Sonrisas y Sol

I stepped over a massive spider and ducked as a bat dive-bombed me, slapping at a mosquito; that’s how I got out of my shower (in which I made constant eye contact with two cockroaches) the first night here at Familia Feliz. And honestly I wouldn’t have it any other way. Or maybe minus the spiders. I hadn’t been afraid of anything about Familia Feliz until I pulled my last suitcase through the door of a yellow house across the field from where the other four SM girls are staying together. And I haven’t been jumpy about living creatures until I got out of the shower to hop into my net-covered bunk bed. I sang “todo el mundo en su mano está” (He’s got the whole world in His hands) to myself — and I’m so glad He does! I am living in la Casa de las Lilas, helping Teacher Abi parent eight girls ranging in age from three to thirteen. Full of questions I understand fifty percent of (and can answer a quarter of), these girls have already won my heart with their smiles, giggles, enthusiasm, and

There are very few times that you can pinpoint an exact moment that you know will change your life forever. Even fewer are the occasions when you pinpoint that moment as it’s happening. Landing in Santa Cruz was one of those rarest of rare times for me. “I will never be the same,” I thought and grinned. As I looked at the other seven SMs with me, I thought, “These are my new best friends!” And I couldn’t have asked for better!  Our first real bonding moment was the Bolivian security and customs, where the hilarity of the ridiculous requirements was superb. Wanting proof of hotel reservations — and not accepting the letter of invitation we had to stay at an SDA ministry in the city — the agents were just interested in checking all the legal boxes and obtaining visa money. Furthermore, when asking  the date of our return flight ticket, they balked when they saw May 10. We SMs were cracking up at how uninformed  we  were about the whole entry process, and how the agents really only wanted

I didn’t need an alarm this morning. Who would, with an army of butterflies holding their guts hostage? All summer I've wondered what waking up today would feel like. Would the world move in slow motion? Would I be full of self-doubt? Sheer excitement? Absolute panic? Complete confidence in God? After all the wondering, and regardless of the butterflies, it’s finally the morning that I leave! (And it includes all of the above.) "Are you scared?" everyone has asked me. (I don't know, am I?)  "Mostly just excited ," I usually say. "You're going to thrive!"  "You'll do great!"  "The kids are gonna love you!"  "Best year of your life!"  People have filled me to the brim with encouragement and expectation, but the reality is hitting that I am naïve, utterly unprepared, and muy incompetente en español (no offense to high school Spanish, Duolingo, or Spanish worship music).  So.  How did I get here?  What makes a coll