Honestly blessed.

There are so many things here in Jaco that warm my heart. Sometimes I wonder why God chose to bless me so much. I am blessed every morning when I see the many smiles of the students I work with. I am so blessed by their imagination, creativity, and play. There is a little boy named Delvin who makes me laugh so hard I want to fall out of my chair. Last week he was drawing and coloring with my friend Lisa. The theme was animals and natural resources. Lisa soon discovered that helping a small Costa Rican boy draw animals is difficult if you don’t actually understand him or the language. Delvin, being a bright young boy, decided to translate himself for Lisa as best as he could. He said the name of the animal, acted it out, and mimicked the noise of that animal. This was especially humorous for me because I understood which animal he said before he made the noise. He pretended to be a “pajaro” (by flapping his arms like he was flying,) oinked like a “cerdo", and quacked like a “pato.” You should have seen his face when I asked him what sound a giraffe makes. Every day Delvin makes me laugh and I am so blessed by the laughs we share. Every morning I ride my bike past the most beautiful valley. Sometimes I like to think God made it just for me. It’s so green and in the morning the sun hits it just right and it is simply breathtaking. I love seeing it every day and am reminded of just how much God loves me. A few days ago one of my students Debony asked the teacher if we could have “good morning hugs.” We were sitting in a circle and each child was supposed to take a turn hugging the child on their left. When my turn came to be hugged ALL of the children jumped out of their seats to hug me and tell me good morning. I was so filled with joy. What a wonderful start to my morning. Very few times has my heart felt so warm or loved. This morning we made horse masks. We colored them, cut them out, and tied string to the sides so they would stay in place. Most of the children galloped when they put their masks on. Some just made funny faces. But not Brandon. Brandon put on his mask and proceeded to moo. He wore his horse mask and mooed all morning. It was hysterical. I was enjoying it far too much to teach him how to neigh. It is things like these short stories that reassures just how blessed I really am. There is so much joy around me. There are so many things that truly warm my heart.

But of course, not everything here warms my heart. The fact that I spent Sunday afternoon cleaning with my roommates because our house was INFESTED with maggots did not warm my heart. The heat and constant uncomfortable sweating does not warm my heart. I find my mind full of nagging thought and doubts about my finances or lack thereof. Always wondering if I can really afford to do this. My fatigue, tiredness, and discouragement do not warm my heart. The sheer quantity of all the messed up stuff here in Jaco is so overwhelming. What can I even do? Where could I even start? The dissatisfaction and frustration I feel with myself because I find myself feeling frustrated and discouraged does not warm my heart. I get so down on myself so much for getting frustrated. Why can’t I speak the language? Why can’t I understand them? Why can’t I be more patient? Why am I so tired and discouraged? Why am I not better? A better Christian? A better missionary? A better person? These thoughts do not warm my heart. In fact sometimes, some days, I feel like they’re all I see. And I am no pessimist. I love joy and I love being joyful. And I think is why I am so blessed. Not because I deserve it, but just because God loves me. And my heart is warm. And although I struggle and get frustrated, I am reminded of why I’m here every time I hear a silly boy in a horse mask moo. I am reminded of the joy Lord. This is not a “poor me”or a “Debbie-downer” blog entry. This is a real blog entry. This is an honest blog entry. Because this is my life. And sometimes I need a written reminder that my blessings exceed my struggles.  Maybe you needed a written reminder too. And I hope this helps.

Philippians 4:4-7 "Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do. Remember, the Lord is coming soon.Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus."

Thoughts on being bad.

“As a technique in therapy, I once looked down a little girl’s throat and declared that there was really a good kid inside. I saw that she had a good heart. ‘Are you sure?’ She asked. ‘Look again!’” – Attaching in Adoption by Deborah D. Gray

I read this passage in a book yesterday and I couldn’t help but be touched by it. “…..there was really a good kid inside.” I work with kids at risk. It’s difficult and even after only a month, I find myself getting discouraged at times. I’m only just getting started and I see challenges everywhere. Rowdy and poorly-behaved children. Mean children. Children who have been told all their lives the same thing: That they are bad. When I look at the children that I have been working with, I begin to ask myself some difficult questions. What do these children think of themselves? What have they been told? How do people treat them? What does God think of them? And how will I choose to think of them? I’d like to think that I will be the kind of person who will see the good kid inside. I will tell them to open up and say, “Ahhh,” as I search for the hope and kindness inside of them. That I will look past the shame and the hurt and search for that light and glimmer of the good kid inside. That I will love them as best as I can and choose everyday to be a tangible example of God’s love.

Jose. I met a little boy in a blue striped shirt on Saturday at kid’s club. His name was Jose. He is temperamental, easily frustrated, angry, and most of all violent. I didn’t need much warning that he was “difficult.” Just before craft time he and a boy began fighting and I saw how quickly it would escalate. I ran over, pulled the boys apart, put myself in between them, and grabbed Jose as the other boy ran off. How was I to handle this? It occurred to me that probably every time Jose  made a mistake, he was probably hit or probably even beaten. My guess is that was probably where he learned to fight. He is probably yelled at and told just how bad he really is. Is he ever shown love? How would God want me to handle this situation? I wrapped my arm around him and held him as he pulled away and threw punches. I held  him and said, “Shh…. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.” I held him until the punches stopped and his breathing slowed. When I felt that he had calmed himself down and told him that he had done a good job. I let him run off back towards the crafts without saying a word to me. How often do you think a boy like that gets hugged? Is he less worthy of a hug because the world has deemed him bad? I think not. I made and extra special effort to tell Jose what an artist he was and what an excellent job he was doing on his craft. I hope that my encouragement will stay with him. May I always see that good kid inside. You can pray for Jose. Pray that he will see the good kid inside himself. I honestly believe that it would change his life.

Working with Jose at kid’s club on Saturday is not the only ministry I do. Monday-Friday I work in a kindergarten with ten kids. I love it. The kids are so adorable and so funny. I can’t wait to write all about them. I can’t wait to have time to write all about them. Tuesday through Friday we open up the skate ramp in the afternoons and hang out with the guys who come. Friday night I went out and helped feed some homeless people during the pouring rain. On Saturday I helped out kid’s club (and Jose) and went to youth group. At midnight my friends and I got up and went out to pray for the prostitutes. In my spare time I read books about children at risk and more importantly I read my Bible and relax and spend time with God. It makes all the difference in whether or not I’m able to see the good kid inside like God does. God is good. I hope that my life will be a reflection of that.

First day on the Job.

Imagine a school house. It might look like something you’d see in a picture book.  It’s painted green, not unlike the grass and trees that surround it. There are flowers in planters surrounding the walk ways that lead to the other school rooms that have been happily painted orange. The green school room  for kindergartners is not much more that a rectangular building that stands by itself in the front corner of a very small school yard. The inside is painted blue as if to match the pale blue uniforms worn by the children who learn in this classroom. There are six desks in the three primary colors: red, blue, and yellow, that join together to make a hexagon. There are two little seats at each table. Toys, play dough, paints, and a play house surround the walls of this little one room classroom. There are ten little students with combed hair who great the morning by singing a song saying, “Good morning teacher, good morning teacher, How are you, How are you?” They then continue on to sing the days of the week and months of the year. This week is National Nutrition and Health week in Costa Rica and these four boys and six girls will be spending the rest of the week learning about how and why to eat healthy. When their teacher asked them this morning what is their favorite food, all but one said rice. That little boy told us his favorite food was mango. I am truly in Costa Rica.  I will be spending the next five months with these kids. I am excited for when they learn to love us and tug on our shirts and ask us to play. Most of them seem uneasy at our pale faces. They don’t know us and I honestly cannot remember most of their names. Most seem shy. There’s a boy who just likes to play and have fun. There’s a small boy who yells—for no apparent reason. And there’s a little girl who is fun, and extraverted, and a little bit bossy. She tells the boy who yells what to do and to stop yelling. I imagine she’s something like I would have been at her age. I am excited for what is to come and when I know them all. When the shy child is no longer just a shy child—but a unique and lovable creation of God. I am excited for the funny stories that are to come and for the happy memories that are to come. I am so happy to have this experience although I imagine that it will be hard. There will be days when I am tired and frustrated, but I know this will be one of the most cherished times in my life. How many other people are blessed with this kind of opportunity? 

What's Next. And I'm Stoked!

I've never been to Disney Land. I imagine it is wonderful and something like a wish coming true for any child. You know that feeling you get when you are really excited? I am not a person to hide excitement. I dance, I jump, I shout, I sing. This is the kind of excitement I imagine that children who are fortunate enough to go to Disney Land experience. This is the kind of excitement that I experienced when Leslie told us our next step in Jaco....


I have spent the last two weeks in San Jose, Costa Rica. It's about an hour and a half from where we live in Jaco. We came here for two reasons: Learn Spanish and help out with Metro Ministries. In the morning I would wake up to my Ipod quacking at me and wonder why I ever set my alarm to be the sound of a duck. I would then spend several minutes debating on whether or not I actually wanted breakfast and why breakfast at the San Jose base is served at 6:30 in the morning. The rest of the morning consisted of Spanish class until noon and several cups of coffee. Robbie, Lisa, and I hired a tutor to help us learn Spanish. I learned all of my Spanish in Mexico. I thought I was getting pretty good, and then, I switched countries. For those of you English speakers, the accents are different somewhat like the accents between the USA and the UK are different. If you are from Michigan, the best anology I can give is comparing the accent of someone from the Mitten and a Yooper. Perhaps you can now better indentify with my struggle to adjust. And so I used this time to cram a little more Spanish into my head and try to acclimate best I could to Central American Spanish.


Do you ever meet people who make you say, "Wow,"? Picture Renate Fast. Renate is wow. Renate is a German missionary in Costa Rica. She speaks German, English, and Spanish and almost single handedly runs a children's ministry in three locations throughout San Jose. Not to mention, she's got a pretty cool name (it means 'Born Again" in Latin.) Renate is in charge of Metro Ministries and the Youth With a Mission base here in the capital. Metro Ministries started in the Bronx and our dear Renate has continued it here. I could not tell you the number of kids she works with. Take the number of your fingers and your toes and multiply it by a lot. She works with about that many kids. And so we tried to help her and the ministry out in any way we could. We made animal masks for a drama, pin the tail on the donkey cut-out, and helped put on the program. I think that my favorite aspect of this ministry is that Renate does a thing called visitations. On the days that she is not putting on a program for the kids, she drives out to their neighborhoods to spend time with the kids. She stops by their homes and talks with their mothers. She makes a real effort. You can tell that she cares and through these visitations she really gets to know the kids and what life is like for them outside of the weekly program she puts on. This is the kind of thing I want to do in Jaco.


And so you ask, "What is it that you will be doing in Jaco? What is it you are all excited about?" Let me enlighten you. Robbie and Lisa are my roomies, my friends, encouragers, and my team mates. We will be working along side YWAMers Scott and Leslie Freeman and their ministry in Jaco. And so when Leslie began telling us earlier this week what exactly that means, I'm sure you can imagine how excited I was. Leslie began like this, "Last week I went to go check out a school, that I thought you might be able to help out with. The kids from the poorer community go there and I was thinking you could work at the preschool. But when I arrived I just got a funny feeling, like something wasn't right." At this point, my heart sank. I had just been thinking how great it would be to work with preschoolers! "And sure enough, the people weren't super friendly at the school and they already had enough volunteers," Leslie said and I tried to hide my frown. "But I started praying and asking God what He wanted for you girls! And I remembered another school I had visited about two years ago but I couldn't remember for the life of me where it was!" To make a long story short, Leslie kept praying and God showed her exactly where the school is and they were more than excited to hear about the prospect of three volunteers. And so I start Monday! My team and I will be working in a preschool with ten students. How cool is that? Aren't you excited for me?! It sounds like my kind of kids ministry! I can't wait to tell you all about it. And I really hope to take what I learned these last two weeks in San Jose. I can't wait to get back to Jaco and meet these kids. I feel like a kid headed for adventure at Disney Land. ;)

Thoughts on being white.

A funny thing happened today.
My name is Liz Moss. I am very short. I have dark hair, dark eyes, and darker skin (but only if you leave me out in the sun too long.) I love Mexico. It's my favorite place in the entire world. I was born in Italy, grew up in Petoskey, but I am Mexican at heart. The greatest compliment I receive is when people ask if I'm Latina. Which, to my delight, happens fairly often. Unfortunately, I have to respond, "No," with a big fat pouty frown. I have a wonderful friend. Her name is Alisha. We met in DTS and she is one of my closest friends. She is of German decent. She has blue eyes. She is pretty gosh darn gorgeous, but if you would tell her that directly, she might get a little flushed. Alisha minored in Spanish. If you were to ask me, her heart is probably Mexican too. She speaks Spanish super well.... I have a hard time keeping up with her. But a funny thing happens when we get together in Mexico. If we are with Spanish speakers, they will turn and talk to someone with dark hair and dark eyes regardless of their actual ability to speak Spanish. As you can probably imagine... this is very frustrating. Imagine being written off as not being able to speak Spanish because you have blue eyes when in fact you do speak it and much better than the Americans with brown eyes. Hm..... funny the assumptions we make. Even unconsciencely. So anyway, this morning I was helping out with a GREAT BIG birthday party for the kids of Metro Ministries. I was assisting with cutting the cake for the almost one hundred kids who had come to the party. I was cutting the cake in a home of a neighbor who lives just across the street from where we put on the program. An assistant of Metro Ministries came to help cut the cake as well. She is from Canada and has light skin and freckles. I had just met her that morning on the drive to Santa Ana where the party was to be held. She had spent a good chunk of time in Latin America and therefore spoke Spanish very well. The neighbor lady said (in Spanish), "I think we should check and see if all of the children have had a piece of cake." And the Canadian (who shall remain unamed) replied, "Let me go find out." Now, as you may be able to gather... I understood all of this. And the preceeding conversation... and everything else that had been said. However, the ministry helper turned to me and said, "I'm going to see if all the children have cake." It had been her presumption that because I am from the United States I needed translation. Which would be a valid assumption.... if I fit my stereotype and did not speak any Spanish. And so, in order to be kind and keep me in "the loop" she translated for me. I found this experience interesting. It makes you wonder how often we make false assumptions without any idea of the better. "Don't judge a book my it's cover." I'm sure you've heard the expression. I was never too fond of it. But I am finding it out to be oh so true.... In what circumstances do we make these false assumptions? Is it limited to something as simplistic as the example I gave above? I think not. Do we do it daily? Do we do it with children? Do we sometimes look at a child and judge them. "They are misbehaving. They must need a spanking. That child needs discipline. That is a bad child." Do you ever think this? What if that kid just needs to be loved. What if they just need to know that somebody cares. That you care. That God cares. Maybe we don't just apply this to the screaming kid in the super market. Maybe we judge adults in the same manner. Maybe it's even as innocent as assuming the white girl from Michigan doesn't speak Spanish. It's just a thought. Are we all guilty of this? Perhaps not. But it's a challenge. And so I challenge not to judge a book by it's cover. The content inside may just surprise you.

Comparing San Jose, Mexico City, and Petoskey, Michigan

When I graduated from my Discipleship Training School, I was trying to come up with a few ways to save up money for my Children at Risk School. I was talking with my good friend Alisha from Washington State and asking her for suggestions. "What about taking the bus instead of driving and paying for gas?" Um.... what bus? It then occurred to me that Petoskey is a little bit.... well.... little and there is a lot of variety to be had in the world. And so in this post I intend to explore the difference between Petoskey, Michigan and some of the larger cities in the world that I have visited. Last summer I spent about two weeks in Mexico City during my Discipleship Training School outreach. For the next two weeks I will be in San Jose for my Children At Risk outreach. And Petoskey, Michigan is, of course, my hometown. Let's compare the three shall we?

• When one hears, "Mexico City," they immediately know that I am reffering to the capital of Mexico and the third largest city in the world. When one hears, "San Jose," they will probably guess that it is somewhere in Central America. If they are educated in geography, they may know that San Jose is the capital of Costa Rica. When one hears, "Petoskey, Michigan," the appropriate response is, "Where??"
• The population of Mexico City is about 27 million people. San Jose has about 4 million people. In Petoskey, Michigan we have about 6 thousand people on a good day.
• In Petoskey we say, "Huh?" or "Eh?" In Mexico they say, "?Mande?" In San Jose they say, "?Que?"
• The currency in Mexico is the peso (about 12 to a dollar.) In San Jose we pay with colones (about 500 to a dollar.) In Petoskey, Michigan we have the American dollar with the occasional Canadian penny.
• In Petoskey, you better pray you have a car. In Mexico City, the best way to get around is the subway. In San Jose, buses are the best way to get from point A to point B.
• San Jose has a YWAM base. Mexico City and Petoskey do not.
• In San Jose the taxis are red. In Mexico City the taxis are Volkswagen bugs painted red and gold. In Petoskey, you can call ahead and ask for a taxi only on a few holidays, like New Years (if you're planning on being really hammered.) It's an Astro-van.
•  In Petoskey, our staple foods are fudge and Roast and Toast coffee. In Mexico, they eat tacos. In San Jose, every meal has rice and beans.
• In Petoskey we say, "Cool," or, "That's swell." In Mexico they say, "Chido," "Que Padre," or, "Orale." In San Jose they say, "Chevere," and, "Tuanis."
• There is no Lake in Mexico City or San Jose. In Petoskey, we are blessed to live right on Lake Michigan.
• Spell check knows San Jose and Mexico City. Every time I type Petoskey, a squiggly red line shows up.
• In Petoskey, we have 7-11, in Mexico we go to the OXXO, and in Costa Rica they have AM/PM.
• The weirdest thing about Costa Rica is instead of pointing, they "kiss" in the direction that they are speaking. Rather than pointing a finger they pucker their lips in a general direction.

And there you have it. A basic comparison of three of the greatest cities in the world. (or at least in my opinion.)

On Cultural Norms and Differences.

A short story about acclimating to Costa Rican culture.

The other afternoon I was hanging out in my apartment when I heard, “Leez! Leez!” Lo and behold it was my good friend Warner walking up the stairs and calling my name. (Here my name is Lees, Leez, or Lis. Very rarely is it ever pronounced Liz.) Warner is a Costa Rican who speaks very good English and he was also my staff for the Children at Risk School. So up the stairs comes Warner with a large loaf of bread. I look at him puzzled. “Leez, I brought us bread,” he said as if he lived in my apartment and was coming home from doing the shopping. Confused, and wondering when Warner moved into my apartment, I looked at him and then looked back at the bread. “You brought me bread?” I asked. “Yes, I brought us bread. Because, you know, that’s what we do here in Costa Rica. We eat bread and drink coffee in the afternoons,” he said quite casually. “Oh, that’s brilliant! I love drinking coffee anytime of the day.” And with that, Warner handed me the bread and walked away, headed toward the half pipe. Now I was confused. He brought bread and walked away. Did he want any? Did he want to eat it later? Was it just for my roommates and me? I decided not to think much of it and went back to whatever nonsense I had been up to before. A few minutes later my roommate Robbie walked in and inquired about the bread. I told her what had occurred and asked her what she thought we were supposed to do with it. “I think he’s skating and I’m not sure what the bread is for. Does he want coffee? Are we supposed to make it for him and bring it to him?” I asked her. “I’m not sure,” she said, “Let me go ask him.” A few minutes later she returned and told me that yes indeed, Warner wanted coffee and was expecting it. So Robbie and I made a pot of coffee and informed our Costa Rican friend that the coffee was hot and ready. He joined us in our apartment with a few other friends and we drank coffee and ate bread and jam with cream cheese. I found out later (from a German friend) that in Costa Rica, if you want to have a cup of joe with your friends, you bring them bread. That way you’re not just waltzing into their house uninvited. By bringing bread you are saying, “Hey let’s hang out and have some coffee. And I brought bread so I’m not just mooching off of you and drinking your coffee.” So here in Costa Rica we provide the coffee if you provide the bread. Sounds pretty good right about now doesn't it? 

*Expect more stories like this one in the near future.*