Costa Rican Cookies

Morning: I wake up to the screeching of a monkey I assume;
(Uncle B assures us it's a gecko, not a monkey, and that geckos sing like birds). The sun is bright and glaring from water on the tin roof across the street. I tip toe down stairs while the house is quiet, for it is 5 am, and I want to be part of this hushed morning stillness. I open the curtains, warm sun on my face(already!), sitting in the provided couch from which Chloe pulled someone's bungee cord, toy screwdriver and yarn yesterday. My mind begins to suppose that I could cover this couch... wait, I am not organizing or scheming or upholstering right now. I open my Bible to Proverbs because Miguel has been in Proverbs much lately. I'm looking for a new passage to memorize while we transition into a diffferent life.

6:15am: Time to start the morning routine. Miguel's making his famous peanut butter, banana oatmeal. His troops are readying for morning worship over breakfast. Abigail and Nathanael are on a team-- UCLA Yellow Canaries; Julia and Chloe are on a team-- God's Beautiful Feet . The reader on each team is now going through Proverbs, praying with and for each other, and preparing to lead the rest of us in an acapella sing-along. They choose one verse that leaps out at them, explaining why. Chloe is often twisting under the table, standing on someone's lap kissing their face and whispering unrelated tales of reptiles or dogs, while Julia is trying to gain composure and control for the God's Beautiful Feet team(first born deal, Miguel insists)...

9:15am: Three families are walking down the neighborhood greeting each neighorhood guard while walking the necessary 10 blocks to Primera Iglesia Bautista. Straight down the street for a few blocks. Left turn. Right turn at the narrow bridge over a muddy, littered river tangled in jungle. The path beside a busy street is wide enough for one adult and a small child. Chloe and Nathanael see chickens along the river bed. The walk is long, but there is no complaining today.

Block 10. We follow a smiling woman to the children's classes. They are all in Spanish, and our three families of children file in effortlessly. Next is our turn to file into the little class for ages 18-35, where casually visiting friends stop to greet us. They are studying Marcos 7 and I pick up bits and pieces, requiring devoted labor. Next is another service when our children join us for part of the next two-ish hours.

1:00pm: We stop in at Giovanni's pizza, elated to see printed on the door: We Speak English. We watch the masters lift and spin dough into the air, littering the white floured surface with chile dulce and a host of other fresh vegetables. Full and happy, we are now crossing the street--a valiant effort: Two families readied for Frogger, and alas-- there's a clearing! CHARGE! We are laughing, hands held tightly, hoisting our children to safety at the supermercado, where nearly everything seems to be about double what it was in the states.

3:00pm: There are just enough groceries. We manage carrying them home in cheerful, red Jumbo bags without hassle. I am anticipating kneading chocolate chip cookie dough between my fingers for a taste of home. My red bags contain everything I will need, and I'm planning my list of who they will all go to: the guard at end of the block, the man who comes digging through our trash, drinking the last bits of peach nectar from the box...

4:00pm: I am pulling the cookies out of the oven after wrapping extra dough to refrigerate. The townhouse is silent. Everyone is exhausted and piled onto the bed in Julia and Abigail's "apartment" (They are proud to man the secret bathroom under the staircase) where heavy drapes block out all traces of light. I sit at the table to enjoy the first cookie and am sorely disappointed. It tastes nothing like home. Every bit of it is dry, even powdery-- save those chocolate chips we splurged on. For now, home cannot be tasted.

6:00pm: Upon sampling my taste of home, Miguel resolves that we focus on Costa Rica's precious offerings: the sweet vegetables and fruit at the Saturday morning market.

Darkness: The children are in the gated, front courtyard creating parchment script with Skylar and Sydney (quadmates from training now studying language with us). They are rubbing notebook paper rapidly against the tile, "to give it delicate age", Skylar insists, announcing they have found scrolls from 2000BC. The sounds of the night unfold: car alarms, barking dogs, motorcycles... and the children are talking about Sunday School leisurely:
"I didn't understand a thing," confesses Abigail.
"Neither did I," Julia Noel agrees. They happily recall Oreos, the David and Goliath computer video, and games they joined by copying what their classmates did. They anticipate next week, and I am in awe.

His divine power has granted to us EVERYTHING pertaining to life...
2 Peter 1:3a