Less than 48 hours before I was scheduled to leave for my trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International, my husband called to share the news that he has choroidal melanoma. Eye cancer. I’d just finished my morning workout when he called, and had a whole day of packing and preparing planned for the day ahead. But as I talked to my husband at the entrance to the gym, I began to feel sick. Literally sick. Packing and preparing for my upcoming trip was urgent, yes. But this was life altering and needed my attention today.

The day before, my husband, Seth, had gone in for a routine eye appointment. He shared with the optometrist that he’d been experiencing constant, but dim strobing lights in the corner of his right eye. She evaluated further, told him he likely had a detached retina, and made him an appointment with an ophthalmologist the following morning at 8:00 a.m. We were told he’d need surgery to repair the detached retina that afternoon, so I was ready for anything the way it was. Little did we know, it wasn’t a detached retina at all. It was eye cancer.

Seth didn’t go into work that day. And I didn’t pack or prepare for my trip as planned. We spent time together. We processed together. We ate lunch together. We called our parents together. We made a few key contacts together. We rested together. And in the evening, we shared the news with the kids together.

Needless to say, by the time Friday came rolling along, I was in panic mode. I now had one day to do what I’d originally planned to do in two days. Not only that, I was battling confusion and emotion related to the fact that I was about to leave on the trip of a lifetime writing on behalf of Compassion International, while also facing the reality of my husband’s cancer.

Immediately following Seth’s diagnosis, the ophthalmologist had contacted Mayo Clinic to see if Seth could be scheduled with one of the nation’s leading doctors in the treatment of eye cancer. Apparently, the doctor hadn’t been taking new patients, but they really wanted to see if there way any way Seth could get in with him. Fortunately, we got in. Well, at least we got penciled in for January 29-30. Our appointments weren’t confirmed, but likely.

My husband and I agreed. While this was absolutely NOT an ideal scenario, there was NO reason for me to cancel my travel plans. The appointments had been penciled in at Mayo. In the meantime, there was nothing we could do but wait. So we decided to proceed. As planned. I would go on the trip with Compassion International and live my dream of writing on behalf of children living in extreme poverty.

So yes, back to that Friday when I was packing and preparing like a maniac. I was non-stop all day long. In fact, it wasn’t until 9:00 p.m. that I finally finished everything and tucked myself into bed. Unfortunately, I’d packed, prepared and worked myself like a maniac so much so that I didn’t get a minute of sleep that night before the trip.

Seth and I refused to let this diagnosis get the best of us. I wanted that to hold true for my trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International, too. So Saturday morning, with zero minutes of sleep in me and a big trip ahead of me, I said good-bye to Seth in the dark of 2:45 a.m. and left to meet family friends who had graciously agreed to drive me to the airport. Later that afternoon in the Miami International Airport, I published a blog post explaining the state of my heart and soul at the start of this trip that meant the world to me. It was vague, but as specific as I could be without revealing the recent eye cancer diagnosis. My goal was to embrace the trip whole-heartedly, so I was bound and determined to keep it free of cancer talk.

The trip was amazing and an honor of a lifetime. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. But I shouldn’t have been surprised when I experienced another near sleepless night mid-way through the trip and wasn’t able to get the day’s blog post published as I’d hoped. I’d come to the end of myself. I was basically a wreck for the first part of a day. I was on this trip to give, yes. But I also needed to learn how to receive. Planning, preparing and executing had been close companions. But now, I really needed to surrender it all. God was clearly at work, transforming me simultaneously and uniquely through my husband’s eye cancer and the trip of my dreams.

It’s been ten days since I returned. We’ve already been to Mayo Clinic for three nights and 2 1/2 days of appointments with doctors. I’ve spent most of the past ten days in a foggy, exhausted state. My emotions have been all over the place. Neutral, angry, sad, distant, distracted, empty, and finally two days ago, back to normal for the most part.

We’ve debated extensively how to share medical updates with family and friends. A Caring Bridge site was recommended, but for a couple reasons, we decided it wasn’t a fit for us. Seth considered starting a blog to document the journey. He even brainstormed titles, had a vision for his posts, and researched available URLs. But he decided the commitment to maintain a blog while managing his health and work would be too difficult. That left us with my blog. While this blog was never, ever intended as a place to “update family and friends about our life,” it is a public forum where you can pop in and read as you wish.

So we agreed my blog would be the best place to share this journey. But I still needed time to discern. I pondered in silence through days of exhaustion and uncertainty. I journaled the days I wanted to write, but wasn’t in any mood to type or edit. I contemplated a scenario in which I’d remain completely silent about Seth’s eye cancer on the blog, but realized quickly that a silent approach isn’t in line with who I am as a writer and would ultimately feel disingenuous to my readers. Plus, I was confident that this journey fit perfectly within my new blog vision, to “love what you live,” even when it’s less than ideal.

Mid last week when we were at Mayo Clinic for three days, we finally decided to make the news public on Facebook. When 230+ people responded with words of encouragement and promises of prayer, I knew right then and there that we had to find a way to update the caring circle of family and friends around us. Practically speaking, I’m in no emotional state to field non-stop calls, texts and emails. So the answer became clear from all angles – blog it will be.

I’m approaching this series gently, with as few expectations as possible. Because the truth is, we have no idea what to expect along the way. So I’ll write when I want to write, when I need to write, and when I’m able to write. This series will include basic factual updates, but won’t be full of jargon you’d have to look up in a medical dictionary to understand. This series will include insight into my feelings throughout the journey, but won’t reveal every detail of my private thought life as wife and caregiver. And last, but not least, I’ll definitely be telling stories and making observations about the world of medicine and cancer, caregiving and loving, believing and trusting in God’s goodness, even when life’s thrown you a major curveball. And yes, there will be vague references to patients and doctors, spouses and families, visitors and helpers along the way. Because we’re all on this journey of life together. We’re all here to learn from one another and love one another, even when life’s hard.

So please join us here for updates as you wish. For the next three to four weeks, I’ll be blogging our journey through eye cancer. After that, posts will be occasional as significant updates arise. As with any major series I write, I’ll put “The Apple of My Eye” graphic on the right sidebar of my blog. Anytime you’re looking for an update, get on your laptop, click the apple graphic (picture) on the right side of my blog, and it’ll connect you to this post. Scroll down to the bottom (just below), and I’ll include links to ALL posts I’ve written in the eye cancer series. The most recent post will, of course, always be on my home page.

He’s positive. He’s upbeat. He expects to get through this without a hitch. He’s approaching this with bravery, courage and hope for best possible outcomes. He’s not looking for pity, sadness, despair or hopelessness. Plentiful words of affirmation will suffice just fine for my man. Yes, he has eye cancer. But he’s still the apple of my eye.

 

 

 

It’s true, you know. It’s really true.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

I love taking pictures. Photography is the one thing besides writing that I’ve done consistently since I was a little girl. I just purchased my dream camera and lens in September 2014, and was particularly looking forward to using it on our sponsor trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International. So you can imagine how upset I was when I realized I’d forgotten my charged camera battery in the hotel room on the most important day of our trip, the day we met our sponsored children. It had been a really tough morning for me the way it was. The fact that my camera battery was missing was the last straw.

Looking back, I realize that perhaps God was releasing me from photography that day. Yes, He knows, acknowledges and loves that I love photography. He built that love in me. But I think God wanted me to step away from the camera so I could give and receive whole-heartedly. He wanted me to step away from the camera so I could love, serve and just BE with my sponsored child, Meranyelis.

Here’s the awesome thing. God provided. In big and mighty ways.

God knew that I’d be devastated if I didn’t have any pictures from the day with my sponsored child. He knew how much I value those treasured moments. And He knew how often I’d refer back to those pictures, reliving our time together for months and years to come. So He put a photographer in my path that morning, a photographer who was willing to take photos for us anytime we wanted as we went about our day.

God sent Lairsz Johnston to photograph the day I spent with my sponsored child, Meranyelis. And boy, did Lairsz capture some amazing moments! I continue to be blessed by his art. Not only is Lairsz super funny, but he’s full of wisdom and willing to go deep at the drop of a hat. Thank you, Lairsz. You are amazing.

And thank God for sending Lairsz when all of my “perfect” plans seemed to be crumbling in front of my eyes.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

I can’t think of a better way to wrap up this blog series about my sponsor trip to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International than to share some of the beautiful photographs Lairsz captured the day I met Meranyelis. These photos are a gift. They show my heart for children living in extreme poverty. They show the impact of sponsorship on a sponsored child. They show what it’s like to take a sponsor trip and meet your sponsored child face to face. And they show the heart of Compassion International.

This is what sponsorship looks like. This is what sponsorship feels like. This is Compassion International.

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Will you sponsor a child through Compassion International? It’s $38 a month to sponsor one child. Sponsorship releases children from extreme poverty, and provides them hope for a better future. As you can see from the photographs in this post, the investment is worth every penny and more. So click here, take a peek at all of the children who are waiting for a sponsor, and take a risk. Change a life. Become a sponsor.

This blog post is part of a three-week series I’m writing about my journey to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International. Click here to read all the posts from my series.

If your heart has been touched by the words in this blog post, would you be so kind as to share it with friends and family on Facebook, Twitter, and via email? I would be oh so grateful. The more we spread the word about Compassion and the great work they’re doing, the more sweet children will be released from extreme poverty. Thank you, friends!

 

 

 

On our last day in the Dominican Republic, Yulesi, Diana and Jonathan came to the front of the room to share their testimonies with our group. All three grew up in extreme poverty as children. All three had been enrolled in Compassion International’s Child Development Sponsorship Program. And all three completed the program successfully. Yulesi is in medical school and wants to be a cardiovascular surgeon. Diana will begin college in April and wants to be an ambassador. And Jonathan already obtained his college degree; he hosts groups who come to the Dominican Republic to meet their sponsored children and see the good work Compassion International is doing with children living in extreme poverty. As a child, Jonathan received from Compassion International. Now, he’s giving back to the organization by leading groups like ours.

The formerly sponsored children shared powerful words…

“I don’t care about money, I just want to show God’s love.”

“Financial support is important, but a single word can change a life.”

“Don’t conform yourself with what THEY do.”

“Don’t wait for people to tell you what to do.”

“Be yourself wherever you are.”

My heart was on fire. I wanted to know what was next. I wanted God to reveal His plan for my life. I wanted to continue this good work for Compassion and children living in extreme poverty. And I wanted to do everything I could to ensure that the future I desperately longed for would happen.

But here’s the thing. I’d just spent the week learning that God’s desire is for me to be fully surrendered to His plan. He doesn’t want me to know what’s ahead. He doesn’t want me to have my life perfectly planned out. He doesn’t want me to schedule and prepare and execute everything perfectly in advance. He just wants me to remain open, with a heart willing to listen, obey and serve. He wants me to trust that everything He has planned is better than anything I could ever imagine.

So I clung to the fire that rung true in my soul. I encouraged the formerly sponsored children who were now fully-functioning adults and leaders. I gave them hugs. We talked. And we took pictures together so we could remember.

All the while, I had an idea brewing in my mind. I wanted to know if it was possible, or if I was just dreaming up crazy things. I had a hunch that one of these three formerly sponsored children could provide insight into my idea.

Jonathan said something to our group that struck a chord with my soul. So after we cleared the room and before we left for the afternoon, I just knew I had to pull him aside. I wanted to ask him a couple of follow-up questions, and I needed to know if my idea was possible or totally far fetched.

So I pulled Jonathan aside. Our interaction was two minutes long at most. Two minutes with Jonathan – a formerly sponsored child and now a successful, fully-functioning adult – was all I needed.

I asked him a couple questions about his presentation at lunch and quickly realized that I needed to be more straight forward. Within seconds, I cut to the chase and found myself sharing the idea with Jonathan. I just wanted to know if it was possible.

Jonathan’s eyes lit up as he confirmed, “Yes, it’s possible! I will pray for you. God bless you!” We smiled the biggest smiles. We hugged. And we parted ways.

I felt hope. I knew this day-old idea was possible. And I began wondering if it was from God.

Later, I asked Jonathan for a picture. Because I’m big on pictures for remembering. And I wanted to remember this moment just in case, just in case this was God’s idea and Jonathan, a formerly sponsored child, was the one who encouraged me from the start. I wanted to remember this moment for the future, for when I needed to be reminded that anything is possible.

The greatest gift we can receive from a formerly sponsored child is to know, without a doubt, that anything’s possible.

I traveled 2,000 miles to hear Jonathan testify to God’s truth…

Anything is possible.

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Compassion International provides hope to children living in extreme poverty. Through their holistic child development model, they teach children that anything is possible. Will you sponsor a child today? It’s $38 a month and worth every single penny and more. Click here to check out the Compassion website where thousands of children are waiting to be sponsored. 

This blog post is part of a three-week series I’m writing about my journey to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International. Click here to read all the posts from the series!

If your heart has been touched by the words in this blog post, would you be so kind as to share it with friends and family on Facebook, Twitter, and via email? I would be oh so grateful. The more we spread the word about Compassion and the great work they’re doing, the more sweet children will be released from extreme poverty. Thank you, friends!

 

 

When our group arrived at the Compassion Child Development Center, we headed straight upstairs for lunch. We’d spent all morning visiting homes, so we understood the reality of what it looks like to live in extreme poverty. Without a doubt, one of the most humbling gifts that comes from a trip to visit your sponsored child is witnessing joy and hope amidst extreme poverty.

We were told to find a table and seat ourselves next to a mama and her precious babe. Most of the tables were already full, but as I entered, I noticed a seat available next to a beautiful mama and her sweet baby girl. I sat without hesitation.

Mama’s smile was radiant. Her skin, dark ebony. Her eyes told the story of her life. And as far as I was concerned? She was glowing with love and authenticity. This was going to be amazing.

We went around the table and made introductions. Dominick translated for us. I told her about my family, that I had a husband and three children, 12, 9 and 3 years of age. She smiled warmly and told me that she, too, had three children, a 10-year-old, a 5-year-old, and 2-year-old Megan. Sometimes as mamas, we just need to know someone understands our life. Anna recognized herself in me, and I recognized myself in her. The connection was obvious from the start.

Anna and her daughter, Megan, participate in Compassion’s Child Survival Program. Compassion International is passionate about ensuring childrens’ well-being, even before they enter the sponsorship program. So mamas and babies receive support as they journey through the reality of parenting and living in extreme poverty. Anna and her daughter have been the recipients of this great gift. Anna knows this is “substance to get through.”

Throughout the meal, Anna shared her story of everyday life in extreme poverty. It was humbling to be in her presence.

Anna had the opportunity to take a nail painting class that Compassion offers for moms. So Anna paints nails and cleans houses as a way to generate income for her family as she’s able. After her 10-year-old daughter heads to school in the morning, Anna brings the two youngest children to a friend’s house where they’re cared for while Anna works. Anna pays for the child care, but can’t afford all-day care.

So mid-day, when the 10-year-old is done with school, she walks to the friend’s house, picks up the 5-year-old and 2-year-old, and brings them back home. From then on out, the 10-year-old is responsible for watching the younger two. There’s no one else to watch them while Anna’s at work. Anna’s family lives far away, and her husband’s family is “not aware when she needs help.” So Anna has to “figure it out on her own.” She taught her three children from a very young age to take care of each other. When they’re home alone, Anna locks the door and gives her oldest daughter the key. She tells them to stay inside, and they do. This might sound risky to us, but this is the day-to-day reality of surviving in extreme poverty. Anna loves her children and does her best to provide what they need.

Anna’s baby, Megan, isn’t in the sponsorship program yet. She’s only two. But Compassion provides food and medicine for Megan. They offer wisdom for Anna’s parenting journey, as well as as education and encouragement so she can provide and be the mama she wants to be. In another year, when Megan’s old enough to enroll in Compassion’s sponsorship program, she’ll be in a much better place than she would have been otherwise. Living in extreme poverty is more bearable when you have hope for your child’s future.

“It’s good,” said Anna. “It’s just good.”

Anna revealed much of herself during our two hours together at lunch. We smiled. And we laughed. We discussed the hard realities of life in extreme poverty. But most of all? We felt joy. There was great peace in that place, at the table that day.

It didn’t take long for me to recognize that Anna was one of those rare people I’ve found in life that I know, without a doubt, could be a best friend – if only we lived closer. I sensed it in the deepest parts of me. This brave, beautiful woman living in extreme poverty was best friend material.

I imagined Anna and I chatting over lunch, with the kids running and playing. I imagined us at church together, singing together. I imagined this woman, with a life so different than mine, being my best friend.

I knew this was true. I knew this was right.

Anna lives in extreme poverty. I live in relative wealth. The reality is, we won’t ever be best friends here on earth. But God made us friends. He brought us together for one day on earth, so we could recognize each other as best friends in heaven. He promises unity in eternity, together forever, in heaven.

Then, we’ll know.

Then, we’ll go.

It’s time friend. It’s time to fellowship. As friends, best friends.

I could barely contain my tears as I sat at the lunch table next to Anna that afternoon in the Compassion Child Development Center. I took it all in. God’s love washed over me. His vision for His people was clear. This is what heaven looks like. This is what heaven feels like. Moments later, Amanda, another sponsor on the trip, approached and shared quietly “I’m in heaven. I always loved Compassion, but now I’m sold.” I sat in wonder, tears readied to burst free.

A sentence came to mind as clear as day. I broke out my journal and wrote it, right there at the table as I sat next to Anna and Megan, so I wouldn’t forget.

This is a constant joy and grieving of what we see could be and will be, with what is.

Anna and I got up from the table, walked down the stairs of the Compassion Child Development Center, and strolled slowly down the street to her local church. I soaked in the moment once more.

We sat next to each other in a big circle of chairs at church. I was one foot away from Anna as she shared how Compassion has helped her so much. I was there to see little ones run wild and free, just like our littles back home. I was there to witness her friendship with other mamas and babies served by Compassion. 

We were there to hug good bye. We were there to bid farewell with love. We were there to go with hope.

We’re all living in poverty, really. We’re all in need of something greater to hold us together, to give us hope, to give us a reason to keep on living. For me and Anna, it’s God, sweet Jesus. Our love for Compassion International unites us. Compassion gives us “substance to get through.”

Between now and heaven, I’ll wait courageously, knowing God will reunite us someday. Between now and heaven, I’ll rest in peace, knowing Anna and her sweet girl, Megan, are in good hands with Compassion International. They’re in God’s good hands. Before long, Megan will be eligible for a sponsor. I pray her sponsor will fully grasp the gift they’ve been given. I pray her sponsor will know the beauty of child sponsorship, so it won’t be as much about the financial support as it is about the sharing of hearts through letters, love and friendship.

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Will you sponsor a child today? The impact you have when you sponsor a child is incredible, immeasurable. Your sponsorship means so much to those living in extreme poverty. We can’t imagine what it’s like to live in such poverty, but we can extend a hand and say “I’m here. You can do this. We can do this together.” Let’s give. Let’s receive. Let’s live as friends, united with one purpose. To love one another. Click here to sponsor a child.

This blog post is part of a three-week series I’m writing about my journey to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International. Click here to read all the posts from my series!

Be sure to check out my fellow travelers’ most recent blog posts! Kris Camealy wrote a beautiful post about hospitality amidst poverty with “Generous Hands Are Blessed Hands,” and Sandra Heska King wrote a sweet post about a 45-year old single man, Luke, who visited his sponsored child, titled “What Happens When Sponsor Meets Child.”

If your heart has been touched by the words in this blog post, would you be so kind as to share it with friends and family on Facebook, Twitter, and via email? I would be oh so grateful. The more we spread the word about Compassion and the great work they’re doing, the more sweet children will be released from extreme poverty. Thank you, friends!

 

 

 

Yesterday was incredible. I sensed God everywhere and was 100% convinced I’d tasted a bit of heaven on earth. At the end of the day, I was certain I had three or four blog posts worth of stories to share about Compassion International and all the amazing work they’re doing with children here in the Dominican Republic.

But friends, yesterday was also crazy long. We didn’t get to writing until 10:30 p.m. I hadn’t taken my usual nightly pre-writing shower, and once I did start writing, I had a hard time getting out of my head and into the groove of my true heart. I stayed up drafting the post until 3:37 a.m., woke up at 7:00 a.m. to get ready for the day, began editing at 8:00 a.m., and by 8:30 a.m., I was in absolute tears. The post needed a major rewrite. There was no way it was going to get published before we needed to leave for the day.

I walked out to the empty courtyard and sat myself on a white chaise lounge. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face as I typed a Facebook message to my blog readers explaining why there was no promised post for the day. I was a mess. An utter disaster. There was no hiding it from anyone.

This was NOT what I had planned.

This was NOT the way I wanted this to happen.

This trip was my dream come true, God’s dream for his girl. And in my mind? I was messing it all up.

But I have to admit, from the second I sat down on that chaise lounge, God began speaking to me. Sun streamed down on my face all 45 minutes I typed, even as tears streamed abundantly.

I finished the Facebook post and pressed publish. There was just enough time for me to run up to the room and grab my stuff. Today we were going on the bus to visit our sponsored children. I was determined to enjoy every moment of the day with my sweet sponsored child, Meranyelis, and not let this get the best of me.

All the bags I’d packed for Meranyelis were sitting on the bed. Three plus my own backpack made for quite a heavy load. I couldn’t help but believe these bags represented the loads I’ve packed for myself, the pressure I’ve placed on myself to be enough, to do enough, to perform enough. It was almost ridiculous how heavy the bags were. Tears continued streaming from my eyes, even as I closed the hotel room door.

I passed an employee as I walked down the hall to the elevator. “Buenos Dias,” he said, as he smiled and nodded gently.

In the elevator, I looked down at the (in)courage bag I brought filled with gifts for Meranyelis’ family. Words screamed like lightning to my soul. Redeemed. Just as you are. Jesus. Courage.

When I got downstairs, I tucked myself away in a little nook where nobody could see me, broke out my “A Penny for Your Thoughts” journal, and began scribbling the words that were swarming in my brain. Amanda, another sponsor on the trip, approached and asked how I was doing. “Not good, I’m having a really hard morning,” I said. She smiled and gave grace in her usual loving self.

I got on the bus and fellow writer, Kris Camealy, was there holding a seat for me. She knew something was horribly wrong. Yeah, I told you there was no hiding this from anyone. Kris proceeded to speak words of encouragement over me. She told it to me straight as I cried and stared at the white leather seat with gray stitching in front of us. Her words rung true and refined my soul.

“You don’t fit.”

“Your 5-point method isn’t going to work anymore.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

Sometimes you need a friend to remind you what’s true about you. It sounds brutal, but Kris was right on all counts. I have no idea what I’m doing, and it’s okay. Kris promised me it’s okay. She told me she’s excited for me and all God’s about to do in my life.

So there I was, in line, about to meet my sponsored child. I’d gathered myself enough to be presentable, to be ready for this life-changing experience of meeting my sponsored child, Meranyelis. But when I broke out my camera and tried to take a picture, I realized I’d forgotten the charged battery in the hotel room. If you know me at all, you know this is a worst nightmare scenario. Amy with no camera on the day she’s meeting her sponsored child? Horrible. Terrible. No good. Very bad day. Seriously. I had no other choice than to ask for help. Thank the Lord, Lairsz, a photographer, is on the trip and committed to taking pictures for me.

At this point, it was clear. God was trying to work something out in me today, whether I liked it or not. This planning, this preparing, this scheduling, working, trying hard and producing every aspect of my life so it was good and right and perfect? It wasn’t going to work anymore. God wanted me to surrender it all.

It was time to meet Meranyelis, the highlight of this sponsor trip! She was beautiful, stunning in fact. But at first she looked scared out of her mind, like me.

We sat down at a picnic table and after some conversation, Meranyelis presented me with a gift. She’d created a beautiful picture of a home. At the bottom of the bag were two bracelets she’d made, one for each of us, both the same. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said.

The girl led me from then on out. From the second I laid eyes on her sponsored child picture on the Compassion International website, I knew she was a leader in the making.

Meranyelis wanted us to play hand games and sing songs. I didn’t know how to do these things. I’m not good with my hands like that. But I sang the songs and played the hand games anyway. Because I love that little sponsored girl, and the repetitive movements were soothing to my soul.

Then she wanted to go swimming. The water was freezing cold. We were shivering, but stayed in the deep anyway. Because I love that little sponsored girl, and the cleansing properties of the water were soothing to my soul.

Meranyelis found a volleyball, another one of my worst nightmares. I hate volleyball. With all my life, like the worst ever. But I swallowed every bit of my third grade self’s pride and played anyway. Because I love that little sponsored girl, and healing the past’s hurts was soothing to my soul.

There was rhythm to the tossing of the volleyball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. As I watched my sponsored child throw the ball, then catch it, the words give and receive washed over me.

Give and receive.

Give and receive.

Give and receive.

We agreed it was time for a snack, so we got out of the pool and I grabbed my wallet. Before we left, I asked Meranyelis’ tutor if she wanted anything. “No,” she said. “I’m fine.” At the snack bar, I asked the translator if she wanted anything. “No,” she said. “I’m fine.” We purchased two small bags of Doritos for who knows how many pesos. I only had a $20 bill, nothing smaller. The snack bar employee had no change to give, so another male translator overheard and paid our bill in full. “Gracias,” I said with humility.

Give and receive.

Meranyelis, the translator and I proceeded to walk to a quaint little treehouse on the far side of the property. Meranyelis took the lead as we climbed the rounded staircase. There we sat, just the three of us in a tiny wooden treehouse all alone. It was completely quiet. At that point, we’d lost the photographer so there was no option to photograph this holy moment. It was just God and the three of us in the tree.

We talked about family, friends and girl things like our favorite colors up there in that treehouse. Meranyelis and I ate Doritos and licked our orange fingertips as we chatted about small things, everyday things, holy important things. We let the time slip away as it may. Nobody knew we were there. In fact, when we finally decided to wander our way back towards the group, we discovered everybody had been looking for us. It was time for lunch.

“We lost track of time,” seemed the only response.

We ate. We found the photographer. And we went back to that treehouse because I’d promised sweet Meranyelis a picture in that place so we could remember.

When it was time for us to give our sponsored children the gifts we’d brought from home, I went back to the bus and grabbed those three heavy bags for Meranyelis. I was honored to give her the gifts, of course. But something had changed in me. I didn’t want to spend time showing Meranyelis every gift I brought her from the USA. I wanted to spend more time with her. I wanted to spend more time giving and receiving, together.

So I showed her bag one and explained, this is for your family. I showed her bag two, the most important one, the bag with purses my daughter and I packed for Meranyelis and her friends. Then, I showed her a handful of things from bag three before I decided I’d leave the rest up to Meranyelis to discover at home, in secret, as a sweet surprise from me.

I didn’t need to show my sponsored child how much I loved her with gifts. I had already shown her how much I loved her with myself.

Give and receive.

Give and receive.

Give and receive.

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Will you sponsor a child through Compassion International? You’ll give life and hope to a child living in extreme poverty. But you’ll also discover the hidden treasure of child sponsorship. You’ll learn to receive. Click here to be connected to Compassion International’s website where you can view hundreds of beautiful children waiting for a sponsor. Give and receive. Today.

This blog post is part of a three-week series I’m writing about my journey to the Dominican Republic with Compassion International. Click here to read all the posts from my series.

Be sure to check out my fellow travelers’ blog posts from yesterday’s adventures. Sandra Heska King shared “Why We Can’t Stay in Our Corner of the Forest.” And Kris Camealy wrote a thought-provoking post titled “One Way To Build a Future.”

If your heart has been touched by the words in this blog post, would you be so kind as to share it with friends and family on Facebook, Twitter, and via email? I would be oh so grateful. The more we spread the word about Compassion and the great work they’re doing, the more sweet children will be released from extreme poverty. Thank you, friends!