I read a book a long time ago about a beautiful addict. Her troubled past followed her around like a shadow. Her present was defined by how and when she would get her next high. Her future was all but a pre-determined catastrophe. Then one day, she met a gallant man. He instantly loved her. He was drawn to her in spite of her brokenness. As the story unfolded, I became more and more bothered by it. The way the author described this man made it impossible for you not to fall in love with him. He was captivating. Selfless. Kind. Funny. Romantic. He was radiant. But it wasn’t enough for her. She did not value his love. She cheated on him, running back to her supplier. She betrayed him, abandoned him, and only then after she had her fill of drugs and men, would she come crawling back to him, begging his forgiveness, saying she would change, pleading for another chance. And he would always take her back. Every. Single. Time. I was infuriated. Who does this woman think she is? She does not deserve him. She deserves what has happened to her. If I ever had the love of a man like that,I would never hurt him. Towards the end of the book the full weight of the symbolism hit me like a freight train. Spoiler alert: I am that woman. I do hurt the heart of my radiant King. My story is that of a reckless, divine love that chases down an unworthy, unfaithful, and undeserving recipient. The book was also an allegory of the Israelites, who relentlessly turned their backs on God, worshipped other idols, then came crawling back to God when they fell into captivity. God always delivered them. My idol might not be a golden calf, but I am guilty of the same recklessness and infidelity. For a long time, I invested my devotion into something that couldn’t save me.

In 2018 I hit rock bottom. I made a mistake that had the potential to haunt me for the rest of my life: a mistake whose consequences could negate everything I worked so hard to build. In my darkest hour, just like the Israelites, just like the addict, I cried out to God, begging for his forgiveness, begging for another chance. Jeremiah 2:27-28 paints a clear picture of my duplicity: “They have turned their backs to me and not their faces. Where then are the gods you made for yourselves? Let them come if they can save you when you are in trouble.” Laying there in rock bottom, with the enormity of my guilt eating away at my self-worth, I realized the truth: My fancy education could not save me. My career did not come to my rescue. All my connections were worthless. My sin had dug a hole too deep to crawl out of, and “all the gods I had made for myself” couldn’t turn my situation around.

Fortunately, God has a habit of loving broken things. God has a history of choosing broken things and raising them up. Moses was a murderer. David was an adulterer. Esther was an orphan and poor refugee living in captivity. Jonah was a coward who ran from his calling. Gideon was a farmer from one of the weakest tribes of Israel. Peter was a distrustful fisherman. Matthew was a tax collector working for his people’s captors: the Romans.  Paul had hundreds of Christ-followers sentenced to death. Simon was a sorcerer. Mary Magdalene was demon-possessed. And yet God called them. He loved them past their pain. He equipped them to do something they couldn’t do without him. He transformed their broken lives into legacies that had a lasting impact.

Although I would never presume to compare myself to the Biblical “greats” in Christian history, I can relate to their redemption story. What should have been my demise, God turned around for his glory. True to His promise: “What the enemy meant for evil, I have meant for good.” After God pulled me out of rock bottom, He became my center. And in the past 3 years, I have seen him do miracles upon miracles in my life, including the most recent one.            

I’ve always had a fire in my belly: a stirring passion that sets my sights on greater things to come. When God called me to leave D.C. and move to Texas last year to work for the American Red Cross, that fire in my belly began to stir. I had a hunch God had something big in store.  I ended up meeting the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with, which is miracle in itself as, I never thought I would get married. But although my job was fulfilling, there was something missing. A couple months ago, an internal position became available that I was under-qualified for, and yet that fire inside was blazing at the prospect of having a significantly higher leadership role with greater responsibility and greater impact within the organization. With the odds stacked against me, I applied anyway. I was not alone. There were 50 other qualified candidates who applied. Over the course of two months, I had six different interviews with some of the top executives in our division. During interview number six, I learned that it was down to me and one other candidate and they couldn’t decide who to pick. I also learned that this other candidate was supposed to be a shoe-in. He was hand-picked by some of the same executives who were interviewing me. He was a highly seasoned candidate who not only had more experience than me in that role and within the organization, but also came highly recommended by everyone above him.

Knowing all this should have intimidated me and sent me running back to my comfort zone with my tail between my legs. But then I thought of David, not David-who-would-be-king, but shepherd boy David. You would think that the King of Israel would have chosen a seasoned battle-commander, a war-tested general, or at the very least a great warrior to come against the giant of the Philistine army. Choosing a young sheep-herder with no fighting experience whatsoever was NOT the logical choice. However illogical it was to send a sheepherder to battle against a giant, that’s the person God chose to accomplish the task. God was glorified through David and through that victory.

            The days droned on and felt like years, waiting for senior leadership to make the decision. I was in a posture of full surrender to God’s will, knowing that He’s closed doors on me before (*cough cough* FBI *cough*), but also knowing that God is the same yesterday, today and forever, and has a pattern of calling the unqualified. I got the call Thursday, July 8^th at 9:48 in the morning. David was no longer just a shepherd boy, and I was no longer just a Program Manager for 1 county. I was offered the promotion to be over 121 counties across North Texas as the new Regional Volunteer Services Officer, after only being with the organization for 1 year.

            My favorite worship song right now is called Champion by Bethel Music. I feel the whole song perfectly describes my relationship with God, but there’s one line in particular to which I relate the most. “You take the broken things, and raise them to glory.”

If you ever doubt your worth remember…..God is unphased by your brokenness.

Until next time my faithful readers,

Stephanie

It’s hard to believe one year ago I was in Washington D.C., crying in my carpet; my propensity to control my environment exacerbating my frustration and helplessness. It was the height of the pandemic, the Bureau ahem… I mean… “Frank”…. had broken my heart with the news I could no longer be a Special Agent, after one year in the application process and after passing all the grueling exams… it was over, just like that. There I was without a Plan B, trying to find a job in the middle of a global pandemic that shut down the world, crying in my thick carpet so my roommate wouldn’t hear.

If you would have told me, in that moment, that in one year from now I would be living in Texas, working as a Manager for my dream organization the American Red Cross, with a puppy and a new car and a loving boyfriend, I would have laughed in disbelief the way Sarah did when the angels told her that she and Abraham would have a son in their old age. How life can change in the course of a year. I know for a fact that God has a sense of humor.

I haven’t told many people this story, but while I was frantically applying for jobs last Spring, my dad called me one day and said: “Sissy, when I was out walking and praying for you, the Lord gave me a vision of a Red Cross.” Competition was fierce, especially in the middle of a pandemic where so many people were without work, and I was losing hope. But my dad had faith in his vision that he believed was from the Lord. I’ll never forget the moment I got the call. I remember where I was sitting, the time of day, and everything about that moment.

Feeling depleted and alone, I had left D.C. for a week to stay with my parents in California to recharge and just be in their presence. I was sitting on the bed in my parents’ guestroom when my phone rang. It was an unknown number with a Texas area code. I immediately leaped out of bed, ran to the living where my dad was on the couch and screamed, “DAD! Someone from Texas is calling me!” Sure enough, it was the man who is my current boss, asking for one final interview with the higher-ups for the Program Manager position in Fort Worth, Texas. After my 4th and final interview, he told me I would be hearing back within one week with the results. It was, in fact, exactly 4 hours after that interview that they offered me the job. I fell to my knees in tears and thanked God, who knew all along I was not supposed to be in the Bureau. Surrounded by fear and uncertainty up to that point…He terrified the dark. That’s been God’s miracle time and time again in my life – terrifying my darkness until nothing but His light breaks through.

At the end of the day, I had four job offers for management positions right around the same time: Department of Homeland Security, Peace Corps, American Red Cross, and my local church in D.C. Everyone thought I was going to take the Peace Corps Headquarters job, given my affinity for the organization. DHS offered me almost double of what the Red Cross offered, but in my heart I knew I wouldn’t be happy there. I knew it was time to leave D.C.

Looking back on this past year, I am overwhelmed by God’s relentless pursuit of my heart, His goodness to such an undeserving subject, and that He was right there with me in the midst of the darkness and storms of 2020. It also makes me laugh. Like Sarah. I wonder if Zechariah laughed when he was finally able to speak again. Or Mary, when Gabriel told her she would give birth to the Most High. Did the widow laugh when Elijah told her flour and oil would never run dry? Did Joshua laugh when the walls of Jericho fell? Did Martha laugh when she saw her brother walk out of that tomb? I wonder if God ever giggles to himself watching us drive ourselves crazy with worry, while all the while He knows He’s going to turn the outcome for our good…and we just need to be still.

Until next time my dear readers,

Stephanie

Imagine you meet someone and immediately sparks fly. As you are generally guarded in nature, you proceed cautiously to gauge whether or not there’s any plausibility of a long-term future. You move forward slowly and so far, so good. More time passes and to your surprise, things are going really well, and you begin to let your guard down and invest more of your heart and soul into this person. The more steps forward, the more hurdles successfully passed, the more the hope begins to bubble up and grow inside you. You try to stay grounded but it’s hard when you’re so happy. It’s hard not to imagine that this could be forever. You try not to tell too many people because you’re afraid you’ll blink and it will all be a dream, but you can’t help it. You basically tell everyone. Flash forward and one year has passed. At this point you’re in deep. All of your eggs are in one basket. This must be it. This must be what you’ve been waiting for your entire life. This person has even told you that you’re it! You’re the one. This is happening. Ring the bells. You have invested everything into this person and for one whole year, this person has given back, made promises, and made you so happy.
Then…All of the sudden, to your greatest dismay and disbelief, out of the clear blue sky with no forewarning, this person breaks up with you. And for an arbitrary issue at that! Not only does this person utterly break your heart by abruptly terminating everything you’ve worked so hard to build, they also tell you that there is ZERO possibility of EVER getting back together and to NEVER contact them ever again. There is no second chance. There is no recourse. There is nothing but the pieces of your shattered heart and broken dreams. How would you feel in that moment? A year of your life down the drain with nothing to show for it besides your alligator tears? Well my faithful readers, that is exactly what happened to me except it was not a man, not a person, it was my career.
While lying in bed on January 13, 2019, I stumbled upon a job that I was certain I was born to do. It was a long shot because only 5% of the hundreds of thousands of people who apply for this position every year actually make it in. Cautiously optimistic, I gave it a shot. I passed the first step. Then the next. Then the next. Then the next and the next and the next until next thing you know, one year has gone by and I have passed all 9 steps, interviews, and tests, and I have a glorious offer letter from this prestigious organization. This is it!! I’m in!! My “dream” career. My whole life has led up to this moment and I. AM. IN! I never have to look for another job ever again. Or so I thought.
Now…I am NOT allowed to name said organization on social media or blogs, although I’m sure you can easily deduce to which elite government agency I’m referring. For the sake of subtlety, let’s call this place “Frank.” From the very beginning, I asked God to close the doors to Frank if Frank was not His will. But test after test that I passed, and door after door that kept opening, I was certain working for Frank was God’s will for my life. I thus placed all my hopes and aspirations in Frank. I made plans. I got excited. I couldn’t contain my excitement. I tried not to tell people, but I basically told everyone. I worked so hard. I trained so hard. I pushed my body to its extreme physical limit. I gave 100% of myself to this endeavor, believing it was my ark of the covenant, my holy grail.
After all that, to my absolute horror, Frank pulled the rug from under my feet. For a minor technicality that I am not allowed to say, Frank abruptly rescinded my offer. “You cannot appeal this decision. This decision is final. You are permanently disqualified from Frank employment for life.” To say that I was heartbroken was the understatement of the year. I had no Plan B. To me, having a backup plan was like having a fling with another person while you’re in a committed relationship. I was so sure that I didn’t need a Plan B. I had placed my hope in my career, and that career had let me down.
Devastated, I cried for weeks. I cried on the metro. I cried in the bathroom. I cried in the mail room and in the elevator. How could this be happening? But more importantly, what in the world do I do now?
I was confused and angry at God. I asked Him to close the doors if it wasn’t His will and He did. But not on my timeline. Not in the way that I wanted or expected. God why didn’t you close the doors in the first few months? Why did you help me pass all those hard tests if I was just going to fail at the end? Why did you close the doors at the very last moment? I even prayed and asked God to reverse Frank’s decision. God certainly had the power to do so, but He didn’t. Why?
So there I was, slobbering to my Creator when He quieted my weary heart and led me to John chapter 11. Lazarus and Jesus were close, really close. Lazarus had fallen deathly ill, and his sister Martha, knowing the miraculous power of Jesus, went to Jesus and told him that Lazarus was very sick and near death. Now, we know from the story of the Centurion and his servant in Matthew chapter 8 that Jesus can heal from a distance. “But just say the word and my servant will be healed.” All Jesus had to do was say the word and Lazarus would have been instantly healed. But guess what? Jesus didn’t do that. Jesus chose not to heal Lazarus. Why? A heartbroken Martha essentially asked Jesus the same question. “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Jesus’ reply left me awe-struck. “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” Then it dawned on me. The reason Jesus didn’t heal Lazarus was because He wanted to do a greater miracle: raising him from the dead.
There are two profound lessons that I have learned through the story of Lazarus and my tumultuous 2020…
God didn’t answer my prayer about working for that organization because He had a much, much better plan in store for me. But before He unveiled His more perfect plan, I needed some pruning. God showed me that my career was an idol in my life that I put before Him. It’s true. I’ve always put my career on a pedestal. Who was I when all my fancy titles and accomplishments had been stripped away? That was the first lesson…That I am not defined by my title or career. I am a daughter of the King. I am beloved by the Most High God. Through that storm God taught me to find joy in His presence. He taught me that my hope should not be placed in a job. HE is my hope.
The second lesson I learned is that God does not operate on our timeline. After Frank “broke up with me” I wanted another job immediately. I wanted God to rescue me out of my sadness and darkness NOW. But there was a lot of growing that needed to happen. There were a lot of changes I needed to make. I learned that God’s ways are so much higher than my ways and His thoughts are higher than my thoughts. I learned to wait on the Lord. He taught me to be still. I learned to keep my eyes on Him in the middle of the storm.
So I guess this is the part of the anecdote where we find our lead protagonist, months after that crushing break, in a totally different situation. She has met someone else. And this time, it’s different. She didn’t put her hopes or dreams in this person because her hope was already placed in something everlasting. She didn’t put this person on a pedestal because that seat in heart had become recently occupied by her Maker. She understood that hindsight is indeed 20/20. She realized that this new person was A MUCH BETTER fit than the last. Now she actually can’t imagine what her life would be like if God answered her prayer and gave her Frank. She laughs because God knows her better than she knows herself.
Lazarus wasn’t healed. He was risen from the dead. God had a more strategic plan in mind for Lazarus than just healing his body, one that would reverberate throughout the village and surrounding towns and bring great glory to God.
I can’t help but find a parallel in this story that God led me to when I was balling my eyes out in my carpet. Looking back, I know with certainty that the job with Frank would not have been a good fit. God had something else. Something He knew I would love and where I’d be able to have a great impact. He just needed to do a little (a lot) of work in me first.
As of Friday, May 15th, I am the new Disaster Program Manager for the American Red Cross in Dallas-Fort Worth, Texas. Yes, you read that correctly. I am leaving D.C. and moving to Texas to work for the largest humanitarian organization in the country. This is a job where I will be able to have a direct impact and help hundreds of people; particularly the poor, underserved, and those whose lives have been upended by tragedy. And I start on June 15th.
I’m simply in awe of God’s goodness and my own short-sightedness…
Stephanie
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.” Declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:8-9

Miserable… I guess would be the word. Alone in a hospital operating room in a foreign country, getting my 2^nd surgery on my horribly damaged left knee. My Ecuadorian boyfriend at the time comes to visit after I’m discharged from the hospital. He offers his condolences for my unfortunate situation and proceeds to tell me unabashedly that he wants a girlfriend who likes to wear dresses and heels and put on makeup and get her nails done. How it took him this long to realize I’m a tomboy who prefers sneakers and my hair in a ponytail escaped me entirely. Incredulous, I just stare and blink. And no, this is not some story I concocted from a soap opera or some badly scripted rom-com. My boyfriend actually just told me I’m not feminine enough for him and proceeds to break up with me. Happy New Year, Stephanie. Here’s to 2019.

Compounding the fact that I’m completely dependent on others to meet my basic needs and yet utterly alone, my duties as Field Director of WorldTeach Ecuador did not simply go away because I had surgery. It was January and in one month our NGO contract with the Ecuadorian government would expire, and I needed to begin the arduous undertaking of renewing our contract so our organization could continue legally running in the country. I also had a new cohort of volunteers arriving in February and I had to plan and execute their comprehensive month-long orientation program. Not to mention the expense reports, financial reports and volunteer support for my current volunteers in country. 2019 started off with a resounding bang, just not the melodious one I had anticipated.

When WorldTeach announced it was closing its doors due to financial hardship, I was tasked with closing an NGO in an unforgivingly bureaucratic country and breaking the hearts of my volunteers, our host families, our partner institutions, and the students who benefitted from our courageous and hard-working volunteers. 2019 was the most challenging year of my professional career. And yet there is a fire inside me that burns and refuses to be extinguished, even in the face of unrelenting storms. And that fire brings me peace. I’ve learned to strive for and work towards things that bring me joy. And 2019 was indeed rife with joy.

Highlights of 2019

• Summitting Pichincha. This treacherous mountain nestled in the capital city of Ecuador is not for the faint of heart, but I managed to hike to the peak of 15,406 feet (4,696 meters) through the snow and ice. It was the most difficult hike of my life, and one of my proudest moments… only 4 months after my knee surgery.
• Trekking in the Amazon Rainforest. Have you ever slept for 12 straight, glorious hours? No? Try going to the deep jungle where there is no cell service and no internet for a while. It’s the healthiest thing for your mind. Sure there was frog in my bed, but I will carry those harmonious jungle-sounds with me for the rest of my life.
• My 32^nd Birthday trip to COLOMBIA. If God told me right now, “Stephanie, pack your bags! You’re moving to Colombia!” I would be like “WOW GOD THANKS SO MUCH!” I love love LOVE that wondrous country. One of the nicest compliments I’ve ever been given was by a Colombian nomad who said “Tienes el espíritu del Caribe.” That even though I’m American, I have the spirit of the Caribbean.
• Exploring Mexico City. Speaking of wonder, Mexico City is a treasure trove of art, history, culture, and gastronomical genius. Long live the red, white, and green.
• 2^nd Time’s a Charm – Peru. My 2^nd time to Peru consisted of me eating as much octopus and seafood as humanly possible. Did I mention Peruvians have the most incredibly dynamic and unbelievable cuisine? I’d live in Peru just for how they prepare their octopus.
• Redwoods of California and Santa Cruz. Our Wallace family vacation this year took us to the Redwoods, the tallest living things on earth. We camped, hiked, slept in tents, went to the beach and managed not to kill each other. We even have matching shirts to prove it.
• My parents’ trip to visit me in Washington D.C. It’s a pretty special thing to be in your 30’s and have your parents make time to fly across the country to be with you. My mom and I had a blast together during our girls’ week. Then a few days later my dad came for our traditional Thanksgiving feast that we host for all my friends.
• Cuenca, Ecuador. Another solo trip to the old, enchanted city of Cuenca, host to the best food in Ecuador, a breath-taking national park (which of course I hiked) and utter tranquility.
• Hiking the Volcanic Crater Quilotoa. There’s something mind-boggling about being inside a volcanic crater. You’re microscopic. The water is emerald. The towering walls of rock reduce your ego to a pebble and somehow silence your fears. You just surrender to the awe.
• Trans-Siberian Orchestra Concert in Philadelphia. I’m all for saving pennies and being super frugal, but sometimes you just need to spend a buck and GO ALL OUT. I went all-out for my trip to Philadelphia, seated just a few rows back from the stage of the most astonishing concert I’ve ever witnessed. TSO absolutely blew me away. And the City of Brotherly Love never disappoints me.

I went to 4 countries, hiked 5 mountains, attended 3 concerts, 2 wrestling matches, 1 NBA game, 3 baseball games, 1 World Series Parade, hosted 3 parties, rode 6 rollercoasters, got 2 new tattoos, and I read 12 books and watched 97 movies. (and yes, I keep meticulous track of this).

2019 had its share of drudgery. But to steal a quote from The Count of Monte Cristo, “You must look into that storm and shout, Do your worst! For I shall do mine.”

I am mystified by the complete and total uncertainty that surrounds my future in 2020, but I intend to employ a similar strategy that I did in 2019. Find the beauty. Find the joy. Keep the fire ablaze. Revel in the peace that follows.

Until next time my faithful readers,

Stephanie

I saw a blind girl the other day navigating the mercurial streets of Quito with her walking stick. She seemed about my age, with beautiful long black hair and kind features. A subtle ache crept into my heart, which I quickly dismissed and went about my business. At my office building, as I clambered to the elevator hurriedly pushing the button for my floor, a delivery guy managed to rush in before the doors closed. You could tell he was Venezuelan from a mile away because of his light skin, green eyes, and very distinct coastal accent. I saw that he was delivering pizza to some teachers. As he departed, he smiled a radiant, wide smile that made his green eyes glimmer, and for some reason I was struck by that smile and his discernible innocent demeanor. It was like his gratitude for having a job, however “menial,” was tangible. That same ache I had felt earlier in the day with the blind girl struck a chord in my heart again, which I promptly ignored. On my walk home from work, at the intersection where I turn right, I saw a little boy in a wheelchair. The left side of his head was entirely caved in and his arms were shriveled; an irreversible disability which would plague him for the rest of his life. The sight of that precious little boy in the wheelchair caused the now-familiar ache to vehemently surge in my soul, refusing to be disregarded. I found a little nook in the street and broke down and cried. I cried for the blind girl who would never be able to see the spectacular mountains and volcanoes that surround her city. I cried for the Venezuelan who fled the tyranny and despotism of his ravaged homeland to deliver food to people who might always look down on him. I cried for the maimed little boy, who did nothing to deserve such a cruel fate. And I cried for my selfish indifference and the noxious and hugely misguided notion that I was somehow above it all. Too “busy” to stop and ask the blind girl if she needed help getting to her destination. Too “self-important” to make conversation with the Venezuelan about what he loves about living in Ecuador or just life in general. Too detached and insensitive to smile and greet the boy as if he were a normal human being with no regard to his deformity. What arrogance! What egotism!

Of all the compelling narratives about Jesus, perhaps the one I find most striking is his miracle of feeding the five thousand. A frequently told anecdote that perhaps has lost its astonishing significance in the telling. Jesus and his disciplines were exhausted. They had been working and traveling all day and were so busy that they did not even have a chance to eat anything. So Jesus suggested “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place to get some rest.” (Mark 6:31). Then they took off on a boat to a solitary place so they could get some food and recuperate after a long day of selfless ministry. But surprise!! By the time they got to their destination, there were thousands of people waiting for them. Remember, it was late in the day, they hadn’t eaten anything, and they escaped to that place precisely so they could escape! Jesus, being legitimately the most important person ever to walk the face of the earth, could have very understandably said: “Look guys, let’s reconvene tomorrow. I’m tired and hungry and have been on my feet all day. I promise I will attend to your needs first thing tomorrow” – then subsequently dismiss the crowds. But what did Jesus do instead? He had compassion on them (Mark 6:34). He fed them spiritually by talking and engaging with them, and fed them physically by supplying fish and bread.

The humility of Jesus in this parable astonishes me. He could have easily thought to himself and told his disciples, “I am the MESSIAH!! I have super important work to do and I really need to unwind. After all, I’m going to be brutally tortured and murdered pretty soon, can I at least have ONE NIGHT to myself after a long day for some peace and rest?” And yet there I was, vastly insignificant and unimportant, presuming myself too busy to help the blind girl, make conversation with the Venezuelan, or greet the crippled boy.

I think that we as Americans, living in one of the richest and most powerful countries in the world, get stressed out by need. Yeah it may pain us a little bit, but we see it and disregard it, just as I did. We choose to do nothing because “oh man, the need is so great, what can I do?” Another remarkable feature of that story is that Jesus was not overwhelmed by the need. Jesus saw thousands of people when he was probably not at his best physically or mentally, and was filled with compassion for them and used what he had on hand to help meet their needs.

I have learned many things living and working in Ecuador this past year. One of these things is that I am ungrateful. When is the last time I stopped and thanked God for my two functioning eyes? Or that I was born in a free country and not a dictatorship? Or that I am healthy and whole with no diseases? My encounter with those 3 individuals that day has radically woken me up to how selfish I am. Thankfully, there’s this little thing called grace that miraculously rescues me from the worst parts of myself. Last weekend I worked all weekend at a conference, and on the bus ride on the way home I was so looking forward to putting in my headphones, watching the Cubs game, and taking a nap. But one of my very fragile volunteers came up to me and said, “Can I sit with you?” I knew, given her nature, that this would mean no headphones, no baseball, and no napping. My first instinct was to make up some excuse that I wasn’t feeling well, or that I was tired and just needed some chill time. But I thought of the blind girl, and I thought of Jesus. What did Jesus do when he was tired and hungry? Compassion. So she talked for the entire 2 hour bus ride back to Quito and I listened intently, but at the end of it…she asked me what I would do in her situation, and it was there that I was able to use what I had on hand to help meet a need. All she needed was an objective listening ear, some encouragement and a nudge in the right direction.

As I venture back to the United States, I hope to not fall back into that posture of self-importance and ingratitude. I hope to always be reminded of the smile of the Venezuelan delivery guy, so happy to be alive and working. I hope to always remember and emulate the humility, kindness, compassion, and selflessness of Jesus. I hope to not ignore or be overwhelmed by the need, but with a full and grateful heart, do what I can to inject a little joy, and maybe…some hope.

Until next time,

Stephanie

While sitting on a random bus stop bench, the beloved yet fictitious character Forrest Gump once made the astute observation to a perfect stranger that life is like a box of chocolates because “you never know what you’re going to get.” I could not agree more. If my life is anything, it is undoubtedly a box of chocolates. I left my lucrative, stable job of 2 years at the Department of Justice to run a small, nonprofit NGO in the small South American country of Ecuador because my heart once again longed for wonder. My soul craved a break from the monotony and to be lurched once again in the unknown where I could be challenged and learn new skills. I thrive outside of my comfort zone because that is where I am forced to grow and to be the best version of myself. I think if I could summarize my nature in one word it would be “driven.” Over the course of living in 5 different countries outside the U.S., traveling to 19, and having a very diversified array of jobs, I have learned that if I don’t have goals to pursue, and if I’m not being challenged, I become restless and complacent. It is in that void and state of lethargy where I have made some of my biggest mistakes and most regrettable decisions.

Here in Ecuador, my life is never dull, and my job keeps me on my toes at all times. It is one of the most challenging positions, if not the most demanding job I have ever encountered in my professional experience. So why then, at the beginning of this year, was I starting to feel this pull, this nudge, this sense of longing, only halfway through my service? I wake up every day to perfect spring mornings and rolling green mountains just outside my bedroom window. Ecuador is a country of incomparable beauty. I’ve successfully overcome the “Red Sea” and the “wilderness” that I faced in my job and have even gotten the hang of the financial and administrative management to where I’m running a tight ship on smooth waters. And yet…there it was…. the pull. I couldn’t put my finger on why I was feeling this sense of longing for something else. Sure, it’s true that I don’t really have community here. In St. Louis, Washington DC, Northern California, and in my beloved hometown in Central Illinois, I am surrounded by people who love me and people whom I also love and consider family. But in my almost 1 year here in Quito, I have not found that centrifugal community that keeps me grounded and assured, and the loneliness and solitude have taken its toll. But I am no stranger to loneliness and loneliness in and of itself is not something to drive me out of this beautiful country. Nonetheless, I could neither assuage the fire that was steadily growing inside me nor ignore that still, small voice telling me it was time to go.

I took a leap of faith, as I have done so many times before in my life, towards that call, that fire, that sense of wonder. I wrestled with when to tell my boss at WorldTeach headquarters in Boston that I would not be renewing my contract after 1 year. Turns out that I didn’t have to. I got a call from my boss on March 22^nd while I was traveling in Colombia. I knew something was wrong if it were important enough to interrupt my birthday vacation. After months of fierce debate and impassioned discussions, weighing all options and pursuing every avenue worth pursuing, working tirelessly to find solutions, the outcome could not be avoided: WorldTeach would be closing their overseas programs. Global volunteerism has shifted, and it’s hard to justify keeping a program open when you’re spending more than you’re earning. After 15 years of making a difference in the lives of thousands of students across Ecuador through English education, WorldTeach is ceasing operations and pulling out of Ecuador and its other 14 countries. Although the news hit me like a freight train coming out of nowhere, I was oddly at peace. I had no idea that closure was on the table and yet my spirit was stirring inside of me long before… that it was time to pursue other options.

The tight ship that I was running before this phone call suddenly capsized on vociferous waters. Smooth turned to raucous as I was charged with notifying our long-standing partner institutions, our cherished host families, and above all, my dedicated volunteers that our program is shutting down. The impact of WorldTeach pulling out of Ecuador cannot be understated. Emotions are high, and the tasks that I have to complete to dissolve a program that has been running for 15 years seem endless.

Yet in spite of this recent turbulence, I am at peace. I didn’t know it at the time when I was taking a leap of faith and looking for other jobs, but my God did. He knew. He guided me with that still, small voice and now my soul is ablaze once again with purpose.

In this delicate in-between state of tumult and peace, I can officially announce that I have accepted a job on the Global Education Team at D.C. Public Schools this Fall. I will be helping develop the Spanish language curriculum, creating Spanish Honors Society, and teaching Spanish to economically disadvantaged students. My exact school placement is still being decided, but I feel an eagerness to be back in the school system empowering students and inspiring them to learn the most beautiful language in the world.

My assistant asked me if I regret coming here and accepting this job, and if I knew the program would be closing, would I still have done it? My answer is yes. Without question. Not only has this job instilled me with indispensable leadership and managerial skills, but I have absolutely loved working with my volunteers and helping them through this crucial journey in their lives. And of course, selfishly, it gave me a chance to live in South America, and explore Ecuador and Colombia, and any travel I undertake is always, always, worth it.

As I wrap up my 1 year in Ecuador, I can’t help but laugh at my particular box of chocolates. Always so full of surprises. Never boring. And who the heck knows what I’ll bite into next.

I come home on August 2^nd.

Until next time my faithful readers.

Yours,

Stephanie

I started hallucinating for the first time in my life. Sleep deprivation proved to be a formidable foe while trying to run a comprehensive 1-month training for 23 new volunteers. It seemed the 5am mornings at the Ecuadorian National Police Headquarters, the long nights at the office preparing for training sessions or prepping visa folders, the midnight phone calls on the Emergency line from sick volunteers, the 12-hour days and having to work weekends merely not to fall woefully behind on financial and administrative tasks…had finally caught up to me. One night I was scouring the office in the middle of the night trying to find my Indian volunteer’s passport. I specifically “remembered” him giving it to me to make copies of it, and to my great dismay, I could not find it anywhere. Frantically searching, I couldn’t believe my recklessness and dared to think of the consequences of losing a volunteer’s passport in the first week. Feeling demoralized at already showing signs of being an incompetent Field Director, I slept for a few hours before emerging into the chaos of another day of volunteer orientation.

My assistant had the foresight to nonchalantly ask my volunteer if he had his passport, so she could make a copy for his file. In my frenzied state, I didn’t stop to contemplate the role sleep deprivation was taking on my brain, as my volunteer lightheartedly responded that of course he had his passport. I had imagined that entire scenario in my mind and convinced myself it actually happened.

As their one-month intensive training was coming to a close, I thought I could see light at the end of the tunnel, a glimpse into normalcy and a return to my coveted 8:30am-4:30pm schedule. Little did I know that a foe far more formidable than sleep deprivation lay at my doorstep. A foe, that to me, seemed as indomitable as the ancient Egyptian army itself… the Ecuadorian government.

To draw this parallel I remind my readers of a little history lesson dating back to Biblical times when the Israelites were living in slavery in Egypt. Moses faced seemingly insurmountable challenges in his quest to free his people from slavery. Pharaoh eventually released the Israelites from captivity and allowed them to leave Egypt. And while I do not pretend to equate even a shred of my experience with that of the great Hebrew leader, I can surmise the joy he felt when he was leaving Egypt, having nearly accomplished his purpose and that feeling of relief that the worst was behind him. I can also surmise the fear, terror and disbelief he felt when he suddenly realized the impossible circumstance that lay before him: the impenetrable Red Sea in front, and the unforgiving Egyptian army behind.

I confronted my own modern-day microcosm of Moses’ predicament when, after 15 years of partnering with Ecuadorian institutions and promoting English education across the country, the government suddenly denied all my volunteers’ visas. Weeks and weeks of work poured into making sure their visa folders had every imaginable certified, notarized, apostilled document to prove they were volunteering in Ecuador for 1 year to teach English, for nothing. The very country we came to help callously rejected our request for volunteer visas due to a new legislative regulation, of which we were never informed, that requires all American citizens to have background checks from the FBI (instead of the nationally-recognized company we’ve been using for 15 years). Our problematic situation, however, was not only indicative of a much larger trend in Ecuador, but was a small reflection of a much larger problem. (What I like to call a “God-sized problem.”)

Venezuela is experiencing a humanitarian crisis without precedent on the continent. This crisis in Venezuela has spilled over into the small, peaceful country of Ecuador, and it is affecting the daily life of nearly every person in the country. Venezuelans are starving, lack reliable access to water, electricity, supplies, and basic medicine. Inflation has reached 14,000% and the once illustrious Caracas has become a terrifying zone of lawlessness, with some of the highest murder rates on Earth. The oppressive dictator Nicolas Maduro has run Venezuela into the ground and people are fleeing the country at the rate of 5,000 per day, producing the largest flow of refugees in the Western Hemisphere’s history. Ecuador is the primary recipient of this refugee flow, which has saturated the Ecuadorian government to the breaking point. With thousands of immigrants and refugees pouring into Ecuador on a daily basis, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (the branch in charge of the visa process) has turned into a feckless and incompetent black hole; bitter, overworked, and resentful of ALL immigrants, including myself and my volunteers. The officials at the Ministry are so inundated with work that they can no longer distinguish visa applicants who are here to help (ie WorldTeach and other NGOs promoting education), and the applicants who (by no fault of their own) are here to escape a dire and unlivable situation in their home country.

I had no idea when I finished the most busy, stressful, and sleep-deprived time of my life, that the light at the end of the tunnel was much farther away than it appeared. With the Red Sea in front, and the Egyptian army behind, everything depended on my ability to navigate this situation. If my volunteers couldn’t get visas, they would be sent back home, and the Ecuador program would collapse, all on my watch. Not to mention I’d be out of a job. So I prayed for a miracle. The Red Sea was parted once before, it can happen again. The weapons I took into this battle were diplomacy, gratitude, cultural and political awareness and a proactive resolve. After about a week of meetings with top Ministry lawyers, the judiciary, and one high-profile meeting with the top official in charge, whose signature on any document was equivalent to the Midas Touch, we were able to find a loophole in the provision that allowed my volunteers to obtain their one-year visa while still in compliance with the new regulation. My 23 volunteers now had that magical signature of approval from the top Ministry official on each of their visa folders…And we crossed the sea on dry ground. WorldTeach could continue its mission to provide quality English education to hundreds of students in Ecuador.

After my volunteers obtained their visa, I truly thought the worst was behind me. What could be worse than going up against the Ecuadorian bureaucracy? Alas, an equally onerous encumbrance…the state education system. You may remember from one of my August blog post “The Power of Seeds” how I was gushing over this new project that had been in the works for the better part of the year. When I came on in July, I took over the project, and it was my “baby.” Universidad Estatal Bolivar (Bolivar State University). A poor, state-funded school in desperate need of quality teachers. I would send 5 of my best and brightest volunteers to teach English there and give them a chance to make a true impact in this community. Then, out of nowhere, one week before the project began, it hopelessly collapsed. The finance director of the university was fired for surreptitious activity (potentially money-laundering) and they had no one to certify the funds needed to support the project. Her signature was needed to guarantee the small monthly stipend my volunteers receive, and it would be a long, arduous, bureaucratic process before anyone could fill that vacant position and the contract was void unless there was proof there was enough money to pay for the project.

Breaking the news to my 5 volunteers was like something out of a bad dream. They were devastated. They had spent months in preparation for this incredible opportunity to make a tangible difference in a school with a dire need, just to have the rug swept from under their feet only a week before they were set to depart. They blamed me, of course. I became the scapegoat for a situation that was completely out of my control. I understood their frustration and I did my best to help them transition to a totally different vision for their lives the next 11 months. Some of them are still struggling to adjust to a life in Quito they neither prepared for nor wanted.

The final stretch of desert, continuing with the parallel of the Israelites post Red-Sea, was when I tore the meniscus in my knee and had to have 2 separate knee surgeries. Being alone in an operating room, far away from family and friends, in the most excruciating pain I’ve ever experienced in my life was the ultimate test of my resolve. After all the tumult of my first 6 months, I felt that I was finally out of Egypt, but just how far does this desert go?

I’ve discovered that the more passion you feel towards your calling or purpose, the more roadblocks you will encounter in your pursuit of it. I consistently tell my volunteers that nothing worthwhile is ever easy, and that if it were easy, everyone would do it. Leading this organization on the ground in Ecuador has proven to be anything but smooth. But I am determined to meet these challenges with the same fervor and steadfastness that seek to derail me. God didn’t deliver the Israelites out of Egypt just to have them starve in the desert. God didn’t call me to Ecuador just to watch me fail. I don’t know what deserts or storms lie in wait for me in 2019, but my response will be the same: “Do your worst. For I shall do mine.”

Until next time my faithful readers,

Stephanie  

If this is the calm before the storm, then why does it feel like I’m in the midst of a torrential downpour? In exactly two weeks from today, my 23 volunteers ranging from age 20 to age 63 arrive from the United States, Britain and India. I am tasked with giving them a one-month intensive orientation to fully equip them emotionally, mentally, physically, culturally, and professionally for their one year of service here in Ecuador. In Peace Corps, we had a designated Safety and Security Officer, Medical Officer, Administrative/Financial Officer, a Program Manager, a Country Director, and a secretary. Here at WorldTeach, I am all of those things. I wear all of those hats. And precisely on days like today I feel as if my eyeballs are going to explode inside my skull for staring at an exhaustively meticulous excel spreadsheet for exactly 8.5 hours. Who knew running an NGO would be so arduous? 😉

This is not a complaint, however. On the contrary, I love my job and my life here on the equator.

In fact, I often find myself reflecting and laughing with a hearty guffaw when I juxtapose the last time I moved overseas to my current experience. Samoa v. Ecuador. Comparing the two is not even apples and oranges. It’s apples and asparagus. The end goal is the same: sustainable education and creating opportunities for the less fortunate to have access to quality education… but the devil is in the details.

In Samoa I got super skinny (not in a healthy way) because I hated the food. Greasy, bland, high in fat and salt. I preferred to simply not eat. There was scant variety and ethnic food was essentially nonexistent. Quito, on the other hand, truly has a global palate. Divergence and mélange abound, and the food is so delicious I have to make a conscious effort not blow up like a balloon.

Samoa was the land of eternal heat. I had a grand total of 4 skin diseases because it was so hot and humid year-round that my skin consistently broke out in all kinds of strange diseases. Ecuador is the land of eternal spring. Most nights it gets down in the 40’s and the hottest it has been since I arrived in country is 72 degrees

 In Samoa I always felt small and petite. Samoans are a beautiful and huge people that had me beat length and width. At a whopping 5’6½” I tower over most Ecuadorians. They are for the most part, not a tall populace, and people here often comment on my height.

Samoa has the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. Ecuador has the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen.

In Samoa I lived with a host family and had very little independence and freedom. In Ecuador I live in a beautiful, secluded, fairy-tale apartment and have more alone time than I know what to do with. (Soon to be consumed by my new volunteers)

In Samoa I was a volunteer working for 2 years without being paid. In Ecuador I am a director and I can afford nice dinners.

Perhaps the biggest difference, however, is that here in Ecuador I have internet. I have the full MLB AtBat subscription and am able to watch my Cubs baseball almost Every. Single. Day. Priorities people…priorities. (Go Cubs!)

Be that it may, Samoa was an indispensably crucial stepping stone to Ecuador. I could never have had my Ecuador if it weren’t for my Samoa.

Thus, the prevailing theme is gratitude. I am grateful for the apple and for the asparagus. Not a very apt analogy I’m afraid. But you get the picture. I’m a lucky gal.

Until next time,

Stephanie

I sat there in the humble office of the Director of the Foreign Language Department at Bolivar State University with my notebook out, ready to discuss logistics. It was my first work trip to the small city of Guaranda, about 4 hours south of Quito. It was supposed to be routine site development: meet with the Language Department Director to discuss the Fall Semester teaching schedule for my volunteers, and to meet/interview potential host families. What I left with, however, was nothing short of a revelation that lit a fire in my soul. Instead of discussing logistics, the Director opened the floodgates. For the next hour, he passionately expressed his fears and concerns for the future of Ecuadorian students.

We have a problem…he stated. Students here start learning English in elementary school. Yet when they get to college, their English level is zero. Why? How? How can these students study a concept for 12 years, and come away with little to no knowledge of how to apply it? They know the rules but have no concept of how to use what they’ve learned. It would be like me taking chemistry for 12 years and still not know how to balance an equation. He attributed part of the problem to methodology (antiquated, teacher-centered), the teachers themselves not knowing enough English, and lack of relevance, context and opportunity to produce/use/speak English. Once he noticed an English teacher at the university giving an erroneous lesson. When he kindly tried to show the English teacher that the concept was incorrect, she refused to change her lesson and insisted that she was right. One English teacher was giving a lesson on Big Ben in London. The students were not only disengaged, but resentful. “Why are we learning about things that are not relevant to us and our lives? Realistically, will we ever go see Big Ben? Then why do we have to learn about it?”

I sat there amazed as this educator vehemently expressed his fear over the lack of English acquisition in Ecuadorian students that spend most of their lives studying English. He expressed that he is very worried about the future of these students. He said there are serious deficiencies in the system and the students are suffering the consequences of bad teaching and antiquated methods. Every word that left his mouth was laced with compassion and genuine concern. I have rarely experienced such unbridled passion in all my professional experience. It was a powerful thing to witness.

For quite a few moments I was speechless. Still recovering from the overload of critical information I just ingested, I told him that I am sending him five volunteers who are passionate, dedicated, talented, and flexible, and will do everything in their power to help him and Bolivar State University accomplish their goals.

From there we walked to the main campus where I thought I was going to get a tour of the university. Wrong, again. It didn’t dawn on me until the last second that I was sitting in the office of the Chancellor/President of the university. He spoke very highly of WorldTeach, our program, and our mission. Almost laughing, he said that they have a big problem and need our help. I reiterated what I said to the Director of the Foreign Language Department and told him it was a privilege to partner with them to help them achieve their goals. The same thing happened when I met with the Vice-Chancellor, the Director of International Relations, the Director of Finance and so on and so forth. I met (most unexpectedly) with almost every high official in the university, all who told me the same thing: The need is dire. Test scores are abysmal. The new national law now requires a certain level of English competency to graduate college and we are woefully underprepared. We are so happy you are here, and we are so grateful your volunteers are coming.

I left the university with such a profound sense of responsibility. English education has the power to radically change people’s lives, and they were hungry for it. Passionately yearning for it. I resolved to set the bar very high for my incoming volunteers. This program isn’t a one-year joy-ride, it’s the chance to make a lasting impact on students’ lives. The Language Department Director left me with this: a long time ago, Bolivar State University had WorldTeach volunteers. Years later, it is now those students who were taught English by WorldTeach volunteers who had the best jobs and the highest places of authority in the community today. He himself was taught by a WT volunteer. The president of the teacher’s union was once a student of a WT volunteer. The list went on and on. I know we are not going to change the English education system in Ecuador overnight. That’s the thing about sustainable development. We plant the seeds, but we may not always get to see the fruit it produces. I’m sure those volunteers at the time didn’t know they’d be teaching future government officials, university professors and directors. But they gave 100% of themselves to creating a better future for their students, and their hard work paid off.

My volunteers arrive on September 18^th. I am nervous. I am excited. I am terrified. I hope to empower them to set their aside their pride, step out of their comfort zone, and dedicate themselves fully to this vital task. 

This is why I left D.C. 

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”

– Nelson Mandela

Until next time,

Stephanie