humbled. overjoyed. in love.

I was serious when I asked the Lord to humble me this summer. He took it seriously too.

There have been countless moments where all I can do is laugh. Laugh at the humor of the situations the Lord brings me to. Laugh at the words I say incorrectly. Laugh at my overall failure to understand someone speaking to me in Spanish, and the looks on their faces when they realize I don’t speak Spanish—bless their hearts.

The other week, a sweet woman approached me at the grocery store. She was talking to me in Spanish, and though I typically can follow a conversation pretty well, she was talking so fast that I am confident I looked like a deer in headlights with a big cheesy smile, not having a clue what she was saying. I could tell she was talking about my skirt, but I also could tell that she was telling me something important and not just complimenting it. Before I could say anything, she walked away with a smile, so I said “gracias” and smiled back.

Later on, I told Melissa and her aunt about this incident and how I didn’t know what this woman was trying to tell me. Her aunt then told me that she knew, and that the lady was trying to tell me that my purse pulled up my skirt in the back when I walked, revealing a lot more than I ever intended.

That’s one way to reinforce my need to practice Spanish.

The residents don’t seem to mind my broken Spanish. Most nights I spend outside the residents’ dormitories, where some of the older ones stay up later than the rest and hang out. I was talking to a big group the other night, and when I couldn’t think of the word I wanted to say, I said “Ah, mi espanol es no bueno” and laughed. Geovanny, the handsome and bright young man who is unable to speak, threw his arms up, smiled, and pulled me in for a hug. This was his way of acknowledging the truth in that statement, but letting me know he didn’t mind.

I’m falling in love with these beautiful people more and more each day. I’m falling in love with their free spirits and their hearts too big for their little bodies to contain. I’m falling in love with their ability to love so unconditionally. I’m falling in love with their joy that floods out of every ounce of their being, and their ability to find that joy so easily. There is so much to be admired in these children of God, so much that I can only hope rubs off onto me after spending so much time with them this summer.

I wish I could tell you everything about every resident. I want to tell you about Xiomara's tremendous belly laugh when you dramatically pretend that something minor hurt terribly (i.e. bumping heads during a hug). I want to tell you about Vladimir, the boy with autism who runs laps in the same grassy area all day every day, and without being asked, stops running to voluntarily push residents in wheelchairs to lunch, even though he doesn't eat with everyone else.  I want to tell you about Midgeli, and the way she runs to you yelling "mami!", and rarely lets you walk away without a surprise pinch on the butt. I want to tell you about Anita, and my overwhelming mix of anxiety and joy as she comes around, not knowing when she will next give a hug so big that takes us both to the ground (I'm almost out of fingers to keep track of how many times this has happened), but I adore her too much to not want to spend time with her anytime she is around. I want to tell you about every single person out here. My heart is yearning for all of my family and friends to get to meet these people who are stealing my heart, one day at a time.

I. Am. In. Love.

The next sequence of pictures tells a story that was too sweet to not share. Anita was sitting on the bench on a morning that there was a party being thrown, and she turned around to find Melissa and me behind her. Her smile tripled in size and she scooted her way off the bench to come dance with us, beaming and practically screaming with excitement the whole way through.

This is Bri, a special education teacher from Illinois who has been a part of the Hogar family for several years. She was only with us for a few short weeks, but it was so sweet to see how much the residents lit up when they saw her. 

Nahum brings out the best in us ;) 

Humbled. Overjoyed. In love.