Hope and Healing in Costa Rica

I hope you enjoy this short story I wrote at the Southern Christian Writers Conference. I had a vivid dream and awakened to grab my computer and begin writing. I tried to capture the vivid emotions of the dream as I wrote. I pray it blesses you!

Costa Rica is filled with beautiful places—photo by Marty Hand.

Our Return to Costa Rica

As the airplane neared Juan Santamaria International Airport in San Jose, I looked down at the sprawling city below me. Six years ago. Robert and I left everything to move to Costa Rica for language school. Excitement that God had chosen us to be missionaries to Medellin, Colombia, filled us. Would our hearts ever soar with joy again? I wiped away a tear asking myself for the millionth time, “How did it all go so wrong?”             

               My faithful husband of 20 years squeezed my hand as he saw my tears. I knew his hurt was like a knife turning in his gut whenever he thought about that last meeting with the mission team. “Robert,” team lead Ben had said, “we just don’t think you are cut out for ministry.” Not cut out for ministry? He’d been a pastor for 8 years before being called to Columbia. To make matters worse, the 5-page letter they wrote demeaning his character went to all our supporters.

                “Daddy,” asked 8-year-old Emily, “how long can we stay in Costa Rica?”

                “We’ll just have to see,” my husband replied. We wondered the same thing ourselves.

                The pilot landed the plane smoothly, and soon we were in the busy airport. I grabbed Emily’s hand, and Robert took 11-year-old Drake’s hand. Suddenly, Drake spotted his best childhood friend, Joe Joiner. They were just 5 when they met at Sojourn Academy at the Spanish Language Institute. Our families became best friends, bonding over verb tenses and the subjunctive voice.  In excitement, Drake and Joe jumped up and down like a pair of Mexican jumping beans.

Last week the Joiners called to invite us to stop by San Jose on our way home. “We could use your help with our upcoming English camp,” Stan said. “Please consider staying with us for a week or two.” We had spent many evenings around the table with these dear friends studying and sharing our hopes and dreams for our future ministries.

Stan and his wife Amelia greeted us with hugs and smiles. For a moment I felt something akin to happiness again. “Wendy and Robert,” they exclaimed, “it’s so good to see you! Emily and Drake, look how big you’ve gotten! You all must be hungry and tired. Let’s get you fed and to bed.” They corralled us, our kids, and our luggage, guiding us quickly through the airport to their waiting van.

The Healing Begins

English camp began the next day, so we had no time to think about the future or feel sorry for ourselves. Seeing the excitement of the teens and college students from the Joiner’s church plant in San Pedro reminded Robert and me again why we had answered God’s call to missionary service. At the same time, it made the ache of leaving our beloved Colombia even deeper.

Thursday afternoon I slipped off for a walk through the verdant garden.  I breathed in the fragrant jasmine blooming on the trellis and prayed, “Father, restore the joy of my salvation. I trust Your plan completely and know that You will guide us.”

By the time the closing worship celebration Friday evening was over, everyone felt the contented exhaustion of a job well done.  “Wendy,” Robert asked as we lay in bed that night, “Do you think God can ever use us again?” His voice broke as he continued, “This week I felt alive working with my small group of students. Their eagerness to learn and openness to the Gospel thrilled me.”

“Honey, I felt hopeful for the first time since that awful letter. I know one thing for certain: God called us to ministry. Our team in Medellin wasn’t a good fit. But we let the enemy rob us of all our hope and joy.” Snuggling closer I added, “I don’t know what He plans for us next, but after this week, I’m getting excited about whatever it is.”

An Incredible Surprise

The next morning over our Costa Rican breakfast of fried plantains, rice, and beans, Stan made a surprising announcement. “Robert, I need an associate pastor to help me with the student ministry at Iglesia Cristo Redentor. I watched you with those kids this week; I know you are the perfect man for the job.”

I saw my husband’s eyes fill with tears. “I would love that, but the letter our Colombian team wrote to our supporters slashed our support by over 50%.”

“I thought about that,” Stan replied, “Two of our supporting churches know how desperately we need the help and have set aside the funds for your support if you want the job.” As Robert sat there stunned, Stan turned to me, “Wendy, I know your team in Colombia didn’t support your work as a lactation consultant.” I nodded remembering sadly how they had dismissed my work, saying nobody in Medellin would need help with breastfeeding. He continued, “We have a pediatrician in our church who can’t wait to get you on board at their hospital to help them become Baby Friendly.”

Amelia chimed in, “I’ve done a little house-hunting, and after breakfast, I’d like to take you down the street to see a house I think you might like.”

“Does this mean we get to stay in Costa Rica?” asked Drake. “Please say ‘yes,’ Mom and Dad!”

Emily echoed, “Please, please, please say ‘yes’!

Joe added, "My mom and dad need you guys here. Say you'll stay!"

Laughing out loud, Robert and I looked at each other, tears glistening in our eyes. “I kept telling myself over the last month that the joy of the Lord would be my strength,” he said. “And I tried to give Him thanks through my pain. But I never dreamed He would fill me again with so much joy this quickly.”

“I take it that’s a ‘yes,’” Stan laughed.

“It absolutely is!” Robert replied. Then he lifted his hands as we bowed together around the table, “Father, thank you for seeing our hurt, for loving us in the midst of our pain, and for once again giving us such deep joy in this journey.”