Buenas

Buenas,

The official greeting of the morning. We are staying in an Airbnb in downtown San Jose for the week before we head to San Pedro for our dog/cat sitting duties. As part of the room we also get breakfast in a Soda two doors down the street.  This particular soda, small local eatery, is run by a lady and her mother from Nicaragua.

Our first morning here started out with a major concern, I could not find my passport.  I had used it when we checked in and now it was missing.  We tore the room and all of our luggage apart and still no luck.  I told my husband we needed to go eat first and then we could retrace our steps after we had checked in.

The night before we had dropped off our bags and then hit the streets to take a quick look around.  We had stopped at the bakery on the corner for empanadas and then wandered down the street to the supermarket.  It had a restaurant on the second floor where I got a batido, a local drink made from fresh fruits. We knew if the passport had been dropped on the street it was long gone, but inside a business someone may pick it up and keep it for us.

So, breakfast first.  As we walked in the older lady was in the window making tortillas. This made me feel at home. How many times on the Rez did I watch the lovely ladies making tortillas and frybread? Plus, growing up in Arizona, tortillas are always a major food group, in and of themselves. I haltingly used my limited Spanish and ordered breakfast and we sat down to eat.

Let me say, it seems the café con leche is always the best in the little hole in the wall establishments and this was no exception.  We had a desayuna tipica, typical breakfast of pinto gallo or rice and beans, egg, cheese and plantains.  It was good but hard to enjoy knowing that we would have to hit the streets to ask about my passport.

As we were finishing eating the lady had finished with making her tortillas, so she sat to rest and took out her harmonica and began playing. She would play for a while and then sing for a while.  I started picking out some of the words she was singing and realized she was singing a worship song.  And I could tell that the song was from her heart, that it meant a great deal to her.

I sat there finishing my coffee and smiling and even getting a little teary eyed. Here I was in a foreign country, possibly facing a mountain of government red tape and my Jesus was letting me know that it was alright, I was not alone. He had beautiful believers for me to encounter to keep my heart at peace.

As we left, I walked over to the lady and told her how much I liked her song and blessed her. Or at least I hope that is what I said.  I am pretty sure I was able to convey the sentiment because yesterday when we stopped in for a tamale she came over and started talking to me quite rapidly. I think what she was saying is that Holy Spirit had confirmed to her that we were also believers.

What a great God we serve!!!

Dios les bendiga…God bless you

BTW…it turned out after we went unsuccessfully to our two stops from the night before, I text the manager of our room.  We waited to hear back from her for over an hour while I was researching online the steps we would have to take with the American Consulate. She text back to say the passport had been left in the copier the night before and she was bringing it to me. Hallelujah!!!