of new and unknown moments that I can never really imagine. What a humbling experience it has been to wake up, extend my hands and open my heart, eager to see where God leads me each day – to lose control and let Him be my compass.
August was quite the month. In between all the bumpy bus rides, the beginning of an ugly Chaco tan on my feet, the carcajadas and struggles in community, the sore arms after carrying babies at Casa all day and the stories neighbors share, I found an invitation; an invitation to encounter God, an invitation to grow, an invitation to receive, and an invitation to be.
The reason I applied to be a Rostro de Cristo volunteer was because its mission spoke to me in many different ways, but particularly in one very special way. We say that as Rostro de Cristo volunteers, “we go not to do, but to be.”
Honestly, it still takes my breath away each time I read that.
We go not to do, but to be… While that took me 4 years to learn about and discern and what I believe, will take me a lifetime to fully understand and embrace, I found within me, a fierce desire to live that out in its truest, most authentic way.
You see, “to be” with someone can look a thousand different ways and each one, if truly present is an encounter with the other person, with yourself and with God. Truth is, many times we fail to recognize that even in what we consider our smallest encounters, God reaches us, for He can be found everywhere and in everyone.
Walking around Monte Sinai this past month, hearing my named be yelled by loud, high pitched voices, being invited to share a delicious almuerzo and sitting down in one of those plastic chairs outside somebody’s home – I like to think – is God winking at me, inviting me into His unconditional love and vastness.
I can’t help but think of my energetic roof babies, Elsa, Sara and Anna. Three little sisters who love to stand on the roof of their home to dance and play and who never fail to yell our names as we walk by - not in a routine kind of way, but in an invitational way to join them in their joy, in their high energy, and in their closeness to God - not because they are literally standing a whole building higher than me, but because of how open they allow themselves to be in mind, body and spirit.
Similarly, I think of my sweet neighbor, Aura - a wife, a mother, a woman of God. A woman who welcomed me into her home in the morning before work and fed me… not just any meal, but my favorite meal. A meal that filled me and nourished me – not only because of the insane rice mountain on my plate, but because of the love that her family welcomed me with and invited me into, as I sat at their table and shared bread with them.
My mind automatically thinks of Yesica – a woman, a mother and a fighter. A woman living at the Casa de Acogida with her 3 daughters. She is a woman whose home I walked into a month ago and who has allowed me into her life and trusted me with her most precious treasure – her daughters. It is a trust that has slowly been growing as I gently hold her 4 month old baby, Esperanza in my arms as she washes or cooks – a trust that invites me to hold her joy and her pain in my own hands.
And of course, I can’t forget my neighbor, Belgica. A wife, a mother, a woman whose home is loud and chaotic. A neighbor who saw me getting off the bus from 2 blocks away and made sure to pull up a plastic chair for me so that when I reached her house, I could sit and talk. A place in which I am invited to see God sitting beside me, just there, chilling, in between all the chaos.
Each day, I am surprised with a new invitation. Whether that is me walking over to the panaderia or walking past Carolina’s tiendita or sitting (and sometimes standing) through a 45-minute bus ride from work to our house or praying every night with my community, God is there. And not only does He greet me, He invites me in.
My heart has truly been feeling all kinds of things. I can’t help but flashback to 4 years ago. Starting my very first semester of college, thinking that year would be a year like no other, with not a clue in my mind that today, I would find myself here, in this sacred place. I can feel my heart racing as I think of how much my life has changed in the past month and a half and I am overwhelmed with the thought of how much more I will be invited to experience as I continue my journey here. It hasn’t been one drop of easy and I don’t think it will get easier, but I have learned that when I search for Christ, He is there in the form of my neighbors, my 16 kids at Casa, our guards, my community mates and countless others ways I have yet to discover. He is there in the times of joy, laughter and celebration, but He is also present in stories of pain and suffering.
It has been a little over a month and I couldn’t decide if I would say “just 1 month” or “already 1 month” because it’s a little bit of both, but what I can say is that to be completely honest, there were times I doubted my decision to come to Ecuador. Maybe it was nerves or fear or confusion, maybe a little bit of everything. But during this time, I have been invited to think of why I decided to do this and I realize that yeah, the challenges are there and always will be, but I truly enjoy going out and being with my neighbors even after a long, tiring day at Casa or even on my worst sick days, because if there is anything worth getting up for – it is them.
What a humbling experience it is to wake up each morning and be invited into the love of God. What an astounding invitation it has been, to have just a little over 1 month living in Monte Sinai and see and feel the greatness of Christ, for which my neighbors here are living proof of.