Time takes time, you know

Time is an incredible thing. Sometimes I have a hard time realizing how quickly it has passed, but then something happens to wake me up and remind me of that constant progression toward the “next big thing.” This week was a week of those moments, the most incredible of which was a baby shower for one of my dearest friends here in Limon, Latoya.

When I arrived here in July of last year, Latoya either was not pregnant or had just become so within a few days of my arrival. We enjoyed that first month hanging out together and going to the beach, and I was surprised when she chose me to be one of the first people that she confided in when she discovered her situation.

At the time, it seemed like a million years before the baby would be here, and I remember thinking even then that it would strange to be here for the entire span of her pregnancy. I really struggled to wrap my brain around the idea that when I came to Costa Rica she was just a girl, really, and that she'd be a mother before the end of my term here.

Well, that time is nigh. Latoya is due early next month, and I am excited to be trusted with this life as a Godmother. This responsibility means a lot to me, as someone who- to my knowledge- does not have Godparents. I have always found it incredible that someone with no relation to a child can suddenly be as close to them as any natural parent, aunt, or uncle. This also puts me in an interesting situation as a godparent who lives in a different country from the godson; I want to be close to this baby and come through for him like a biological family member would, but I'm worried that distance might take too much of a toll

Of course, I probably wouldn't be thinking so much about this if it weren't for the fact that I now have two months before I leave Costa Rica. This time will fly, as the time before it has. The sad thing about this is that it seems like we just got things the way the should be. The house is settled and furnished, the teaching is working out fabulously this semester, and we've finally made a close network of local friends. It's sad to think that we're finally in a place to be our most effective and we only have a few months to enjoy the progress.

There will be others coming behind us, and there may be more moving and motivating stories about the students and the school. I know I haven't shared as many “Chicken Soup for the Soul” moments as some readers would've liked, but there were other things that stood out more in my mind. The honest truth is that this school will likely take a few years before it begins to bear the kind of fruit that we love to pray about and share with our friends, and I'm OK with that because there always has to be a first.

Future missionaries may write about crowded workshops and schedules that are overflowing with activities for their students, but I will remember the private lessons that no one attended and the advertising packets that never made it into the right hands. Why? Because those seeming missteps, along with many others like them, were essential to finding avenues and strategies that were effective. How could we know that taking a private lesson approach would increase our attendance and punctualize our payment system if we hadn't had a mediocre response from what we were previously doing? As we have been told, time and time again, we were the guinea pigs... and the experiment isn't over yet.

In the next two months, I hope to see great strides in my students' abilities. I hope to see a community resolve to hold each other accountable for the success and failures stemming from the programming. Most importantly, I hope to see an ecumenical community that realizes the value of the program and that has a strong passion for sharing it and it's products throughout the city of Puerto Limon. I hope that we have left a healthy plant behind to grow and grow even long past the ends of our lives.

In the meantime, having just come home from spending the evening with LaToya and her surprisingly outgoing baby bump, I will focus on making the most of the next two months and all of the opportunities that arise from them. And maybe, just maybe, when I come back in a few years to visit my sweet godson- Jhemyel Jsharu Jara Murray- there will be something here to prove that the hard little seed we planted has not only sprouted, but has bloomed brilliantly.