The neighborhood we visit is called Cinco Esquinas. Yesterday we walked down there in order to pick up some kids to play soccer. As we were walking, it started to lightly sprinkle. Despite this fact, we kept on going, thinking that it would at least hold off for a little bit or turn out to be nothing. I went with three of my teammates, and I was the only one who knew enough Spanish to speak with the people, so I was tasked with being the translator. We approached the first house, and I told the mother that we were going to play soccer and that her kids could come with us. The boy and girl eagerly came out and joined us, and we continued through the neighborhood to get more kids.
As soon as the two of them were with us, it started to pour. At that point, however, there was no turning back. We had already told their mom that we were going to play soccer, and it was evident that they were very excited about the opportunity to play with us. We ended up with two more girls, and then we began playing a game of soccer in the street.
At first I was worried about vain things like getting my phone wet or being soaked from head to toe, but once I realized my foolishness and let it go, I felt free. We played soccer in the sheets of rain that were coming down on us, and it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. How cool is it that I was able to play soccer with these kids in Central America! And the rain just made it 10x better. To think that I might not have had that memory if I would have let my materialistic or selfish desire to stay dry hinder my involvement.
Looking back at it now, it reminds me of the story of Peter walking out onto the water. He began to doubt, but Jesus said merely to come to Him. Like Peter, I began to doubt as soon as it started to sprinkle, but I’m so glad I kept going. This trip has been teaching me how necessary it is for me to put my full trust in God and to know that He will bless me beyond belief if I do just that.
A funny story to wrap this up: as soon as we dropped the kids off back at their homes, my teammates and I began jogging home in the thunderstorm. Now, just imagine if you were a local Costa Rican and you saw four white girls drenched and running up a hill in a torrential downpour. I’m pretty sure the people here got a kick out of that one.
