Reminded by Joy, Excited for Home

“All Joy reminds. It is never a possession, always a desire for something longer ago or further away or still 'about to be.”

~ C.S. Lewis

First of all, forgive me if this post is a bit rambling in its approach. I tried to tie together many different thoughts, experiences, and developments from the past couple of months. While several themes have certainly emerged, life is not always as simple as fitting within the parameters of an insightful quote (see above) or poignant witticism (see previous blog post). We are just back from a ten-day trip to California, where we successfully completed the first step of applying for residency in Guatemala. After a whirlwind of family visits, errands, consulate appointments, and a few shopping sprees to replace old shoes and cooking gear, I’m sitting on the porch of our Airbnb room at Lake Atitlan as we take a few days for extended rest. At first, it felt a little luxurious extending our trip to allow for this time at the lake, but I’m now glad that we made the conscious decision to rest before returning to Huehue and the girls. These few days have allowed us to reflect on the past eight months, process what the future will look like, and have some quality time with old friends here that we consider to be mentors.

The last two months have seen a lot of change in the way we do life with the girls, all in a positive way. The idea for the first six months was a sort of “trial” period to see how both we, as foster parents, and the girls respond to the new house parent model. After the first six months, we saw nothing but positive change, so we decided to step up our role with the girls, moving more toward family roles as we simultaneously moved away from group home living. This has meant transforming a room connected to our little casita at the back of the group home into a dining room and playroom for the girls. They now have their own space where they can play and do school work in the afternoons. This space has also allowed us to start doing most meals with the girls alone, rather than in the large dining hall that they previously shared with all 85 kids at the children’s home.

After waking up in the morning, the girls now come back to our house for breakfast and to start the day. Then, after school and afternoon activities, they end the day with dinner in our house as well. Lunches are still with the group out front, to help transition to afternoon activities. Becca has started doing homework with Johana, our oldest, and we’ve seen radical progress in both her reading and math skills. She now absolutely loves math, and online math games have now become the reward for out-loud reading sessions. This past month we also celebrated a few birthdays, complete with balloons, decorations, and a silly birthday hat – the picture below is from my birthday celebration that the girls so eagerly decorated for.  Also in the last two months, almost all of the girls have started calling us “Mami” and “Papi”, which still moves me every time I hear it. We still don’t know what’s in the future for these eight girls, but we are thankful that, for now, we are able to form a family life for them in the day to day.

As you can imagine, the past months have been filled with both joy and frustration. I’m sure any parent can relate to the fact that reality is far from picture perfect. We get tired. We get frustrated. We get discouraged. Sometimes we wonder if we can keep doing this and, if we can, for how long. These are the moments when Baby Ana won’t take the food she needs or when Johana has a hard time figuring out addition and subtraction in 2^nd grade. It’s when one of the girls tells a lie for the ninth time in a week. It’s when we try our best to provide for the girls’ nutrition, education, and mental health but don’t feel like we have the power or ability to.

But in between all of those moments, we are reminded by joy. We are reminded by Virginia’s jokes, by Alicia’s smiles, by Cristel’s fashion statements, by Ana’s hugs. We are reminded of not only who these girls are, but more importantly what they can and will be. I usually think of joy as something you experience in the moment, but our story in Christ means that joy is not limited to these moments. We have a lot of dreams for this place, and for these girls. We picture individual family houses, complete with a big dining room table, vegetable garden, and plenty of green space to run. It’s hard to have patience for this dream, for this future, when the reality today looks very different. But those little moments of joy remind us that the future we imagine is possible. “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face”: for now, we see glimpses of the completely joyful future that Christ has in mind for these girls through the moments of joy today. And for now, it’s enough to be thankful for those moments and what they mean for the future.

All of this joy reminds of what home is. It reminds us of the perfect home we have in heaven, and the imperfect but beautiful version of it we have here on earth. While we were gone in the U.S. Sophia, a friend who works with us in Huehue, wrote about the idea of home:

“Maybe home isn’t just a physical place, not just the people who live there, not even the state of your heart. Maybe it’s not about where home is found, but rather who occupies it. Jesus answered him, ‘If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him’ (John 14:23).”

After visiting ‘home’ in California and ‘home’ at Lake Atitlan and looking forward to getting back ‘home’ to Huehue, I’m convinced that this is the conception of home closest to my heart. I’m sitting here at the lake, listening to the rain, but I cannot wait to get back to the messy life we have in Huehue. Not because of a specific calling or commission, but because Jesus has made His home with us and I want, above all else, to share that home with the little girls He’s made in His image and that we’ve been beyond blessed to share life with this year. Our time of rest is almost up, but it’s the joy I see in these girls that reminds me of what home is all about. Our life in Huehue is not an idyllic scene from a snow globe; it’s not a picture perfect vision of mission work, of family, or of the call to take care of the orphans. We make mistakes, both big and little ones. We get upset and frustrated. But it’s not the frustrating moments that have lasting value, it’s the joyful ones. The point is, life in Huehue is not only filled with joy. But it’s filled with just enough joy to remind us of what is about to be. It’s hard, but it’s home.