"A thrill of hope! The weary world rejoices."

Today, I...

saw a different side of Carpio. Monday night I stayed with Carmen's family and last night I was at Lorena's. Both of these women cook for the Refuge and have been involved with Christ for the City since before my family was -- they have watched me grow up and are women that I strive to be like. They each have their own story that is far from being over. A little over a year ago, Lorena had tremendous healthy problems due to emotional overeating that lead to extreme obesity (she experienced the El Salvadorian civil war first hand; at twelve-years-old she witnessed a beheading and remembers falling asleep to the sound of gunshots). Because of Costa Rica's national health care, she was able to receive a free gastric bypass surgery and has lost over 150 pounds. This morning, I accompanied her on a daily hour-long walk. Living in Chicago, I love the rare occasions where I leave early enough to see the city awaken. The same goes for La Carpio.

Lorena's government ID before and after her procedure.

realized that I am here during the worst cold snap in recent Costa Rican memory. Today it dropped to a chilling 53.4 degrees fahrenheit. Everyone's whipping out their scarves and mittens. No joke.

learned what candied banana tastes like...yum!

smiled when I thought about our trip to the beach yesterday. Because of all the generous donations I received when raising support for my 9-month long trip, I was able to leave some money for other programs at the Refuge. I allocated a certain chunk for a day trip to the beach for the girls who passed their tests; they waited until I came to visit so I could go with them. We had a blast.

Tanya (5) and Zuyen (1) are the daughters of Ceci and Karen, two of my former students who passed their math exams.

We stopped to see the crocodiles in a river on the way over

(don't worry -- they were far from the beach!)

Cuties.

Ana Cecilia was raped by her step-father until she had Tanya when she was seventeen.

She said that having her daughter was the hardest and best decision of her life.

Although it was freezing in San Jose, the beach was gorgeous and warm.

That girl...

Mercedes is a sixteen-year-old who just learned how to read.

She had never seen the ocean and was literally shaking as she beheld it for the first time.

Lorena held her trembling hands in hers and said, "What do you think of it?"

Mercedes smiled and whispered, "It's just as I've always drawn it."

Yendry (far left) was a new student who had just begun as I was about to leave and has been doing very well academically. Carmen (middle) and Lorena (right) are the two cooks who I always talk about and love to infinity and beyond.

Our bus driver ignored my advice about saying "Uno, dos, tres!" when taking a picture.

This is the result.

- Hannah

PS The quote of the day comes from my favorite Christmas carol.

"No vamos a la iglesia, somos la iglesia."

Today, I...

saw my family's faces on skype -- Happy Birthday Papi! Good Henry story (there's a million of these): my brother found my dad's glasses and wrapped them up and gave them as a birthday present. When it comes to families, I REALLY lucked out. I've only been gone a week and I am far more homesick than I anticipated...Christmas does that to ya.

learned some more Spanish grammar from my host mom. Luckily seven months away from this place hasn't really affected my language skills, but I'm still extremely fortunate to have a teacher who lives with me (I've been saying that since my birth).

realized that this trip has been fantastic and I am so blessed to see people who mean so much to me, but I most likely will not be returning here for a while. This is not just because my travel has suddenly become a nightmare (because of a missed flight, my ticket had to be paid for twice...and then some), but also because I am looking for permanence. During my entire senior year of highschool, graduation was looming and I knew there was a ticking lock on my time with the people that I love. Going into my gap year, I knew I only had nine months to foster these relationships. Then I was back in Anacortes for the summer -- a single season -- and finally I landed in Chicago, a place that has no expiration date. Looking at the week I've spent here and the week I have left, I wouldn't change this trip for anything. I'm just realizing these short visits probably won't happen again. As I've said before, a huge part of my heart belongs in this place so I know I will return, but I've come to understand that Costa Rica is place where I live, not a place I visit.

smiled at the array of produce now in our kitchen that you can't find in the US!



- Hannah

PS Today's quote comes from my pastor's sermon (some of you had heard that he looks like Voldemort. It's true, but he has really great things to say). It means "We don't go to church, we are the church."

"Most good things have been said far too many times and just need to be lived."

Today, I...

saw the premature throng of Costa Ricans anticipating the Festival de la Luz. This Christmas chaos is the country's Macy's parade. It took me nearly three hours to get home.

realized I did not miss this (yes, in my house):


learned that I'm becoming much more proficient at teaching. Today I was in charge of the Saturday craft and we quickly whipped up origami ornaments. I've taught these girls how to make cranes three times in my life, and today's activity took forty minutes less than usual.

smiled as I spent time with Don Horacio (an Argentian pastor who baptized my brother and came to visit Anacortes this summer), and later laughed with my extended host family around a feast of plantains, tortillas, fresh bread, cilantro-concentrated salad, and a bowl of canned fruit/jell-O/ice cream. I love it here.

- Hannah

PS Today's title is a quite by my man Shane Claiborne. Another one I love: "To refer to the Church as a building is to call people 2 x 4's."

"Roll away your stone, I'll roll away mine."

Today, I...

saw all the Christmas lights in San José. It made me remember this night:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=riM5N-a4Dks

realized that I had a ton of time to process things on the bus. Every day, I commuted an hour and a half to La Carpio and an hour and a half back. This was a great way to reflect, pray, and conjure up Harry Potter camp. I miss having those hours to myself.

learned that I just might be the only gringa on the planet who likes papaya.

smiled when I took some pre-wedding photos of Kimi and Jraul. It's so wonderful taking pictures of people who are so in love -- their faces are constantly glowing!

- Hannah

PS The title of this post is from the song "Roll Away Your Stone" by Mumford and Sons. Check it out if you haven't.

PPS When I was here as a seventh-grader, my father mentored a fifteen-year-old boy named Mario who now attends the University of Costa Rica on a full scholarship for mathematics. He took my spot teaching seventh grade algebra and every single one of his students passed their government exam. I offered to take pictures of him in his new element: skateboarding.

So I'm back...

As many of you know, I am currently back in Costa Rica for two weeks. A young woman who previously lived with my host family is getting married on December 18th and I have the privilege of taking her wedding pictures!

I can't promise that I will post every night on this trip, but I figured that since I'm here, I might as well update.



Today, I...

saw a woman wearing a shirt that said "Beauty is in the eye of the beerholder." She was at least 7 months pregnant.

realized how much I had missed conversations with my host family. They truly are beautiful people.



learned that Nazareth, a 16-year-old who had her baby Jeremy two weeks before I left (meaning I was present for almost her entire pregnancy), has become involved in violent activity and now lives with a gang leader. His life, along with hers, was threatened so the two of them moved to another province. She left Jeremy with her mom and is rumored to be pregnant again.

smiled when I learned that I will be going to the beach on Tuesday with the seven girls who passed their tests!


- Hannah

PS Just downloaded the 30-day photoshop free trial...what do you think?

Day 18.

I meant to share this a while ago, but neglected to. If you'd like to hear the message I shared at my church two weeks ago about my time in Costa Rica, click this link:

http://wpcanacortes.com/component/option,com_sermonspeaker/Itemid,13/id,10123/task,singlesermon/

God bless,

Hannah

Day 1.

Today, I...

saw many of my friends for the first time in nine months.

missed Costa Rica.

realized I am going to miss this community when I leave it again in four months.

learned that it's not all that hard to pick up where you left off.

smiled when I began reading my blog for the first time.

- Hannah

PS Some people have been asking me if I'm going to keep up with this blog. The answer is no. It was a great way to process my experience in Costa Rica as it happened, but I'm ready to end that chapter of my life. I will continue with my "Why I Love My Life" blog, so feel free to check that out every once in a while.

PPS God bless.

Day 255.

Today, I...

saw how much I mean to these people and how much they mean to me.

missed associating the word "tomorrow" with Costa Rica.

realized I am going to miss daydreaming about Washington.

learned what it feels like to have some one sob in your arms.

smiled when I saw God in the sun -- the same sun that shines all over our planet.

-Hannah

Day 253.

Sorry for not writing for such a long time -- my final week here has been incredibly packed full of amazing memories that I'm glad I'm making before I leave. Let me list a few of them here. Within this last week, I...

• Learned that at this point, we know for sure one girl passed her math test, two are on the fence, one we're pretty sure didn't pass, and another we haven't heard from. Unlike the SAT's and AP's that I'm used to, students are allowed to take their test booklets directly home with them, so teachers can see what they marked and review their answers immediately.
  
• Visited the house of Griselda, one of my students who has had me for every class I teach. She lives with her mother, three siblings, sister-in-law, and her brother's four kids. The roof came up to my nose and in every picture I took with her, I look like I have a severe case of scoliosis. Her mom served us atól: a boiled concoction of flour, water, sugar, and cinamon sticks that is then chilled to an almost gritty gelatin. Basically it looks like paste in a mug.
• Listened to the guard at CFCI's educational building talk about all the murders he's seen take place while he worked. Many of them happened at six or seven in the morning/evening and the killer walked away with a new cell phone, a thousand colones (about two dollars), or some times nothing at all.
  
• Sat in on the La Carpio Sunday School Band practice; two girls and four guys have been playing together for the past few months (the girls are both from the Refuge and I've known the boys since they were all ten). The sound has always been a little...off. Finally I asked Axel, the guitarist, when he last tuned his electric guitar. He hadn't. Let's just say it made quite the difference.
  
• Spent the night at Lorena's house on Tuesday night. Lorena is one of the cooks in the Refuge and I remember receiving many bear hugs from her as a twelve-year-old. Her home (like Carmen's) has a constant flow of teenage boys passing through -- her son, her daughter's boyfriend, her nephew who lives with them, and two other nephews who live down the street. The whole lot of us feasted on pupusas (a traditional meal from her native El Salvador -- a masa based dumpling filled with cheese, beans, and chicken, then flattened into a patty and grilled. SUPER DELICIOUS). Afterwards, I started asking her a little bit about her life in El Salvador and she showed me a documentary about the war that started a year after her birth and ended a year before she left. The documentary was in Spanish, except for the occasional clip cut directly from the 1985 Frontline documentary -- Mommy, we're watching that when I get home -- and I learned that in a decade and a half, an estimated 75,000 people died, Lorena's uncles and cousins among them. She remembered how her dad would surround their kitchen table with couches, cover it in cushions, and how her entire family would sleep in what my brothers and I would mistake for a home-made fort. "You see," she said to me, "bullets don't go through pillows." In the mornings, she and her siblings would poke their heads out, make sure no one was firing, and collect the bullet shells burried along their home. When I asked her how she slept during all of that firing, she looked at me blankly: "Hannah, sleep comes to those who are exhausted." The next morning, Carmen, Lorena, and I were going for a walk around the fields at New Horizons when I brought up what we had been discussing the night before. Carmen, Lorena's best friend of nearly ten years, had never heard any of these stories. I listened to one friend tell another about watching an entire basketball court of innocent men and women be shot and raped. The only reason Lorena made it out was because one of the guerilla fighters (a boy of fourteen) recognized her and her brother and told them to run up a mountain before anything started. Or about the time when she witnessed a beheading by machete and how the body stumbled for a few meters, eyes lolled, and blood ran as if it was hooked up to a hose. Lorena has held onto that memory since she was twelve-years-old.
  
• Rode in the back of a truck for the last time in a while I believe.
• Had a short visit in the home of Yancy, one of my other students. I added up all my house visits, and I know I've reached at least ten. That doesn't seem like a big deal, but to be invited into some one's home is such an honor here. On the way to her house, Yancy suggested we visit Kassandra's home (Kassandra is one of my math students who refuses to let me take her picture). Kassandra was walking with us and I automatically expected a blushed shake of her head saying no, but to my joyful surprise, she agreed. We ventured into her teeny three room apartment -- there was a living room, a room for her parents, and a pair of bunkbeds for her and her siblings. They all share a communal bathroom and kitchen with other families.
• Got absolutely drenched in a terrible terrible rainstorm. Good thing I'm leaving just as the rainy season is starting up.
• Was prayed for by Kellie (the short term director who I stayed with my first night here), and Don Horacio, the Argentinian pastor who invited me to help with the Christmas dinner for San Jose's homeless. He told me that last week, he spent a night on the streets with the people he ministers to. They watched his back as if he was one of their own.
• Went out to eat with Kellie and Brenna (another short term missionary who is leaving two days after I am). We scarfed down a ridiculous helping of horchata and a delicious pineapple and meat dish.
• Watched "Once" with Kathy, Brenna, and Megan. I had never seen that entire movie before -- there's something so raw and real about music.
• Enjoyed a paseo -- day trip -- with the girls who presented their exams and a handful of teachers. We experienced a covered pool, relaxing sauna, tons of barbecued meat, eating cake without utensils, a fun round of "Roller Coaster", and my favorite part: when Carmen spent an hour picking out the dead lice eggs that still cling to my hair. Yes, this was done in public. Without shame.
• Got to hold baby Yitsuly, the week-old daughter of Grethel, one of my best friends from when I used to live here. She's so beautiful, constantly smiling and showing off her mother's dimples. Karen (one of my students who happens to be Grethel's cousin) came with me and the three of us held that living, breathing being that had only days before never even seen the sun.
• Spent the night one last time at Carmen's house. All in all, there were 13 of us -- every single person shared a bed with some one -- and I can't even tell you how many times I swore I was going to wet myself I was laughing so hard. Luckily we caught most of it on my camera, so maybe some of you will see what I'm talking about, but I know no one will find it as hilarious as I did. This morning when I woke up at 5:30 (thank you roosters, radio, and airplanes), I got up to go to the bathroom and saw that Cesar, Carmen's husband, had already left for work. Carmen peeped her head out of her blankets and I smiled, thinking about all the times she told me about how her kids (all teens now) will still crawl into bed with her. As if she knew exactly what was going through my head, she pulled back the sheets and patted the empty half of the mattress. I curled up in her thick, dark Nicaraguan arms as she fell back asleep. The rest of the boys were still in bed and while I knew that one day, hopefully sooner than later, I would be back in this home with these people, that it would never be the same as that instant. I know God has many more blessings to surprise me with (which is hard for me to grasp -- He's already thrown so many my way already), but the fact is, this time in my life is over. The poster board that all of Carmen's sons and their friends signed for me rested on the concrete floor and I looked at each name. Axel will have to work soon. Jeffry hopefully will make it out of Carpio to study some where else. Oskar will probably go to school back in the States where his dad is. The seven-year-old Jose won't make puppy sounds for that much longer. Statistically, at least one of the eight boys who signed their names will most likely be a dad the next time I'm in La Carpio. I remember having the same realization last year right about this time -- I'm leaving my friends. Yes, there will be emails and skype calls and letters and later visits, but we all will change. I'm leaving them as I know them and I'm leaving myself as they know me. Tomorrow none of us will be the same. While Carmen's soft Saturday morning snores settled onto my shoulder, one healthy tear made its way from my heart into the fibres of her home.
  
• Remembered that when I left La Carpio last time, I held a six-year-old Valesky (Carmen's only daughter) in my arms and wept at the thought of never getting to watch her grow up. Funny, isn't it, how God put her back in my life now that she is the exact age I was when I last saw her?

I know next time I'm here, new memories will be waiting for me.
- Hannah

Day 247.

Today, I...

saw my host mom deal someone the finger as we drove to our family picnic up in the mountains. While it's not nearly as offensive here as it is in the States, it still made me gasp/chuckle as I realized that even after living with some one for 8 months, they can still throw you for a loop.

missed being in a place where I don't wake up with unknown bites covering my body every morning.

realized I am going to miss Sunday drives with my host family. There's nothing like warm valley air riding on the backs of Danilo Montero lyrics, making your eyes water as they try and take in all the sounds and smells that lazily zoom past your open window.

learned that I still have a ways to go with my Spanish...I played pictionary with my host siblings (in-laws included) and had a tough go of things.

smiled when I wrote my "to-do" list for the week, looked down when I finished, and only then realized I had written the entire thing in Spanish. Maybe I am making progress after all.

- Hannah

Day 246.

Today, I...

saw that maybe my creative juices haven't run dry after all! Megan, Brenna, and I accomplished a sweet little graffiti project in a park near my house (pictures posted later). Later, I spent my afternoon sketching one of my favorite portraits of Tanya that I think turned out pretty well. It'll make a great going away present for her mom at least.

missed my hot tub...

realized I am going to miss my host dad so so much. He keeps hinting about how he's going to shed some tears when we part.

learned that we aren't going to the beach after all... In standard tico culture protocol, when I showed up at my front door at 1 pm, overnight bag in tow, my host mom said, "Oh, didn't you know? Your host dad has to work late and Raquel has to pick up her driver's permit." We are, however, going to have a picnic with the entire family tomorrow -- supposedly.

smiled when I got some sun today. Maybe I won't come home white after all!

- Hannah

PS I can't believe I said anything about this earlier. My high school back in the States is taking part in an incredibly sweet music video competition. Check out what they made and vote for them here: http://goskagit.upickem.net/engine/welcome.aspx. We're only 100 votes behind Sedro!

Day 243.

Today, I...

saw Nazareth's baby for the first time! Little Jeremy was born three days ago and is a teeny bean of a being. Naza lives in a semi-sketch part of La Carpio (it's the entrance to what's known as La Cueva or "The Cave"), so I was accompanied by two of my other students. The beautiful thing is that both of them also have their own children; Karen has one-year-old Suyen and Ceci has four-year-old Tanya. I felt so out of place, but so honored, to be included in their conversations about childbirth, hospital rooms, and crying the first time they saw their children.

missed my mom's baked sweet potatoes.

realized I am going to miss getting the ghetto-hello-nod from busdrivers in Carpio. Anacortes is such a close-knit community -- I loved being able to walk anywhere and have people greet me by name, often by people I didn't even recognize. The same thing is happening where I work. Whenever I meander down the dusty garbage roads, little girls will leap into my long arms, parents will ask how their daughters are doing in my ukulele choir, younger siblings scream my name from across the street. I've become a part of this place.

learned that my host family is going to take me to the beach this weekend! It's my host dad's birthday on Sunday and my host mom wanted me to make it to the Pacific Ocean one last time (I gently reminded her that I live on the Pacific Ocean, but she then gently reminded me that I cannot swim in my Pacific Ocean).

smiled when I began planning which treasured belongings I'd leave with each girl who gave me a piece of her heart.

- Hannah

PS Enjoy. :)

Day 242.

Today, I...

saw that I've been here for eight months today. For those of you who think eight months is a long time, it really isn't. For those of you who think eight months isn't that long, it really is. The rainy season has come and gone and come again. Shoes have gone out of style, hair has grown. Babies have been born, first steps have been taken. Spanish has been learned and Calculus forgotten. My brothers have grown taller. I've grown wider. The sun sets in a different spot on the horizon. Memories have faded and others have taken their place. I've changed. I've been changed.

missed hanging up cords in Mr. Thompon's digital media room. It's a strange thing how pieces of your life fling themselves back at you when you least expect it, like hearing Shaggy's "You're My Angel" blasting out of a shoe store and thinking of the fourth grade Valentine's dance.

realized I am going to miss this state of transition. This year for me has been such a great step -- now I'm about to go make a much more permanent home in Chicago come September. I like the limbo though; it's a lot of looking back and gazing forward.

smiled as my heart split and swallowed up all my homesickness. Little Tanya, the daughter of one of my students (she's wearing a crown in a photo I posted recently), flew up to me, latching her skinny arms around my neck and smothering my cheek in a sticky lollipop kiss. I held onto that moment, wrapped it in a fragile lining of simple smiles, and laid it down next to other things I carry within me. Wrenched back to reality, I broke the news to Tanya.

"Tengo que irme en dos semanas. I'm leaving two weeks from today."
"¿Pero por que? But why?"
"I need to work. I need to study."
She looked at me, her elbows hugging my neck, fingers toying with the sun-bleached frizz-curls at the nape of my scalp. All her movement stilled as my reflection grew in her brightening cow eyes. The wisdom of children radiated from her.
"Why don't you just stay and study here at the Refuge?"

- Hannah

Day 241.

Today I...

saw a kid in Carpio wearing a Seattle Sonics jersey. That made my heart hurt a little.

missed the sea and the part of me squeezed between the magazines in the library.

realized I am going to miss looking out the bus window after my classes, passing my girls as they run in between the raindrops on their way home. I'm going to miss the way they smile up at me and wave their goodbyes until I come back the next day. In two weeks, there won't be a next day.

learned that my students don't get their test results back until May 14! The test itself is this Sunday, and I'm feeling pretty good about it. We finished all the material on Friday and are having a pretty intense review. For two of my students, it will be the third time they've taken this test.

smiled when I taught the girls how to play Mafia. Brought back so many memories as I simultaneously made new ones.

- Hannah

Day 240.

So this is it. The end.
I leave two weeks from Tuesday -- I hope this gives you a glimpse of how hard it will be for me to say goodbye:

Day 239.

So I'm not sure if you all can view this yet (sometimes youtube takes a while to process), but here's something I thought I'd share:



One final Video Update should be up this weekend...
- Hannah

Day 238.

Within the last week, I have had several experiences that make me realize how God is teaching me to value this place for everything it is -- the good, the bad, and the in between. There is no where else like it on earth.

Let me share a few happenings:

As I got off the bus today in Carpio, a school-uniformed girl leaped out of her mother's embrace and flew to me. She flung her arms around my waist, pressed her head into my gallo-pinto-filled stomach, and just as quickly dashed back to hide herself in her mother's arms. I never saw her face. I have no idea who she was.

Two days ago I was watching the news with my family when a story about a protest at the University of Costa Rica came on. I watched as policemen brutally beat enraged professors and students; they kept playing the same clip of a man getting his mouth bloodied until he spat out teeth.

Earlier that morning, I was running late to work and got to the bus stop just as the bus took off. Another woman had done the same and we began small talking. Did I speak Spanish? Yes. Was I a student? No. Was I a Christian? Yes...how did she know? She could "just tell." She began talking about her faith, how she had gone to church until five years ago when her now ex-husband began sleeping with another woman in her congregation. How could God do that? Wasn't she doing the right thing, being in His house? Didn't He know what heartbreak felt like? Before I knew it, this tired woman was crying in front of me -- I had known her for all of two minutes and her bruised spirit was breaking down. I had no words of comfort, no easy answers. I asked if I could pray for her. The two of us held hands and hearts as we clung to the only similarity between us: a God that loves abnormally tall gringas and fragile ticas.

During class today, blue skies hid themselves and we were in the middle of quite possibly the worst rainstorm I have experienced yet. Lightning and thunder struck almost simultaneously and the tin roof made it pointless to try and bellow instructions to my students. As the rain lightened, class ended and I went out the gate with Katherinne, Karen, and her baby Suyen under my umbrella. Katherinne asked me if I had every slipped and fallen because of the rain and I told her that although I was an American (and thus quite the klutz), I had never wiped out due to the weather. Less than two minutes later, as we joked about baby names and long days, I lost my footing and plunged shin-deep into a drainage ditch. That sounds gross enough, but let me kindly remind you this was a drainage ditch in La Carpio -- the stagnant rainwater is an opaque black from motor oil, dust, kilograms of garbage, and I don't want to know what else. As if that wasn't enough, my foot got caught and my knee scraped against the slick street; I was a muddy bloody mess. Katherinne whisked me into her home three blocks away where her mother cleaned my wounds with cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol. While the stinging stopped, I sipped on warm milk and watched a vomit-inducing romance reality show with Katherinne, her five siblings, cousin, mother, and Karen with baby Suyen in tow. At that moment I wondered how I can ever dream of leaving this place.

A woman on the mission team from Kathy's church also has a D90 and she graciously let me borrow a lens of hers for the day. Here are some photos I took:








- Hannah

Day 237.

So I was sifting through my external hard drive when I found these photos that I took during my first few weeks here...hope you enjoy them as much as I did. :)
-Hannah

Day 236.

So as you all know, my beloved iBook G4 went to laptop heaven two weeks ago. Because of this, Megan (another volunteer here) generously offered to let me borrow her MacBook Pro for ten days while she was with a team from her church in the States.

YES.

I can't explain what a blessing this has been for me. I was able to update my "Why I love my life" blog with my less hassle, I have access to my footage/photos on my external harddrive, and I got to see my family for the first time in four and a half months! You see, my laptop didn't have a webcam built in...

Anyways, all this skyping with friends and overdosing on facebook has made me begin to really realize that I'll be back in the States in three short weeks. My bicycle will be waiting for me, I'll be living with a mother who believes in a healthy diet, the Pacific ocean will wake me up every day, and I'll be able to stay out past 5:30. All of those things seem so close, so tangible -- so missed.

Then of course, God reminds me about here. About now.

The team from Kathy and Megan's church put on a tea for the girls today. They were given Little Debbies, photos of themselves, and a single red rose. To return their incredible acts of love, the girls and I sang the songs that I've taught them.

As I heard my own voice get swallowed up by my students', my throat started to swell shut. Suddenly it hit me:

This hurt, this homesickness, this longing in my heart for that place that I left behind -- in 21 days, I'll be feeling that all over again. Except this time, I'll be missing Costa Rica.

- Hannah

Day 233.

Today, I...

saw my family's beautiful faces for the first time in four and a half months! My laptop has never had a webcam, and now that it's dead, it doesn't even matter. However, my friend Megan (another volunteer down here) is spending the next week and a half with a team from her church and asked if I'd like to use her laptop during that time. Would I ever! THANK YOU MEGAN!

missed the Rutz family!

realized I am going to miss the days when I come home and tell my host mom that my tummy is upset. What does she do? Grab a spoonful of shortening and massage my arms. Some how that's supposed to calm my stomach.

learned what bull testicles look like (mind you I didn't learn what they taste like).

smiled when I realized a huge advantage of these final days. Although counting down can be agonizingly slow, it only makes every moment last longer -- something I'm consciously trying to make happen.

- Hannah