First Moments in a New Land

Well I'm here...I actaully did it. I moved to another country! All who know me say that they are not surprised that I have embarked on such an adventure...yet somehow, I, the main character in this unlikely story, find myself quite amazed at where God has led me...all the way to Costa Rica!

I cried as I watched my best friend face disappear around the corner while the attendant wheeled me down the jetway. I cried as I stepped on to the airplane and the stewardess wished me a "Happy New Year." I cried as I sat in first class (a surprise upgrade, thank you Lord), waiting to leave behind the familiar.

My dad preached a sermon this weekend about "getting out" of where you're at...the rut, the norm, what's comfortable...and allowing God to do a new work in you. His message couldn't have been more timely...for that's just what I have done. I've gotten out...WAY out...of what's safe and secure to me to follow what I can describe as no more than a strong impression in my heart.

Why Costa Rica? To learn Spanish. Why learn Spanish? Not sure at all. And this not knowing EXACTLY why God has called me to immerse myself in a culture to learn another language has made my first moments here a little more scary and exciting...all at the same time.

So back to the plane ride...I left Seattle and flew into Houston. There I met a couple who are not Costa Rican natives, but currently reside there. I sat in front of them on the flight...I sat next to another couple who kept me laughing pretty hard during the first half hour of our trip, begging them not to "get me going," for fear we'd be asked to "quiet down." Those who know my laugh would understand this...

I was helped off the plane by a Costa Rican named Oscar who spoke hardly any English. We made a likely pair with his 5 words of English and my 5 of Spanish! But we managed...and as he wheeled me through a small portion of the airport it took everything in me not to cry.

I had to keep telling myself to breathe deep..."God is with me," I told myself, clinging to this truth to keep me from losing it right there in the airport. For there I was, surrounded by people who speak Spanish, realizing that the "lost" feeling I was experiencing would be the norm for more than just a few days!

Oscar asked, "Taxi?" and I replied simply, "No, amigos." We came around a corner and there stood an extremely intimidating crowd of Ticos, holding up signs with names on them. I searched frantically for mine and did not see it...at first. But just when I was about to start crying I saw it...a small piece of cardboard with the letters D-A-N-Y-A-L printed in permanent marker on it. A wave of relief swept over me...I was going to be okay. This man spoke English!

We loaded the car and drove to his home, where I met his wife and two small and stunningly beautiful daughters, Avigail and Ella (and yes, I mean Avigail, not Abigail). He kept talking to me and asking me questions, which was good because it kept my mind off of the fear I was feeling.

They left me alone for a couple of hours to shower and make a couple of calls to the States, which I desperately needed and appreciated. Then we went to another American family's home for an amazing dinner (cheese soup...yum), after which we spent hours playing Nerts.

All in all, it hasn't been a bad day. I haven't slept in nearly 40 hours, and the reality of where I am and what I'm doing hasn't quite set in yet, but I am here. I am in Costa Rica and God is here...with me.

Tomorrow I will move into my Tica home, where English is not spoken. Pray for this. And I will certainly let you know how it's going...

I must try and get some sleep. Gracias por sus oracionnes...thank you for your prayers (I think). Buenos noches.