Juany

Juany and I went apartment shopping a couple nights ago. My dear friend Cristina had set up a few appointments for us to look at houses around her neighborhood. While we went from place to place, it hit me just how good I've had it. There are a few things I've deemed as "necessary" in most of my living situations. And as I walked through these new houses, I quickly realized that Juany has never had any of the things I've always had.

"Where's the fridge?" I asked.

"Oh this apartment doesn't come with a fridge, " the land lord said, almost surprised that I had even asked.

"What's this?" I asked as I looked down on a board with rivets in it.

"Oh that's the washing board for your clothes."

"Oh, I said with a nervous smile," trying to picture myself scrubbing my own clothes.

Juany looked up at me and told me she had always hand washed her clothes. I wouldn't even know how to start.

Later on that night, I ended up taking Juany over to my apt. in San Pedro. She's lived in Monterrey her whole life, but has never been over in "my neck of the woods" before. I felt embarrased to show her my room, my bed, our kitchen, the laptops sitting on our kitchen counter, or the nice view from our apt window. I had that sick feeling at the bottom of my stomach, I have too much!

We walked around my neighborhood as she told me about her life and how she's come to love God. She told me how she works 6 nights a week and takes a taxi home at 2 in the morning each night. She told me how she can barely pay for her place, let alone school. Yet, she never complained. In my broken Spanish, I listened and asked questions. I felt like the language barrier didn't stop us from becoming friends that night.

I drove her home, despite the fact she told me it wouldn't be safe to drive over to her neighborhood. I wasn't about to let this girl take a taxi home late at night. As I drove deeper and deeper into the "bad part" of town, I started to feel the need to cry. I barely wanted to let her out of the car, let alone let her sleep at this place she called home. As I drove off, I called my friend Cristina to tell her that Juany and I had hung out and that I had dropped her off.

"Oh good, how's the neighborhood she's at now? Cristina asked

"Well..I hesitated...not the best."

"Oh man Hannah, you should have seen what she was living in before. Her place now is so much better."

"Better??" I thought. How could it get worse?

I went home that night and cried for a long time. The whole experience was overwhelming. How have I ever considered myself broke or poor before? How has it ever crossed my mind that I don't have a lot? Or that I'm not rich? That's the biggest bunch of bs I've ever tried to convince myself of. I don't think you ever realize what you have until you actually see what the word "poor" really means face to face. It gives me the chills just writing about it.

I wish I could tell you that I have instantly felt great about making this decision to change my living situation for next year. It's not Juany. I would live with her in a heart beat. It's my attachment to the things I have now. My apartment, the area I live in, the calzatta down the street, gated communities, safety, the starbucks near by. The more I fought in my head with this idea, the more I realized how attached I am to these things. Do I really want to do this? What if I hate it? Do I want to give up my space, my washing machine, my fridge? All day yesterday, I fought with these questions in my head. I rationalized it, thinking that maybe this isn't what God wants for me. I even thought about the idea of having Juany move to San Pedro with me. Maybe, just maybe, I could pay for all of the rent here and have her move into a nice place with me. I had to stop myself before I got carried away. Hannah, you are so attached to this area, that you can't see past the craziness of that idea. It's not about bringing people into your comfort, it's about sacrificing to help others.

God gave me this quote yesterday,

"Life is comfortable when you separate yourself from people who are different from you. That epitomizes what my life was like: characterized by comfort. But God doesn't call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust Him so completely that we are unafraid to put ourselves in situations where we will be in trouble if He doesn't come through." -Francis Chan-

The more I prayed, the more I journaled, the more I read the Bible, the more I know what I was suppose to do. When I get to meet God face to face, I know he won't tell me, "Man Hannah, I'm so glad you played it safe and stayed in San Pedro, great for you!" Of course not! I don't want my life to be characterized by what I had, the safe places I lived in, the clothes I wore, or the things I didn't do because I wanted to play it safe.

What am I so scared of?